Thanksgiving

"You slept on sentry duty last night. They stole the GPMG. Now the OC wants to charge you because you endangered the life of your section-mates"

And so there I was, hunching in the driver's compartment of the armoured vehicle, palms sweaty, praying. Praying for deliverance from the punishment that was to come. Prayer for the OC to forget about all this rubbish. Praying so hard for deliverance from formal punishment. Praying for mercy despite the fact that I deserved punishment. The people in the back chatted over the intercom while waiting for the order to move out. Laughter and wild hoots at ribald jokes. I flicked my intercom switch to Recieve Only, placed my hands on the wheel and controls because the order to move could come at any moment, and began to pray out loud.

And I prayed and prayed. In the Name of Jesus I prayed.

A week later, the decision came through.

One extra duty only.

Only one, where others had 3, and the original intent was to confine us for 2 whole weeks (SOL).

That's the defining moment for my army years. Not Oxford, not ORD, but a humid morning in the jungles, sitting in a greasy, oily, smoking, vehicle, sweating in the heat and in fear, praying and praying, and being delivered by God.

No More

I've decided that there's no point in being a reliable friend, because people just take you for granted and verbally abuse you if you don't seem to be as reliable as they think you are.

A hard learned lesson from the army and elsewhere.

So, from now on, no more.

I am not gonna be your slave, whether you like it or not.

The Shepherds and the Angels -Luke 2:8-14

8 And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9 An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them,

"Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11 Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; He is Christ the Lord. 12 This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

13 Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

14 "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom His favor rests."

The Birthday of The King

There can be no Christmas without the Christ.

And I think it's wrong for us Christians to celebrate Christmas without the Christ.

I mean, come on, christmas itself is just a date in the calender, an excuse for a holiday at the year's end. Some even say its a pagan festival.

What we should celebrate is not the date itself but the Virgin Birth of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.

And we must celebrate in true, sincere, joy, not in some adrenaline-filled festivity that panders to worldly hedonism.

And we must give thanks, especially those of us who are blessed with food in our stomachs and clothes on our backs and a roof over our heads, and spare a prayer at the very least for the many who don't.

Call me a sermonizing wet blanket, but I believe we should not blindly drive ourselves into ecstasy over an arbitrarily declared date. For those who call themselves Christians, the joy must be at the gift of Salvation, and the many blessings God has given us, and our response must be, can only be, thanksgiving and prayer for the needy.

Why I chose what I chose

Why indeed?

Why not psychology, or sociology, the other social sciences?

Why politics?

Because...

When you master psychology, you control one.

When you master sociology, you control a few.

But when you master politics...

You control an empire.






**cue megalomaniacal laughter**

I got into Oxford!

Looks like I'll be going to Oxford in the end. Not that LSE is necessarily worse than Oxford (I certainly dont think its inferior), but I think that I'd prefer a campus life to a hectic city life for my tertiary education

Before all else, I have to thank my Lord. Especially in light of the fact that this was by grace and not by my merit, and even the skills that I have are gifts from Him.

And of course, I have to thank my family too. For their prayers and support.

I got into LSE!

2 unconditional offers from the London School of Economics and Political Science.

Thank God!

London, here I come!

Arsenal, here I come!

Holiday

The festive season is back, and everyone is now off on the customary vacation trips to exotic far-flung locales before returning for the traditional Christmas and New Year gatherings with friends and family.

As another sign of my family's insistence on doing things the unorthodox way, we had planned to have our December holiday trip in January, a nice 8-day trip to New Zealand's South Island before the brother got conscripted. Unfortunately the agent couldnt get the requisite number of people to sign up and so the whole thing got cancelled. I sure was disappointed, because that meant missing out on the ownage scenary (there's no comparing it with Singapore: white-capped mountains and vast plains vs a potty brown hill called Bukit Timah and the grass patch next to the longkang), satiating my craving for juicy baked salmon, and viewing the epic battle-sites of the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy.

But the whole sorry episode got me thinking about what I really wanted in an overseas vacation. I came up with a few fantasy scenarios:

1. A trip to the Carribean and the Bahamas, or one of those coral atolls in the Pacific or Indian Oceans, where you can swim all day in the crystal-clear waters of the coral reefs, with all the myriad varieties of sea creatures and trying not to get stung by the venomous cones and stingrays and lion-fish, taking in the fantastic colours of the coral formations and their wierd denizens, and when you're done with the swimming you can tan on the white sands or have a seafood BBQ grill just outside the chalet by the very friendly native housekeeper called Eamon Cudjoe, who is also incidentally a former Michelin-rated master chef. This will be capped off with a bottle of Chardonnay. And then you can watch the Champions League final in Milan between Arsenal and Chelsea, which Arsenal will win 3-1, in the air-conditioned chalet on the giant plasma screen with cable TV.

2. A tour to the major cities of Europe, ie London, Paris, Oslo, Stockholm, Amsterdam, Berlin, Madrid, Lyon, Bordueax, Marseille, Turin, Milan, Rome, Venice, Parlemo, Warsaw, Budapest, Athens, Malta, Istanbul, Moscow, and St Petersburg in that order. Shopping for designer suits, photos of castles, visits to the great art and culture centers of Western civilisation, touring the center of Papal power in the Vatican, gorging myself on lots of German suasage and beer and Piedmontese beef and Sicilian seafood and French foie gras and Spanish tapas and Russian borsch and Greek and Turkish kebabs, being in the thick of the nightlife in London and Berlin, paying homage to King Thierry "Va-va-voom" Henry and Master Wenger at Ashburton Grove, admiring the fantastic architecture everwhere (including the Emirates Stadium), and soaking in the living history (even though Lenin's mummified and the Acropolis is in ruins, they still ooze living history, which I would gladly soak up). And in Milan you can watch the Champions League final between Arsenal and Chelsea, which Arsenal will win 2-0, and Mourinho tries to punch Wenger but gets thrown into jail instead.

3. A nice, laid-back trip to the American and Canadian nature reserves. Camping out in the Rockies, taking in the sights of the awesome Grand Canyon at dawn and dusk, catching the sheer majesty of the natural rock formations and endless American plains under the inifinite stars. Having hot cocoa in a Canadian log cabin while outside its snowing, and the fire crackles as you read a good book. The next morning you can go round taking photos of carribou and all the rest of Canada's wildlife that live in those massive pine forests. I'm not sure if this is possible, but the sheer clarity of the night sky and the cabin's proximity to the North Pole would mean a night looking out for the Aurora Borealis, that incandescent display of incredible colour in the obsidian sky. And if the Borealis doesnt appear, there's always the Champions League final in Milan between Arsenal and Chelsea, which Arsenal will win 4-1, on the plasma screen with cable TV in the cabin, and the victory is so impressive that Lionel Messi and John Terry move to Arsenal.

It all sounds quite fantastic to the point of being rubbish, but thats what an ideal vacation is to me. Notice that none of them have the idea of tramping around in a phucking jungle with mosquitoes the size of thumbnails and rashes and humidity which simply drowns you, and the stench of the mud and rotting tropical shit. That's one of the things that pisses me off about the cramped potty island I live in. Of course its much better than Darfur or Somalia, but it simply pisses me off at times. And anybody who goes on and on about the paradisical lush green verdant jungles of South-East Asia, with their diversity of flora and fauna and natural beauty, obviously has not been on a route march through Pulau Tekong with the SAF.

This is the End

by The Doors

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
Ill never look into your eyes...again

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...strangers hand
In a...desperate land

Lost in a roman...wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah

Theres danger on the edge of town
Ride the kings highway, baby
Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the highway west, baby

Ride the snake, ride the snake
To the lake, the ancient lake, baby
The snake is long, seven miles
Ride the snake...hes old, and his skin is cold

The west is the best
The west is the best
Get here, and well do the rest

The blue bus is callin us
The blue bus is callin us
Driver, where you taken us

The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door...and he looked inside
Father, yes son, I want to kill you
Mother...i want to...fuck you

Cmon baby, take a chance with us
Cmon baby, take a chance with us
Cmon baby, take a chance with us
And meet me at the back of the blue bus
Doin a blue rock
On a blue bus
Doin a blue rock
Cmon, yeah

Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end
It hurts to set you free
But youll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die

This is the end




I first heard the song while watching Francis Ford Coppola's Apocalypse Now as part of my Literature S Paper revision.

Francis Ford Coppola was the dude who did The Godfather films, and Apocalypse Now was his film rendition of perhaps the greatest novel ever written- Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness.

An interesting chap, Joseph Conrad. Born in Poland, worked in the American merchant marine, then lived in Britain. A brilliant writer, on par with Dickens at the least.

But this is not about book-writers or film-makers.

The song was the background soundtrack to the preamble of the film. It played while USMC helicopters circled over the jungles of Vietnam, with napalm bombs from F-4 Phantoms showering all over the dense vegetation, crimson flowers blossoming, their deadly petals germinating death.

The song and the setting- the sheer moral chaos of the Vietnam war- brought to mind the ideas of Hobbes.

The chaos and bestial anarchy that resides in the pysche of every human being. I believe the madness and insanity in the lyrics speak for themselves, without need for superlatives. There is no describing the revulsion I have for the human condition as portrayed by the song. It represents the limitless madness of humanity.

No matter how hard it's controlled by will-power and self-discipline or how deeply it is concealed by the facades of society and the rules of interpersonal conduct, bestial, brutal, horrific, chaos is the very heart of humanity.

Only force and iron coercion is effective in restoring order to such disorder.

And thus the other alternative in the Hobbesian dilemna is logically totalitarianism. The cults of Hitler and Stalin and Mao and Kim Il Sung. The venerating to the point of deification of fellow human beings and their ideas, no matter their flaws, no matter the costs, no matter the morality (or lack thereof). Dictatorship, despotism, force, naked, absolute force.

Total, unquestioning, obedience to the authority.

The only true safeguard against the Vietnams of the world and pyschosis of The Doors, then, is found in Nazi Germany and Khmer Rouge Cambodia.

This is not just limited to extreme cases. Look how everybody in Iraq is looking with nostalgia to the brutal reign of Saddam Hussein when confronted with the chaos and anarchy unleashed by Bush's experiment in Middle East democracy.

Or how Singaporeans worship their Benefactors the Party without paying the slightest attention to political and civil rights.

This is the damned if we do, damned if we dont choice that characterises life as a human being.

Between the abyssal chaos of our nature, and a life under the cruellest and most brutal regimes imagineable.

That is our choice, barring choosing God.

I must admit, though, that this sounds more Nietszche than Hobbes, as Hobbes went on to develop a kind of social contract form of liberal democracy, whereas Nietszche went on to become nihilistic pessimism incarnate.

But then, Nietszche did not have God.

Arsenal 3 Tottenham 0

ARE YOU WATCHING TOTTENHAM??

Ha! Ha! Ha!

The Enemy of my Enemy

Watched the Manchester Utd vs Chelsea game at CHIJMES with Sam and Shannon.

I don't normally watch other club's games, but since Arsenal had lost the plot I wanted to see what the league leaders were doing that Arsenal wasn't.

Under normal circumstances, the best outcome for the Arsenal would be a draw.

But these were not normal circumstances, with Arsenal dropping out of the title race thanks to the Bolton Wanderers Rugby Team.

The only scenario which would really give the Gunners hope is both implausible and ludicrous:

Drogba does a "Hand of God" in the 90th minute to equalise, which the referee allows. Van der Saar punches Drogba out of frustration. This leads to a 22-men brawl where John Terry breaks his wrist trying to throttle Nemanja Vidic; and Wayne Rooney stomps on Cavarlho's groin again. From out of nowhere Ronaldo suddenly starts rolling on the ground and moaning and holding his face, even though nobody touched him. The result? 22 red cards. Mourinho makes death threats to Sir Ferguson and is promptly investigated by the police. Abramovich talks to the referee and offers him a 40 million pound bribe to have him rescind the red cards for Chelsea. Unfortunately for him, he's caught on tape and the English FA charge Chelsea with criminal activity and this leads to Chelsea being relegated to the Coca-Cola Championship, Juventus-style. Manchester United are docked 7 points, paving the way for a good old fashioned 2 horse race between them and Arsenal.

Arsenal aren't going to win the EPL, barring the above scenario.

But in the meantime, in the real world, I didnt mind Manchester United, in the apt words of Jacob, "squashing them (Chelsea) like vermin". In fact that would have been sublimely desirable.

So when Saha's intelligent strike went in I found myself cheering with the Red Horde around me.

But Saha went on to blow hot and cold throughout the match, and Rooney (along with Giggs) remained the main threats. Ronaldo was quite effectively closed down by the mercenary Traitor Cashley Cole, who was himself one of the better performers on the blue side.

Makalele remained brutally effective, Ballack seemed to have descended into Gothic thuggery, Drogba was Drogba, and Shevchenko turned out to be Manchester Utd's star player. He didnt do shit. Losing headers, giving the ball back to Man Utd, not bothering to challenge Michael Carrick for the ball, he was Chelsea's biggest liability, and thus Man Utd's best friend. He must have been weighed down with all those millions of pounds in his short's pockets. Or perhaps he was preoccupied with something on his mind.. "What should I spend my money on this week?"

Perhaps the most telling moments came during the subsitutions on both sides. And the contrast between both sides could not have been more stark. Darren Fletcher and John O Shea, while competant, are not exactly in the same league as Joe Cole and Arjen Robben. Chelsea simply did not look like losing, from what can be seen on the bench.

I don't think this will be limited to that match. It could happen to anybody, including Arsenal. It could well be, come the December clash, Flamini and Walcott vs Joe Cole and Arjen Robben on the substitution line-up. Again, the blue substitutes are distinctly superior.

But since I loathe Chelsea's guts, I'd rather Manchester United have triumphed that night. A bitter pill to swallow, but the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Arsenal 3 Hamburg 1

After scoring, the Hamburgers tried to pack 10 men in the box like everybody else, but we bashed them good anyways!

However, I'd gladly trade our Champions League victory (and spot) for 15 Premier League points. No point in gunning for European glory when you're gonna lose out on the basic title. Last season was spectacular, but I don't think we can pull it off again. Maybe in another season's time when the younglings have gotten more experience.

Still, a victory is still a victory, and I'm happy for the team. Erases the pain from that soccer-retarded outfit Newcastle's visit to the Emirates.

But the most important part of the match, and the greatest cause for optimism, can be captured in the match report on soccernet.com:

"Then, with eight minutes left, the breakthrough came.

Full-back Eboue, who had broken clear down the right so many times without reward, was released again by substitute Theo Walcott....

Victory was completed two minutes from time when Walcott dashed clear on the break down the right and crossed for Baptista - `The Beast' - to power in a header for his first goal since moving from Real Madrid. "

We've got the new Thierry Henry! And he happens to be the new Ian Wright as well!

Lets hear it for THEO WALCOTT!

If only he were 4 years older! Or better yet, if Henry were 4 years younger!
King Henry + Theo Walcott = PWNED with a capital 'O'

Great things await the Arsenal. Not this year, but in the near future.

The New Bond Film is Weird Shit

Having said that, it's decent in it's own strange way. At least that's what I thought, don't know about Reuben, an old friend whom I caught it with.

Not bad in terms of action, and it did have a nice twisty plot, though Craig would have fit better as the Bond villain rather than as Bond himself. And there was no Q! Awful! And the time-line was all screwed up: Bond began as 007 back in the 1950's-1960's Cold War. Not in some post-Cold-War, no, post 9/11, time frame, like what the movie portrayed. They placed the beginning right at the very end! How weird is that!

In addition I found it disappointing that there were no ignominious deaths for the baddies (relatively speaking). A gun-launched nail through a false eye and into the brain might be gross, but it's not gross enough for 007's nefarious arch-enemy. Nothing makes a Bond film a Bond film quite like seeing the evil mastermind drowning in radioactive water or getting frozen by liquid nitrogen or being sucked into a giant chainsaw.

While on a morbid note, the torture scene was a cringe-inducing moment reminiscent of Hard Candy. One can only wonder how 007 ever became the womanizer he is today given all that punishment inflicted on his testicles. Gives the term "Balls of Steel" a whole new meaning, doesn't it.

Or maybe that's how he got the codename "Double-O" (Double-Zero). The people at MI6 all thought he only had a pair of "zeroes" left after the torture, and he proved them all wrong in the subsequent films! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Sorry.

Right, enough of the plot spoilers and the examination of the grosser aspects of the movie. Suffice to say that it was a bit more strange than the conventional Bond movie, and yet less crazy; it was more plausible (save the afore mentioned part) and it tied everything together quite nicely- especially his penchants for Aston Martins, Vodka Martinis shaken not stirred, and all the rest. Not stupendously great stuff, yet not bad at all either.

But this movie was significant, and not just because it was the first movie I watched with my pink IC in a long time.

It represented a kind of Genesis Project (imperfect as it is) for an entire generation of secret agent flicks captured in that unique, recognizable style.

I had grown up with the Bond genre since my early years and I can't really forget all that ownage gadgetry and cool British wit with big Hollywood explosions and chase sequences all over the place. The women were a mere side-show, despite what many (mostly male) fans might think. The flesh flashes were just for the more Neanderthalic fan-base.

Speaking of the Neanderthalic fan-base, I have to admit that I enjoyed the Austin Powers spin-offs too, but they were a bit imbalanced. They seemed more calculated towards purely disrespectful iconoclasticism then true satire and parody. They would've been better had they involved more wit and less ribald humour. But they were still quite funny, though they were imperfect as a parody in the real sense of the term.

Bond was to pulp fiction spydom what Star Trek and Star Wars (the original trilogy) were to pulp science fiction. He defined the crazy-assed world of crazy-assed Cold War espionage. I'm grateful to him for introducing the prospects of jet-packs and missile-armed cars and wrist-watch lasers and underwater spear-gun fights to my impressionable 8-year-old mind. Did a great deal for my imagination, much more than Barney and his dinosaur friends could ever hope to achieve (not that I hate Barney anymore, he's ok, the real freaky ones are Teletubbies). Good stuff, if cheesy at times (Bond, not Barney).

To end off, here's something for the conspiracy theorists:
Why are They screening Casino Royale just after They decided to build the "Integrated Resorts"? Is there something more subliminal than spy-games going on here?

Arsenal, Arsenal FC!

Arsenal 3 Liverpool 0!

Well done Matt Flamini, Kolo, and Billy Gallas!

And Hleb and van Persie too!

BORING BORING ARSENAL!!

Screw you Liverpool! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Reading 3 Tottenham 1!!

ARE YOU WATCHING TOTTENHAM??!!?!

Stand up if you hate Tottenham!

Come On Arsenal, Come On Arsenal; Arsenal, Arsenal FC!

Well, there were some points where the team fell short, and I hoped Master Wenger was taking note of them.

1. Adebayour and his finishing. Not good enough, period.
2. King Henry and his off-colour performance.

Plus, the Bellamy goal being disallowed for offside was a dubious decision, but hey, not that it mattered.

Easily the most interesting moments of the game were two clownish incidents: The van Persie rendition of Maradona's Hand of God and the part when the referee pulled his calf muscle. Ha!

Come on Arsenal!

I caught the match with Sam Lim at the Elizabeth Pub at the Elizabeth Hotel. The place is quite a nice set-up, not least because its owned by an Arsenal fan.

This results in the most Ownage ambience you can get in a pub (if you're an Arsenal fan that is)- you've got massive wall-sized posters of King Henry and Bergkamp and Ljunberg and Bobby Pires and Viera and company. Arsenal scarves and other memorabilia adorn all the walls, along with team pictures- going all the way back to the days of Tony Adams and Martin Keown!

And the crowd was the Ownage too. If you go anywhere else in Singapore the Arsenal fans will be outnumbered 5 to 1 by Liverpudlian scum and Man Utd gangs. Here, it's Arsenal all the way.

And so we were in the midst of full-blooded singing of Arsenal chants:

"There's only One Arsene Wenger!"

"Ro-bin van Per-sie! Ro-bin van Per-sie!"

"Are you watching Tottenham?!?!"

"Stand up if you hate Tottenham!!!"

Live Forever

by Oasis

Maybe
I don't really want to know
How your garden grows
I just want to fly

Lately did you ever feel the pain
In the morning rain
As it soaks it to the bone

Maybe I just want to fly
I want to live I don't want to die
Maybe I just want to breath
Maybe I just don't believe

Maybe you're the same as me
We see things they'll never see
You and I are gonna live forever

Maybe
I don't really want to know
How your garden grows
I just want to fly

Lately did you ever feel the pain
In the morning rain
As it soaks it to the bone

Maybe I will never be
All the things that I want to be
But now is not the time to cry
Now's the time to find out why

I think you're the same as me
We see things they'll never see
You and I are gonna live forever

We're gonna live forever
Gonna live forever
Live forever
Forever

Oh No Arsenal

The Gunners won't be lifting the EPL title this season.

But heck, at least Chelsea's not on top.

The ones on top are- UGH- Man Utd, but at least they're the lesser, by a large margin, of the two evils.

Still...

Come on Arsenal!

Voice of Vendetta

Remember, remember, the Fifth of November,

Gunpowder treason and plot.

I see no reason why the gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent to blow up the King and the Parliament,

Three score barrels of powder below,

Poor old England to overthrow:

By God's Providence he was catch'd

With a dark lantern and burning match.

Holloa boys, holloa boys,

make the bells ring.

Holloa boys, holloa boys,

God save the King!

Hip hip hoorah! A penny loaf to feed the Pope,

A farthing o'cheese to choke him.

A pint of beer to rinse it down,

A faggot of sticks to burn him.

Burn him in a tub of tar

Burn him like a blazing star.

Burn his body from his head

Then we'll say ol' Pope is dead.

Hip hip hoorah! Hip hip hoorah!

ORD LOH!!

ORD LOH!

GOT MY PINK IC TODAY!

SCREW YOU 1WO BO COCK!

SCREW YOU LTA JM!

SCREW YOU MAJ G!

KISS MY ORDed ASS!!!

Oh Come On Arsenal

It's very worrying when the team captain says something like:

"all our fans were shouting at us to SHOOT, but I have no idea what they were talking about"

after a goalless draw with 23 shots by your team and half of them missing a bloody open goal.

And that's whats going on.

Its exasperating and frustrating to see style valued to the point that it becomes the substance.

Maybe Arsenal should have bought van Nistelrooy instead of Rosicky, they need someone who can hit the ball into the goal, let alone an open goal, without fail.

And Wenger should wake up to the problem, or else he's going to lose the plot.

The Everton match was one thing, those football-challenged, football-handicapped, football-retarded fuckers just played all eleven of their men in the box and waited out the full ninety minutes, but the CKSA Moscow match was completely another.

Come on Arsenal! Lets score more goals!

We have to, dammit.

It is INEVITABLE

With ten days left, the choking smog is finally beginning to clear.

No, I'm not talking about the Indonesian Haze, but of the much-loathed term of conscription under which many a free Singaporean is chafing.

And speaking about the haze, its another choking smog that's clearing as well, thanks to the belated monsoon showers.

What a brilliant coincidence!

And when all this is done, there will be many changes to many things.

And to the good DVA who's off to London: Peace out and prosper. Boyakasha!

READING 0 ARSENAL 4

BORING BORING ARSENAL!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOT!!

A Trip to the British Council

In the midst of choking haze I cabbed down to the Brit Council for the interview.

Looked like a nice place, especially when compared to the American Embassy next door. The Embassy looks like a blinking Nazi Fortress. Just add Swastika banners and you've got Castle Wolfenstein or Hitler's Raven Lair or something like that.

Anyway I went in and registered for the interview. Lots of posters about English language courses around. There were a bunch of jabbering Chinese nationals having one such course in one of the rooms. Sounded like they were having fun, from the loud hoots of laughter that erupted from their room every few minutes.

There were two other people waiting for the interview with me. One was a very formally dressed Chinese guy, who began reading some big ass library book as soon as he sat down. The other was a Malay girl in a headscarf, who fiddled with her cell phone.

Eventually I was given a passage to read. It was an extract from Nicolo Machiavelli's The Prince. They didnt put the title on the paper, but it sure was Machiavelli. It reeked of him. The signs were all there- an instructional tone, a dim, contemptous view of the common people, the sharp distinction between the Ideal and the Real, the need for deception amongst the various tools of statecraft. Though I wasnt expecting it, it sure wasnt surprising either.

Then came the good Dr Kennedy herself. My first impression was that of a solid block of oak, formidable and ancient, with much knowlege stored deep within that wood-coloured hair of hers.

It was kind of awkward. She offered her hand as I was closing the door, and I had difficulty with the door, so she had her hand out for a good half minute. Oh well. Hope she wasnt too ticked off by that minor faux pas.

It began with a talk about National Service (invariably) and gradually progressed as to whether Singapore should obtain a nuclear bomb. I said yes, if Singapore's geograhical size was much bigger, enabling it to sustain a limited nuclear exchange with similarly armed neighbours.

Then she asked me about Kim Jong Il and his nuclear designs. And so Kim Jong Il became the mainstay of the interview. To my eventual detriment.

I could hold out for some time against her questions. She kept applying the same tactic to catch me: first she would ask a simple, innocuous question, and I would give a simple, intuitive reply. Then she would hit me in a classic pincer stroke with a maddeningly hard question that gave me no room to manoeuvre except by contradicting what I had said earlier. And it always revolved around the same subject: Kim Jong Il and his government. I held out against such questions quite well at first. Managed to bring in a bit of the heavy artillery-what I had read from Fukuyama and Huntington. And it was a relief that she didnt ask me about Hobsbawm or history- I'm sure I would have stuffed that.

But gradually the feeling of floundering and drowning began to overtake me. And then, near the conclusion of the interview, she caught me flat-footed with one such master stroke.

In a daze, the interview was ended.

I stumbled out the doors into the haze.

Called Jiv to tell him about it, messaged the good people who prayed for me, and then went home.

The best part about it was that I had a real slobberknocker answer to her tough-ass question at the end, but it didnt occur to me until I stepped out into Napier Road. Crap! If I had given her that reply I probably would've ended her obsession with Dear Leader Kim. It's always this thing I have with interviews, I can't seem to muster the ownage answer until after the interview has ended.

Oh well.

God's Will be done.

In Your Presence, O GOD

Perhaps it is in the delirium of fever that I type this.

Perhaps it has to do with the situation of mild desperation that I suddenly turn to the Almighty.

But unworthy as I am I feel the need to turn to Him, my Lord and King.

I have no other choice.

It's also perhaps to do with the fact that the interview for Oxford University is tomorrow and I am ill-equipped to handle the intellectual demands that will most probably be presented by the venerable Dr Barbara Kennedy. And I do so want to go to Oxford.

But it must be made clear that if I do go it will not be due to any skill or ability I possess, but to the grace and Sovereign Will of my Lord and King. I cannot do it by my own self. Even the skills and aptitude for the Humanities that I possess- are these not from God Himself, Who has deemed it fit to bless me as He has? And I must remind myself constantly about this fact lest I fall into the pit of Pride and Arrogance.

And even if I do not go to Oxford, and remain here- then, all thanks still be to God, and may His Name still be praised, for He is good and His Will is perfect.

How hypocritical of me! I, such a sinner, can only go round spouting religious phrases only when I need Him. How loathsome. But it is my prayer that God will turn such evil to His good.

How petty. How pathetic. But His Name must be glorified no matter what it costs me.

So call me a lunatic in the spasmodic throes of illness and last-minute desperation- I probably warrant such a description- but I have no other recourse now. I cannot apologise for my faith.


In Your Presence, O GOD
by Lynn deShazo

In Your Presence,
that's where I am strong
In Your Presence,
O Lord my God.

In your Presence,
that's where I belong.

Seeking Your Face,
Touching Your Grace

In the Cleft of the Rock.
In Your Presence O GOD.

I want to go where the rivers cannot overflow me,
Where my feet are on the rock

I want to hide where the blazing fire cannot burn me,
In Your Presence, O GOD.

I want to hide where the flood of evil cannot reach me,
Where I'm covered by the Blood (of the Lamb Who was crucified for our sins)

I want to be where the schemes of darkness cannot touch me,
In Your Presence, O GOD.

The Grey Smog of Supreme Aggravation

I have come down with a nasty bout of flu and slight fever, no thanks to the haze caused by the abysmally ignorant arson-farmers in Sumatra and the atrociously incompetant fools posing as government officials in Indonesia.

One notable exception was Bambung, who at least had a fig-leaf of decency to apologise to Singapore and Malayland, instead of spouting ludicrous nonsense like the Vice President Jusuf Kulla, who made some completely out-of-point comment about how Indonesia had been bathing ungrateful Asia in fresh oxygen for so long. Kulla is a retarded cockster who should be jailed for life in an airtight 3m x 3m x 3m BBQ pit with ash and carbonized dust and smouldering coals that never go out. And all those blockhead peasants and grubby dickheaded forestry and agricultural corporation bosses should be exiled to live in an active volcano for life. Let them spend a lifetime inhaling pure undiluted ash and carbon, since they seem to like it so much that they have to share it with everyone else. Fuckers like Kulla and the forestry company bosses and the farmers should be spared having to breathe fresh air and oxygen, since its obviously so toxic to them.

It's a sickening feeling when you look out the window and the acrid smoke smack in the face. You can't see the ships at sea because they're all obscured by the smog. But of course, the much vaunted ASEAN, for all its pretensions at being a respectable regional institution, won't be able to do a shit about it, because all its member states and their rulers have not the balls to stand up for international law. "Respecting another ASEAN member's Sovereignity and Internal Affairs", they call it.

Pathetic imbeciles.

EPL Soccer- Much Better than English National Soccer

While England's joke of a national team crumbled in Zagreb, the English U21s trounced their German counterparts, thanks to Theo Walcott of the Arsenal!

I seriously think the U21s are better than the senior squad. Perhaps it's to do with the fact that there are two Arsenal players in the U21 squad!

Would have been three if that asshole Alan Pardew had sold Nigel Reo-Coker to Arsenal. That guy is too much. He goes and bitches about how Arsenal have no England players in their team, then when Arsenal tries to buy an England player from him, he turns down the offer and refuses to tell Reo-Coker of Arsenal's interest in him. What a major f*****. The only good thing he's done is to kick Tottenham's ass in the last game of last season, thus allowing us to get into the Champions League.

Anyway I'm still watching the replays of Robin van Persie's second goal against Charlton.

That was WICKED SICK.

The Beginning of The End

One month left.

One month left.

And it'll all be a memory, mostly bad, but good too, and damn funny at some times.

Unforgettable, really. Like Kaimin the Nudist who ran through the barracks corridor naked on the first night of Basic because he forgot to bring his towel to the shower. We called him the "Naked Flame" from then on- after a briefing by the Sergeant on Armoury rules- "No Naked Flames are allowed in the Armoury".

Or the retard from Section 2 who pissed everyone off.

Or the RSMs, the Old Lords of Terror.

Or the incalculable fatigue after 3 straight days of trench digging.

What an incredible two years.

And then I will have to play catch up with my former peers in the civilised world- peers who have gone and travelled and experienced new places and learnt new and greater things.

Yes. Greater things await.

Trouble in South East Asia

So there's been a Coup in Thailand.

Very interesting.

What fuels the Asian fascination with totalitarian, authoritarian rulers?

Is the population density of Asian countries so high to the point of making these societies so incredibly susceptible to chaos and anarchy, thus leading the masses of Chinese and Indochinese and Koreans and Japanese to yearn for an iron fist in those that rule over them?

I read somewhere that this chap by the name of Lucien Pye did a study on the cultural roots of authoritarianism, but I couldn't find his works in the libraries.

In other news, the Supreme Lord Benefactor of Temasekii Singapurus, the MMperor Leeus Deus, has gone and stirred up a hornet's nest by commenting about how Malayland and Indonland always treat their ethnic Chinese populations like dirt, and how Chinese Communist Singapurus must always be on its guard lest it become yet another subjugated ethnic Chinese enclave under the Malay-Indonesian-Dayak-Muslim heel.

That statement was totally uncalled for; it was made without the slightest provocation from the leaders of both Malayland and Indonland. It's not as if there was a Habbibie banging on about a "small puny red dot" that would be swamped by Muslim hordes or a Madhatter Mahathir raving about cutting off the Island's water supply. Quite the opposite; this new Bambung fellow seems quite decent and Badawi hasnt been saying much except about how he looks forward to working with Singapurus.

So why the heck did Our Supreme Lord Benefactor go and say that?

Admittedly, he may be right after all (in fact what he says seems really to be the case in Malayland and Indonland, witness the Bumiputra laws and anti-Chinese racial riots and laws in each country respectively), and Malyaland and Indonland are indeed screwed up countries in other ways as well (ie the motherfucking eco-terrorist farmers in Sumatra who keep burning their jungles and sending tonnes of ash over Malayland and Singapurus).

But to come out in public and say that kind of thing in that kind of way is the hallmark of a stupid, tactless, and insensitive goon, not what one would expect from a highly respected and self-vaunted statesman, much less the so-called "Kissinger of South-East Asia".

The big irony here is that he's the same person who regularly hits out at the West and Human Rights bodies for their criticism of Singapurus, saying that they should not be interfering in Singapurus' internal affairs, and that Singapurus has its own "Special Circumstances".

In that bloody case, why the heck is he himself interfering in Malayland's and Indonland's internal affairs, and not giving a shit about their own "Special Circumstances"?

One should also recall the Supreme Lord Benefactor's propensity for sueing people into oblivion for making "Irresponsible remarks that reflect badly on his reputation".

So why the heck is he going on with such irresponsible statements that tarnish the reputations of entire sovereign states?

That's fucking blatant hypocrisy if you ask me.

Unless he has other, more Machevellian, plans up his sleeves.

It could be that he's trying to open up a "second front" within these two countries, so that in the (plausible) event of war, he would be able to count on the discontented Chinese minorities within Malayland and Indonland to launch a guerilla campaign against the Malayland and Indonland Armed Forces, thus allowing the Singapurus Imperial Guard to gain the upper hand in such a conflict.

Even if this is indeed the case, I still think it's a stupid move (not to mention that its a highly immoral one), because there would be nothing to stop the rulers of these two Muslim giants from conducting their own campaign of inciting racial hatred within Singapurus' population. Singapurus' own Muslims have also been getting quite a bit of unfair treatment from the primarily Chinese PAP government, in very subtle ways. Its just that the PAP is alot better at concealing its distrust of Malay-Muslims than UMNO is at hiding both it's flagrant favouritism towards Malays and it's contempt for Malaysian Chinese. Making this kind of statement would only invite Malayland and Indonland to retaliate in kind.

And if Malayland and Indonland were to indeed seize the statements as an excuse for launching their own campaign of racial hatred against the Island, Singapurus would be most definitely worse off than either of them. Malayland and Indonland can afford to have a few cities worth of racial riots. Not so the single city of the city-state.

In all, the Supreme Lord Benefactor has shown himself to be both short-sighted and flagrantly hypocritical.

Not that anyone on the Island is going to notice, or if they do, they'll come out in full support of their beloved Supreme Lord Benefactor. And even if they don't the newspapers wont print their views. Like how the papers are projecting the outcry in Malayland as a "LIVELY DEBATE over MM's Remarks". It looks more like a damn bloody heated furore to me.

Oh well. Such is the way things are. At least I'm not in Somalia or somewhere like that.

Vindication

All right, so its just one win, and Man Utd are way up in the table while Arsenal are still at tenth spot.

But so what? Cesc's great run and Adebayour's sweet finish were enough to stick the Gunners' boots in the mouths of all those obnoxious anti-Arsenal critics crowing about how Arsenal would get trashed by their over-rated Ronaldo and Rooney and Co.

HA! HA! HA!

Look who's laughing now, Jacob!

Oh we all love the Arsenal, Arsenal FC!

Come On Arsenal!

We're gonna win the Quadruple!

Our unbeaten run starts now!

MANCHESTER UNITED 0 ARSENAL 1

The season starts now.

The 50 Day Countdown- More EPL, and More Million "Smiles"

Newer and more dangerous enemies are raised as the date draws near.

Oh well.

It's gonna be an slobberknocker weekend at the EPL: Man U versus Arsenal, Chelsea versus Liverpool.

Problem is I think the Gunners will crash and burn as usual. I have very bad premonitions about this.

The scores will probably be like 2-0 to Man U, and Chelsea will trash the Reds 3-1, or at the very worst they'll both draw 1-1. Man U still go on top, Arsenal slip into the relegation zone.

Why do I still keep the faith in the Gunners? Why do I still support them even as they crash to lesser teams and struggle without the old heroes like Bergkamp and Viera and Pires and Campbell and Ashley Cole?

Because I am an idealist, and Arsenal has a tradition of playing ideal football. And because they had a history of uber defence. Admittedly, that was before the Wenger days, but they still rocked back then, what with Tony Adams, Martin Keown, Lee Dixon, Nigel Winterburn, and of course David Seaman, creating an iron curtain across the Highbury goal.

So why Arsenal?

1. Thierry Henry

2. The old heroes of Bergkamp and Paddy Viera and Bobby Pires and Campbell and Ashley Cole (the old Ashley Cole, not the money-grubbing scum at Stamford Bridge), not to mention the brilliance of Anelka, Petit, and Marc Overmars.

3. The immortal legends of Tony Adams, Martin Keown, Lee Dixon, Nigel Winterburn, David Seaman, and Ian Wright.

4. The promise of youthful future as represented by Cesc Fabregas, Robin van Persie, Philippe Senderos, and Emmanuel Eboue.

5. The immaculate pitch at Highbury and the glorious new one at Ashburton Grove.

6. Winning a Championship Trophy unbeaten the whole season,

7. let alone going for 49 games unbeaten (would've been 50 but for bloody Man Utd). No one has ever done this. A dozen teams have got the Champions League, but no one has gone for 49 games without defeat. Invincible.

8. Conceding no goals for 10 consecutive Champions League matches.

9. The Wenger concept of ideal football.

10. Wenger's brilliance in the transfer market.

11. Wenger's sophisticated personality- so much more refined and higher-level than the likes of the ludicrously stupid Jose Moronho Loudmouth, the Neanderthalic "bash all dem Brainees outta deir skulls" philosophy of Sam Allyardyce, or the effective brutality of Sir Fergie.

The club was the only real challenger of the Man Utd monopoly. (Chelsea doesnt count, anything they win is void because they have unlimited funds. Thats like using a bloody cheat code in computer games).

Enough about soccer, its been a screwed up EPL ever since Moron-ho and the fucking Russian brat came in and messed things up superbly.

But life here on The Island (get the pun and the metaphor?) isnt much better anyway.

Our Benefactors have abrogated the MOU with the World Bank and the IMF in typical Singaporean -should I say "Party"- fashion: cloaking criminal totalitarianism with seemingly flawless legal casuistry and heavy-handed police action, combined with a sickening campaign of "wayang-ing" and boot-licking.

Elaborating about the latter-I mean, it's no coincidence that the Straits Times printed a "Special" section showcasing the clean, green, and fun side of The Island on the first day of the convention. Neither is it mere chance that the flagrant display of artistic talent, the "Bienniele", should take place just as the delegates arrive in town. Its a blindingly obvious case of cock sucking if you ask me. But that's relatively harmless compared to the former- the tyranny encased in ironclad legality.

Our Benefactors say they have "an obligation" to protect the delegates from harm and disruption. Fair enough. But they have blatantly ignored the obligation to allow civil and public debate and demonstration of ideas. Even the WB and IMF have specifically requested that these groups be allowed room to express themselves, but to no avail. The pathetic excuse given by Our Benefactors is that "troublemakers and undesirables and terrorists" (all bloody vague and incoherent stereotypical generalisations) pose a grave security threat.

When the actual fact is that the majority of these "terrorists" are in fact highly educated and professional and civilised, if passionate, people who believe in the rightness of their course.

It's blatant tyranny- label all dissidents "terrorists", and send in the police. So bloody blatant. But of course, no one will know, because all we Pliant Sheep know is what the papers say. And Our Benefactors tell the papers what to say.

I'm in danger of veering off into irrational whining, but the point has to be made. Singapore is looking bloody childlish and ridiculous by banning free expression of ideas and opposing views to those held by the WB and IMF Convention. I mean, even the mortal enemies of the Civil Groups, the WB and the IMF, are themselves looking forward to the CGs in open protest to their policies! That's where the real unstifled debate takes place!

Its truly unfortunate that Our Benefactors have decided to equate riots in Hong Kong and Vancouver with the idea that ALL Civil Groups are anarchists and terrorists hell bent on destruction and chaos. Unfortunate, and sinister.

I hope the whole world mocks Singapore in force for the immaturity and childlish behaviour of Our Benefactors. If they can't grow up and accept the messiness that comes with the globalization of the world, they are in for a deep shock.

It's just like your typical classroom scene in a junior college. Everyone is dressed up to pose and blend in and be cool. Then comes this dorkish boy with his pants pulled up to his armpits, with suspenders, thick black plastic specs, and ugly buck teeth, and says "hi, my name is Singapore, I'd like to be your friend and discuss economic issues in a proper place and setting." Sorry chum, not gonna happen.

Either Our Benefactors are so incredibly stupid that they cannot see what we look like in the Developed World's eyes, or they are so incredibly brutal that they hope to enforce our laws on the developed world body and it's Opinions.

One of the Supreme Benefactors mentioned that Our Benefactors could not allow public expression of ideas because then Our Benefactors would be in "deep political trouble" with their own citizens for practising double standards.

On the face of it, it looks deadset logical and noble, until one looks closer.

Double standards vis a vis foreigners are in full force already- no Conscription for "Foreign Talent", more relaxed criteria for Foreigners to enter the "Integrated Resorts" (another fuckingly retarded euphemism from Our Benefactors), and a whole bunch of other skewed laws. Our Benefactors are not interested in avoiding double standards per se- they simply pick and choose according to what they like.

Obviously, money is more important to Our Benefactors than freedom.

To put it all in perspective, Our Benefactors have done a surprisingly good job in steering The Island into relative wealth and prosperity. No doubt about it.

But in doing so Our Benefactors have entrenched themselves in a system of necessary opacity and necessary autocracy. They cannot break out of it and allow the noveau intelligentsia the room for expression, because they have become addicted to tight-fisted control over every single thing in the land.
They fear with an absolute paranoia that all will come to chaos unless they have total, complete domination over The Island and It's people, and that alone.
They thus rule with an absolute tyranny that promises financial and personal ruin to the Citizen unless he offers total, complete subservience to their vision of the future, and that alone.

Our Benefactors speak of the need for change and revival, of the necessity of economic flexibility, of the need to adapt and manoeuvre quickly through the trials of the times, yet they have not seen, or else are ignoring, the need for political change and revival, of the necessity of the expression of ideas, of the need for bold and forthright public debate about the trials of our times, and they persist in their path.

It must be the lure of power- absolute power. It cannot be anything else.

"Absolute Power..." (anyone dare to complete that famous phrase?)

The Final Battle

All cultures speak of an Apocalypse, an Armaggedon, a last trial of Fire and Brimstone that will consume humanity before paradise is gained.

So it is with those of us with 8 weeks to ORD.

As the RSM and his fellow Warrant Officers tighten their iron grip of terror upon my unit, I will see to it that not only will I survive to collect my pink IC, I will also emerge victorious and the stronger for it, and I will expose their ciminal stupidity and stupid criminality, which is the least they deserve for their tyranny and sadism.

The days of wrath are here. But once they are over for me- they will begin for them.

And I will be returned to the sweet life I once knew.

Last Days of the Reich

It's not gonna be an easy road to freedom.

The manpower in the office has been depleted even further thanks to the irrationality of someone Upstairs, thus resulting in my being tasked to do many more unenviable jobs. Its quite a sickening thing when one realizes how bloody slack some of the other jokers in the office are.

This will be a bitter struggle to what promises to be a sweet end.

Anyway, Arsenal have finally made a move in the market!

All hail William Gallas and Julio Baptista! May they bring glory to the club!

I'm not sorry to see traitor Cole and cry-baby Reyes leave, especially the latter, who's been useless as a replacement for Bobby Pires. The former was and still is the best left-back in the world, and he was one of my favourite and greatly admired soccer players, even among the Arsenal team, but his mercenary tendencies got the better of his loyalty. He's no Henry or Steven Gerard, that's for sure. May his name be forever blackened as he throws his lot with the asshole MORONho.

At least we got William Gallas and Julio Baptista! More solid defenses, and more firepower up front!

I was on the verge of losing all hope for the team when Joey Barton did them in last Saturday, but, as it goes in the language of computer game geeks, there is nothing sweeter than the words "REINFORCEMENTS HAVE ARRIVED".

And what makes that even more sweet is that Pascal "Donkey" Cygan is off to join Bobby Pires at Villareal! HAHAHA! Good Riddance! And good luck to you (or should we say condolences), Bobby Pires, have fun trying to cover for the Donkey's defensive screw-ups!

Still, the most WTF transfer news I've heard is that of West Ham's acquisition of Tevez and Maschermo. That is seriously Far Out. WTF?!?!? Who would have thought??

The Plot Thickens- EPL, ORD, and the Four Million Smiles

And its Game On in the EPL!

Rather disappointing though. Quite humiliating to have conceded the first goal of the season at the brand new Emirates Stadium. Arsenal pass too much and can't seem to have proper finishing. Arsene Wenger should make his team practise their finishing technique- their passing is good enough already as it is. If they can't conjure the kind of immaculate, artistic goals that Dennis Bergkamp and Henry used to do in seasons past, then at least just bloody whack the ball into the net, English-style! No use passing it round and round and round the penalty area.

And Wenger should never have bought Adebayour. The guy is becoming more like Arsenal's version of Peter Crouch. Tall, yes, but totally useless with pathetic ball control, speed, passing and shooting skills. And even Crouch is scoring nowadays! Master Wenger should have just sold him and cry-baby Reyes and bought Kuyt and Ribery instead. Then we'd be the Ownage. But, as Wenger would have said, "c'est la vie"- such is life, and what has happened, has happened.

At least the loathesome Chelsea lost, despite their 30-million-pound-hitman Shevchenko. HAHA! BALLS TO YOU, MORONho! Even with all those quality players you STILL LOST! NYAH NYAH NYAH

Man Utd's gone way on top with 8 goals in 2 games (9 including Rio's own goal), and one of my friends, who's a Man Utd fan, has been aggravating me about it. Irritiating sia. But truth is I don't really care as much as last time because Man Utd is really the much lesser of the two evils. Make that three, if you count Tottenham (who incidentally have begun to look real dangerous of late, loss to Boltish Bastards notwithstanding).

Anyway life is getting tougher as ORD approaches. All sorts of shit-work (sai kang) flying thick and fast, and two colleagues in the office are beginning to really annoy me- one due to his incessant absence from the office by conveniently getting into some sports competition, the other due to his brilliantly fucked up attitude. Oh well. That's the warping effect your motivation to work suffers when you combine years of slavery with the faint whiff of imminent freedom.

And anyway, the IMF and World Bank are coming to Singapore. Hohoho. I think the Million Smiles Campaign is either incredibly cynical, or utterly stupid, or both (no offense to those lucky few whose smiling countenances are featured in the collage). Cynical because its just to rake in the money (typical Lee-Kuan-Yew School of Thought)- who gives a fuck about whether these guys are happy or not (again, typical Lee-Kuan-Yew School of Thought)? Stupid because Singapore- stressed out, overworked Singapore- is just about the most unhappy place in Asia- if I'm not wrong it came in second last in some international survey or other- and yet we get all these smiles from out of nowhere. And its frighteningly Communist-like at the same time- "Smile Comrades! For the sake of the Nation and the Party!". All that's missing from the campaign is a fine or jail term for NOT smiling as the delegates drive past.

That's happy, sunny Singapore for you.

Comrade.

11 MORE WEEKS

The path to freedom is a tricky one.

Counting down too early is a danger; even a mere 3 months will assume the semblance of an interminably long stretch of time if one counts down and counts down and awaits the days to pass on.

And those guys are experts at making life difficult for you in your final months.

The fuckers want me to go for some 3-day combat range shoot on the very week that the Oxford interviewers are coming down!

Asked my officer about it and he didn't bother pretending to listen to my queries. He was looking at some program for the next day's run and obviously an interview with Oxford paled in comparison to the uttermost glory and imperative importance and vital urgency of a MORNING RUN.

After 5 minutes of repeating my question to barely audible replies of "mm" and "mm-hmm" and "I think the running route should extend to the other road", that muscle-minded tank-brain mumbled something about "you can go for range and after that go for interview" as if the fucking Oxford interview were some kind of insignificant and inconsequential event which you can go for in a state of total fatigue.

Those muscle heads must've been wondering "what's so important about this guy's university interviews? Are they really all that important? It's only Oxford University.. Why can't he settle for NUS instead? Its a damn good uni already lor..."

Right I am descending into bitchery here. But thats what the IDIOTS in the Army can do to any erstwhile sane person. Their sheer stupidity and ignorance is so utterly ludicrous that one can only deteriorate into base frustration, expressed solely in the form of Bitchery.

I am loathe to use such crude language. But this is the "gift" of the Army, and I can find no alternative way to putting it thus:

ARMY IS FUCKED UP.

From Scratch

I will obliterate all traces of my servitude to you. And all traces of memory of you and emotion for you.

There will be no more flagrant displays of obsequious fealty to you. No more seeking your approval and attention while you pine and whine for another's affections.

I will destroy this delusional world of ours and I will start from scratch. From scratch.

I depart in bitterness and in an appalling show of melodramatic weakness. May you receive what is your due.

I have had Enough

You

have hunted and haunted and hounded me for the last time.

There will be no more spasms of darkness and madness and anguish.

No more hours wondering through the night about what went wrong and what might have been.

I have had enough.

National Day

Went out with my church cell group to a restaurant at The Treasury called Petals, where one of our cell group members is working as a trainee chef!

Good stuff, the food. After that we went to watch Click at the new Cathay place near Plaza Sing. The show was retarded enough to be funny, even hilarous (ie "In the news today, Michael Jackson became the first person to clone himself, and became the first person to sue himself, after becoming the first person to molest himself"- WTF!! HAHAHAHA). And it had sufficiently intensive sentimentality to drive home one or two simple and yet true messages, the important one (in my opinion) being: Family Comes First (over work). Cheesy and yet profound. How does Hollywood do it?

NDP is on.

I think the whole idea is bullcrap actually. I'm not going to launch into an anti-government tirade, because from a relativistic point of view our government isnt even near half as screwed up as it could be. Credit where its due; despite certain sinister autocratic tendencies, Old Confucian MMperor and his Dragon King son-successor have built themselves a system which compares favourably with the vast majority of the Third World miasma of chaos and poverty.

But as credit is given where it is due, criticism must also be granted where needed.

I think the NDP, along with the patriotic songs and cheesy sentimental vid-clips, should be scrapped and the money saved given to the handicapped and homeless people stuck on the island. The whole idea of using cheap sentimentality such as the NDP to arouse patriotic passions in the intellegentsia is ludicrous. It insults our mature, educated intelligence. And I do not take it kindly when we mature sentient adults are treated as mere babies to be absorbed and fascinated with sparkling displays of sound and light. We are not some toddler children who can be expected scream in immature excitement at the pretty bursting glows of fireworks or the
thunder-roar of F-16C/D fighter jets, and therefore feel a sense of nationalism. It's just as degrading as National Education. Stupid, blatantly propagandistic, and little better than what Hitler and Stalin and the rest of them tried to do at Nuremburg and Red Square.

No doubt it may sway the underopiniated, gullible masses, but I loathe to be exposed to such an insult of my thinking faculties.

On a brighter note, Arsenal have crushed some Croatian club called ZagbrebDinamoVaklebTrannsylvaniaVladDrakulorsomethinglikethat
3-0 AWAY on the qualifying campaign to the Champions League! Without King Henry and half the senior squad! Go Cesc Fabregas! Go Robin Van Persie! Go Johan Djhorou!

And Justin Hoyte can play left back too! With Gael Clichy, Hoyte, and Flamini, who needs Ashley Cole!?!?! Having said that I certainly hope he'll turn from his mercenary ways and pledge loyalty to Ashburton Grove. I hope he'll withstand the corrupting, warping, influences of Russian money and not turn Traitor.

If he does betray the Arsenal, though, his name will forever be blackened. And then Master Wenger had better get Gallas! No way should Pascal Cygan be allowed to play.

The new EPL season looks real exciting! COME ON ARSENAL! COME ON ARSENAL!

DOWN WITH CHELSEA!

DOWN WITH THE FALSE CHAMPIONS!

DEATH TO THE RUSSIAN CORRUPTOR!

COME ON ARSENAL!

The News in Brief

Been a crappy July, 20th birthday notwithstanding.

In fact, I had duty on my birthday! WTF.

And the new RSM has come in and all the dark terror of the Warrant Officers have been unleashed.

And England lost to Portugal and that dirty diving dogfucker Ronaldo. (Not that I was really supporting England since Sven-Goran Idiotssen NEVER played Theo Walcott)

And France lost to dirty Italy.

And Ashley Cole wants to defect to Chelsea and motherfucking Mourinho.

And Jose Antonio Reyes wants to leave for Real Madrid just because he can't speak good English.

And Iran is is going nuclear, with a madman mahdi at its helm.

And North Korea is launching missiles all over.

And there's war brewing in Israel and the children are getting blasted to little pieces of kiddy meat.

And Gayle Nerva is out of Singapore Idol AGAIN.

And Paul TwoHill the OneEyed is still going strong. That thing masquerading as an idol contestant is more like those psychotic killer dupes from a stereotypical Hollywood slashing horror flick. One of the guys in camp commented that he felt sorry for his left eye because it couldnt see anything. I replied that he didnt have a left eye to begin with; it was gouged out by Paul himself during the selection rounds to traumatise the judges into accepting him, so he had to cover the gaping socket with his hair.

The only good news is that Arsenal's EMIRATES STADIUM is finally complete! WOOOT! The best stadium in England with state of the art facilties. The best stadium in England for the best team in England. Come on Arsenal!

Oh well enough about July.

Remember, Remember, the FIFTH OF NOVEMBER!

93 MORE DAYS

And so here we are, a mere century of days away from the finality of freedom!

As it stands, though, the final days won't be a piece of cake.

A new Regimental Sergeant-Major (RSM) has just taken over and he is truly insane, even by RSM standards.

But that will not faze me, nor the hundreds of other comrades in arms who eagerly await the first week of November.

Forward my brethren! Let nothing stand in the way of our birthright!

For freedom! Forever Freedom!

We will not falter till the PINK IC is ours.

DEUTSCHLAND UBER ALLES!

AND THE GERMAN JUGGERNAUT ROLLS ON!

UNSTOPPABLE!

Was watching the Germany vs Argentina match last night with Jacob and DVA at Changi Village.

I was rooting for Germany, Jacob was rooting for Argentina, and DVA was rooting for a super goal fest.

In the end, DVA was the most disappointed.

But oh well.

The referee's decisions helped the hosts a lot. Should have been at least one red card for the Germans. There really is a connection between the refereeing and the host nation's progression to the later stages of each World Cup.

And it was a deadly mistake for Jose Pekerman to take off Riquelme for a holding midfielder. He should have at least brought on a striker like Messi! Then Germany would have been in deep shit. Putting defensive midfielders on when you're one nil up sounds like something the Germans would've done, not a joga bonito side like Argentina.

And, its never a wise choice to try to defend against opponents you can't defend against in the first place. I mean look at Germany's superiority in the air, and how the short little Argentianians couldn't cope with the towering Deutsch! (Even though the first goal was by a tall Argentinian defender) It was a blinking double header that sealed the equaliser. Whats the point of bringing on defensive midfielders when the Germans can simply pump high balls and free kicks over them as if they were not there? Might as well bring in more attacking talent and kill the game off ASAP.

Pity about Argentina, they play like Arsenal, and that should be the way to play the World Cup. But I support Germany because I hate that fat slob Maradonna. And Germany has an Arsenal player, whereas Argentina has none. And its not like the Germany in this tournament is like the Germany of the last one; instead of playing boring Chelsea-type soccer, they have a much more interesting style of high-powered attacking football. They have attractive tactics; and though admittedly they are not as fascinating as Argentina, they still look pretty good and are fun enough to watch. Plus, Deutschland is a much cooler country than Argentina.

But who cares?

Once again JENS LEHMAN saved the day!

What a hero!

Good old Jens!

ARGH! I LOST MY PHONE!

Bloody hell!

Its been the third time in two years!

Its the stupid army pants pockets I tell you they're too shallow.

Anyway the manner of the loss was quite strange.

It wasnt like those other times when it fell out unnoticed onto a taxi seat and I didnt find out until I'd gotten out of the cab by which time it was too late.

On the other hand, when this one fell out, I noticed it, but failed to catch it in time.

And it went straight down the bottomless pit of an Armoured Fighting Vehicle engine compartment.

Just like that! The damn thing disappeared below the behemoth engine.

It was massively maluating because at that time I was squatting over the engine hatch explaining the engine air filters to a recently-commisioned officer cadet. And when I moved, the bloody handphone slipped out of my pocket, and down into the engine hatch. So damn embarassing!

Of course I tried reaching down to pick it up. No use. The bloody engine compartment is so deep and the engine so damn big even my skinny spindly arms could'nt touch the bottom, let alone get near the phone.

So I tried accessing it throught the drainhole at the vehicle bottom, but when I reached in all I felt was a big steel partition-wall. And a lot of grease.

So I was left with an arm coated with thick black grease and a bunch of sniggering officers.

I tried calling my phone, to try and sense where exactly in the black hole it was.

There came a faint buzzing sound from deep within those metal bowels. Too deep for hope of recovery.

The chief instructor said that the only way to retrieve it would be to take out the entire engine. But that wouldnt be happening anytime soon because the vehicles wouldnt be needing any maintainence for a long time.

Nuts!

At least my phone was on vibration mode, not some gay spastic ringtone.

If Id called it then, the whole workshop wouldve been filled with this gay spastic ringtone emanating from the engine depths of a 23 ton Armoured Vehicle.

That wouldve been damn funny, if the phone wasnt mine.

Crap!

Now I gotta rebuild my phonebook.

Ponderous Ponderings

I really dislike quite a few American musicians and their compositions.

Like that one by Daniel Powter- "Bad Day"- Bad Song, that.

Can't stand the ones by Simple Plan (should have themselves renamed Simpletons) or Avril Lavigne, as well as their hordes of retarded punk fans.

Of course not all American music is bad. I'm addicted to the music by Linkin Park, Nickleback, Staind, and Bruce Springsteen, but most of today's American pop is rubbish. I mean, look at the absolute bullocks idiots like Britney "TITney" Spears keep churning out!

The world of modern pop music should be ruled by the Brit musicians like Coldplay and Oasis and Travis and Robbie Williams and Franz Ferdinand.

But enough about that, taste is always subjective.

In the meantime, I was thinking about the debate over fundamentalist Islam.

It is true that not all Muslims are suicide bombers (an obvious fact that is amazingly overlooked by some people), but it is equally true that all suicide bombers (at least in the modern terrorist context) are Muslim. At least that's how I see it.

I mean, even the ETA Basques and IRA Irish and Marxist Cubans dont load themselves with plastic explosives and board a schoolbus and blow themselves up just to prove a point, but it seems to be a mundane everyday thing in the Arab world- or the Muslim world, for that matter.

I know my words sound incendiary, and I admit that I am not an authoritative source on Islam, having never read the Quran, but from what I know of its history and the present world it seems that this religion has certain flaws that most of its believers refuse to admit.

I am not saying Islam is inherently violent, from what I know it is a religion of peace. My Muslim friends go to mosques that teach tolerance and the struggle against the sinful self, not how to skin and behead the oil-plundering infidels. Theoretically speaking, Islam is a force for good. And in any case, every other religion out there has been manipulated by power hungry politicans to create great evil- any history student worth his stuff can tell you about the Crusades, the Inquisition, and the Imperialism that was justified by Christianity and resulted in the spilt blood of millions. Mind you, it was conquistadors supposedly bearing the name of Christ that invented exquisite tortures previously unbeknowest to humanity- and it was Bible-bearers who plundered massives amounts of gold and silver from the South Americans (after massacring them, of course). I feel for the real Muslims in the streets when they see madmen chanting Quranic verses and blowing up children and chopping off he heads of aid workers. It could happen to anyone's religion. I'm pretty sure in the 16th century there were quite a few Spainairds who went round quoting Biblical passages and mutilating Latin American genitals at the same time. Indescribable evil.

The point here I am trying to make is that Islam has key flaws which distinguish it from other religions. First, the Prophet spread his religion through force and conquest, whilst Jesus never advocated the use of violence, and was slain in the most painful way imaginable, and then resurrected. Siddartha Gautama, as far as I know, didnt hurt even a fly. The vastly differing origins of these religions did set in place differing levels of tolerance towards violence. Second, Islam places too much power in the hands of human leaders, unlike the Bible which asserts that only God and not man has the real authority (why else did God refuse the Israelites a human king at first?). Buddhism avoids the concept of power entirely (doctrinally speaking).

It seems that Islam has a greater propensity towards violence. While I say that it is NOT a religion of violence, I can only conclude that it is more easily subverted by madmen than the other major world religions.

More on this later, if the ISD doesnt lock me up.

Ascension- 20 Weeks, Singapore Idol, and the World Cup

Life has never been better, ironically.

With 20 more weeks left, the end is finally in sight.

Its still to early to begin the celebrations and jubilations, but there is a scent of an inevitable victory, a triumph of all that is good and free over the impersonal machinations of real world politics and the systems of oppression it spawns. NS is just one of them.

In the meantime, Singapore Idol has re-commenced and I have decided to boycott this season because a very promising Gayle Nerva was kicked out in place of the not-as-good Jasmine, who got through only because of the sheer number of friends she had.

I'm beginning to tire of this farcical Idol show on local TV. I once thought it was a great way for allowing those with true talent to gain the skills and confidence needed to develop that talent and give the rest of the island a refreshing emergence of new entertainment. I'd also respected a few finalists for their courage to dream and brave attempts to perform in the face of the relentless scrutiny of the public eye and the retarded judges who seemed (and still seem) keen only on imitating their counterparts from the US. Taufik was indeed a worthy champion, unlike his arch-rival Bengster lowlife who was so popular among his fellow Bengland lowlifes.

Having said that, this new season has altered my perception deeply. There are thin lines dividing honourable courage from sheer stupidity on one side and greedy, self-worshipping, ego on the other. Many of the contestants seem to fall on the wrong sides of the two lines. They're mostly either half-witted imbeciles who keep bashing their heads on a brick wall (mostly the sort who didnt even make it to last season's finals, and still tried to enter this season's); or else vainpots seeking cheap popularity, at best, and arrogant bastards and bitches who think they're going to win the title because they are just too good for the competition, at worst. You can read it in their posturing, their struttering on stage.

Then there are the judges. The judges! What a misnomer! As if they had the originality of personality and character to qualify themselves for their job. Instead they preen and pose and play-pretend to be the figures judging American Idol- the worst of the lot being Ken who tries ever so hard to make himself Simon Cowell but fails ever so miserably. Watching his painfully pathetic attempts at mimicking Cowell simply makes me cringe- an experience that becomes more excruiciating the more he tries to frown and mutter biting comments. If there ever were pirated personalities as there are pirated VCDs and computer games, these people are prime examples.

But nothing earns my contempt more than the fans. The fans epitomize the problem with the show, the way it emphasizes fickle popularity in place of appreciation of true vocal talent. Just look at the hordes of brainless, air-headed screaming fans! These bird-brains are worse than poseur judges attempting to mimic their Western counterparts. Its the fans that really piss me off. They do nothing but scream and wail and screech and vote for who is popular and not who has true talent. Look at the amazing number of votes Sylvester won last season. None for true musical talent, all for his Bengster appeal to all the lowlife Lians in the heartlands. Empty-headed bimbotic shitters.

But not all is lost, because the World Cup 2006 has kicked off in Deutschland!

Germany was awesome in the Group Stages, having 8 goals in the opening matches. Incredible. But the best match in my opinion was either the Great Australian Comeback against Japan or the Holland versus Cote d-Ivoire game. The Argentines' spanking of Serbia was too surreal to be enjoyed, though Cambiasso's goal was wicked sick. Speaking of goals, the best were probably Fring's sorcher against Coasta Rica, Kaka's against Croatia, van Persie's stunner free kick, and Rosicky's guided missile against the Americans. Pity about the Czechs though, I liked them. And Ronaldo the Bald Fatty was damn funny to watch. The spitting image of a clown. Just like Barthez.

Which brings me to the one match I didn't like, the France-Korea one. All the Koreans did was to run around and gang up on opposing players on the pitch, and make lots of ugly fan noise off the pitch. And they still grabbed an undeserved draw against France and King Henry's sweet goal, via Park's lame-ass flick. Its bad enough that the squint-eyed shit plays for Manchester United, its worse that the goal he scored was retarded and totally un-football-like in its entirety. If his finish had some class I would have applauded, but it was so scrappy I felt like turning off the TV.

Oh well its quite a decent show for Arsenal on the whole. 5 goals thus far, 1 from van Persie, 1 from Thierry Henry, 2 from Rosicky, 1 from Freddie Ljunberg. Master Wenger will be well pleased. But I think he should get another defender to replace Campbell. William Gallas looks like a good choice. He should also get red-hot Fernando Torres too!

That about sums up the weeks in June. I'm beginning to prepare for my applications to Oxford, so I guess more of my posts will have a political flavour to them.

Review

So you have chosen
And all my efforts are for naught
And all hope has evaporated
And my earnest endeavour in vain
So, so.

Many have accused me of excessive melodrama.

Let them!

I care not for the opinions of others- I have heard enough of the opinions of others, and frankly, they disgust me. And anyway I cannot change who I am, what I was born to be.

Life in the material world has improved by leaps and bounds. I have been posted to Higher HQ, away from the dirt and sweat and pain of front-line combat. In any case I would never have made a good soldier. All my fond memories of armour training belie the fact that I was always one of the slowest and clumsiest in the unit, slow of finger-finesse and lacking in forceful fury. Amazing that I find these remembrances fun and funny. It must have been the adrenalin rushes, nothing else.

In any case it's like the Israelites being delivered out of Egyptian hell- thanks be to God.

And on another plane, life remains as inscrutable and opaque as it always was. You cant really see through to the other side; there's just this woozy stream of golden bubbles against an impenetrable obsidian surface. Indecipherable, unreadable, moving in random and indiscernable patterns, always elliptical and never forthright. Games played through the splintered glass lenses of minds' eyes, games that are disorientating in the extreme. All fun and games, like Edward Albee's absurdist theatre pieces, swimming in alcohol under the brilliant jazz lights of joy. The whole damn thing is just a game-each toying with the other just for the sheer amusement and thrill.

But what happens when the fun ends?

As it seems, I am about to find out.

Hollywood

My all-time favourite movies are as follows, in order of merit:

1. The Lord of the Rings Trilogy
2. V for Vendetta
3. Closer (the one starring Natalie Portman, Jude Law, Julia Roberts, and Clive Owen)
4. Batman Begins
5. Star Wars Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith
6. Memento (the movie that went backwards)
7. Spiderman
8. The Matrix (the first one, not the other two)

Great stuff. Anyone who can appreciate theatre should see these.

Past

Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm a history student. I keep remembering past experiences.

It almost seems that I can recall things on command, in an instance, instead of waiting for them to emerge through the muddled fog of human consciousness.

And so even as Arsenal redeem themselves at Highbury against Wriggle Atheltic and crash to Barcelona and lousy refereeing, I can't care less anymore, because I can just sit there and wonder at where my mind has wondered off to.

Sounds like wool-gathering, but its not. I plunge back into the past and it seems all too real.

You're in the Vehicle Commander (VC) cupola of the Bionix 40/50 Infantry Fighting Vehicle. It's the smell that hits you first, the smell of grease and weapon oil and outfield dust and vehicle diesal exhaust and the stink of your own body.

Then the weapons- large and lethal- the 40mm automatic grenade launcher mounted on the left, and the 50 calibre heavy machine gun on its right.

You're gripping the cupola control stick and shifting it ever so gently, and the weapons systems are ever-so sensitive to your grip. They swing back and forth and up and down, muzzles menacing every sector you rotate the cupola towards.

You control the vehicle's driver through your helmet microphone- giving those sharp verbal commands.

The 23-ton armoured beast lurches and roars its way into the jungle.

An RPG ambush!

Turn and charge the vehicle, open fire with the 40 auto grenade launcher and then the machine gun- CHATATATA-WHAMWHAMWAHMWAHMWAHMWHAM-and the side mounted machine gun opens up too. You squeeze the trigger button on the control stick like anything, feeling the raw power as the weapons fire with yellow flashes and thunderous roars.

The stench of cordite is overpowering, but you have to keep your eye on the targeting sights trying to see the bastard so you can nail him, take him out with your hail of grenades and massive bullets. It's not that simple- the vehicle is lurching through the potholes and bouncing up and down, you have to fire in bursts to walk your rounds towards the RPG bastards in the bush, trying to report back to your platoon commander over the radio about what the hell is going on, trying to give orders to the section behind and side machine-gunner, trying to go on full auto blast as you near the RPG position, and there's this massive calmness about it all that you have to possess when guiding the vehicle or it'll go into the ditch and you're dead meat.

Gosh. What an adventure that was.

It envelops me.

I live in memories. I have no future.

Inexorable

Forgive the hysterical rants. The debilitating instability of emotions descends all too often upon me. The thing is, its not the current emotions I have per se but rather the memory of past emotions that re-ignite the current ones.

Memories, memories, memories.

They trap you, yet they teach you invaluable things.

Enough of this.

Truly, ignorance is bliss.

Someday it will all make sense. That's my honest hope. That's the one genuine hope I have.

A Day of Black Paralysis

Remnant /Resistence
Your hope is broken /We shall stand
You must let go /We stand or fall
We cannot hold this /You cannot run
We must fall back /You have come too far

Remnant /Resistence
You will be our doom /The only choice: Victorious Aut Mortis
You have no chance /To the last
We cannot do this/ Victory or Death
The battle is lost /To the very end

Remnant /Resistence
Why do you stay your course/ We have nothing to lose
The cost is too great /It is too late
What price we have paid /You cannot turn
We cannot win /We end this in Honour


When I look into your eyes
There's nothing there to see
Nothing but my own mistakes
Staring back at me

Tell me please,
Who the fuck did you want me to be?
Was it something that I couldn't see?
Never knew this would be so political.
And please, I'm still wearing this miserable skin
And it's starting to tear from within
But it's obvious that doesn't bother you,
so please

Why I stayed with you
Just push away
No matter what you see
You're still so blind to me

I've swallowed all your answers
I've swallowed all my pride
You've used up all your chances
Can't keep this all inside

I've lied
To you
This is the last smile
That I'll fake for the sake of being with you
The sacrifice of hiding in a lie

So please don't keep telling me that it's ok
I don't buy all the shit that you say
And quite honestly I'm fucking sick of it
so please
if I cut off this nose from my face
Then I wouldn't feel so out of place

But it still wouldn't be quite enough for you,
so please.

The Death of English Football

Chelsea 3 Manchester United 0


Ho-hum.

Pity about United, but at least they beat Chelsea earlier on.

SCREW YOU CHELSEA- at least the rest of us didn't BUY the Premiership.

I've every bit of respect for some of the Stamford Bridge players- Terry, Lampard, Cech, Robben, Joe Cole, maybe Crespo- but not the others especially idiots like Drogba and Fierrera and Carvalho and Maniche.

Speaking of idiots from Portugal, there's their manager who is as arrogant as he is childlish and incompetant.

What a motherfucker. It's my dream to staple his mouth shut, literally. Perverse, I know, but I loathe the guy.

He's the kind of guy that will only shake hands with an opposing manager only after Chelsea beats them 3-0, and makes all sorts of magnanimous comments about the opposing team's "good fight". Once Chelsea loses, however, he refuses to shake hands and brands the opposition as cheats and unworthy of the victory. Reminds one of an 8 year old kid actually.

He's just incompetant. Anybody could win the title with Chelsea. Even my uncle's dog. Just look at the money that they've got.

Speaking of money, I hope that asshole Roman Abramovich gets arrested for corruption by the Russian secret police. They should drown him in petrol and give his money to some charity. He's a spoilt brat who just happened to have money. A lot of it.

Yet another immature fuck. No wonder he's together with Mourinho in this farcical game of buying football titles and trophies.

Ok do pardon the expletives. I really can't think of more suitable words or titles to describe those currently in charge of Chelsea.

No question about it, the biggest loser tonight was not Fergie's team but the spirit of sport and quality football and England's World Cup hopes.

Soccer is Stranger than Fiction

Arsenal 1 Tottenham 1
Villareal 0 Arsenal 0.

In the space of 4 days there were 2 matches.
In the space of 2 matches there were 2 draws.

The latter favoured us, the former did not.

But hey! We're going to Paris! Woo-hoo!

I am ecstatic that the Gunners have gotten to the finals while stretching their incredible run of clean sheets to an incredible 10 games. 10 games against the likes of Real Madrid, Juventus, and Riquelme's Villareal! Lehman should get every bit of the credit as Henry.

At the same time I am sorely disappointed at yet another lacklustre domestic performance.
I think Wenger has paid the price for having too little Englishmen in his team. Only English players are used to the English game of heavy running and high balls and headed goals. All the Frenchmen and Spanish youngsters at Highbury are obviously not comfortable enough with the pace of the English game. Arsenal's fluid style of play should be maintained but without sacrificing English players who are used to aerial contests and close man-marking and tough full- blooded tackles. Perhaps Alan Pardew was right after all.

The Age of Ambition

I have an overwhelming compulsion to succeed against all odds.

I intend to excel and overcome all these obstacles that lie in my way- this dystopian nation and its policy of conscription, this callous society, and the deplorable situation that I am in.

I have had enough of being sidelined and overlooked by those who would not or could not see what I truly am- they who would dismiss me as inconsequential and even insignificant- without the opportunity of a fair trial.

I will rise and I will be vindicated.

Victorious Aut Mortis
- Victory or Death

Yet may God be glorified in all I do- If I were to earn honour, may the Greater honour be ascribed to Him Who has delivered me from the pits of defeat.

For King, Not Country

My allegiance as far as I am concerned is not to this nation but to my King and Creator in Heaven, the Holy Trinity as preached in the Holy Bible.

I still find it hard to put my faith in human reasoning. Everytime I try it turns out to be too illogical, too whimsical, too irrational, and yet I have this compulsion to cling to the Faith I profess.

Perhaps this post has to do with the fact that the Holy Week has passed.

Well it was anything but Holy for me... all that sin and guilt still plagues me after all these years.

But it was a week to remember the events of the Cross and the Empty Tomb- the Death and the Resurrection of Christ the King.

It was a week to reflect on why I am called to believe.

Some say that only the weak would have a need for a religion- for only the weak need a crutch to live life by and an imaginary friend whom they can pour out their whining to.

But I know what I know- what I have seen and experienced- and its just that I lack the means to express it in a more lucid and cogent form that makes more sense to the Logic-worshipping Atheists out there.

And as to the charge that the weak need crutches- it can also be argued that only fools would depend entirely on the efforts of their own flawed hands- and all human hands are flawed. Indeed, everything about humanity is tainted with imperfection, and thus complete reliance on human possesions- on human brain, on human strength, on human feeling- would seem not only a greater weakness than those who cling to Faith, but also a pure foolishness and abject stupidity that is symptomatic of ego and pride- human ego and human pride that has so often decieved men into thinking themselves as gods.

You want proof that humanity is flawed and failed?

Look at the newspapers. Look at the greed and carnage and hunger. Look at history. The starvation and wars and oppression and injustice. The brutality and avarice and poverty. What more proof does one need? Or does one insist on glorifying the quantum leaps in technology and science and knowledge? I think that despite of all our achievements, the fact that we have failed to eradicate JF Kennedy's "Enemies of Mankind" (ie hunger and disease etc) shows even more flaw and failure.

Example:
For what purpose do we have so much wondrous medical technology when it is used to save only, say, the 20% of humanity who live in the First World?

Weak people would lack the strength to accept the reality that humanity is flawed and cannot be relied upon to build a better future. Weak people would be unable to face up to the failures of humanity and find delusional excuses to convince themselves that they do not need a higher moral guidance. Weak people would be unable to resist the beastial aspects of their human nature and turn to the worship of pleasure- weakness harmlessly laughed off as "it's only human" or "mere hedonism".

So who then is the weaker? He who needs God or he who laughs at God?

Not to mention the more foolish...

Only a fool would rely purely on human abilities. Sure there'll be success- but for how long?

What comes after that? What comes after you've done everything you've set out to do?

What would you be living for?




I dont know why I compose this. I guess its a reply to the release of the Gospel of Judas and the coming release of the Da Vinci Code movie next month.

I'd thought that the Da Vinci Code was a mere spot of fiction- just a harmless controversy born of an attempt to make a quick buck (or a few million bucks). I even mocked the Church elders who ranted on and on about it.
I figured that if they were responding so vehemently to fiction, would'nt it mean that they were taking such fiction seriously, and thus giving it even more credibility?

But what galvanised me into supporting those looney elders was the fact that on reading the book again, I found in it a disturbing attempt to make everything in it seem real. Ok, so the Priory of Scion and Opus Dei did exist as what was claimed, but the plot of fiction was made out to be real- as real as the historic facts! Dan Brown has indirectly put the idea that Sophie Neveu is the great great great great grand-daughter of Jesus Christ on the same pedestal as the fact that Leonardo DaVinci painted the Mona Lisa. That to me is quite a dangerous thing to do.

And so I can no longer apologise for what I say when I defend what I believe in.

Musings

Why do the Chinese people glorify elders and authorities?

All throughout history the people of China have always worshipped those held in high authority over them.

Look at Qin ShiHuangDi the so-called First Emperor for instance.

He was a monster and a megalomaniac whose bloodthirsty reign took the lives of hundreds of thousands, including many of the scholar class who had alternative ideas and philosophies about government.

And yet the modern Chinese celebrate him as a God-like figure who rescued China from a chaotic past and gave them a unified empire, a big ass wall, and a common language.

I do not dispute those events of his epic legacy. But I also find it very odd that so many would be so enamoured of these deeds without remembering the monstrous price in human lives that was paid.

The same goes for many of China's leaders through the ages.

Aside from the many Emperors, there are too the examples of Mao Ze Dong and Deng Xiao Ping who have accomplished a great deal of great things at a great cost to humanity.

Remember the Great Leap Forward, the Cultural Revolution, and Tianamen Square.

And these people are still worshipped as gods by the Chinese people!

Not to mention the Sino-philic neo-Confucian leader of a certain island in South-East Asia just north of the Equator- beholden and revered as a Messianic ruler by his minions.

Are we Chinese fundamentally an authority-worshipping culture, a race of insects and ants and hive-minds, all bent and focused on achieving wealth and prosperity at the expense of moral values, stability at the expense of dynamism, cohesion at the expense of uniqueness, unity at the expense of individual expression, and authority at the cost of human rights?

Sadly the answer seems to be yes.

I think it has to do with the fact that we are the most populous people on the planet.

You can't rule 2 billion of us effectively without resorting to Stalinist methods.

To be cynical but realistic, the larger a people is, the more unruly it would become, hence the need for draconian methods, especially if the vast majority of the ruled are uneducated peasant simpletons (which is the case in real life).

But necessary evils are still evils, as evil as they are necessary.

And beware us Chinese, O the Rest of the World, for we the Yellow Horde are coming to infest every corner of the planet with our Hives and Colonies! BWAHAHAHAHA