randompaul

Postcard – Tuesday, 6 October 1998

2010-10-17T02:26:00.001-07:00

Drinks

Here in Indonesia they don't have cordial, they have syrup, and the labels on the bottles of syrup proudly proclaim, and I quote, “contains guaranteed 100% pure sugar, flavour and food grade colour”. Now, when you ask an Indonesian to make you a drink they mix the stuff about half and half, so you get an unbearable sweet concoction that invites a multitude of medical conditions. The good thing about this is that they apply the same measures to alcohol. A gin and tonic is closer to a long martini. Now, I was bought a bottle of local vodka the other day. I must admit to having a sneaking suspicion that it was terps as it was only 9000 rupiah ($1.50). It came in a bottle exactly the same as a terps bottle and had the word terps crossed out on the label and the word of vodca written in a green crayon. It did, however, taste a little bit like vodka and mostly like terps. I was made only one drink and couldn’t pronounce the word “is” for three hours and in the morning I cursed the Indonesian love in White Tiles.

Drinks in Indonesia are weird at the best of times. I'm a big fan of Es Kalapa Muda (young coconut milk with ice) but most other drinks contain glutinous things that look like fluorescents caterpillars. Basically they scare the hell out of me. Avocados here are not eaten but turned into a thick milkshakes of sorts. Most of the drinks, however, are so sickly sweet and I don't think even Aussie kids would like.

Poscards from Indonesia

2010-10-10T03:20:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I blogged. Facebook has been enchanting me.

My next group of posts will be from postcards which I wrote from Indonesia between 1998 and the year 2000. Being far away from home, I wanted to keep my family had little bit reassured. With each e-mail, I wrote a small essay describing some part of my life. It was a time when Indonesia was in trouble. I thought that a little humour and normality might go a long way to calming my family’s nerves.

The first postcard is dated Monday, 12 October 1998

Postcard.

As I have previously told you, the traffic problems in Jakarta are enormous. I wish to elaborate and expand on my claims to further show you the hardship of my life. Roads here are a bit of a parallel universe. That is to say that the rules and signs that govern the roads only represent a possible reality. Lines on the road usually indicate where you should steer your car. Here, the same lines, are purely decorative. Indonesians have a knack of changing a two-lane road into a six lane parking lot with startling regularity and ease. Changing lanes is done with the same careless abandon that we would usually associate with modern jazz played by drunken nudists.

Indicators are used creatively and each driver seems to have his own idea about when and how to use them. It's fairly obvious that no one expects anyone behind them to see their indicators, as they tend to use them with oncoming traffic indicating that they are in the wrong lane and don't intend changing lanes to facilitate the flow of traffic. I sometimes wonder if Indonesians even know that they have indicators on the front of their cars. am amazed that the population here has reached 200 million considering the inmate carnage that such a system in light.

What's more, the same attitude is applied to other places. Supermarkets! In Indonesian supermarkets they have three sizes of trolleys. Really big (a la large trucks), normal (à la cars) and a really small (à la motorbikes). The really small ones are for children and I think this is where they gain their road training experience rather than with an accredited driving School. Now, giving a two-year-old a trolley to navigate around the crowded supermarket may seem cute to some but in me it simply inspires what I could only call, "Aisle rage”.

It's almost like Indonesians have a complete lack of awareness that anyone else exists. They will park their trolleys across the aisle's (I kid you not) as they meander around looking for the latest flavour in instant noodle. It's all terribly frustrating and, at times, I've cursed them in English while smiling. They smile back at the stupid Bule. Even with trolleys they can never walk in a straight line and at pace.

The same rules apply to swimming pools. Pools are usually rectangular in shape, and if you want to do laps, you use the longer length. Yes? There are even lines on the bottom of the pool to guide you. Yes? Do Indonesians have any perception of this? No! If they do attempts to swim laps they will take the path of least possible resistance and length, swimming across the pool so dumb Bule like me and smash into them in an effort to get some exercise. Slso, there have been occasions where I am the only one in the pool (I can see the pool from my apartment and tend to wait until it is empty to avoid whiplash) and people have arrived while I am lapping. The pool is quite wide. Do they choose the side of the pool that I'm not using? No! They play my part.

I also think that most Indonesians think swimming means that you quickly dip yourself in the pool then sit on the edge of the pool for two hours, chatting and adjusting your swimwear.

Finally, a word of advice from your own buah hati (fruit of your heart). Don't go around telling people how old you are. I keep seeing old people being interviewed on the TV and they all seem to start by saying, "I’m 83 you know and…" All very tacky.

Lots of love

Paul

Casino Oh!

2010-06-27T04:26:00.001-07:00

Taxi drivers in Singapore have several jokes. Actually, it used to be 2.

Joke number 1 – What does ERP stand for? (The correct answer is Electronic Road Pricing). But our humour-filled taxi driver will then say, “Every Road Pay!” and laugh until spit globules the consistency of clag glue hit the inside of the windscreen.

Joke number 2 – Singapore is a fine city. “Fine” because you get fined for everything. (More clag flies).

Sadly they have a new joke. What does Casino mean? “Cash in oh! Cash in no come out. See casino; cash in no come out because you go in with cash but none when you come out. Cash in oh!” I have heard that gem, while dodging clag, three times this week.

Dear Singaporean taxi drivers, just so you know...

The term "Casino" is of Italian origin, the root word being "Casa" (house) and originally meant a small country villa, summerhouse or pavilion. The word changed to refer to a building built for pleasure, usually on the grounds of a larger Italian villa or palazzo. Such buildings were used to host civic town functions – including dancing, music listening and gambling.

Water Talks

2010-05-30T03:36:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine directed me to a website that she is obviously involved with. http://www.bellingenlivingfoodsandhealth.com/ Her name comes up several times and there is a small video of her conducting shelves whilst blending. The website is extolling the virtues of raw foods. I’m OK with that. Raw food is good. Crunchy. Cook it slowly in a bucket of red wine and it is better but...

The web page I looked at seems that the group is venturing into the world outside of raw food. Water!

A major headline extols, “Water – a witness of the times. If we want to know how our world appears 2000 years ago. All we have to do is to ask water.” So the headline lacks a certain pith (raw pith probably) but I would like to point out a simple truth. Water can’t talk!

Other than that, keep crunching.

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Rewriting (Biblical) History

2010-05-29T01:15:00.000-07:00

Historical revisionism, or sometimes called negationism, seems to be coming increasingly popular. It is when an historical event, series of events or personage is redefined through new evidence or discovered motivation. Whether we now believe that the world is indeed flat, that Eric Clapton is not in fact God or that the Gulf of Tonkin incident was really an attack by a sea monster called Trish, the changing of our understanding of history is common place.

Sure, some of the accusations are wild and improbable (Holocaust deniers and believing that Lady Gaga is a member of the illuminati for example) but some seem probable and allow for huge marketing possibilities.

All this taken into account, I thought I would give it a bash myself.

At a recent archeological dig in Jerusalem, some astounding findings have led leading theologians to revisit the manger. It is now believed that the three Kings, astronomers or Magi were a troupe of accordion players. The amazing discovery of an ancient accordion, scarily looking like a musical tabernacle, may lead to the revision of some well known biblical tracts.

Furthermore, the Christmas service will, in future, have many of the traditional hymns rewritten into a polka form and many classical paintings of the birth of our Lord and savior will have to be touched up to add some believability to the now incorrect representation of that tiny stable.

The Catholic Church is bound to insist that priests start learning the bellows-driven free-reed member of the aerophone family and the vow of silence that usually permeates humble seminaries with be replaced by a cacophony of novices practicing The Beer Barrel Polka.

I can only see my rewriting of biblical history as a total boon for Christianity.

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Headlines

2010-04-13T17:15:00.000-07:00

Kyrgyz president 'offers to resign' in order to buy more vowels

Training in Bangalore (Bangaluru)

2010-03-18T22:04:00.001-07:00

Some participants are more difficult than others. Barbertha has a mild aggressive steak and her DiSC profile backs this up (She is a high D with no other dimensions registering at all). She tends to push rather than pull her team towards goals and if they do not achieve their KPI, she bites and rolls. After eating the "Happy Sheet" she gave Paul some direct feedback.

Bangalore

2010-03-13T18:33:00.000-08:00

Nicole Stinton and I traversed the wonders of downtown Bangalore,
squished into the attractive transport fusion that is the "auto". This
cheap, rustic form of haulage is made all the better by its open doors
that allow the aromatic panorama of Bangalore to be fully appreciated.
"They journey is more important than the destination," and with auto
drivers, the journey is likely to take you via numerous souvenir shops
that you don't want to go to. The Training went well.

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Madrid (That’s in Spain)

2010-02-25T20:13:00.000-08:00

We (Brett Chant. my co-trainer and I) arrived at the airport after about 20 hours in transit. We expected to be greeted by bulls, flamenco dancers and handsome men with AK-47s in their guitar cases. The airport is vast, many leveled and somewhat relaxed. There are constant announcements that smoking is forbidden in the airport; except in all the smoking areas that are roughly 20 meters apart. We filled-out our immigration forms which were duly ignored as we interrupted a conversation as we entered Spain.

We took a taxi to our hotel; once again expecting all the flavours of Spain to engulf us. We were driven through an industrial estate and taken to our hotel. The hotel can only be called “Modern-chic”. By that I mean soulless with vast spaces uncluttered except for the occasional piece of objet trouve; lamps the size of small giraffes, tables in the shape of murdered drug lords and chairs whose last objective was to be sat on.

Where was Spain?

Spain was about 25 minutes away on bus number 53!

Unlike the industrial suburbs, central Madrid epitomizes what Spain must have been and what still exists in every Spaniard. All the tall, colourful houses face onto a plaza where life happens. The houses, crammed together, must be cold and dark and so the plaza is where people live, gossip and commune. Every other shop seems to be a meeting place with coffee, red wine and cured meats. Of course, at nine in the morning, no one is about. The Plaza Mayor was, at nine in the morning, almost holy in its magnificent. It was art disguised as life.

As we explored the surrounding area (mostly because we were lost) we discovered so many (so many) crammed, curved streets illuminated by early spring light. Every one unique and beautiful. Everyone original and breathing community. Every one leading to another place where we were lost.

We eventually found ourselves outside the Museo Nacional Del Prado. Goya, Valazquez, Caravaggio, Greco, Rembrandt, Raphael, Rubens and a bunch of hacks. AND THEY WERE A BUNCH OF HACKS. When you are walking through a museum of great artists and minor artists, you realize why the minor artists are minor artists. When you see a Goya, it stands out. The masters were masters for a reason. They were doing something totally different. Everyone else is simply pretenders.

But more was to come.

Museo Nacional Centro De Arte – Reina Sofia. Hacks and Dali and Picasso. OK, Dali. Yes. Amazing. But!!!!!!!!!!

Picasso’s Guernica. You know it. You have seen it. But standing in front of probably the most important painting of the 20th century is an experience. You know it. You have seen it. But it is big, passionate, complex and breath-taking. It is Spain. The feeling of seeing this extraordinary work of man is like standing in front of the Great Wall of China or on the grassy knoll. It is history! It communicates so much about our humanity. Yes, I wax lyrical, but some things just do that to you.

Weaving our way back to bus number 53 bus stop, we pass again through Plaza Mayor. It is now a circus, filled with balloon wranglers dressed as Disney characters, cheap magicians and cured meats. Art transmogrifies into life as life embracing joy.

Madrid.

Today I Become a True Man – 27/01/10

2010-01-30T02:28:00.001-08:00

The house that I grew up in was on a half-acre block with a dirt track running down the length of one side. My mother got it into her head to build a wall along the dirt track. She struggled for years, finding rock and creating this small, oddly shaped wall. It was an OK wall. Maybe even a good wall. But certainly not a Great wall.

The Chinese built a better wall. A truly Great Wall. A wall that can be seen from space. Then again, now they can see licence plates from space so I am not so impressed. However, many people have visited this iconic piece of masonry; Barak Obama, George W Bush, Arthur Pimbly from Surrey, all have marvelled at this wall.

Even the gift shops cannot take away from the wild awesomeness of this wall.

So today I became a true man!

“He who does not reach the Great Wall is not a true man!” Mao Zedong

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Holiday Thought

2009-12-18T23:06:00.001-08:00

Once again, Christmas is upon us and, rather than be distracted by shiny baubles on counterfeit conifers, I try to focus on the event that lead to our holiday glee. Yes, the birth of the little baby Jesus. My minds reels back to stories of Persian Kings for some reason looking for the birth of the King of the Jews, of tales of a couple travelling a great distance to be counted in a census (thank God I didn’t have to return to Dar Es Salaam for one of those) and of course, that holy night when our savior was born in a shed.

Some forget that, eight days later and according to Jewish law, the little Jew was circumcised. Now, apparently some bright spark figured that our Lords foreskin might be worth a few sheckles and kept it. It was passed down through generations and ended up in a shoe box at the back of a closet of a priest in Calcata, a small town 30 miles north of Rome.

However, in late 2006, it was stolen.

This sacred “objet trouve” may now rest in a secret Vatican archive or in the home of a rich collector of religious relics. Sadly for the people of Calcata, they will never again gaze of this Christian curio as a part of their Christmas sacrament.

So this Christmas, spare a moment and think of these forlorn foreskinless Romans and remember how lucky you are.

I didn’t make this up!

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Greek Love

2009-12-12T17:45:00.000-08:00

The Greeks invented love. Sure the Italians were the first to apply it to the opposite sex, but the Greeks got there first.

They also created a whole bunch of words for love whereas, in English, we really only have the one.

Here are some of the Greek lexicon for love.

Agape which refers to love of God,

Eros is used when Greeks talk about sexual love.

Philia is the love of really thin pastry.

Storge means innocent affection.

Enteuxis is the love of Hasidic pornography.

Aigiplanktos is the fondness for livestock.

Epipla refers to the love of comfortable furnishings.

Apopinô is the love of tasty beverages.

So increase you vocab so it’s not all Greek to you.

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Stamp Fiasco

2009-12-12T17:29:00.001-08:00

Sweden and Denmark to create a postal giant

STOCKHOLM — Sweden and Denmark said Tuesday that they had agreed to merge their post offices.

I really don’t think they have thought this through. It is a philatelist’s nightmare. How much herring and Ikea products can we take on stamps,

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The Boys’ Brigade

2009-10-26T22:40:00.000-07:00

Many of my beloved readers will have heard of the Scouts, a worldwide youth movement with a minorly secular bent, started in 1907 by Robert Baden-Powell, a Lieutenant General in the British Army and the owner of several successful Theatre Restaurants.

However, I was a Boys’ Brigader!

The Boys' Brigade (BB) is the world's first uniformed youth organization. The idea for this interdenominational Christian organization was conceived by William Alexander Smith, a philanthropist and hater of any form of dinner theatre, and his aim was to combine drill and fun activities with Christian values which in essence aren’t fun at all. Not to say that basic drill and field rations are a bunch of laughs. Anyway, he formed the BB in 1883 over a pint or two of Glasgow’s famous Irish whiskey.

So what is the main difference between the two? Firstly, the uniforms. The Scouts have little nancy-boy kaki numbers and scarves and totally dorky hats that make you look slightly effeminate. The Boy’s Brigade have smart, dark blue uniforms with strong lines, a chunky belt buckle and a hat that can fit into your pocket.

Scouts have sew-on patches. BB has medals; shiny, heavy, important looking medals.

In the Boy’s Brigade we learn real skills. Who needs bird watching and campfire building? We learnt motor maintenance, knot tying and semaphore!

Yes Semaphore! Now let me just say that my troupe was a little poor and as our meager subs went to the hire of the hall and subsidizing a bang up Christmas bash for the officers who all had appetites of sasquachian proportions, so when we required the essential flags for our semaphore classes, one of the officer’s wives whipped up a couple of flags with some wooden spoons and decorative Australiana Tea Towels. We would stand at opposite ends of the small hall and carefully work through the alphabet by holding the wooden spoons in different positions. Signaling the alphabet was a huge bonus for me as I am slightly dyslexic and any attempt to spell out actual words would have caused embarrassment. Of course, in times of warfare, the facility to spell out the alphabet with ornamental towels is not greatly sort after.

Every six months or so we would have a camp. We would be taken into the bush with tents or hire some spider-infested campsite where we could practice our skills and show each other our penises. I have few memories of camps. I do remember some of the more enthusiastic mothers making rice pudding with mostly sugar and very little rice. I remember winning things (medals and a cheap knife, fork and spoons set) and remember beating red-back spiders to death with semaphore flags. Oh and drill.

We could march and turn and wheel and halt with all the precision of a Swiss blow-up bouncing castle. In our small hall, these activities were somewhat panicked. If the officer did not scream out, “Left turn,” about two seconds after his order to quick march, a small troop of well-dress boys would file into a wall or an unstable trestle table. At the camp, we could actually march in a single direction for quite a while without fear of shin injuries or having a trestle inserted in your lanyard.

I recently bumped into some Singaporean Boys’ Brigaders and immediate burst out into our anthem.

“We have an anchor that keeps the soul,
Steadfast and sure as the billows roll,
Fastened to the rock that cannot move,
Grounded firm and deep in Our Savior’s love.”

They smiled at me sweetly as their hands moved slowly and steadfastly to their hand phones to dial for the police. Now, if they’d have known semaphore…

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India 1

2009-10-26T21:24:00.001-07:00

I had three glorious weeks in India recently staying in palatial hotels that glimpsed stinky slums.

I was there primarily to work but managed to zip out for one day’s touristing. In Bangalore, we went to The Bangalore Palace. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bangalore_Palace

This dilapidated castle has lost much of its previous glory due to, in my opinion, the theft (acquisition) of anything of any grace or majesty. What is left is a sad façade filled to oddities that only get mentioned in blogs. Although the original architecture remains, the facings are faded and the chandeliers less than complete. Occasionally there is a piece of beauty, missed by acquiring eyes, but mostly it is filled with tack and trivia.

A part of India’s colonial past remains. Small reminders of an devouring empire and a large mammal.

Parsley

2009-10-26T20:48:00.001-07:00

I cook. Quite a lot actually. I often buy herbs; basil, dill, lime leaves, curry leaves, coriander etc.

The other day I purchased some parsley because I thought I would make some spaghetti verde (sometimes called aglio e oilio). http://www.bestrecipes.com.au/recipe/Spaghetti-Aglio-e-Olio-L621.html

At the checkout, a young man and practicing acnephile was learning his trade. He was a trainee checkout-type-person and he consciously and courteously swiping my billables through at magic beeping machine all supermarkets now have. When it came to my small bunch of parsley, he picked it up, buried his nose in it, took a deep sniff and smiled at me quizzically.

The kid at the checkout sniffed my parsley. Is there no end to this madness?

Quaratine Diary 2

2009-07-14T23:42:00.000-07:00

“I think Bigfoot has moved into my freezer.”

“My nipples are moving further apart. Shhhh. Be quiet! The nipples have ears.”

“I think your karma ran over my dogma.”

“You know when you buy a box of toothpicks? Do you think they are related?”

“I think Michael Jackson is haunting my radio. Every time I turn it on, one of his songs is playing.”

“I am going to sponsor my toothbrush because she wants to join the Vienna Boys Choir.”

“Lemons really don’t dance very well.”

Quarantine

2009-07-14T18:17:00.000-07:00

During the month of July 2009, Paul Tolton was put into home quarantine for four days for suspected H1N1 (swine flu). He was later officially diagnosed with a mild case of dandruff.

During his enforced incarceration he became “stir crazy”, a condition referring to a prisoner who becomes mentally unbalanced because of prolonged confinement.

However, he managed to write a spasmodic diary which he wrote on toilet paper with blood which is odd as there were a couple of pens in the next room. Here are some excerpts.

“I have named my socks but now I can’t take them off because they could get mixed up and I won’t know which one is Beatrice and which one is Ralf.”

“Eggs are my friends.”

“It is lonely. I am alone. It’s like the Blair Wich (sic) Project but with more colour and slightly better cinematography.”

“My hand towels are talking about me behind my back.”

“פאס, בערבית יהודית מרוקאית. מטרת הסיפור היא להשמיץ את היטלר וסגנו גבלס על-ידי סיפור ששייך לסוגת”

“Woo-hoo, but you know I'm yours. Woo-hoo, and I know you're mine. Woo-hoo, and that's for all of time.”

“Finally, my hair is happy.”

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Good News for Drinkers

2009-07-03T04:02:00.000-07:00

SUN IS OVER THE YARDARM - time for happy hour to begin). This expression is thought to have its origins in an officers' custom aboard ships sailing in the north Atlantic. In those latitudes, the sun would rise above the upper yards - the horizontal spars mounted on the masts, from which squaresails were hung - around 11 a.m.

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Slow Pour

2009-07-03T03:58:00.001-07:00

I recently purchased a bottle of vodka. It came with this plastic device in the neck of the bottle that restricts the flow of the alcohol so it doesn’t gush out. The thing I like most about this slow pour device is that it is easy to remove.

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Oh God!

2009-07-02T20:37:00.000-07:00

What do atheists say when they cum?

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Airbrushed Out

2009-06-21T19:29:00.000-07:00

I have recently discovered that NASA have been airbrushing out (and presumably digitally altering) alien aircraft, alien structures and aliens from photos captured on various missions into outer space. They claim, as always, this is done to protect National Security and prevent the religious upheavals that would naturally follow the revelation that we are not alone.

From the internet.

During the Disclosure Project press conference, former NASA employee, Donna Hare, revealed how NASA managed to cover up and erase anomalies such as UFOs from satellite photos. She was a female slide technician and received numerous space awards including 1969 Apollo Achievement award from the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, 1973 Skylab award, a medallion for success on the Skylab-Suez Test project. Other awards for her skill as a technical Artist includes a 1994 recommendation by Texas Governor Ann Richards to the Advisory Committee of Psychology Associates.

I have sought out some of these picture and bring them to you in a sincere effort at transparency and disclosure.

In this pictured they airbrushed out a two headed monster from Zeta Reticuli. It was actually chasing the astronaut who evacuated into his space suit.

In this picture they digitally removed an alien craft. How we know this is that they accidently digitally removed Guatemala at the same time.

This picture has obviously been altered. There is no reason to have taken this photo unless something was there which they removed.

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Nose Hair Trimmer

2009-06-16T01:04:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago and was navigating the joys of Mustafa’s.

According to the internet:

A Brief History on Mustafa Centre

Mustafa Centre has a certain allure given its history, especially its rags to riches story. It had its earliest origins as a humble pavement garment stall, which was run by its current CEO Mr. Mushtaq Ahmed at a tender age of 12, whose family migrated from a village in North India many years ago. Over the years, this pavement stall grew in size and profits so much so that today it is one of Singapore’s top dollar tourist and shopping attractions.

What they don’t tell you is that it has the narrowest aisle of any shop in Singapore. This, apart from being thoroughly annoying, allows them to stock an extensive variety of goods and, hidden away of its nooks, crevices and crannies are treasures.

As one matures, many annoying things happen to your body. You know the ones; weight gain, graying hair, hair on the ears a bit like Yoda, feathers growing on your scrotum, slight loss of reality, and nose hairs becoming rambling and wild.
A few weeks ago I found a nose hair trimmer. Problem solved!

With the aid of two AA batteries, this tiny machine trims to perfection that unwanted protuberances and leaves you nose prim, proper, dapper and spruce.

You can also use it to get rid of those unwanted arse hairs. But do your nose first. Learnt that one the hard way.

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Vegan Chakra Balancer

2009-05-05T02:39:00.001-07:00

In these tough economic times, I have been pondering a career move just in case my current employment folds. I here share some of my thoughts with you.

Vegan Chakra Balancer

Firstly, let me explain chakras. There are, supposedly, seven energy portals or whorls, positioned along the body. In Indian medicine it is said that ill health (spiritual, physical and mental) is cause by blockages in certain chakras. A holistic view of medicine would include a regular unblocking or balancing of the chakras. This is traditional done with coloured crystals places on the different whorl points, each crystal relating in colour to a different chakra.
The following seven primary chakras are commonly described:
1. Muladhara Base or Root Chakra (last bone in spinal cord *coccyx*) Red
2. Swadhisthana Sacral Chakra (ovaries/prostate) Orange
3. Manipura Solar Plexus Chakra (navel area) Yellow
4. Anahata Heart Chakra (heart area) Green
5. Vishuddha Throat Chakra (throat and neck area) Blue
6. Ajna Brow or Third Eye Chakra (pineal gland or third eye) Viiolet
7. Sahasrara Crown Chakra (Top of the head; 'Soft spot' of a newborn) White
What I propose is that, instead of crystals, we could use vegetables.

For the Muladhara we could place a beetroot on the crotchal area.
The Swadhisthana would probably benefit from a yam
Obviously the Manipura of the navel would need a squash
Peas for the Anahata Heart Chakra
Vishuddha is tough but I think a Delta Blue potato would get the energy flowing
The aubergine could be employed to unblock your Ajna
Finally, a humble turnip could be used to restore the flow to your Sahasrara

I know this is radical but it is also original and I am positive that numerous gullible fucks would pay for this service.

Landing Gear

2009-04-26T23:26:00.000-07:00

Flying into Hong Kong last week, we were about 30 minutes from landing. The tannoy system crackled into action and the mellifluous tones of the Captain greeted us.

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. As we are currently 137 nautical miles North South of Hong Kong, we will soon be starting our decent…”

Did it only bother me?

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Socrates Said...

2009-04-20T20:32:00.000-07:00

In Plato's Republic, Socrates is quoted as saying, "For let me tell you, that the more the pleasures of the body fade away, the greater to me is the pleasure and charm of conversation".

Translated into modern English he says, "When your old, it's hard to keep a stiffy, so lets chat!"

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Diet Update 4

2009-03-19T23:57:00.000-07:00

OK. I got serious. I really tried the low carb diet.

Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that carbs referred to carbohydrates. I thought it meant carbon so I have been avoiding Barbeques.

Gained 4lb.

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I Existed Therefore I am

2009-03-03T21:01:00.000-08:00

About 15000 years ago, humans did primarily one of two things. They hunted or they gathered. They probably would have liked to do other things but time did not permit. Hunting and gathering is an exhaustive business and at the end of the day a meal, a quick shag and a good solid nap were more than likely the order of the day. Occasionally, someone would think about turning a tree into a canoe or turning a tree into a shelter or turning a tree into a starchy, low protein food source, but on the whole such contemplations were luxuries and the musings were quickly dissipated through some rigorous hunting and gathering.

Then some bright spark thought, “Bugger this for a lark,” and invented agriculture and farming. After doing this for a while they got good at it and started creating surplus. This allowed some of the village not to hunt and gather but to spend some quality time thinking about turning a tree into a canoe or turning a tree into a shelter or turning a tree into a starchy, low protein food source. They could spare people to build, create art and even rule.

Everyone suddenly had some free time on their hands and the thought occurred, “Why do I exist?” This was quickly followed by the slightly more complex thought of, “How do I know that I exist?” and finally, “How will anyone ever know that I even existed?”

Some, after figuring out the whole biology of procreation, believed that pumping out babies ensured ongoing life and a strange immortality. Others were slightly more ambitious and created a naïve form of graffiti on cave walls that, even translated today, says, “I woz ere!”

Then there were those, the richer type, that built things like pyramids, temples, a multitude of statues and even cities that they casually named after themselves in ostentatious attempts to prove that they existed and would not be forgotten.

Later in history, people created art; Homer’s Odyssey, Michael Angelo’s David, Tarantino’s Fourth Film, or they climbed really tall things, discovered new lands and even drove a motorbike over a vast number of busses.

Still, it seemed that only the chosen few would leave an indelible mark so that future generation could peer back and know they existed.

That is, until recently.

Modern technology has finally given us the tools to scribe the phrase, “I woz ere,” for all to see for all time, even if it’s just in cyberspace.

You can do this quite extravagantly by tying a few octopi in a hessian bag, attaching it to a rope, have a friend swing it vigorously towards your genitals while another buddy videos it and post the results on YouTube. Your immortality is assured.

A slightly less painful method is to create a MySpace or Facebook account. Then you start expanding your “social network”. This means that you add as many “friends” to your profile as you can. And what’s more, you can add famous people like Tom Hanks, Oprah Winfrey or even President Obama. You can search for high school chums or college sweethearts or just randomly add individuals from all around the world. There are people, not just famous people, who have millions of friends that they have never actually met and know little or nothing about.

I know people who spend hours updating their Facebook. First thing in the morning, during breaks at work and in the evening, they hunt down past acquaintances and gather new ones in an attempt to prove that they are known, that they exist. It doesn’t require actual content; we no longer have to create art or climb things or get clocked in the goolies by a bag full of squid. Our existence is our content and the amount of friends only adds to its meaning.

15000 years ago we hunted and gathered to exist. Now, we do the same thing to prove our existence and hope that the internet will preserve us for eternity.

As for me, I blog therefore I am. By the way, look me up on Facebook.

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Diet Update 3

2009-03-03T03:28:00.000-08:00

My new diet consists of only eating things with the letter “Q” in their name.

I am forced to only eat the following.

Porque
Milkque Shaques
Quondensed Milque
Quoktails
Chqeese
and
Hamburquers

Gained 4lb. Fuque!

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The Structure of a Story

2009-03-03T03:21:00.000-08:00

As a part of my job, I tell stories and teach people how to tell stories. So I thought I would share two main tips for creating a solid, entertaining and clear story.

Tip Number One

The structure of a story really hasn’t changed since the times of the Greeks when Aristotle came up with a format that he named after himself; The Aristotelian Structure. Image two axes, the one going up and down which we will call “Dramatic Action” and the horizontal one is “Time”.

Now Aristotle started the dramatic action low and it rises through time. He called this “Conflict”. At the peak, something happens. He called this “Crisis”. Then there is a downward slope which the French decided to call “Dénouement” because they were far too pretentious just to say “wrapping things up”.

Of course, not all stories follow this shape. Becket’s Waiting For Godot, about two guys waiting for another guy called Godot, who never arrives, is a flat line. Nothing happens!

Kafka’s Metamorphosis, about a dull accountant who wakes up one morning to discover he has turned into a cockroach, starts low on the dramatic action axis and just keeps dropping as his life gets worse.

However, the classic story, say the story of our Lord, follows Aristotle’s laws. Jesus is having trouble with the Jews, with the Pharisees and with the Romans (conflict), they arrest him and nail him to a cross (crisis) and his friends wait around pretty sad then he comes back, gives man self-determination which kind of negates God (Dénouement) leaving the rest of us to kind of wait around for the second coming, a bit like Becket’s characters. Of course, if we were Buddhists, we may have the opportunity to come back as a cockroach.

I wonder which Buddhist came up with the laws of reincarnation. According to them, after we die we get reborn as another sentient being, their definition of sentient being being something that can think other than computers, robots and those weird things that tell you when your turkey is cooked. So we could come back as a cockroach but not a saltine cracker. If you came back as a cockroach you obviously did something bad in your previous life. To come back as say Tom Cruise, you would have to have been pretty good in your previous life which would piss the Scientologists up no end.

What if you could come back as a non-sentient thing, like a saltine cracker, what would you have to do in your life as a saltine cracker to improve your lot?

I figure if you were smeared with come tasty Tasmanian Brie and willingly woofed down at a party in Darlinghurst with a nice Chablis, you may come back as a mango or a fairly attractive turnip. If you were crushed up and sprinkled between the sheets in some high school camp prank then your next life would be as beer mat or a sanitary napkin (as opposed to a non-sanitary napkin?). If, by some odd chance, you were the first solid food that a 18 month old Rwandan child had had in 6 months, then you might crack it to a minor sentient being like a tape worm of a cockroach.

I think at this point we can be fairly sure that Kafka’s accountant was not a particularly nice person.

Tip Number Two

Try not to get side-tracked.

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T-Shirt Ban

2009-02-09T02:40:00.001-08:00

The other day I was out and about in the glorious world that in Singapore. I saw a little fat Chinese kid wearing a Che Guevara T-shirt. Hey, little fat Chinese kid, if you are reading this, STOP WEARING THAT T-SHIRT! Che Guevara was a Cuban revolutionary that was killed in Bolivia in 1967. Che Guevara is not a trendy fucking power drink. If you don’t know what your T-shirt means, don’t wear it.

Same thing goes for you 50 year old fat fucks with huge pot bellies. DO NOT WEAR ABACROMBIE AND FITCH T-SHIRTS. Abercrombie and Fitch design clothes for fit, tight, fresh, funky people, not cardiac risks. Stop it.

Sorry! It just annoys me!

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Diet Update 2

2009-02-09T02:29:00.000-08:00

I am trying a new diet. You have lots of small meals every day instead of three big ones. I am up to 143 meals a day.

I gained 4lb.

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A Little Tip

2009-02-09T02:27:00.000-08:00

If you buy a cheap bottle of Californian red wine and add Colgate Whitening Toothpaste, it tastes nothing like mulled wine.

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Tipsi Reply

2009-02-05T19:51:00.001-08:00

Tipsi wrote. “Just returned from Germany where they blow their noses most noisily. Do you think it is acceptable?”

No, I do not think it is acceptable but do not complain or even mention it. If you do, You will be invaded!

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Diet Update

2009-02-05T19:47:00.000-08:00

Just to let you all know how the diet is going.

I decided to do two diets at the same time; the Pritikin Diet which is a high fibre diet, and th Aitken’s Diet which is high protein.

I have gained 4 lb.

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That Photo

2009-01-15T19:19:00.000-08:00

I was asked about a photo on my blog. Someone wanted to know who it is a photo of as I am not in the photo.

On the left is Susie Quirk, probably the best trainer since Socrates.
In the middle is Brett Chant, probably the best trainer since Bart Cummins.
On the right is Craig Edwards, probably the best trainer since Nike Air.

Trivia

2009-01-12T22:36:00.001-08:00

Thomas Crapper did not invent the toilet; he did invent the floating ballcock which eventually leads to the flushing toilet.

Osgoode-Schlatter Disease which causes aching knees and the ability to get out of Phys-Ed was named after its founders Myer Osgoode and Ivan Schlatter. The Latter also invented a divided dish for hor'deurves called The Schlatter Platter.

Dental Floss was invented by a Swedish entrepreneur called Ingrid Floss. She won an award from the then King of Sweden Gustav V. who was known for his bad teeth and halitosis.

The Spig was invented by US Senator Donald Wead but he named it after his wife whose maiden name was Alexi Spig.

A thin wire nail with a small head or a slight side projection instead of a head is called a “brad”, named after its inventor Brad Konstantinospillitas. And we thank him.

Bamboo Underpants

2009-01-07T21:56:00.001-08:00

I have just discovered the wonders of Bamboo Fiber Underpants. Why is it that we think cotton or Lycra is the only way to go? I was skeptical at first thinking they would be scratchy and uncomfortable. But they are fantastic, soft but firm, strong but yielding. Occasionally you find a stray panda in the gusset, but that is a small price to pay for such comfort.

A Whale's Vagina

2008-12-29T17:04:00.000-08:00

There is a film called, "Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgandy." It is set in San Diego. In the film are he following lines.

Ron Burgundy: Discovered by the Germans in 1904, they named it San Diego, which of course in German means a whale's vagina.

Veronica Corningstone: No, there's no way that's correct.

Where did this come from? Look at the picture.

Where did I do?

2008-12-29T16:55:00.000-08:00

“Where did you go?” asked Tipsi. Actually, Tipsi first asked “Where did you do?” which strangely makes more sense to me. Actually, “Where did you go?” implies that I am still there as it uses the past simple. I am not still there, I am most definitely here. The correct question should have been, “Where have you been?” which, using the past perfect, implies an event that was completed in the past.

Hanoi. The high point was seeing the mausoleum of Ho Chi Min. There he lies in state at the end of an ever cooling maze guarded by short military gentlemen that hush you if you try to speak and rush you if you pause to contemplate Ho Chi Min’s achievements. Actually, I do not believe it was really his body. It looked like it was made out of wax. The wick in the centre of his forehead was a dead giveaway. Couldn’t help but wonder if he was a scented candle.

Low point. I love good coffee and Vietnamese coffee happens to be one of my favourites. I arrived at the hotel and they served me Nescafe. I spent a great deal of time sitting in a little coffee shop round the corner being waited upon (should that be waitered upon?) by scruffy heterosexual boys that would try to crack it with any piece of female tail that passed on a moped.

India. The high point was the palace in Bangalore. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bangalore_Palace Nicole and I took a tour. Our tour guide was nearly dead and was obviously impressed by doors. He pointed out that they were all the same. He mentioned this as he passed each and every one of them. Did you know that the Palace in Bangalore has 453 doors? Anyway, he shuffled into one room, mentioning the door as he did, which revealed the best art deco furniture I have ever seen. I know this seems a little thing, but believe me, it was stunning. Both Nicole and I said later that is was quite emotional. Stunning!

Low point was only revealed later. While in Mumbai, Brett and I managed to visit every place that would later be bombed.

San Antonio, Texas. High point was easily the cookies.

The low point was the Alamo. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_the_Alamo History tells us that, present at the Battle of the Alamo were Jim Bowie, Davy Crocket, Daniel Boone, Billy the Kid and John Wayne. History tells us they fought the Mexican army. I don’t think so. I have been to The Alamo and I think they spent their time making fridge magnets and Alamo tea-towels. It wasn’t a fort, it was a gift shop!

San Diego, Florida. High point was easily the cookies.

The low point was the Old Town, called Old Town San Diego, which is a town that is old in San Diego. Attractions include an Olde Worlde candle shop, a shop that sells authentic Mexican death masks made in China, Rock shop (filled with rocks) and bank of colourful port-o-loos.

Montreal, Canada. High point is Montreal. Beautiful city filled with beautiful people who speak in very cute French accents.
Low Point was Mount Royal. It’s simply not tall enough to be a mount let alone a high point.

Tokyo, Japan. The high point was the hotel. http://www.imperialhotel.co.jp/cgi-bin/imperial_hp/index_e.cgi?ac1=ET&ac2=&Page=hpd_view The Imperial Hotel was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and is brilliant. Long corridors stumble upon vast spaces. The service is extraordinary. The first time I went I was escorted to my room. I got into the elevator and by the time I got to my floor, a young woman, dressed as a geisha, greeted me by name (or a close approximation considering the accent).

The low point? None. Love Japan.

I could also talk about Hong Kong, Indonesia, Malaysia, Australia and Thailand but you get the idea. Where did I do? Everywhere and everything!

New Year’s Resolution

2008-12-29T16:06:00.000-08:00

Usually I make New Year’s resolutions that I can keep, things like not to be the first woman to walk on the moon etc. This year, I am getting serious.

I have put on a bucket o’ weight in 2008 and so in 2009 I will lose some.

I believe my weight gain is due to an undiagnosed thyroid problem. My doctor, and what the hell does he know, thinks it’s due to poor diet, too much alcohol and a fitness regime that oscillates wildly between inert and sedimentary.

My aim is to return to my birth weight which, though not recorded on my birth certificate, is 8lb 4oz.

Wish me luck.

My big idea!

2008-12-26T21:05:00.000-08:00

Thinking about making and marketing bacon yarmulkes!

Delish!

All Purpose Seasoning

2008-12-24T23:39:00.001-08:00

I went to the supermarket the other day to buy some herbs and spices. A saw a small jar labelled, “All Purpose Seasoning.” So, I bought it.

It didn’t condition my hair!

I took it back.

Family Xmas

2008-12-22T23:12:00.000-08:00

It is at this time of year that I cannot help but let my mind meander idly back to those Christmases of my youth when my innocence, naivety and simply excitement of coming festivities clouded my judgment and produced a foolhardy euphoria that can only be likened to the Nuremberg rally.

Christmas never began until father brought home the tree. He’d found a used-tree lot and had become a regular patron of those irregular trees. Occasionally we got a conifer but more often it some type of diseased sapling rejected by even the most spurious of garden centres. One year he brought home a genetically altered spruce, used by the army in some terrifying experiment. “It’s still green,” my father beamed as he sprayed the thing with sadly flammable, past expiry date, army green camouflage paint.

I, as the youngest, was always on stake duty. Because of the trees deformity, one of us would have to stand next to it, holding it up throughout the festive celebration. It sometimes took me weeks to get all the paint off.

My mother and siblings would decorate the tree, and me, with home-made baubles that usually consisted of glittered road kill and burnt sausages from some previous BBQ disaster.

Mother would send out invitations to friends and relatives which they would graciously ignore.

On Christmas morning, father would dress as Santa Claus. At least, that was his intention. Of course, he would always get there a little late and all the Santa costumes were gone. So Christmas morning we were greeted by Dracula, Carmen Miranda or one year by Martin Van Buren, the 8th President of the United States.

Gifts were always amusing; amusingly shaped vegetables, to be exact. This was my brothers doing. On weekends, he would rummage through local markets looking for vegetables that made him giggle. It was an odd family tradition that brought delight in the short term and minor psychotic episodes in the long term.

In the evening, we would sit around the wooden stove, hoping the tree would not catch alight, roast porcelain chestnuts and read lengthy tracts from Swedish erotica.

And a very Merry Yuletide season to you all.

Paul Failing

2008-12-18T01:39:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when I write I try to write myself into a corner and see if I can struggle out of it. With what follows, I failed. However, I think bits are funny but I gave up. Read on if you want to see how I can fail!

Scandinavians are not known for their sense of humour. In fact, I suppose the image we have of those Norse mortals are large blonde blokes picking knits out of outrageous beards after a thoroughly decent rape and pillaging session. Of course, not all our Scandinavian brethren were Vikings (a word that incidentally means, “Band of people who rape and pillage”). Some were fishermen and mighty fine fishermen they were too. I mean, they were hardly Ichthyologists but they knew a thing or two about catching fish.

Herring was the main catch of the day but other fish sometimes crowded their nets. Their favourite eating fish, apart from herring which they believed had some remarkable restorative powers much needed after vigorous raping and pillaging, was a fish known to them as Șhǽk.

Now, near the end of the Viking age in the late 990s a small band of swarthy Nordic trawlers were blown off course and landed on the coast of Humberside, England. After a few vague attempts at raping and pillaging, they settled down and became part of the local community.

This is where it gets a little convoluted, but bear with me.

The locals loved a nice piece of fish, so these expert anglers were most welcome except for the fact that the native Humbersidians could not see the attraction of herring, pickled or otherwise. They would pay the new neighbours by putting their catch in a barrel and measuring it with a ruler, the more inches caught the more they could barter and buy without having to resort to the old ways of merely pillaging for goods and chattel. The problem was that the word “ruler” sounded just like the Nordic word for “penis”. Even on the coldest of mornings, if a local started talking about rulers and inches, the Nordic gut would tremble with mirth.

One day the Scandinavian seafarers arrived back with a large catch of Șhǽk. The locals were most pleased as they believed that Șhǽk had some remarkable restorative powers much needed after vigorous reaping and whinging. Now the locals called the fish plaice which sounds exactly like the Nordic word for vagina. This made caused no end of guffawing from the would-be Vikings. Every time one of the English roses said, “Ooooh, I like a nice Plaice”, tears would steam down their faces and into their still uncontrolled beards.

The fishermen loved the linguistic faux pas so much, that they doubled their efforts at catching Plaice.

One autumn eve, they rowed home with the greatest catch of their lives.

That’s where I gave up.

Meh!

Pole Dancing Party

2008-12-10T19:20:00.000-08:00

I was invited to a Pole Dancing Party last week. It was one of those BYO Pole affairs.

I didn't have one so took a German friend.

They wouldn't let me in.

New Sheets

2008-12-10T18:33:00.000-08:00

I just bought some new Egyptian Cotten sheets with a 600 thread count.

Three were missing.

I took them back.

Idiom Etymology 1

2008-12-04T22:03:00.000-08:00

A most strange trail of coincidence and serendipity lead to one expression that is needlessly misunderstood today.

On the 5th of July, 1827, two Banks in the city of Minnesota were robbed. The Royal Velk Bank staff were held at gunpoint by one Richard Lathe with his three accomplices, the brothers Nathanial and Jefferson Curly and Jeb Short. At the exact same time, another bank, The First Bank of Issington, was undergoing a similar hold up. The leader of the Issington hold up crew was Lionel Harrington who was less that ably supported by three partners in crime. Now here is where the strangeness occurs. Mr. Harrington small gang consisted of George Short, the brother of Jeb Short and two uncles of Nathanial and Jefferson.

Both raids were successful in as much as they got away with the money and no one was hurt. However, Mr. Lathe’s mob left town immediately and headed south whereas the raiders of the First Bank of Isslington, minus their leader, celebrated their victory with more than a few ales at a local saloon. As the beer flowed, tongues were loosened and before long the gang was bragging of their crime. They were soon arrested and police tracked down Lionel Harrington and all were send to hard labour for a period of five years.

Two years later, Richard Lathe was shot in another armed hold up and, on his death bed, confessed to the raid on The Royal Velk Bank and numerous others.

A reporter of the time, Samuel Fitch, was writing an article about the strange parallel events and asked a local Judge, Judge Rupert S. Singwell, to comment. Judge Singwell pondered and then summerized that crime does eventually lead to justice sooner or later and commiserated that Lionel Harrington may never have been apprehended but unfortunately, “…he was caught by his Short and Curlys.”

Dutch Idioms

2008-12-04T21:20:00.000-08:00

I have recently been looking up some on the etymologies of idioms and would like to share some with you. But first, what lead me to this. Well it was the Dutch. There seem to have a great many expressions that use them as the punch line which is kind of understandable if you have ever heard them barrack for their football team, “Netherlands (Honk Honk), Netherlands (Honk Honk), Netherlands (Honk Honk)”. Such creativity and an inspired lack of passion and individualism.

Here are some of the Dutch idioms I have discovered.

Going Dutch – Not paying for your date’s food or beverages.

Dutch Uncle – Not a real uncle with legitimate blood ties to your family.

Dutch wife – A type of pillow shaped like a tube used to dry hump when aroused and alone.

Dutch Elm – An Elm tree that isn’t an Elm tree.

Dutch Purple Rage – A type of marijuana sold in to tourists in Amsterdam that contains no THC.

Dutch Etiquette – An oxymoron

Stranger are actual Dutch idioms.

"De aap komt uit de mouw!" is used to remark upon the revelation of crucial detail that was previously withheld, or a hidden agenda finally made clear. It literally means, "The monkey comes out of the sleeve."

And how about "broodje aap verhaal"? Usually applied to grisly, ironic, or otherwise unusual stories of kittens in jars, criminal plots gone wrong, super-expensive cookie recipes, outrageous acts of revenge committed by spurned lovers, and, presumably, unsavory dishes unwittingly eaten, the Dutch equivalent of "urban legend”. It translates to, “Monkey sandwich”!

And who said the Dutch didn’t have a sense of humour? All the world mate, all the world.

More gripping headlines

2008-06-26T23:42:00.000-07:00

Lucky escape for pilots – Duo’s plane comes to rest next to sign reading, “Jesus is Lord”Would this have got any attention if the sign read, “Eat At Joe’s!”?

School uniform sexy, says group – “It encourages rape and pre-marital sex”
Personally I think leather thongs in the school colours a great idea.

Sabah MPs start day with grouses.
Malacca MPs start with finches and Terengganu MPs start day with the Red Breasted Dork

Call to redefine poverty

From now on, Poverty will be defined, in the Malaysian Dictionary as, “A small tree leaning west.”

The Star – The People’s Paper

2008-05-18T20:22:00.000-07:00

I am training in Malaysia and one of the great delights is the morning paper. Stories that relate to me and have impact on the world are hard to find, yet The Star has it all. Here I share some of the highlights of this week’s news according to The Star.

Teach In English

(This is the exact text from a letter from a reader.)
Continue math n sci in english. At d same time train more English language teachers n improve English syllabus. math n science in eng must cont.

Anti-climax for lovers

This story was about a young lad that scaled the fence to have sex with his girlfriend. The police were called and they both got arrested.

Not a great story but a terrific headline.

Food, the silent tsunami

Images of a broccoli flood spring to mind.

OK to believe in aliens. Vatican scientists: No conflict between accepting God and ETs.

Could also believe in flying pigs, world peace and Wales at the same time!

Man jailed after daughter fails maths exam

If I’d a known this, I would have failed more in school.

Whips to control MPs on debates

Gotta love that corporal punishment.

14 held in raid on gay joint

3 others were held on a raid on a slightly effeminate rack of lamb and a rib roast was closed down completely.

Rude wake-up call for woman – Housewife stunned to find naked robber lying beside her.

Obviously robbing is a very tiring event and the said burglar needed a nap. Of course, you don’t take your jim jams on your average burglary!

However, the woman’s husband was asleep on the couch??????? Hate to be a little suspicious but the fact that she referred to the thief as “Sweety Pumpkin” is a little odd.

Fish-stick Christ

2008-05-05T22:34:00.000-07:00

It appears that Our Lord and Savior has appeared in a fish-stick. I would just personally like to thank Christ for creating this miracle as proof of his existence. However, may I humbly and humanly suggest that maybe slightly different miracles may be more appropriate to His image and standing in the community? Rather than spending His divine energy generate His own image in food stuffs, may I put forward than bringing peace to the world, solving the sub-prime crisis or the solving the current food crisis could be a better way of promoting His wonderful celestialness. Not that I don’t appreciate His iconic likeness in buns and tortillas, I just think that something more substantial just might put across a more serious message.

Thanks JC.

Name this Photo

2008-04-14T01:06:00.000-07:00

Dr Paul – Do Indians smell?

2008-04-14T01:03:00.000-07:00

I have been getting lots of cultural questions recently and decided to address them on my blog. The biggest question from my Australian colleagues is, “Do Indians smell?”

The answer is a resounding YES! But there is a reason for it. Indians in Singapore tend to work in very menial jobs; road sweepers, road fixers, road kill and alike. They spend 10 hours a day sweating in the humidity that is Singapore.

For this they get paid very badly and so share accommodation so as to save money. At the end of a hard perspiring day, they go home where 16 other Indian nationals are queuing for the ablutionary facilities. Naturally a few of them fall asleep waiting and never quite make it. Therefore, some of them smell. Not all of them.

Of course, in the Indian subcontinent things are slightly different. I have been to Indian and I can say with total confidence that, apart from the luxurious hotels that I frequent, they are exactly 12 toilet blocks and the Ganges.

Nuff said.

Culture is an arbitrary line in the sand. What really smells? Stilton? Durian? Cheap perfume? In Indonesia I wore quite a lot of cologne as I was told that the locals may think I smell funny. Personally, being in a butcher’s makes me gag. That line in the sand can be drawn by many or just the individual.

Picks Of New Pad

2008-04-14T00:48:00.000-07:00

Hoser Eel

2008-04-14T00:43:00.000-07:00

For its size, Singapore had a wealth of fauna and not just in the Singapore zoo. Some massive pythons have been caught near Hawker’s centers and the profundity of bird can cause any driver a headache.

The most unique of all of Singapore’s wildlife is the Hoser Eel (Anguilliformes Singaporeus). This long slender eel is found primarily in the water supply used by firemen and can often interrupt the flow during emergencies. Because of this, all fire equipment in Singapore must be properly flushed before use.

Japan – Land of the Rising Bidet

2008-04-06T23:54:00.000-07:00

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There is something classy about Japan. No not the swift rail service or streets uncluttered by vehicles. Not the suited pedestrians gliding to work with excellent posture. Not even the plated sushi that mixes colour, form and taste.

It’s only when you venture into the toilet that all is revealed about this impressive culture.

The heated toilet seat was impressive but not of great use to me. My motions could set the motions of a Swiss watch and I don’t really need warmed buttocks to encourage evacuation. But it is after the deed is done that Japan shines its true creative glory.

Yes, electronically controlled douches. With a touch of a button your bottom is accurately spayed with water with a meaningful temperature and velocity. With an automatic swish, your chocolate starfish becomes a shiny badge of clean contented orifice. Heaven!

Japan, I forgive you all.

WTC Conspiracy

2008-03-24T18:56:00.000-07:00

I have recently been examining the 9/11 tragedy, specifically the collapse of the World Trade Centre. There are many conspiracies regarding what happened and who knew about it.

Here is a two hour “webumentary” that debunks religion (Christianity to be precise), 9/11 and The Federal Reserve for good measure. It is called “Zeitgeist” which I believe is a type of German custard-filled crepe.

http://zeitgeistmovie.com/

Here is another called “Loose Change” which specifically explains the fact, yes fact, that a plane did not hit the Pentagon and that the Two Towers were destroyed by the CIA.

http://www.loosechange911.com/

However, there is one theory that never seems to appear on the web so is probably true. In fact, I fully expect this blog entry to be deleted by evil forces to prevent the truth from escaping and the real guilty parties named.

Through careful thought and consideration, based on all facts available, I have come to the conclusion that the World Trade Center never existed. I believe it was a giant hologram, probably created by the reverse-engineering of alien technology, and its sole purpose was to be destroyed on a slow news day.

China accuses Dalai Lama of being a terrorist

2008-03-23T18:37:00.000-07:00

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/asia/article3607668.ece

Far from heeding international calls for dialogue with the Dalai Lama, China has accused Tibet’s exiled god-king of colluding with Muslim terrorists to destabilise the country before the Olympic Games.

State-run newspapers have issued prominent leading articles that are part of a campaign to portray the Dalai Lama as the mastermind of the deadly riots that have rippled through Tibet and ethnic Tibetan communities.

China’s Communist rulers have presented the violence as a plot supported by only a minority of Tibetans. The People’s Daily said that the Dalai Lama had never abandoned violence after fleeing China in 1959 after a failed revolt against Beijing. “The Dalai Lama is scheming to take the Beijing Olympics hostage to force the Chinese Government to make concessions to Tibetan independence.”

It also accused Tibet’s spiritual leader of planning attacks with the aid of violent Uighur separatist groups seeking an independent East Turkestan for their largely Muslim people in the northwestern Xinjiang region of China. It said: “The Dalai clique has also strengthened collusion with East Turkestan terror organisations and planned terror activities in Tibet.”

Jane Macartney in Beijing

Personally I have always suspected this and quite frankly, China’s state run newspaper has not gone far enough. For my part, I am fairly convinced that the DL (Dalai Lama) was also involved in the holocaust, 9/11, Columbia Shuttle Explosion and the whole New Coke disaster.

Supreme Court to rule on bastard broadcast indecency

2008-03-18T00:51:00.000-07:00

The justices will weigh whether fucking federal regulators may levy large fines on broadcasters who let cunting expletives on the airwaves during daytime and early evening hours.

By David G. Savage, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer March 18, 2008

WASHINGTON -- The Supreme Court agreed Monday to rule for the first time in 30 years on what constitutes fucking indecency on broadcast television and radio.

The fat wanking poo jabbing justices will weigh whether federal regulators may levy large fines on broadcasters who let expletives on the airwaves during daytime and early evening hours, especially if niggers are involved.

The cunting court could rule that the Federal Communications Commission has broad power to decide what is acceptable for broadcasts. Or the justices, who are mostly kikes, could conclude that the 1st Amendment's protection for the freedom of speech does not allow the government to punish broadcasters with fines and water-boarding for an occasional vulgarity.

Superfoods

2008-03-17T23:13:00.000-07:00

In our office in Singapore, we have recently discovered Superfoods. http://www.webmd.com/a-to-z-guides/features/superfoods-everyone-needs

These are foods that are way good for you and include

· Beans
· Blueberries
· Broccoli
· Oats
· Oranges
· Pumpkin
· Salmon
· Soy
· Spinach
· Tea (green or black)
· Tomatoes
· Turkey
· Walnuts
· Yogurt

Funny that these are advertised through, amongst others, The American Beans Board, The US Society of Blueberry Distributors, The Broccoli Board, The US Oats Organization etc.

What doesn’t appear on the list is deep fried twinkies.
Now, for those that don’t know, a twinky is a Golden Sponge Cake with Creamy Filling. Sounds yummy? It ain’t. I had some once and you teeth start hurting before you even swallow. These are sugar plus cakes with more preservatives than old movie stars.

How to combat that insane sweetness? Deep fry the buggers.

Here are two lines from Wiki on the subject.

After coating, conventional cooking oil is typically used, although beef suet or tallow is sometimes used to give a "meaty" flavor.

And…

The piece de resistance, however, is a ruby-hued berry sauce, adding a tart sophistication to all that airy sugary goodness.

God bless America!

Tip of the hat to Leonie, Jaya and Tania on this entry.

Objectives

2008-03-17T20:37:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of all training courses that I run, I always ask participants what their individual objective for the course is. In Asia, we get them to write it on a Postit anonymously so if they write something foolish, they won’t lose face.

Most objectives are dull dull dull. If you are running a Presentation Skills workshop, about 50% of the objectives will be, “To present better.” If you are running a Negotiation Skills workshop, about 50% of the objectives will be, “To be a better negotiator.” The imagination of these people is astounding.

Occasionally you get a doozy.

This one, on a Presentation Skills course, reads , “I wish to lead a meaningful life.”

What does one say? Ma’am, I only have two days but I’ll give it a shot you stupid STUPID Ho!

Global Warming

2008-03-14T00:56:00.000-07:00

A report from D Magazine dated January 30 quoted General Motors Vice Chairman Robert Lutz saying that global warming is a "total crock of shit."

He also stated that the holocaust didn’t happen, men didn’t walk on the moon and that gravity was overrated.

Wanna Be Starting Something

2008-03-11T23:14:00.000-07:00

Wanna Be Starting Something
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Muslim Swim Wear

2008-03-09T18:52:00.000-07:00

I found this mannequin dress in a swimsuit for Muslin women. Unfortunately the statistics are not of the side of the swim suit makers.

7 out of ten wearers are mistaken for seals.

3 out of ten are taken by sharks.

2 out of ten are clubbed to death on snow drifts.

Kyrgyzstan ignores Taiwan

2008-03-09T18:46:00.000-07:00

Here is an interesting story I found.

Kyrgyzstan ignores Taiwan

Since Taiwan plans to hold referendum on entering the United Nations Organization, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Kyrgyz Republic informs that it does not recognize Taiwan as independent country, only as a part of China, informs KABAR. It seems that the MFA of Kyrgyzstan is too quick and clumsy in showing its support of China and its politics. Frankly, Taiwan would not care very much now about the opinion of Kyrgyzstan. Perhaps Kyrgyzstan should not have reacted to any news regarding Taiwan.

Personally, I am waiting for the next article which will, undoubtedly, be entitled,

Taiwan asks, "Where the Fuck is Kyrgystan?"

Prosperity Burger

2008-02-28T21:34:00.000-08:00

Having been away from Singapore I missed a few things, especially Chinese New Year. CNY is a time of great culture when you can see Dragon and Lion dances, eat exotic foods at twice their normal price and be kept awake by what the Chinese laughingly call opera.

I was actually driving through Geelong during Chinese New Year and saw four young boys in a line, dressed in pajamas with a small wheelie bin on the front one’s head. I presume that was their rendition of the dragon dance.

The biggest miss was McDonald’s Prosperity Burger.

This may seem like a cheap marketing ploy but considering it is the Year of the Rat, one has to wonder what the burger actually is. Oh McDonalds, you’ve done it again!

The Golden Egg

2008-02-28T21:22:00.000-08:00

For Valentine’s Day, my co-workers bought me a Magic Egg (gold in colour).

The instructions were as follows.

“Lrrigate for some days and then beat all surprise luck goodness and inspirer… All cring to you”

It also came with a warning, “ Attention suitable for children above 8. Don’t take seeds. Soil. And fertilizer and so on for food.”

So all cring to you all.

New Disney Rides

2008-01-02T19:29:00.000-08:00

I was reading somewhere that Disney are adding new rides, or updating some old ones, to even further enhance the Happiest Place on earth. (There are some that say that the happiest place on earth is actually between the breasts of a Nepalese maiden, but I won’t go there.)

Anyhow, most Disney rides are based on Disney movies except the Pirate of the Caribbean ride which was just a ride then they made the movie and had to update the ride because none of there animatronics pirates looked like Johnny Depp.

So I was thinking, wouldn’t it be possible to create more rides about movies not from the Disney (or Touchstone) stable.

I have some suggestions.

The Apocalypse Now ride. This is a boat ride staring on a beach being hit with napalm and moving up a river, passing drugged out GIs, Strange French folk (from the redux version) whores on stage and finally reaching the Kurtz compound where they slaughter a bull and several thousand humans. All fun.

The My Dinner with Andre ride. I think this would have to be in 3D. We, the audience, watch as Wallace Shawn and Andre Gregory, apparently playing themselves, share their lives over the course of an evening meal at a restaurant. There could be smells of the food as well. Wholesome fun.

The Kenny ride. A swirling roller coaster that swings you round the S-bend. Nuff said!

Just some ideas.

My Philanthropy Knee

2008-01-01T01:22:00.000-08:00

I fell down and smacked my knee something awful. Now I wasn’t drunk at the time but it hurt like all buggery and was drunk about half an hour later.

I woke in the morning to find a lump on my right knee the size of a small breast. Crisis!

Now the Chinese symbol for the word crisis is in fact made up of two symbols that individually translated mean “danger” and “opportunity” or “purse” and “brussels sprouts” or a combination of the four. Anyway, I am always looking for the positive so I fully intend to go to Thailand and have a nipple attached to my now breast-like knee. Then I shall go to Darfur and feed starving babies with my knee.

So if I am late for work on Tuesday, please forgive.

Play it if not feint hearted

2007-12-03T19:05:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dO65OlAhEJg

Bali - Music and Lawn Clipping

2007-12-02T23:01:00.000-08:00

Bali has been inhabited since early prehistoric times and quite recently they discovered fire and learned to walk on two legs. Although now officially bipedal, their understanding of some basic concepts such as hygiene, dental care and long term economic growth are sadly lacking.

This naivety, however, has some positive consequences.

When you arrive in Bali you instantly relax. This has to do with time, which the Balinese think is a rather silly concept and has to do with watches which they consider jewelry. The only time that they adhere to time is sunset and the only reason they notice that at all is because it starts to go dim, which is a bit of a giveaway. Sunset means they can stop pretending to work and actually seriously not work.

Of course, this concept (or lack of concept) about time makes fast food an impossibility and most Balinese think that Punctuality is a mid-fielder for Chelsea.

Their music is also tainted by their recent move out of the caves. Where most Western music uses a scale of eight notes (an octave), the Balinese gave up at five claiming that the extra three were far too much to remember. This means that Balinese music is distinctive, naïve and plain annoying. When forced to listen to Balinese music blaring over the crackling speakers at a cheap eatery, I can’t help but try to figure out what the tune should be if it has those extra notes. Added to this, the Balinese tend to write one short phrase of music and then just repeat it again and again and again. Many a tourist has pointed out to a Balinese matriarch that the record is stuck only to be greeted with an incomprehensible smile.

This incomprehensible smile usually means, “I haven’t got a fucking clue what you are talking about and my teeth are so big I can’t close my lips together.”

Balinese religion is a mixture if Hinduism and Animism but which has boiled down, as far at I can tell, to sticking flowers in crevasse and burning lawn clipping outside of every building. The latter is harder than you think as there ain’t too many lawns in Bali and they have to import the clippings.

Finally, all first born females of the family are called Made (Pronounced Ma Day) and all first born males are called Gede (Pronounced G’day) which goes a long way to explaining why Australian are so popular. They think we know their name!

Bali - Signs

2007-11-29T23:27:00.000-08:00

Grammar is something that happens to other people.

Dear Guest

Please fill the pot with water, at least half of it then plugged. The cord not more than 15 minutes, the water will boil.

When you finished using the pot, please unplugged the cord.

The last line says it all. "Please put all your desposal thing in the desposal Bag."

Bali- Forbidden Subject

2007-11-29T23:22:00.000-08:00

In Western culture, forbidden subjects are things like sex, religion and politics.

In Bali, it is quite different.

"YOU STUPID POOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Bali - An Open Letter to the Balinese

2007-11-29T02:36:00.000-08:00

Firstly, really sorry about the tourists but it’s a living. I especially ask forgiveness from Australians who come from a mono-culture but really are as stupid as they seem.

Just so you know, here is a list of things that tourists are really unlikely to buy on a beach.

Watches
Belts
Bow and arrow sets
Art
Carvings of Balinese farmers
Wooden penis ashtrays

Bali - An Open Letter to Tourists

2007-11-29T02:32:00.000-08:00

IT’S THEIR JOB!

I know they seem really friendly, and they are, but it’s how they make a living.

That fat women who gives gritty massages with scented Criso oil doesn’t really remember you.

That cute kid playing tether ball with you for two hours, expects you to buy him a beer at the end. He isn’t doing it for fun.

That cute dark skinned beach lethario is a Kuta Cowboy, doesn’t really love you and fully expects a hefty gratuity at the end for the all the poundings you have received.

Those big smiles are a dental condition!

They are poor and you are haggling over 50 cents. So stop it.

Bali - Land of a Thousand Smiles

2007-11-29T02:31:00.000-08:00

Bali is known as, “The land of a Thousand Smiles.” It is not because they are happy. It’s just that they have really big teeth and it really hard to stretch those lips over all that dental magnificent. So they smile!

Bali - The Iconic Gift

2007-11-29T02:25:00.000-08:00

When you travel as much as me, you realize that each country has an iconic gift. In Australia it is the Koala. The Philippines have dried mangoes, Vietnam has pen holders made from artillery shells and Thailand has syphilis.

Bali has a traditional gift that every tourist seeks as a reminder of their stay and a present for those loved ones at home. The Wooden Penis Ashtray.

There is a saying that every wood-carver in Bali knows. “De dalam tiap blok kayu, ada satu aspa kontol tunggu untuk merdeka.” Roughly translated is states, “Inside every piece of wood is a penis ashtray waiting for freedom.”

Originally, of course, it was just a wooden penis, but after a few splinters in various moist nooks, it developed into what is a now the emblematic Balinese souvenir.

Everyone needs one.

Other Balinese “oleh oleh” include really small surf boards with a picture of Bob Marley on them, sarongs and beaded hair.

I Prefer Nigger Finger Sandwiches

2007-11-06T22:16:00.000-08:00

Training Quotes

2007-11-02T20:21:00.000-07:00

When I am training, things slip into my mind and often just say them. Out of context they are not funny or smart. However, I am recording them here for prosperity.

“I’m a butterfly. I’m a butterfly. I’m a butterfly. I’m a brooch.”

“We tried to make Warrick shine but he was kicked to death by the other participants because he wouldn’t make eye-contact.”

“Knuckles off the ground.”

“Notice she usually sits back and to the left, back and to the left, back and to the left. Like JFK.”

“So much was wrong and you taught him the emu?”

“Absolute crocs.”

“Complete bags of hair.”

“Lou Garret died of Lou Garret’s Disease. Hey, he should have seen that coming.”

“In his last speech from the White House, Regan sat at a desk with his hand clasped together in front of him. Why? Someone had glued them together.”

“Just suck it up Ali!”

Balloon animals

2007-10-11T20:41:00.000-07:00

We decided to brighten up out office by making some balloon animals. Unfortunately, none us had the lung capacity to actually inflate the balloons. But that didn’t stop us.

Janet made the Giraffe, I made the Lemur suffering after a minor boating accident and Jaya made the tape worm.

Kids

2007-10-09T22:11:00.000-07:00

I rarely go into stores that sell things for small children because basically I don’t think they deserve things. They say that children should be seen and not heard. Quite frankly, I am not too keen on the former either. I am sure children have reasons for being, especially in the Thailand, the Philippines and some Slovakian states, but other than that they are loud reminders that contraception is good.

Anyway, I was in a shop today where they sold things for children, most of which were dull and had a train on them. However, the shoes were fantastic! Why don’t they make shoes like these in my size?

Also, when a small child at an airport pushes a trolley around while dancing and screaming in an extremely high pitch that Mariah Carey would be jealous of, people think it’s cute. When I do the same thing, I get smacked over the back of the head with an M 16. What is wrong with this world?

PS I am thinking of starting a new business where you take anatomically incorrect dolls and making them anatomically correct and then re-selling them. Do you think they will sell?

Stupid Journalists

2007-09-25T01:56:00.000-07:00

Countries call for restraint after Burma protest warning

By Barbara Miller. Taken from ABC News

Thousands of Buddhist monks have come in their long robes and have come in force - taking to the streets of Burma's towns and cities in protests which started last month in reaction to a steep rise in fuel prices.

Stupid journalist! “Thousands of Buddhist monks have come in their long robes…” What are they supposed to come in, floral chiffon evening frocks? They are Buddhist monks.

Idiot journalist!

Gods and Monkeys

2007-09-25T00:28:00.000-07:00

MONKEY GOD TREE SPARKS OTHER SIGHTINGS

NEWS of 'Monkey God' tree breaks on 13 Sep
Its trunk shows life-like outline of two monkeys - one larger - with limbs, faces, bodies
More people come after other 'divine' images are spotted on trees on same stretch of sidewalk
On one trunk is supposed outline of Guan Yin, Goddess of Mercy
Another has bark which resembles Hindu elephant god Ganesha
Another image said to represent spiritual snake
Fifth tree has a 'dragon-tiger' image - right side looks like head of dragon, while left resembles tiger.

http://newpaper.asia1.com.sg/news/story/0,4136,142784,00.html

Recently, people have been seeing various gods in the bark of trees in Jurong. Monkey gods and elephant gods and tiger gods and alike seem to have appeared in the knotted wood. This is parallel I suppose to the spotting of the Virgin Mary at Lourdes except they didn’t disappear over night.

Whereas the faithful visit Lourdes to strengthen their wavering faith or ask to be healed of dermatological disorders, Singaporeans flock to this now sacred sight to look for lotto numbers.

So whose faith is in the wrong place?

Bible Movies

2007-09-11T00:14:00.000-07:00

I was watching The Last temptation of Christ (Scorsese’ attempt at the Bible epic) the other day. I started to think about Bible movies and what made them work.

To a degree is boils down to sex and violence. Jesus ransacking the temple always gets a good cheer and the destruction of Sodom can do nothing but satisfy. But why do they avoid certain other parts of the Bible and stick with just a few, popularist stories.

Here is a short list of some Biblical Stories on celluloid.

The Bible
Adam and Eve
Joseph in the Land of Egypt
Noah's Ark
Lot in Sodom
Jacob
Joseph
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat
Joseph: King of Dreams
Moses and the 40 years in the Desert
The Ten Commandments
Moses the Lawgiver
Moses
The Prince of Egypt
Samson and Delilah
King David
The King of Kings
King of Kings
The Gospel According to St. Matthew
The Greatest Story Ever Told
Jesus Christ Superstar
Jesus of Nazareth
The Last Temptation of Christ
Mary, Mother of Jesus
The Passion of the Christ

More than a bucket of Moses and of course Jesus up to your crucifix. But if you really want a movie with religion tones and more sex and violence than an MTV Video award show, here’s the passage to go for.

It’s from Genesis.

5:3 And Adam lived an hundred and thirty years, and begat a son in his own likeness, and after his image; and called his name Seth:5:4 And the days of Adam after he had begotten Seth were eight hundred years: and he begat sons and daughters:5:5 And all the days that Adam lived were nine hundred and thirty years: and he died.5:6 And Seth lived an hundred and five years, and begat Enos:5:7 And Seth lived after he begat Enos eight hundred and seven years, and begat sons and daughters:5:8 And all the days of Seth were nine hundred and twelve years: and he died.5:9 And Enos lived ninety years, and begat Cainan:5:10 And Enos lived after he begat Cainan eight hundred and fifteen years, and begat sons and daughters:5:11 And all the days of Enos were nine hundred and five years: and he died.5:12 And Cainan lived seventy years and begat Mahalaleel:5:13 And Cainan lived after he begat Mahalaleel eight hundred and forty years, and begat sons and daughters:5:14 And all the days of Cainan were nine hundred and ten years: and he died.5:15 And Mahalaleel lived sixty and five years, and begat Jared:5:16 And Mahalaleel lived after he begat Jared eight hundred and thirty years, and begat sons and daughters:5:17 And all the days of Mahalaleel were eight hundred ninety and five years: and he died.5:18 And Jared lived an hundred sixty and two years, and he begat Enoch:5:19 And Jared lived after he begat Enoch eight hundred years, and begat sons and daughters:5:20 And all the days of Jared were nine hundred sixty and two years: and he died.5:21 And Enoch lived sixty and five years, and begat Methuselah:5:22 And Enoch walked with God after he begat Methuselah three hundred years, and begat sons and daughters:5:23 And all the days of Enoch were three hundred sixty and five years:5:24 And Enoch walked with God: and he was not; for God took him.5:25 And Methuselah lived an hundred eighty and seven years, and begat Lamech.5:26 And Methuselah lived after he begat Lamech seven hundred eighty and two years, and begat sons and daughters:5:27 And all the days of Methuselah were nine hundred sixty and nine years: and he died.5:28 And Lamech lived an hundred eighty and two years, and begat a son:5:29 And he called his name Noah, saying, This same shall comfort us concerning our work and toil of our hands, because of the ground which the LORD hath cursed.5:30 And Lamech lived after he begat Noah five hundred ninety and five years, and begat sons and daughters:5:31 And all the days of Lamech were seven hundred seventy and seven years: and he died.5:32 And Noah was five hundred years old: and Noah begat Shem, Ham, and Japheth.

Woof!

Cigarette Taxes

2007-09-10T23:34:00.000-07:00

I am always courageously miffed when Governments raise taxes, especially on things that they have decided are bad for us. It is their little way of discouraging behaviour that they have deemed inappropriate for society.

Then, they take my taxes and use them to fill potholes, build hospitals and put executive Jacuzzis in council chambers. All worth while I am sure, nevertheless it is a system that, if it succeeds will fail.

Smokers, like myself, will either give up smoking or die, leaving potholes unfilled, hospitals unbuilt and large spaces in spacious council chambers wanting of hot bubbling water and moist bints also paid for by my lungs.

What will happen then? They will naturally have to find something else to tax and my guess is that it will be chocolate. Now, they can’t just whip a tax of 400% on chocolates and would introduce it slowly. First they will claim that chocolate is addictive and bad for your health and the tax will rise. Then they will say that the amount of people dying of chocolate is increasing and the state is paying for their hospitalisation (even if they are not) and the tax will rise. Then they will start banning eating chocolate in certain areas; schools, hospitals build with chocolate money, small boutique pubs in the Midlands and the tax will rise. They will extend the ban to workplaces, airplanes, eating places and even chocolate shops.

Finally, we will find small groups of chocoholics huddled in doorways, out of the rain, scoffing Baci, Kit Kats and smuggling Toblerones through customs.

After chocolate had disappeared into alarming documentaries, what will be next? Will they start claiming that fuel emissions and plastics are bad?

Maids in Singapore

2007-09-03T04:18:00.000-07:00

I just found out that between 1999 and 2005, 147 maids fell to their deaths in Singapore. I an disgusted with this and think Singaporeans should spend a little more time finding maids with a greater sense of balance.

KL – IT’S ALL GOOD – Soft Opening

2007-08-21T22:19:00.000-07:00

Every hotel has its own unique selling point and the hotel I recently stayed at in Malaysia is no exception. I will call it the Penisula Hotel so I don’t get sued if they read this, though I honestly doubt that literacy is a skill that they possess.

They managed, at great expense I am sure, to acquire staff who all had different skin diseases. It was a dermatological fiesta. After the first week there, I had a day off and managed to get my hand on what is considered the definitive work on the subject, “Skin Diseases – Identification for Fun and Profit.” Every breakfast, Tania and I would leaf through this knowledgeable tome, naming each dermatological abnormality and guess what stage it was in. From mild tinea and raging acne to some virulent strain of the Ebola virus, every morning was a thrilling game of classifying weeping wounds and erupting pustules.

The hotel was far from finished. It has just had its soft opening and for those not familiar with this term, a soft opening means that the hotel is not finished but they want to start making money so they advertise what they may one day have, in the way of services and amenities, in the hope that some poor fool will book in anyway. I am said fool.

Still painting

Here is what the website says and what the reality is.

Telephone lines – Yes there is a phone and it is connected but comes with no instruction as to how to dial out, call the concierge or room service, but it is a phone so a tick there.
Internet is every suite – Not true. There is wireless in the bar down stairs and a computer in the business centre which is sits next to the stapler.
Air conditioning – Which also doubles as a small water feature
ASTRO – Don’t know what that is but they don’t have it
Cutleries (sic) – Three spoons
Other safety features – I presume that is the wires sticking out of the wall that will be a smoke alarm some time in the future
Jockey services – I ordered three jockeys and none arrived
In-house self service laundry – No
Barbeque pit – Incomplete coy pond

Cuttleries

The bar was my favourite. It was large with a faux Edwardian façade and a complete absence of alcohol.

The hotel was booked by the company we were training for and I live in the hope that I will get the opportunity to kick the person in charge in their soft opening ere I die.

KL – IT’S ALL GOOD – TV Landmark

2007-08-21T20:28:00.000-07:00

Being stuck in a hotel in the middle of nowhere in Malaysia has so many plusses. Catching up on a bit of Teev is one of them. That is, of course, if there are any channels worth watching.

I had a bunch on Malaysian channels, BBC, ESPN (for a heavy dose of golf) and the magically Discovery channel. I watched “Myth Busters” and then the repeat several times. I don’t really understand this show. I mean, they explode myths like whether you can paint a room evenly with an exploding paint bomb. Surely myths like, “Is Jesus really the son of God,” would be more interesting.

“American Chopper” has all the charm of a skid mark in your undies. “I Survived Impaling” was a miss as the person wasn’t really impaled. I mean, I want to see someone survive a stake up the date, not a nail in the foot.

Then, the announcer heralded what, I have no doubt, will become one of the seminal documentaries of our times, “Fat Fiancées.”

Sheila is about 16, wants to go to college, lives in Uganda and is a member of the Hima tribe who raise cattle. The men of the tribe don’t seem to be able to differentiate between their women and their cattle. Nor could I!

Moses, a skinny young man from a neighbouring tribe who looks like his entire family of 57 donated one tooth each to make his unique smile. He thinks Sheila is hot, if a bit on the skinny side, and arranged to pay ten cows for her.

So far this is your average docco about a slightly backward African tribe.

Then the ritual begins.

Sheila is put into the Fattening Hut. She will spend four months here before the wedding then another three after the knot is tied. In the Fattening Hut, she is forced to drink 8 gourds of milk a day and lie down a lot. Her grandmother arrives with the said gourds and a large stick and gently threatens her with violence is she does not finish every drop. There is shot after shot of Sheila with her face in a gourd, staring at the insane old woman.

While Sheila is packing on the pounds, we have various interviews with members of the family and discover that the entire tribe thinks her would-be-sister-in-law is “a little too fat.” Even her would-be-sister-in-law, after praising the health benefits of obesity, hopes that Sheila doesn’t get as fat as she is. And Sheila’s would-be-sister-in-law is a corker. Her arse became the centre of a bidding war between Lockheed and Douglas when a plan arose to make passenger aircraft in Africa. She also seemed a little jealous of all the milk Sheila was getting.

Sheila is let out of the Fattening Hut when the wedding gifts arrive. The groom and his family arrive in a taxi for the event to show that they are prosperous. Of course, there are no roads but that is ignored as the 1973 ford sedan bounced through the dessert. The callous family and friends give some highly inappropriate gifts which include a large bed that just fits into Moses’ hut and set of decorate gourds. I just can’t imaging that Sheila would want to look at another gourd, decorative or not, after 7 months in the Fattening Hut with crazy Nana.

When the wedding day arrives, everyone is very happy with how much Sheila has porked up. The diminutive Moses eyes bulge is glee and fear as his little love-hulk waddles down the aisle, her thighs creative friction and they rub against each other. Moses' family hires a poet to entertain at the reception who immediately launches into an epic tome comparing Sheila to a cow. I myself was quite surprised how many words rhyme with cow and moo.

It was then revealed that Sheila did not give out on the wedding night.
This is where the documentary comes to an end. However, I have found some information about what happened to Moses and Sheila after the cameras were turned off.

3 weeks after the marriage, Moses was found clubbed to death with a decorative gourd.

Sheila’s sister-in-law started lying under cows just drinking milk and getting fatter and fatter. Everyone kind of ignored it until one morning she, and the cow, could not be found. Sheila’s sister-in-law was last seen being dragged through the Sudan attached to a grumpy cow.

All this has led me to a career move. I am going to open a franchised restaurant called “The Fattening Hut.” All the food will be served in gourds.

A shout out to pre-fattened Tania for all the laughs.

Family History – Nordic Thread

2007-07-04T22:36:00.000-07:00

This entry actually dates back to circa 900 AD and there is no definitive truth that these characters are, in any way, genetically linked to the Tolton clan. However, some elements have led many to believe that these were our ancestors.

In an epic poem, written down from the bardic tradition by Loke Fenrisulven from an oral presentation by Bjjerf Midgårdsormen, a story emerges about a man and a journey. The story is entitled, “Norræna húsið í Reykjavík er einstæður fundarstaður sem staðsettur er á skilum Evrasíu- og.” Or in English, “The Trip.”

The Man’s name is Flerg Tolkfton. (The K and F was removed from the name between 1937 and 1943 due to a consonant dispute with Russia). The man lived in a small village called Heimaslóð, which was know throughout the region for their bear traps and curious buttocks.

One afternoon, Flerg inexplicably started on a journey in search of Wellington Boots. Of course, his neighbours tried to dissuade him with the argument that Wellington Boots would not be invented until the 19th century, but Flerg was a man of great courage, unbelievable single-mindedness and remarkable stupidity.

At the end of the first day, he found himself on the shores of a great lake so went back home and married a tea cozy.

In 1974, on the B Side of their Icelandic release of the single Waterloo, Abba had the song, “Ordbok översättning!” A stirring anthemic song whose English translation is, “That Loony Who Married a Kettle.” It is believed the song was based on the life of Flerg Tolkfton.

My Favorate Foot Photo

2007-07-03T23:28:00.000-07:00

Information about Brussels Sprouts

2007-07-01T19:00:00.000-07:00

The term Brussels sprout is a countable noun whose plural form is Brussels sprouts. A commonly used alternative form is Brussel sprout, whose plural is Brussel sprouts. However, linking the name with the Belgian capital of Brussels would argue against dropping the last "s" in the first word (although the Dutch name for the city is "Brussel").

Perth

2007-06-28T19:10:00.000-07:00

I flew Thai Airlines last week which are for some reason abbreviated to TG. In there excellent a very colourful In-Flight magazine that always has an article about the King in it, they had an article on “Destination Australia” They covered four destinations and had a picture for each.

Sydney had a picture of the harbor and the Opera House. Fair enough!

Melbourne had Flinders Street Station. Probably the Casino would have gone down better with Asians.

Brisbane had a picture of the Brisbane River with that tiny city in the background.

Perth had a picture of an arrow shaped sign with the word “Perth” on it.

Says it all!

Condoms in Singapore

2007-05-28T00:06:00.000-07:00

I was told (admittedly never saw the article with my own eyes) that Singaporeans use, per capita, more condoms than any other Asia country.

I was shocked. How could this be? Then I realized. They banned chewing gum in Singapore. It all explains the phenomenal amount of condom flavours.

A little busy

2007-05-27T23:56:00.000-07:00

Sorry I have not been blogging but I have been busy.

Tomorrow I am off to Hong Kong and get back Wednesday night at 11.55. Thursday is a holiday, Vesak Day. Friday I train. Saturday I go to Indonesia for a week then back and off to Hong Kong then back and then to Thailand and then and then and then and then…

Vesak Day is the celebration of the birth of Emily Vesak who invented the Slinky. Strangely enough, this holiday is only celebrated in Singapore, some Baltic States and Idaho.

Family History – An Introduction

2007-05-10T18:00:00.000-07:00

I have had some positive feedback on my blog series on childhood memories and have been asked to elucidate on the history of the Tolton clan. My pleasure!

Firstly, I must thank those who have actually researched my family’s origin because I haven’t. My father has done most of the research. I can’t help but notice that when elderly people lose their sex drive (or should I say lose the ability to do anything about their sex drive) that they turn to genealogy. I think Plato wrote in his history “The Last Days of Socrates” that when he asked Socrates was the best thing about aging, Socrates replied that he had lost his sex drive and could concentrate on more important things. Socrates, of course, philosophized and wrote. My father stands by the window waiting for the dustman and looks up family history.

The earliest record of the Tolton Family is registered in the documents of a town called Hoth. Hoth no longer exists so could I say, “Some don’t like it Hoth!” Sorry!

The records state that a Yurt Tolton took for his wife a Miss Terracotta Wainscoting some 600 years ago. His job was noted as, “Village Idiot.” We know nothing else about Yurt other than he had a small Turkish hovel named after him.

The town of Hoth itself was probably named after one of the following:

a) A Horse god
b) A small fresh water fish
c) A parasitic mould

Hoth did have a bell that weighed a ton and some have speculated that my family could have had to ring that bell. So they would have tolled the bell that weighed a ton. Hence Tolton!

Through this history, we will be traveling to the U.S. of A., Africa, France, Canada and Australia.

Compassionate Leave

2007-05-02T19:13:00.000-07:00

I have discovered a major cultural scam!

For those not in the know, most companies offer their employees compassionate leave. This means that if a relative dies, you are allowed a few days off to grieve, attend the funeral and fight over the will. This leave does not come off your annual leave or sick leave so could be considered a bonus holiday.

Now, in Asia they have extended families and the family is most important. So, if the aunt of someone dies you can get compassionate leave. But, they have about 100 aunts and uncles and nephews and nieces in this vast intertwined family unit.

There is a service here in Singapore that will send you, by email, the names of those of your race who have died in the previous 24 hours. The email arrives at about 4 in the morning which gives people enough time to identify potential relatives and call in for a day of compassionate leave. Outrageous!

It is worst in Korea where everyone is called Kim or Cho. After the Virginia Tech massacre, it is estimated that about 250 000 people took the day off claiming to be a relative of the gunman.

This is an outrageous scam that totally disadvantages us Westerners who are trying to keep the population of the world down and really don’t want relatives in the first place.

This whole discovery makes me angry and deprived. Think I’ll take a sickie.

Paul’s Childhood – To Australia

2007-05-01T22:52:00.000-07:00

The family migrated to Australia arriving on the 14 December 1968. We traveled on a ship called the TV Fairstar which was a part of the Sitmar Line.

The Sitmar Line (Sitmar = Società Italiana Trasporti Marittimi) was formed by Russian émigré and drug smuggler Alexandre Vlasov. Vlasov operated cargo ships under various flags (including Greek, Italian and British) before and during the war. He was also linked to white and black slavery and was a renowned horticultural thief. After the war, numerous American wartime standard ships were available for purchase, and Vlasov bought the Wooster Victory and Vassar Victory. These were suitable for emigrant carriers since both had been troopships in the war and contain a seemingly endless supply of Madera cake.

Leaving Northampton by ship has a great deal of festive tradition surrounding it. It is a cacophony of sounds, colour and emotions. The ship’s engines stirring into action punctuated by long mournful blasts from the ship’s horn. On the dock, friends and family wave and cheer and throw steamers that slowly break, one by one, as the ship pulls away from the shore. The passengers huddling on one side of the ship, wave and cry as they have their last glimpse of England. Unfortunately, our departure was delayed by sixteen hours and our last sight was an old man, standing on the dock, showing his willy.

On day three of the journey I was diagnosed with scurvy. Dr Yarvenko Slolovich claimed that I could not have possibly have contracted scurvy in three days and suggested my usual diet of kibble and furniture from disused dollhouses may have something to do with it.

The up-shot was that I managed to get a whole realm of diseases during the trip. The constant vomiting was put down to sea-sickness or the introduction of fruit to my diet. The spots were a possible reaction to pre-war Madera cake and the hair loss was put down to the Filipino deckhands stealing it at night to sell at a later date.

So, I was rarely allowed out of the cabin. Not that I was contagious, I just looked as scary as all shit. Where I did fit in was the Crossing the Line ceremony which my brother took part in.

The ceremony of crossing the line is an initiation rite in navies which commemorates a sailor's first crossing of the equator. Sailors who have already crossed the equator are nicknamed (Trusty) Shellbacks, often referred to as Sons of Neptune; those who have not are nicknamed (Slimy) Pollywogs.

"King Neptune and his court" (usually including his first assistant Davy Jones and her Highness Amphitrite and often various dignitaries, who are all represented by the highest ranking seamen) officiate at the ceremony, during which the Pollywogs undergo a number of increasingly disgusting ordeals (wearing clothing inside out and backwards; crawling on hands and knees on nonskid-coated decks; being swatted with short lengths of firehose; being locked in stocks and pillories and pelted with mushy fruit; crawling through chutes and large tubs of rotting garbage; kissing the Royal Baby's belly coated with axle grease, hair chopping, etc), largely for the entertainment of the Shellbacks.

For passengers, the ceremony is usually watered down a little with people getting dunked and having raw eggs broken on their head. About as fun as toast! Fortunately, our crew, several of which didn’t appear to know that the war was over, ramped the celebration up a notch or two to including compulsory circumcision for males and females, flogging and, the grand finally, human sacrifice. All wholesome fun and, at the end, you got a certificate and a Madera cake.

Allegedly, my sister had an affair with one of the Filipino cabin boys called Jesus. She swore it wasn’t true but what does a six year old know anyway.

The ship had two stops; firstly Las Palmas to pick up slaves and then Cape Town for more slaves. No one was allowed off the ship at Las Palmas because of the uprising and the some kind of plague that was going around.

Cape Town meant a day on dry land.

Firstly, my parents took us to see a black Santa. I am sorry, but I think that is a cruel and unusual way to tell a sheltered, innocent, white kid that Santa does not exist. From that day on, we never got Christmas presents.

Then we were taken to Table Mountain. Table Mountain is a mountain that looks like a table so they called it Table Mountain. You get to the top, flat, table-like bit of Table Mountain, which is 3 kilometers above sea level, by cable car. At the top is a family of rats, 16 types of lichen and a tuck shop. Magic for a kid of 5!

We finally arrived at Fremantle. I have a strong memory of the light. The light in Western Australia is so bright and clean that it was like looking at an over-exposed photograph. It wasn’t, it was our new home.

PS Years later the Fairstar was turned into a cruise ship, mainly by removing most of the gun turrets and camouflage webbing. It was visiting Fremantle and we all went down to have a look and maybe stir some memories. As I had been in the cabin so much, it was mostly alien to me. We went into the lounge and ordered a cup of tea. It arrived with (yes, no need to guess) a piece of the same fucking Madera cake.

Paul’s Childhood – The Broads Holiday

2007-05-01T20:01:00.000-07:00

Growing up, I and my siblings believed that we had regularly been abducted by aliens. It was only later, under hypnosis that we found out the truth.

Our parents, once a year, would go on a holiday by themselves. Rather than foisting the kids onto unsuspecting relatives who would then have to be paid back one way or the other, they would lock us in the coal shed for five days with three bottles of pop and a bag of crisps.

They did take us on family holidays too. My memory is a bit fuzzy here but I think we had a camping holiday in a wind tunnel in Kent one year and then another time we worked on a tulip farm near Cornwall.

The holiday that did leave an impression was our short stint on the Norfolk Broads. For those not in the know, The Broads are a network of mostly navigable rivers and lakes in the English counties of Norfolk and Suffolk. They were created by the Romans as they excavated for peat which was a delicacy of the time often eaten with cauliflower and honey. Such was their passion for this accumulation of partially decayed vegetable matter that they accidentally created a vast connected waterway that is still used today for transport, recreation and jobs for life for British lock makers.

Our bookings were made rather late, which was no fault of my parents; how were they to know that the picturesque coal mine in Wakefield would collapse. So, rather than having one boat/barge for the five day canal celebration, we had two.

The first was The Typhoid, a versatile craft commissioned in 1934 as a coal barge but converted in 1954 to a coal barge cum holiday vessel. This was a somewhat cramped boat and father would hit his head every time he entered the cabin. The whole family thought this most amusing and my younger sister, in particular, would laugh and laugh until she had tears in her eyes. She would only stop laughing when father hung her over the side of the barge to be pecked by white swans. At first they wouldn’t peck her but my father, being the smart man that he is, cello taped bread to different parts of her anatomy. And the swans would peck, Janet would scream and the whole family would laugh again. Joyful times!

The second boat was by far the better of the two. Gargwith Shwgm was supposed to be a Welsh ferry but to me it seemed decidedly Roman. The big give away was all the oars and the large man in a mask who would beat the drum. Father, because he bribed the captain with peat, mostly stayed above deck trimming the sales and singing bawdy songs about one-legged whores. The rest of the family was stuck below deck rowing. Strangely enough, we found Aunt Bibi rowing merrily with us. She said she took the trip every six months and was hoping to row down the Nile the following March. Much later we discovered that the large man with the drum was in fact Aunt Jean.

It was a wonderful holiday full of laughs, blisters and the curious smell of womanly sweat. It effected us all and united us as a family that has stuck together every since. To this day, when near any body of water, I look for something to row. To this day, my sister has pet swans.

Paul’s Childhood – Shenley Brook End

2007-04-30T19:06:00.000-07:00

This little village nestled in Milton Keynes actually cracked a mention in the Doomsday Book. Two words; simple bog! When we lived there, it was a simple bog no more. It was a Thriving bog!

Shenley Brook End was named after Shenley Brook who was not a brook but a person who came to his end in this small parish. Master Shenley Brook, as he never married, was seventeenth in line for the Earldom and Wensleydale and was a world renowned stutterer. He could, it was written, stutter in a staggering 12 languages and was particularly well known for his Flemish stutter which was so bad he was incomprehensible.

He was, strangely enough, killed by a deaf Flemish mine artist who was simply not impressed. But I digress.

When my family lived there, during the great Hedgehog Plague of the 1960s, we were the only house on one side of the road. We had a large two-story house with attached grocery store and coal shed. It all seemed vast to me, but when you are that small things do. I have seen photos since only to me amazed how small it was. I remember what seemed like acres of grass, gigantic trees, a small rose garden and an even smaller gooseberry plant that I only ever found one gooseberry on. On one side of the property was a Blackberry row and, during the season, all the children would wander around with purple stained hands and stomach aches.

There were six trees, if my memory serves me correct and, as I learnt to climb each, my father would chop it down. Usually with me in it. He claimed he needed to wood for Guy Falk’s Night or some such rubbish. He would giggle like a school girl at the back of the bus and yell timber as the tree and his youngest offspring crashed to the ground. Mother would stand back and frown but always applauded at the end.

Not much really happened in Shenley Brook End. My brother was in a local school production of The Music Man once. He was given a trombone to practice which my eldest sister, thankfully, melted down on day two of his rehearsals. As the community was quite small, the main song from the musical ended up as being, “Three Triangles and a Fat Kid with an Accordion Lead the Big Parade.” Not quite what Rogers and Hammerstein imagined!

One year there was a parade with floats and my eldest sister was involved. She was a member of the Ambulance Society as she made the siren sound real good and they entered a float of a car accident on the back of a truck. It was very gruesome using 12 pounds of minced meat, 4 pounds of sausages and about 8 bottles of tomato sauce. They won third prize. First prize went to a group with a Hedgehog killing display and second prize went to a local arts group who were studying minimalism at the time. Their float was an empty truck.

My most vivid memory is walking in the garden at the end of winter. The snow was melding and patches of green were breaking through. As I walked, I smelt something so sweet. It was coming from a hedge row. I followed the smell and found myself on my hands and knees peering under the hedge. There, peeking through the cold earth was a small clump of Snowdops, the first of the season and a sure sign of Spring.

PS Some of my readers may think that Shenley Brook End sounds familiar. Certainly when we lived there is was a small, pretty non-descript parish. However, in 1978, the British Government revealed that during World War II, Winston Churchill had his secret war office in our gooseberry bush. Which goes a long was to explaining the lack of gooseberries on the bush.