Stepping aside for Reality

Today's posting has an adult theme. Visitors below the age of 18 are requested not to proceed further.

I came across this term 'hardcore romantic' some time ago in a newspaper. It got me thinking. Just what the fuck is a hardcore romantic?

Men marry nice girls and lust after sluts. Hardcore and romance do not easily mix. Not unless the nice girl is also a slut.

Romantic people write poetry. ‘Cos that is what they do.
Hardcore people…..well..…they know about hardcore stuff.
So is there really such a thing as a hardcore romantic?

Tell you what. We’re gonna write some poetry. I’ll write the romantic part and you can fill in the hardcore part. Then we’ll analyse the freakin' results.

The following poetic piece has yet to be completed. I would like you to contribute your creativity and fill in the remaining 12 words.



A hardcore view of true love

A hunk at a party, met a lass
He held her waist, she grabbed his ---.

Moving his hand on a shapely curve
He said, "Oh man, I am in ----."

She felt his pokey muscle flex
So she asked him to her house for ---

And then within the bedroom walls
She took his clothes and held his -----

Delighted to find him so well hung
She knelt down fast and used her ------

Our love-struck guy was thrilled to bits
To maul her magnificent ----

They knew their lives would intertwine
The moment they did the sixty ----

Soon it was time to end the hunt
So he drove his thang inside her ----

He stroked her gently, hard as rock
And peaked her strongly with his ----

When it was over, he heard her say
“That was a most fantastic ---

I've never cried such noisy moans
Your thang’s so stiff, it must have -----

I'm gripping on, so now you’re stuck
You have to give me one more ----”


******


So.........still think that the ‘hardcore romantic’ concept is workable?

On the average, from last year onwards, there are about 5 people visiting this blog everyday wanting to know how to make rotiboys(also known as the Mexican Bun). Two are referred by search engines and three come from a link in a food forum that raved about my rotiboy recipe. How can this be happening everyday? Surely there cannot be so many bakers interested in baking rotiboys, can there?

Gee, I hope they are not too disappointed to come here and discover that this is not really a food blog, but a serious Social Commentary blog. Where we discuss Critical World Events and lots of other important shit.

But I can bake. I may not be that good a baker, but I can definitely bake. Now hold that snicker, my friends, 'cos my skills in the kitchen are not totally non-existent. Hey, I used to watch good TV shows like "The Naked Chef" and "Iron Chef". And I tried to put what I had learned into ACTUAL practice.

But somehow, I don't think that walking around Naked in the kitchen and sporting an Iron pole is what the TV show producers had in mind. However, if you want to do it, don't let little niceties, such as embarassment, stop you.

Here's a baking tip:
If you do all your baking while naked, you won't get flour particles all over your clothes.





Here's another baking tip:
If you are indeed baking while naked, make sure you don't stand too close to the hot oven.

Wrestling is a time-honoured sport that ought to be conducted between a man and a woman.
Or between a man and two women.
Or between two men and one woman.

But certainly not between a man and another man.

There is probably some entertainment in seeing two grown semi-naked men grappling each other, but the fun aspect of it somehow eludes me.

On top of that, weird shit like this can happen.

I offered to teach Hot Babe some wrestling moves this weekend. Gonna show her how to do it right. I explained to her that in wrestling, there are only two simple rules.

First rule: All the decent moves are good moves.
Second rule: All the indecent moves are GREAT moves.

Hot Babe countered that I don't appear to have much knowledge about wrestling.

Oh yeah? I think I will need to demonstrate my special "Smother The Opponent's Chest With My Head" move. That alone ought to impress her.

During the weekend, I took Hot Babe to watch a movie. We ended up watching "Coach Carter", a movie based on a true story about a businessman who coached the Richmond High School student basketball team in 1997.

It was an inspirational movie, and Hot Babe enjoyed it very much. And I'm happy when Hot Babe is happy.

In the movie, Coach Carter was fond of asking his players this question, "What is your deepest fear?"

Towards the end of the movie, one player responded by quoting poet Marianne Williamson's book, 'A Return To Love':

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.

Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same...."

I may not remember the basketball scores in the movie, but that is a quote that I would want to remember for a long time.

Yes, you have my permission to let your light shine. Don't ask.

Some links:
Marianne Williamson
Coach Carter news(the real person, not the movie)

Don’t raise stupid issues, Nazri tell MPs.
Air your views even if they look stupid, Shahrir tells MPs.

Both Nazri and Shahrir are known for their courage in politics.

But what does the rakyat think?

The rakyat has no objection to MPs airing their views, but they should refrain from making stupid remarks to try to show more intelligence than they possess. We can tell if an MP is genuinely seeking clarification, or trying to use the House for ENTERTAINMENT. Like it or not, the rakyat is already very tired of the antics of the very few MPs who try so hard to show their stupidity. And it is always the same few MPs making the stupid remarks.

Sometimes MPs can’t help raising stupid issues, because.....well.....they may actually be stupid. We have to accept the fact that not everybody is born intelligent. Let us spare a thought for unfortunate MPs who have been so thoroughly endowed with stupidity. Instead of laughing at the stupid idiots, we should take a more humane stand and give them some special considerations.

I seemed to be about the only one having some sympathy for MPs who are stupid. That’s because I think that stupidity is not a sin. Let me say it one more time:

STUPIDITY IS NOT A SIN!

The poor MP! He shows his stupid face, opens his stupid mouth, say stupid things, and then everybody wants to shoot his stupid ass.

Is that right, I ask you? Stupid people are people too. We should be thinking about ways to integrate these stupid MPs back into society. For heaven’s sake, we gotta be humane!

For starters, let us acknowledge that they have a problem. I suggest we make them wear badges on their clothes that read:
“I am stupid. Please excuse my stupidity. And please don’t slap my stupid face.”

If you see some MPs walking around wearing these badges, please lah, don’t go and slap their stupid faces first before reading the badges. And also, don’t read the badges already and summore slap later. Like I said, we gotta be humane. Besides, you really can’t slap the stupid out off a face. That’s a scientific fact.

If you don't believe me, you can keep on slapping the idiot and he would still remain as stupid as ever. So don't waste your effort. Unless you are doing it for fun, of course. But hey, we're suppose to be humane here!

And another thing: if the disabled can have their own toilets, then I don’t see why stupid MPs can’t have the same privileges. It may cost us a bit of money, but we should consider building three different kinds of toilets in the House; for ‘Lelaki’, ‘Perempuan’, and ‘Yang Bodoh’. Let’s be compassionate. Let's show them that we really care about their stupidity.

Now isn’t that a lot more humane than simply shooting them in the ass?
Not nearly as much fun, but definitely a lot more humane.


***

Those of you not living in Selangor will be jealous to know that we will be declared a “developed state” on Aug 31. Yes, we are.

Selangor had already attained 58 out of 75 indicators used to gauge “developed status.”

The best indicator is of course the environmental damage - in the case of the Bukit Cahaya Seri Alam agricultural park and reserve in Shah Alam. You people from other states have no fucking idea how much effort we exerted to bring development to the forest reserve land. I mean, why have trees when you can have development? And if you people don’t get this brilliant concept, you will never get your ‘developed state’ status. And I mean NEVER.

Do you know that the colony of fireflies in Kampung Kuantan near Kuala Selangor is rapidly vanishing? That’s another good sign that we are a developed state. Fireflies do nothing useful but blink their lights on and off all night. Like they can’t make up their little fucking minds. It should be either ON or OF, dammit! Not blinking all the time. Bloody insects. And they make such a damn awful mess when we swat them.

It’s not like we need to fucking depend on these shitty insects for lighting. We have street lamps now. And we paid very good money for our street lamps. After all, we are a developed state. Sure, many of our street lamps shine during the day and go off at night. But at least they don’t blink!

Frankly, the only people who are interested in the fireflies are the tourists. Bunch of idiots. They come to our state, stay at our resorts, and all they do is take pictures and spend money. Lots of money. Fucking dipshits. Don’t these people have anywhere else better to go? They are a bad example to our kids.

It’s a good thing we have moral policing. We have raiding parties from JAIS and whatnots. Cos we are a developed state. To those of you who think that our morality officers are perverts, let me ask you this: Is it so wrong to be a fucking pervert? Is it so very wrong for our officers to ogle at the girls they were picking up in the raids? Hey, our perverts all have jobs. Paid for by taxpayers. We only raid discos and other places where people are having a good time!

Do you honestly think that people should be having a good time when they should be working hard to pay off their taxes? Oh, come on! We are a developed state now. What’s the point of having a life if all you’re gonna do is enjoy it? Sheeeeeeeeeeeesh!!!!

All of you not staying in Selangor, and not getting your developed state status.....well.....all I can say is

“Nyah!!! Nyah!!! Nyah!!!”

Weather outlook for today: Fine with scattered winds.

I noticed that Minishorts posted a series of Rhymes for Little Girls.

The first one that caught my eye was:

I Love Little Pussy
“I love little pussy, her coat is so warm;
And if I don’t hurt her, she’ll do me no harm.
So I’ll not pull her tail nor drive her away,
But pussy and I very gently will play. “

Awwwwww…………..now ain’t that cute!
So that’s what they’re teaching little kids in kindergartens these days.

It has been a long while since I wrote any poetry. But I was so inspired that I wrote a nursery rhyme myself:

I love Medium Pussy
“I love medium pussy, her hair is so fine
And when I behave, that pussy is mine
It’s hard to believe it can take me all day,
But pussy and I, very thoroughly will play.”

Hey, that’s pretty good, if I may say so myself! It just goes to show that I can write decent nursery rhymes when I choose to apply my creative juices productively!

Now that we've got momentum, let’s go with the flow, and do a rhyme on ‘I love Giant Pussy’.

Oh wait a minute.....we don’t love giant pussies, do we?

Have you ever been a God?

If you are a blogger, then you are a God. For you created a blog out of nothing and you imbued it with life. And each day brings with it a fresh expression and a whole new experience for the blog. No matter how you look at it, your blog is a living entity.

So what happens when a blog dies?

Does it go to Nirvana, Heaven or Hell?

Taking my responsibilities as a God seriously, I decided to speak seriously to my blog:

“Listen well, my child. The day will come when you will pass on. For all things live and all things die. And the day you die, I would have to decide whether you go to Nirvana, Heaven or Hell.

Nirvana is eternal death for a blog. It is a total deletion of all your postings. If your life has been full of sufferings, then the best thing I can do for you is to delete everything. There will be no trace of you left. For Nirvana is permanent deletion.

Blog Heaven is a different concept. If your life has been a good one, then I shall archive your best postings. Once in a while, I will reread your best parts so that you will re-experience your best moments again. Blog Heaven is a REPLAY of your best former experiences on earth. It is NOT a whole new experience. You are dead, remember? And also, I will not be creating another 72 virgin blogs to serve you. For that would mean that I would have to post in all 72 blogs to keep you entertained every day. Do I look stupid to you?

Blog Hell is the most useless concept. It means that I archive all your worst postings. And when I read them, you will relive your worst postings again. But why would I want to read your worst postings? Like I said, Blog Hell is the most useless concept. As far as I am concerned, there is no Hell. For I am a logical God.

It’s either Heaven or Nirvana for you. Either way, there are no new life experiences awaiting you after your death.

What did you say? You want rebirth? I just wanna let you know that even if you are reincarnated, it wouldn’t be you. I will transfer over some of the previous characteristics that are worth keeping, but it would be a whole new blog! Such is the way of the blog Universe. Git real!

Before you ask me what the whole point is to all this blogging business, I just want to let you know that you express me and by a certain measure, you define me. And you occupy my time like a child occupies a father. Bless you, my child.”

One by one, bloggers have left the blogsphere. The latest looks like FireAngels’s blog, which has gone into ‘indefinite hiatus’ stage. In non-technical language, it means blog coma.

I remember how I first knew about her blog. I was blogging on ‘Foulmouthed Female Football Fanatics’ on June 18th last year. One reader, who went by the name of ‘FireAngel’, did not approve of my enlightened views and posted a really weird comment in my comment section:

“Go bugger a goat lah, you!”

I remembered my initial reaction:

“Who the fuck is this poorly-fitted cheebai who is encouraging me to fuck animals?
Doesn’t she know that sex with goats is notoriously dangerous?
They have sharp horns, for fucks sakes!”

I typed furiously on my keyboard to give a strong worded reply to her comment:

“Oh hi, FireAngel! And a very good morning to you too!!”

Okay, that wasn’t much of a comeback. But a practicing Jedi master should always beware of the Dark side. (‘Cos fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. And suffering makes people ugly. Yada, yada, yada......)

Since then, I have been reading FireAngels’s blog. And commenting obscenely there as well.

The funny thing is that I still do not know if she really knows anything about the game of football.

Her entry last month came out with this gem:

“Football sucks. Football is stupid.
Twenty two pairs of little balls
Chasing one big ball
What a stupid waste of time.”

I did take the opportunity to enlighten her about the roles of the linesmen and referee in the comments section:

Reply to: FireAngel
”The linesmen and the referee have to run around more than people realise. Especially the referee. He must run into position to see that the players are kicking the big ball and not each other's little balls.
If a player kicks somebody's little balls, the referee will blow his whistle, take a red card and hold it up like a traffic policeman. This is to stop all oncoming traffic so that the ambulance people can come to the field and carry away the player whose little balls have been kicked in. They will take him off the field where they will then try to pull his balls out again.
The fucking idiot who kicked the other guy's little balls will then explain that it was all a mistake. "Big ball, small ball, how to tell?"
The referee will send him off the field to get his eyesight checked. Then he keeps his red card, and traffic can flow again.
FA, I hope you manage to understand all this. Complicated, huh?"

I do not know if it is premature to say this, FireAngel. If you’ve really stopped blogging, then we will all miss you. Wishing you all the best.

It’s Monday morning, and I have already shifted into ranty mode.

Members of Parliament get a 10% raise in monthly allowance and we were told that “MPs deserve a raise because of their duties”.

Oh okay. I am a reasonable person. But where is the money for the increased allowance coming from? They probably had to scrap some mega project.

Then we were told: “At RM2.6 billion, Penang's new link is just too costly.”

Oh……that project.

Lucky for me, I don’t live in Penang, or I might get seriously pissed off.

But wait, I might want to drive to Penang in the distant future to ogle some beach babes. Okay, now I'm seriously pissd off.

Many people have already commented on the trashy level of debate in parliament, so I won’t comment on it. I know that the level of intellectual discourse being shown in my blog isn’t all that great. But the level of intellectual discourse being shown in parliament is making me look like I’m Nobel Prize material. Yet, I’m not flattered. I dunno just how long more we have to put up with that nonsense.

April 30th is looming close. That’s the deadline for filing AND paying your Income Tax returns. That's it....I’m going back to bed.

I have a slight sore throat and am not in the best of moods.

You know that I am a fucking insensitive prick when I start telling tasteless anti-metrosexual jokes.

There was this metrosexual who once had a girlfriend. Her name was Hope. He had wonderful expectations from the relationship. So when Hope left him, he became hopeless.

Then he had a girlfriend called Penny. He lavished her with gifts. When she left him, he was penniless.

After that, he met a girl called Ruth. He treated her with sensitivity. When they broke apart, he became ruthless.

He decided not to date girls anymore. So he dated a guy instead. His name was Dick.

Okay, I'm not explaining this joke to anyone.

Last weekend I went to see the movie “Miss Congeniality 2”. I thought it was a movie showing plenty of female beauty contestants parading in bikinis. It turned out I was mistaken. There was not a single bikini in sight during the whole movie. Zero.…zilch……eeelech. Sandra bullock wasn’t even half-naked.

I felt cheated. Fucking hell.

Look, I don’t mind movie producers making money off me. Everybody knows that these greedy cocksuckers are out to make big bucks. But would it kill them to give the audience some value for money every once a while?

I want my money back. Fucking dipshits.

Right in the beginning of the movie, we hear some guy actor coming up to Sandra Bullock to say, “People care about people who care about themselves.”

I don’t know what that means, but it’s obviously some moralizing bullshit.

And at the end of the movie, Sandra Bullock tells a little girl, “I don’t care for people who care about people who care about themselves.”

The little girl beamed and I half expected her syrupy reply, “I do care for people who don’t care for people who care about people who care about themselves.”

But it never did come. And the movie producers wasted another golden opportunity to overhaul the intelligence of the audience with a memorable movie moral lesson.

Which two-bit writing team wrote the movie script? Fucking morons.

I ought to be the one writing the script. I would throw in lots of scenes involving bikinis. And I would include some meaningful intelligent conversation phrases like,
“Oooops…..my bikini fell off….and yours too! But hey, everything is still in place! So I guess we don’t really need ‘em after all!”

Hot damn…..I think I can write!

Last week, I contemplated trying out for Malaysian Idol and I was gratified that millions and millions of people(okay......six people) have such great faith in my singing. I mean, they haven't heard me sing but they are making encouraging noises already. Whoa!!!!

It's been a long time since I sang in public.

I used to go to karaokes. That's because my friend Harry wanted somebody to clap for him when he sang. And also pay for the drinks. I noticed that whenever I was with him, I didn't seem to get any babes. The lack of one night stands was killing me slowly from inside. So one day, I got smart and stopped going out with him.

Harry doesn't have any niceties. He just say things. Dumb things.

But he knows everything there is to know about sex. Including stuff that decent humans should not even try to know.

There was this time when a group of us were in this particular karaoke. Harry and I had been invited by one member of the group so we did not know most of them.

Harry wanted to sing "My heart will go on".

I told Harry that he shouldn't sing that song as it was a ladies' song. But he insisted.

So all of us sat there suffering in silence as Harry did an atrocious imitation of Celine Dion. Especially when he sang the part
".......And my heart will go on and on......."

Thankfully, my heart could still go on after the song ended. Heaven was merciful that night.

A girl was staring rather intently at him as he sang. Nice chick. With a nice rounded ass.

After the song was over, I said to Harry.
"Harry, I think that chick wants to have your baby"
"Who?"
"The one in the white skirt"
"You sure?"
"Yup! She's been staring at the front of your pants all evening!"
"All right!"

Harry has always been bold. He walked over and spoke to the girl.

She whispered something in Harry's ear.

Then I saw Harry finger his zip.

The girl looked stunned.

And then Harry came back.

So I asked Harry,
"What did she say?"
"She said that I would probably be able to hit the high notes better if I had zipped up my fly."
"Oh! Like that huh? And what did you say?"
"I told her that nothing was improperly sticking out......but if she could see it, she could have it."

Harry is good. He can't understand why he doesn't have much luck with the girls, but he is good.

You know that the Newcastle Tramway Authority really mean business when they slap on a $200 fine. Yeah....right on!


(Picture courtesy of the U.K. Sun newspaper)

But I wouldn't worry. There ain't no way that they can collect the fine.

So Charles finally wedded Camilla. I wish those two all the best.

And I've had had enough of all the internet jokes about those two.

They usually fall into two categories. One is that Charles love horses and he would marry anybody resembling a horse. Another is that Charles has poor eyesight and can't see tell the difference between a woman and a horse.

Enough is enough. We should remember that once you switch off the bedroom lights, all women look the same.

Wanna know how to spot a great woman in the dark? By the talent of her tongue of course.

Charles obviously knows something that we don't.

Holy cow……Google has labeled me as the leading authority in “shit intestines”.

It’s a dubious honour though…….not really something I can broadcast proudly when I next go whoring for hits. In fact I’m a little bit awed that somebody would actually search for stuff like this on the web. Poor fella. I wonder what kind of sticky mess he’s going through.

Frankly, I don’t know shit about “shit intestines”, and if you want some serious technical knowledge about the subject, you would have to talk to my ass.

Wait, that’s not quite right……I do know of this old joke:


There was this woman whose husband was always farting violently. Each time he farted, it would sound like a cannon going off:

“PHROOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMFFFFF”

He farted everywhere. He farted while eating, he farted while walking, he farted before sleeping and he farted on waking up. The only time when he didn’t fart was when he was sleeping.

His long suffering wife would always complain about his farting:

“Lahling ahh.....one of these days, your booming farts will cause your ass passage to enlarge so big that you’ll shit your intestines out!”

She told him to seek medical treatment, but he was stingy and wouldn’t hear of it.

One morning, the wife could not take the booming farts any longer. She decided to teach her husband a really good lesson. So she went to the market and bought some animal intestines.

As was his habit, the husband was taking his afternoon nap in the bedroom. Gently, the wife pulled back the waistband of his underwear. Then carefully, she placed the intestines against his ass inside the underwear. After that, she silently left the bedroom.

Half an hour later, she heard her husband waking up with his usual booming farts. This was followed by a panic-stricken scream. Then she heard the sound of hurried footsteps stomping around the room.

The wife laughed to herself so hard until tears streamed down from her eyes.

“Bwahahahahahahahaha......”

Moments later, the husband walked out of the bedroom with a shocked expression on his face.

The wife asked her husband as sweetly and as innocently as she could,
“Lahling ahh......what is the matter wif you?”

Her husband replied,
“You know that you were always telling me that one of these days, my booming farts will cause my ass passage to enlarge so big that I’ll shit my intestines out? It finally happened! I must have shitted out a lot of intestines through my assole! But luckily, with the help of the broomstick handle, I managed to get most of them back in......”

The many commercials for tryouts in the upcoming Malaysian Idol competition has got me all excited. I am thinking of trying my luck. Fame and Fortune beckons. After all, who wants to do unpaid social commentary when I can be a paid celebrity?

Imagine that….getting paid big buckeroos to become a celebrity…..things can’t get better than that, dudes.

Of course I can sing.
My family may not be very musical, but I can sing.
They may not appreciate my good singing, but I can definitely sing.

And those ugly rumours that I have been banned from all the major karaokes in Kuala Lumpur have been grossly exaggerated. If they didn’t want the microphones to seize up whenever I sing, they should have invested in top notch quality equipment. Fucking cheapskates!

I asked Hot Babe if she thought that I should join the Malaysian Idol contest.

She looked at me and when she saw that I was dead serious, she nodded her head and said one word, “Yes.”

Hot Babe is generally very supportive of whatever I choose to do. That’s what I love about her…….the ability to appreciate greatness in a man. She is not very good in mental arithmetic, but she has a really nice set of natural tits which sort of makes up for her weakness in mental calculations. Heaven is good to her in that way.

Then she opened her mouth again and said, “By all means go for the Malaysian Idol tryouts. A lesson in humility will do wonders for you.”

"Humility"? Did she say "humility"?

But I am already the most humble person on earth. I have a PhD in humility. Nobody could be humbler than me.

So I told her that I’m so humble that if I were any less humble I would be so damn proud of my humility.

Hot Babe stared at me in awe for several seconds and then said, “What?”

But I’m starting to get the picture. A humble person shouldn’t really be out striving for fame. So it’s no go for the MI tryouts.

Pity…..’cos I really can sing.

I don’t have any interesting topic to blog on today. So I’ll just present the News in Brief.

For those of you who have been too busy to read the newspapers, this is what’s been happening the past few days:

A political party is looking for a new president. The current president, who calls himself a banyan tree, said that the people have lived too long under the shade of the banyan tree, but the banyan tree cannot be around forever. He wanted members to decide on Ah Ting or Ah Koon. This was reported in the news.

Later that night, some party members lit a bonfire on the beach. And they first thing they did was to uproot the nearest banyan tree which they then threw into the fire. But this was not reported in the news.

The party leadership of the Many Internal Crisis party is not happy with representatives who attend local and district council meetings just to drink coffee, eat kuih and collect their allowance. This was reported in the news.

A few councillors nodded solemnly in agreement and understood that they must now collect their allowance FIRST, before they are allowed to drink coffee and eat kuih. But this was not reported in the news.

Number One went to New Zealand and told Malaysian students that being a PM is not easy. He said that you may get a big car and other facilities but you lose out in terms of personal freedom. He felt that the most important quality of a leader is being trustworthy and fair. This was reported in the news.

The next day, some students had a meeting in the university canteen and came out with a declaration that being a student was also not easy. They said that you may get personal freedom but you lose out in terms of a big car to impress your dates. They felt that the most important quality of a student is the ability to copy answers without getting caught. But this was not reported in the news.

The Prevent Ardent Sex youth is unreasonably demanding that the Culture Ministry ban the proposed concert of Indonesian dangdut queen Inul Daratista. “If the ministry refuses, we will take other action to protest,” they howled. This was reported in the news.

Party members were heard threatening to burn a carton of Inul Daratista bootleg CDs as a sign of protest. VCD sellers swarmed around on smelling a business opportunity. But this was not reported in the news.

Congratulations go to Siti Nurhaliza who captivated her fans with a unique presentation of songs and dances at the Royal Albert Hall in London. She told them: “I come from a small town called Kuala Lipis. But I’ve managed to make it from Kuala Lipis to Kuala Lumpur and to London’s Royal Albert Hall.” This was reported in the news.

An enthusiastic fan told her that after Kuala Lipis, Kuala Lumpur and London, her next biggest challenge was to get approval to hold a concert in Kelantan. But this was not reported in the news.


This is the end of the News in Brief.

Last Friday, I showed an image rollover and fellow blogger Saphiryn claimed she wasn’t entertained because I did not show a picture of a naked hunk.

I exert great efforts to corrupt the public and yet I find that I am unable to satisfy everybody’s deep-down desires.

What kind of world is this.....where the corrupted public is outpacing the corruptor?

Not only that, in the era of the metrosexual male, I am now expected to be an equal opportunity corruptor as well.

Must I remind everyone that this is a HIGHLY SERIOUS social commentary blog, where we talk about IMPORTANT SHIT like world peace and the meaningful progress of humanity?

However, in the spirit of political correctness, I suppose I ought to post one pic for the ladies. Even I can appreciate a good pic that hints of an impressive male appendage.





Man…..am I bad…..and I just want you to know that I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself.

But I'm sure you knew that already.

Note: Underlying rollover image has been removed.

Today is All Fools Day.
A day when wacky indecent bloggers are tempted to fool their equally indecent visitors.

Oh, come on…....WOULD I FUCKIN’ DO THAT TO YOU ?

Okay.…..I’m gonna show you a picture of a sexy chick.

If I tell you that she will turn into a feathered duck when you roll your mouse over her picture, you may think that this is an April Fool joke.




Now tell me…..…ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED ?

Update on 31st May 2005: The underlying image for the rollover has been removed.