Thursday, September 15, 2005

My Looks ...a.k.a who cares.


A dear lady friend of mine, whom I met over the Internet (not chat, email)and who has not met me in person was curious as to how I looked like.

That’s true. Not many know how I looked like. I have been asked that question before. For example, queries like, “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?”

Now how would I describe myself?

I will start with my head. There is a head all right, unless someone angers me indefinitely. I lose if so fast that it bounces of the wall and comes back to me and back to my neck – in tact. Haha.

Excuse my feeble attempt at humour. Firstly, I would say that I am balding – at an exceedingly alarming rate. Secondly, I hate it! But I can’t help it. My dear father is balding. So are my uncles. But then there are so many attractive bald men. For example, there is Sean Connery. And then, err, Sean Connery. Hold a minute, there is someone else. Oh dear! I mean, there’s Connery and then. Faugh!.

It should also come to your attention that I have a very high forehead. Yes, I know. It has come to my knowledge that high foreheads are often attributed to extremely intelligent people like Albert Einstein. I was proud of it, until someone informed me that I have a high forehead because I am balding. Confound it!

Now, comes the favourite part of my body. My eyebrows. Nothing exceptional about them, though. But herein lies the greatest talent I posses – the ability to raise one of them individually. It started when I was trying to imitate Connery doing Bond. And then, it became a habit, and the habit included the dying hair follicles.

My eyes. Ah, there have been many description about them. I personally liked to view them as a pair of eyes belonging to a scientist or a astronomer – keen and intuitive. If, of course, you would excuse for the fact that they are my eyes and were viewed by themselves. How odd. I asked a colleague of mine, “what do you think of my eyes?” This colleague, his colours drained out as if fearing for his dear life, remarked, “Dude, I am straight. Stay away from me.” How odd? He never looked crooked to me, poor chap.

Next, comes my nose. Disregarding the cliché, may I say that I have an aquiline nose? I asked your permission to allow me to say that since till this day I do not have a darn clue what aquiline means.

In all fairness, I should say that I hate my lips. Apart from the fact that they are thick and actually do not qualify the wordy ‘pouty’, they have serve no function accept to open and shut when necessary. Also, the fact that I can’t whistle without missing note annoys me a lot. But then, how much has it contributed to the mankind, with exception of Milli Vanili is beyond me.

My ears used to resemble a car with doors opened on both sides. But as I aged, it ceased to look like that. It now looks like a car with doors open on both sides, when parked in a very tight spot.

I shall go ahead with the rest of my body. I am normally middle-sized. When I am not normal, it stays middle-sized. But suffice to say, my waist size have, thus far, only moved to and fro between 33” and 34”. I am neither hairy nor do I have bare chest. It reminds me of the line Connery utters about bare-chested Japanese men in You Only Live Twice : “Birdsh don’t make nesht on bare Ttttreee”. The scriptwriter must have had too many Sakis when he wrote that line.

My posterior, however, is the greatest disappointment of all. An old friend of mine remarked that it reminded him of “the North-South highway”. God bless him.

I generally have a gait of a bear trying to imitate a panther. It happens when I walk briskly. My love for cat somehow influenced my physical movement. Yes, I can be graceful especially when begging for food.

That’s all you readers will have to know about me. Further information could be found in that SPECIAL book in the police headquarters in Bukit Aman. Right now, I have to dash off as I hear scream suspicious of that of a siren.

I thank you, ladies and gentlemen.

Monday, August 29, 2005

Killing Time in Airport

Okay, here's my contribution for September issue of Asian Airlines and Aerospace. Very useful.


Killing Time In Airport

You are in a transit. You have another three hours before your next flight. What do you do? Who do you call? Ghostbusters?

Fret not, I have all the right stuff you can do to kill time. If these steps do not help, well, I suggest the most common and inevitable measure – sleep on the benches.

So, first things first, how do you deal with the stress? Head to the nearest bar and have a glass of beer? Are you crazy? Do you how much a glass of beer costs in airport lounges?

Well, I checked howto.com and it says that you should go to the gym. Well, I know its not much fun, but at least you can get tired enough to sleep on the bench.

What if the airport has no gym? Well, don’t look at me; I didn’t suggest the gym thing. The same site says that you can ‘power-walk’ around the entire airport. “Store luggage in terminal lockers, lace up those walking shoes and get the blood pumping,” the site says. How appropriate! And watch out for that “Wet Floor” sign.

Next, the helpful site says that bored passengers can “Surf the Web and answer e-mail at an Internet kiosk to make the time fly. Keep in mind that, in some airports, you'll be charged for the time you spend online.”

Always remember to spend wisely. We don’t want to see you scrounging for money because you hocked your return ticket. The Internet can be addictive, especially the chat rooms

Next, one can purchase souvenirs and presents for friends and family at the airport's gift shops and retail stores. The most popular souvenirs have always been chocolates. The reason is simple; if you get hungry you can eat them yourself. Don’t worry about the empty box, when you present them to your loved ones don’t forget to quote Forrest Gump.

“Get a shoeshine,” says the site, though it did not state what to do if you are wearing sandals. Shine your legs? The site says that many larger airports feature hallway shine specialists to buff and polish your shoes. If the airport doesn’t have such facilities you can do it yourself. What did you say? No wax of your own? Now, you know what else to bring along during your trips, don’t you?

Next comes the best part. The site asks you to enjoy a drink in the airport bar if there is one. “In US airports,” it says, “the day's big sporting event will probably be blaring on the television.” That is in the US. In other countries, the shows themselves are the reason why we should stick to the bar and drown our sorrows with a bartender who probably does not speak our language.

The seventh step is to have a good book. This is my favourite time killing measure. Make sure it’s a good book. You can scrounge the bookstores in the airport, but I warn you, you don’t usually get what you want. Sure, the bestsellers will always be there. But for readers like me, who prefer books written by authors who p[probably died fifty years ago, it can be tough. So, bring your own book. If not, bring books belonging to other people. Make sure you get their permission first though.

The site also gave an ultimate, “Keep your eye on a clock at all times, and check the departure screens regularly to ensure that you do not miss your flight.” This is provided you are not at the bar or reading a book. One can’t be doing too many things at the same time.

I hope these tips are useful. In fact, I am killing my time right now writing this piece.

Wait a minute…gosh darn! I think my flight just took off!

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

New Bond


This is crazy. Go to google news and type James Bond and there will be rumours on just about everyone else being tested to play James Bond. Gad. What's happening to this world?

Being a big Bond fan (my friends know how big, that's why most have played safe by staying away and issuing restraining order) I have often been asked about that: Who do you think that should be the new Bond?

I have two names: Clive Owen and Hugh Jackman. But Owen, like the third Bond, Timothy Dalton, might take the job too seriously. So, I am not sure about him. Jackman will be good. Plus, he has the market, especially over here in Asia. People know him from X-Men and Swordfish. Even his flop, Van Helsing, did big business in this region.

But all these argument are dead on water since we start getting so many news about this feller and that feller going for audition.

So, I thought and thought about it. Lets get radical. Lets think of someone nobody would have thought of.

Here it is:

Larry Mullen Jr.

"Who?" You may ask.

And say, "What are you, a f******* owl?" Haha. Okay, sorry. Stole that line from the movie Heat.

Larry is the drummer for the superband U2. I am a big fan. So are millions all around the world. Look at him. What do you think?

I think I am nuts. But back in 1961, many thought of the same of Bond producers when they took in a blue-collarish Scotsman named Connery.

Just think about it.

Monday, August 01, 2005

Movie marathon for weekend

What a weekend!!!!!!!!!

This must be the weekend I saw most movies. Anyway, I have no time to write the reviews for my movie site, so I will write mini-reviews. Here we go:

Fantastic Four:
Great fun. A very balanced script. Everything is in, the humour, the pathos, the action and the delight of superpowers. Chiklis and Evans excel - one suffering and the other having fun. The others are okay too, especially the delicious Alba. CG not overdone. Don't mind sequels.

The Island:
Interesting premise. But halfway, I kinda got sleepy. On one side Michael Bay (the director) wanted to please the critics, and the other, he wants to please the hardcore audiences he had always pleased. So, in between what seemed to be legitimately good story, there's running, explosion, fighting, shooting and more running. McGreggor is very good in what seems to be the usual Tom Cruise role (hero on the run and later gets back at the big organisation he is running away from; see The Firm, MI, Minority Report, WOTW).

Stealth:
absolute f****** waste of time. I messaged someone saying that it is not even worthy of a Pirated DVD. Jamie Foxx is wasted. He is not suited for this kind of role. The technology does not impress. The Talon aircrafts looks like the one Eastwood stole in Firefox. The stealth aircraft does not even do stealth operations. What the F***!

The other flicks I watched on DVDs.

The Mad Max movies:
I watched all three over a week period. Mad Max is okay, a bit dull. Nothing great to be recognised as a cult favourite. I guess it was the other movies that made this one respectable. The one I saw was relooped with American voices, so dubbing was bad. Like the Spaghetti Western movies.

The Road Warrior was good. Damned good fun. Mel Gibson get to do a bit of acting here, and you can see why he is perfect as action hero. The film is often said to be the source of influence for many good and bad post-apocalyptic sci-fi. I'd credit that to Escape From New York too.

Beyond Thunderdome is good, but inferior to Road Warrior. Tina Turner looks delicious. But the ending is all fuzzy. She just leaves and the movie finishes. Huh?

Laws of Attraction:
I watches this for one person only: Pierce Brosnan. He is great at comedies and nobody, not even Bond movies, tested him at that talent. He shines here. Finally shows how versatile he can be and this genre - romantic comedy - is easy as he had had the practice in TV (you know which show). Julianne Moore is good too. Nice movie, but not the one I want to revisit over and over again.

The Fogs of War:
Actually saw this last week, not on weekend. Documentary on Robert MacNamara, former secretary of defence for JFK and LBJ. Powerful. Very moving, with MacNamara (now in his 80s) narrating. Sometimes very honest, and very open, and sometimes not. But we are made aware of how stupid and emotional human being can be and how much it can cost in terms of lives. He talks how he was involved in Cuban missile crisis and the Vietnam war, as well as his other gigs like in the Ford Motor company and world bank. Great piece of work.

Got to write the full reviews for my site.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Flying Trivia


This one was written for the August issue of Asian Airlines & Aerospace magazine. The magazine is not out, so the one folk or two who're reading my blog will be the first to encounter it.


Flying Trivia

There are a lot of things we take for granted, or don’t care about when on a flight. For instance, who controls the aircraft? If your answer was the captain, you would be right. You were expecting a different answer weren’t you? Well, there are some things everyone knows and others no one may know. Here, we offer answers so some frequently pondered upon questions.

Most of the answers were found in seniorindia.com (your guess is as good as mine). Some of the answers are informative, some are valuable, and others actually made the writer contemplate moving into a tiny cave in the Himalayas.

If you have queries during a flight, whom do you ask?

Of course, soul searching and questioning yourself is good for existential reasons, but when it concerns important biological functions (the location of the lavatory), you need to seek the assistance of those in the know. The people in the know here would be the flight attendants.

An inflight supervisor coordinates the work of all flight attendants and usually looks after passengers in the First Class compartment. If you happen to find yourself in the first class cabin, raise of glass of champagne in a toast for us.

Before take off

What exactly should you NOT take into an aircraft?

Of course, the usual culprits include knives, daggers, swords, firearms and babies. Okay, I was kidding about the last one, unless of course, they happen to be armed and dangerous. We all know the security paranoia that’s permeating the industry, so it is not tough to know which things can go in and which can’t. Here are some of the goods considered to be dangerous: explosives, compressed or toxic gases, flammable liquids, easily ignitable or self-ignitable solids, substances that develop flammable gases on contact with water, oxidising, poisonous, infectious or corrosive substances, or magnetising materials.

According to the site, exempted from this list are life-support articles like heart pacemakers containing radioactive materials like a plutonium battery or other items such as smoking materials carried on your person, medicinal and toilet articles (without aerosols).

There is also the issue of using electronic equipment. This is not a problem, unless they interfere with the aircraft’s electronic system. Imagine an aircraft touching down in Timbuktu instead of Singapore’s Changi International Airport just because you were using your Nokia 6680 mobile phone. You know how dependent pilots are to all those electronics gadgets in the cockpit. You can, of course, use cassette recorders, pocket calculators and electric razors. Like Sean Connery’s character says in the movie The Rock, “You can’t cut my b***s with a trimmer, can you.”

And, if you are not sure, ask the authorities at the airport before boarding an aircraft. If you get wide-eyed, terrified responses, you’ll know what to do or not.

There, alas, remains the question of pets. If you can’t live without your kitty, it is high time to consider getting her married off. Just kidding. You can always freeze them cryogenically and thaw them when you get to your destination. Again, I am just kidding.

Jokes aside, according to the site, domestic pets can travel safely in the temperature controlled and well-lit aircraft. But you must ensure that secure crates or pet boxes are used before booking them into the aircraft. The site says that if you think your pet should “travel with you in the cabin, it may be possible under certain conditions: Your pet must be well-trained and healthy, and not too large.” I am not sure what this means exactly; maybe the cat you are carrying is supposed to know which button to press to call the attendant, and know how to use the lavatory as an added bonus. In any case, we hope you understand what we are talking about. Also, don’t forget to inform your neighbour – he/she might be allergic to cats.

What’s out there?

Once you get to your aircraft and take a seat and look out of the window you will notice something – the lack of clouds. This is probably due to the fact that the aircraft has not taken off yet. What you will see is a flurry of activity involving containers, pallet loaders, tankers, catering vehicles, cleaning vehicles and a black cat crossing the path of your plane (think Matrix and déjà vu at this point and start looking for Agents). All the activity, aside from the cat, revolves around the loading of cargo as well as food and fuel. The containers and pallets are loaded beneath and sometimes in the cabin.

Those flying in winter will notice the aircraft being sprayed with liquid. Don’t be alarmed; it’s not for the mosquitoes. It is a de-icer, an environmentally friendly mixture of hot water and glycol. According to the website, the hot water removes any snow, frost and ice clinging to the outside of the aircraft, and the glycol forms a thin protective film to prevent re-freezing so that all moving parts stay mobile and surfaces remain aerodynamically 'clean', guaranteeing maximum aerodynamic efficiency during take off and further flight.

Here is a crucial question concerning a life-threatening moment: Can one use the aircraft toilet just before take off?

When the plane is parked on the runway, why not! Unless you plan on taking some time and the plane is ready to take off. Imagine the mess if the plane begins to taxi and actually takes off. You don’t even want to imagine what you’d look like when you eventually emerge.

Now, why do those flaps and rudders move just before take off?

I used to imagine some kid in the cockpit going, “yippee!” and playing with all those switches. That’s why I thought the flaps and the rudders flipped about before take off. Well, as usual, I was wrong. It’s the cockpit crew running a final check to ensure that the rudder and flaps are in perfect working condition. You should start worrying if you hear a loud “oops!” from the cockpit.

Why are some flights delayed during take off?

Those living in KL, Bangkok and Manila will know the answer to this question. It’s the bloody traffic. This may actually be the first instance where the word ‘bloody’ has been used in this magazine, but there is always a first time and it did seem appropriate.

Airports and the air traffic control are struggling to keep pace with the increase in air traffic. The situation is further aggravated by military and VIP flights. I do hope air traffic control personnel are well compensated for their high stress jobs.

Flight delays also result from bad weather, unscheduled repairs or lack of punctuality on a previous flight that may have utilized the same aircraft. There is also the possibility that the pilots ate something, which disagreed with them for lunch.

Fear of flying

Your flight is a relaxed one. You are having your fifth or sixth whiskey on the rocks when some turbulence is followed by news that sobers you up instantly: “An engine has failed!”

The first thing to do is of course, pray. The next thing to do is panic. But you really should not worry. Remember when you were young, and your favourite goldfish died of too much fresh air? Well, your dad would have told you, “Don’t worry, there is always another.”

This is exactly the same situation; there is always another engine. Which is why there are no single engine aircraft. If there were, we would strictly advice you to avoid them. If one of the engines of a twin-jet aircraft fails, the other can still provide enough power to continue the flight safely

What if both engines fail? Well, then we hope and pray for a miracle. Actually, the aircraft will generally be able to safely glide to the nearest airport. There is however, nothing wrong is saying a prayer or two and keeping your fingers crossed as an added measure.

We’ve already seen that the weather can delay flights. What if the bad weather occurs during a flight? Do we then do the opposite of the Indian Rain Dance?

Fear not. Your pilot will consult air traffic control and steer a course around it to spare passengers the discomfort of turbulence. Usually, lightning presents no threat to the aircraft as seniorindian.com noted that since the cabin is made of metal and forms a so-called Taraday cage, it could afford perfect protection for everyone on board. The cage acts as a protective screen shielding the occupants from the external electric field generated by lightning.

Speaking of lightning, what about turbulence? What the heck is turbulence? And what the heck does heck mean anyway?

We shall ignore the last question go directly to the first question, which will provide an answer to the second question.

Here’s what wikipedia has to offer in terms of a definition:

In fluid dynamics, turbulence or turbulent flow is a flow regime characterised by low momentum diffusion, high momentum convection, and rapid variation of pressure and velocity in space and time. Flow that is not turbulent is called laminar flow. The (dimensionless) Reynolds number characterises whether flow conditions lead to laminar or turbulent flow.

If you are confused, you are not alone.

Lets get back to seniorindian.com, which simplifies matters greatly: “Turbulence is not only encountered in cloud-bands and stormy weather; it occasionally occurs in perfectly clear air. Clear Air Turbulence (CAT) builds up at altitudes of ten to fifteen km at the edge of 'jetstreams’. One can find these long narrow air-streams gusting at 100 to 500 km per hour over the Atlantic. CAT is often unpredictable, it occurs without warning and generally lasts only a few seconds or minutes. The jolts can be quite violent, however.”

You should therefore be very careful when you choose to pick your teeth.

Can turbulence the aircraft’s wings to snap, like what happens when hungry writers are faced with a platter of sizzling Buffalo wings?

According to seniorindian.com, the answer is a resounding NO. It would appear that the wingtips of a Boeing 747, for example, can be bent about eight metres above and four metres below their normal position before there is even the faintest theoretical danger of rupture. Even the worst turbulence encountered could not cause that kind of deformation. The engine vibrations seen during turbulence are also well within design tolerances. Stress and strain ratings in aircraft constructions are based on extensive air turbulence studies at all atmospheric levels. Furthermore, regular inspections are made to check that even in the unlikely event of a critical load, neither the airframe nor the wings sustain any damage.

Thank the gods and the stars above for seniorindia.com. Next time you see the wing bending about eight metres or so, don’t panic. If it bends more than eight metres, it’s time to stop gawking and start praying.

That’s all for now. There are probably more things you may wish know and do not know or simply do not wish to know about flying. We may come back discuss these matters from time to time, especially if this writer returns without having experienced any panic attacks on a flight. Let’s all keep our fingers crossed and watch that black cat.

Friday, July 22, 2005

Normal Blogging



I realise now that whatever I have been inputting in this blog is wrong. This is not a freakin' blog. Its a...

Damn, I don't know what it is. So, today, I am going to blog like any other normal bloggers.

Let me start.

Woke up in the wrong side of the morning today. Its not my fault, someone rearranged the bed.

I felt depressed. I don't know why. Maybe I ran out of toothpaste. Yes, I have to steal my housemate's. Thank god for he has been sleeping very soundly. Well, very soundly, for the snoring sound from his room have apparently woke up the next door baby.

But what was on my mind when I was brusing my teeth and gum. Yes, it was M. Why? Why did she have to do that? Of all the guys in the world, she has to choose him. The man stinks! He has no class. No style. Nothing.

Oh, its weighs heavy on my heart. M shouldn't have done that. I know her market is down, but it doesn't mean that she has to work with crappy film directors.

I spat out some of the blood and was glad to see it was red even though I am colour blind.

Got to get going. Work is waiting for you. And so are the bills.

The newspaper did not improve my feeling for the day. Sigh. The new bombing in London, thank god, did not kill anyone.

And for Umno assembly someone was selling some kinda oil and errr...paste made from an arabic lizard. He even brought the lizard along in case the people want to know. Gad, I mean, who would want to see that. What if the lizard goes berserk, gets stuck in the hall's sound system and completely distort the PM's speech. Instead of "I want corruption to stop". "Why must seduction stop!"

Ah, the thought of that makes me want to jump out of the window. But my office is too high and you can't open the windows. I hate lizards. I hate reptiles of any kind, unless they are in Spielberg's movies.

I shall blog later. Sigh. And how in hell do you make lizard paste?

Monday, July 18, 2005

Tell it to Brother Bailvan Bairavan

Yes, you have all read or perhaps even wrote to many agony columns. I felt that the blog would be lively if I have one of my own. An agony column. But wait, I won’t do it. I have zero knowledge of human psychology and the most I can offer to the sufferers (especially if they are hot babes) is a shoulder to cry on.

To take on this arduous task, I looked around and finally found the right candidate, Brother Bailvan Bairavan (BBB). Besides his burly feature, Bairavan is a caring person and is the right person for this column. Besides, I owe him some money. We shall now go on air. I will read the letters, and BBB will offer the solutions or advice, or even some cookies to calm you down.


BBB That’s right, you yellow bellied scumbag. Now, lets get back to the business. Read your first letter for today.

Me Here’s one:
Dear BBB, my name is A (though my friends teasingly call me Idiot). I fell in love with B (whose real name I cannot reveal unless you don’t mind stupid names like Bolinda). B is not in love with me. In fact, B is in love with my dog, Aristotle, which, last week, ran away with my neigbour’s cat. Oh, dear BBB, what can I do? I can't peel the onion properly these days and the stress is too much for my family that my mom OD’ed on caffeine the other day because we can’t have onion in our cooking.

B Listen, you twit. I don’t give a rats’ ass about your B or your dog, but I think it is against any religion for a cat to get hitched with a freakin’ dog. You freakin’ buzzard (ed. cleaned up version of you F***king B****rd)! And get a freakin’ onion peeler or something. Get this bugger outta here!

Me That was very helpful, BBB. Thanks. Next letter:
Dear BBB. In case you can’t see me, I am a girl, age 18. If you do see me, I am sorry I lied. Otherwise, things are okay at home except that I find increasingly annoyed with my brother’s addiction to Eminem. He listens to it day and night. I can’t stand it, especially the song Stan.

BBB Dear girl age 18. It just so happens that I like Emimen too, mohahahahah. And you know what, I think you are weak. I think you are jealous that your brother got better taste than you. And I suggest you take your Britney Spears CDs and shove it up you know where.

Me. Take it easy, BBB. You shouldn’t impose on , aaaaarrgh! What the hell is that? Okay, okay. I’m okay. I’ll read the next letter:
Dear BBB. I have a good relationship with my boyfriend, Max. Everything is fine. We have dinner together almost everyday. He is nice, kind, gentle and caring. A perfect boyfriend. But…but…he hasn't proposed to me yet. He never talked about marriage. What am I to do? The problem troubled me so much that I find myself constantly driving in reverse gear. Please help me, BBB.

BBB That’s easy, girl. Put the freakin’ gear back to one. What the hell did they teach you in driving school, huh?

Me Errr, BBB, she’s talking about her boyfriend. Remember? The Proposal?

BBB Yeah, right. Here’s the deal girl. If he ain’t approachin’ you, why not the freakin’ hell approach him instead. It gives you more power ain’t it, instead of whining like a little girl. Neneneneneneee! Come here, I want to pull your ponytail.

Me Haha! That’s err…funny, BBB. What you really meant was probably different, right?

BBB What’s the matter? I run the show, bub.

Me Yeah. But you know. You got HELP this people, not make the situation worst. Your right wing attitude….aaaaaarrrgh, somebody help meeeeeeeeeeeeee……….

Thus endeth BBB’s short career...unless someone got budget for sequel.

Friday, June 24, 2005

Air rage, manners and plastic cutlery

I wrote this article for the magazine I am working for, Asian Airlines & Aerospace. Thought it would be suitable here. So here you are, dear readers, for your eyes only. Err...readers? Hallo? Anybody there...there..there...there...(freakin' echo).


Air rage, manners and plastic cutlery


Picture this: A passenger suddenly jumps out of his seat, grabs a piece of plastic cutlery and holds a flight attendant hostage with said piece of the cutlery pressed firmly against her jugular vein.

A Terrorist? A raving maniac? An unhappily married man?

Lets continue with the scenario: The passenger, tears streaming down his face moans, “can you ask my neighbour to put his shoes back on. His feet stink!”

Terrorists don’t necessarily come in the form of religious zealots or sympathisers of a certain political belief. They can also be disgruntled passengers.

We have all gone through this before: The neighbour with a serious leakage problem. The man who is not satisfied with one arm rest and who clings to both as if his life depended on them. The passenger in front who is constantly shifting the position of his chair. The passenger at the back who keeps kicking the seat in front of him. I could go on and on.

And let’s not forget the most potent ingredient in this fatal recipe, which causes us to shed our manners like a cat’s fur on a carpet - alcohol. How often have you read reports of passengers misbehaving due to being under a ‘spiritual’ influence?

Who do we then blame? Aliens from Mars? The tiny devil that lives in bottles of liquor?

Inevitably, we blame the government. However, we can’t blame government or the authorities for everything. We may be able to blame them for almost everything but here we have only ourselves to blame.

But before we psychoanalyse ourselves, lets see what the statistics have to say. As we all know, some major decisions in our lives depend on facts and figures, or else how would you decide on choosing between fish and chicken for your meal in the air.

The following is from Public Agenda, a US based non-partisan public policy research organisation. Although the data is American, most of us of this region can still relate to it. Here’s the report:

“Sixty-five per cent of passengers say rudeness is a serious problem in travel these days, and 52% of travellers say rudeness is a major cause of stress. 54% of travel employees say passenger rudeness is a top cause of their on-the-job stress and tension.

“Nearly half (49%) of travel workers say they have personally seen a situation where disrespectful behaviour threatened to escalate into physical confrontation. And an additional 19% say disrespect had led to a situation actually getting physical.

“Sixty-two per cent of travel personnel say they sometimes or often see their fellow workers being rude, and another 50% admit that they have lost patience and been impolite to passengers themselves. But when this happens, 56% say it is typically because employees were provoked and treated badly by passengers. While most passengers give travel personnel high marks for overall courtesy, 67% say that when they have a run-in with rude travel employees, they are likely to be rude in return.

“Nevertheless, 62% of transportation employees say rude and disrespectful behaviour is ‘mostly limited to a few people,’ and 45% say they are often treated with courtesy and respect.

“According to Public Agenda president Ruth Wooden, 79% of Americans say lack of respect and courtesy is a serious problem. And where do we see some of the worst behaviour in everyday life? Where do we see good people go bad? Too often we see it - or cause it ourselves - when we travel. Bad manners and rude behaviour can make modern travel a trying and sometimes unpleasant experience."

“Passengers (52%) and travel workers (69%) say a decline in values and morality leads people to be less polite and respectful, and 63% of passengers and 72% of travel workers say the problem is caused by too many parents ‘failing to teach respect to their kids’.

“Travel conditions, too, are taking their toll. About 7 in 10 (69%) travel workers cite "stress due to lack of adequate staff and resources" as a major source of rudeness, and most (66%) acknowledge that crowds and long lines lead people to lose their cool. 51% of travel workers say that things are so hectic and people so rushed that they forget to be polite.

“Parents may not want to hear this, but topping passengers' list of rude behaviour is ‘uncontrolled children’ (80%). 80% also point to passengers who kick the back of the seat in front, followed by swearing (67%), loud talking (66%) and littering (55%).”

That’s a lot of numbers. Writing for Airline.com, Eric Maryanov was sympathetic of the service providers. “Imagine a service job where your daily objective is to assure that airplanes depart safely and on time, and to keep customers happy,” he wrote. “That’s a lot of pressure to manage for eight hours a day. The least we can do as customers is behave.”

Chicken and egg. Where do we begin? As a customer? Or as the service provider?

“For the most part, the airline employees handled it like the professionals they are,” wrote Maryanov. “But come on, some things are simply beyond human control yet travellers feel compelled to blame the airline.”

It’s akin to the scenario about the weather. Everyone feels the need to blame everyone else for the state of the weather. I recall a public relations officer who took us for a media tour of an engine manufacturing facility, who related how another group of media personnel complained of the weather. “How can we (PR folks) control the weather?” she moaned.

Maryanov must have thought of the same thing when he wrote that foul weather is probably the most frequently heard complaint we get in the travel industry. “A bad storm closed the airport, but travellers act like the ticket agent personally cancelled a flight just to unravel a finely crafted itinerary,” he wrote. “Rain ruined my resort vacation; too much snow prevented me from getting home on time; I got sunburned. We hear it all, and there isn’t much we can say or do to make it better. That’s an issue to take up with Mother Nature.”

Alas Mother Nature usually has the attention span of a three year old. No point arguing with her.

Maryanov asks us to be patient with the airline employee (at whom we are forever throwing our grudges). “…airlines are keeping are keeping their cool and doing the best they can with the resources available,” he advised. “Even though many carriers are understaffed, with employees working long hours and are often powerless to make any significant decisions to improve customers’ experiences, air travel continues steady.”

He wrote that the customer might not always be right, but as professional travel service providers, we need to make certain they feel like it regardless of the situation. He quoted Theodore Roosevelt who once said, “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.”

Yes, lets face it. There is but only one ultimate horror (besides the thought of planes crashing down), and that is YOU!

Now, before you start picking up the phone and dialling the number of your favourite assassin, listen to this:

“Abuse of airline workers and property is well documented, and it's safe to say that passengers out-thug employees by a heavy margin.”

That was written in salon.com by Patrick Smith. The writer, though, is a bit hesitant in presenting his views.

“I'm a tad hesitant to dissect the matter, lest it become bogged in an unsolvable quandary of cause and effect,” he wrote. “Has a sense of entitlement -- an assumption of privilege -- caused passengers to grow more pugnacious than ever? Per the evolution of technology, flying is no longer the rare and special event that beckoned our imaginations and, in turn, our best Sunday suits and behaviour. Are we spoiled, and thus more liable to whine, complain, and start screaming? Or have the affronts and hassles of flying, in and of themselves, reached a tipping point and blown out our patience? Are we coarser and more unruly as passengers, or as human beings? Or a measure of each?”

That, dear readers, equals Hamlet’s confusion. But rudeness, which could also translate into what is now universally known as ‘Air Rage” could have other reasons. Or so thinks Diana Fairechild, retired stewardess and author of Jet Smarte”.

Fairechild blames it on the ‘oxygen deprivation’. She specified the world of Vincent Mark, MD, an ‘environmental physician’ who explains: "Curtailment of fresh air in airplanes can be causing deficient oxygen in the brains of passengers, and this often makes people act belligerent, even crazy."

Does that include the inability to tolerate smelly feet of your neighbour’s? I don’t think so. And so, I believe, does Smith.

“The tendency here, as with any curious societal anomaly, is to engage a simple problem through needless layers of nonsense, pop psychology and overly academic scrutiny,” says Smith. “A year 2000 report from London Guildhall University, Managing Disruptive Passengers: a Survey of the World's Airlines, lists alcohol and ‘personality of the passenger’ as the most commonly cited contributing factors in, respectively, 88% and 81% of violent episodes. No offence to anybody's devotion to scholarly inquisition or the scientific process itself, but how many research hours did the professors exhaust before concluding that excessive amounts of liquor served to habitually belligerent people in an overcrowded airliner is a recipe for trouble?”

Smith is right. Sometimes, stating the obvious takes millions of dollars and man-hours

Having had discussed that, let us not discard Fairechild’s claim altogether. In fact, in her article she did point out some interesting advice as to what to do in case you find yourself on a flight in an air raged ‘unruly’ passenger.

--Rather than confront the offender directly, leave your seat and seek out the purser or senior flight attendant. The purser is usually found in first class, so bypass the flight attendants in coach. Give the purser the row and seat number of the unruly passenger. Remain calm and communicate clearly.

--And if you have a tendency to be an unruly passenger, here's what you might consider. The airplane is a microcosm of humanity. There are high-techies next to hikers, politicians next to pilgrims, and business flyers next to bawdy kids. Keep in mind that the trip is a challenge for everyone on board. Tolerance and gestures of gentility could make your flights more pleasant--for you, and for everyone around you as well.

--Please! Think what you can do to make it easier for others. Say "please." Be kind. Act on your compassion.

So there you are, it has all been all laid out for you. So, the next time your neighbour removes his or her shoe, you know what to do; just make sure the plastic cutlery is strong enough.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Hypochondriac

I visited the doctor recently. Got something in my throat. Or was it serious enough to warrant a visit to the doctor?

I wonder. Because, if its is not a big problem, one thing is sure – I’m becoming a hypochondriac. I mean it could have been anything.

The doctor said it was inflammation. Of course, my immediate response was, “Does it mean that I’m hot”. Okay, okay. I didn’t say it. Coz, the doctor is a male, pushing sixty, and was probably salivating over some vacation brochures before I incurred his displeasure. If it was some babe doctor, I am sure she would have been suitably seduced and prescribe me some rat poison.

The thing is, I have been pretty sensitive as a kid. I asked my mom about it recently and she said, “yeah, you bug me even when you get mosquito bites”. I said, of course, it could have been malaria or dengue. But I didn’t like the look she gave me.

I guess we all are a bit of a hypochondriac in many ways. No? What do you mean don’t include us? We are human, right? What? I am not? Hey, go fly kite.

Okay, sorry, that was Wilson. Just saw Cast Away last night and got into that mood.

Where was I?

Yeah. Hypochondriac. The other week, I saw kind of pimple thingy on the back of my palm. I scratched it. It grew back. I scratched it again. And it got bigger. And I got worried. What if it is some kind of alien growing and waiting to burst out and call me ‘papa’?

But I gave it some time. Turned out to be wart. Yeah. Freakin’ mole.

So, my advice to you kids out there. It’s okay if you feel slight change of temperature in yourself. It could be the weather. You know how the weather is these days. Or it could be some exotic South American disease. Go figure.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Mathavan Lachupathan

It’s been sometimes since I updated this blog. I have to, now, but on a sad note.

My colleague passed away on Sunday night (5 June 2005). It was quite a blow to our office. And a bigger blow (apart from his family, close friend and relatives) was for me. Not that I was particularly close to him. He would introduce me as friend to others and I would think, “I’m not your friend, I am your colleague”. That’s me. And that was him.

You see, Mathavan is a musician. He plays drum for Indian bands, playing for Tamil songs. That is where both of us clicked. I shared my love for old Tamil songs and films with him. Like me, he was an ardent Sivaji fans. We would spent long time discussing Sivaji films and analyse performances until the boss calls him.

Then, on Monday afternoon, me, and the rest of the office folks, were looking at his widow by the coffin. He looked calm. There was satisfaction in his face. He should be. Because, when his life left him, he was playing drum. It was the second song, according to his close friend and fellow musician for last few decades, Bani, and he dropped the stick. Mathavan bend down to pick the stick up and he never got up.

I will miss all those conversations we had. Those discussions, debates. I lent him Sivaji movie Savale Samali a couple of weeks ago. Something strange happened. Because usually he would watch it over the weekend and return it to me on Monday. He was THAT disciplined, something I don’t see in many Malaysians. This time, he never finished the movie. He kept apologising to me for the delay, and I would brush that away, knowing well the he would watch it and return it. I was just eager to discuss about it. Alas, none of these happened.

He was not a great worker. Maybe adequate. We have our squabbles, the usual office politics. But he did not and never have hurt me. I don’t recall having heard of him talking bad about me. Much more, he helped me. Even financially in many occasions. All that no more.

I know his loss will be and should be mourned. But I will try not too. He died peacefully, and especially while doing something he loved the most. It was a great death. Not many artists can get this kind of death. Its like straight to heaven with no passport. Mr Mathavan, wherever you are, Thank You. And say hi to John Bonham for me, will ya.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Talk Cock

Well, I ran out of idea to put in my blog and I asked Ms. Caffeinhigh for ideas. She was happy with my research on banana leaf and its affect on insomniacs (see my thesis: The Predicament of Post Banana Leaf Lunch Predicament. Unfortunately the research has to be halted as the authorities issued budget cuts. Damn the authorities!

I offered her to offer me…wait, let me get that right. I asked her to give me a subject to research on with my limited budget (RM 17.60) and she asked me something rather personal to MANkind. But then, things might get personal. And when things get personal, it means sequel. And you know sequel, bigger budget, higher expectation, etc.

I declined on a research on that subject, and she asked this:
Why does cock crow in the morning?

That’s right. Cock. Crowing in the morning.

I take it that she meant rooster.

With my miniscule budget, I went straight to….Straight Dope (www.straightdope.com), and here are the excerpts:

David Feldman, in WHEN DO FISH SLEEP, says that ornithologists believe crowing marks out territory -- kind of like male dogs peeing, only noisier and easier to clean up after. Kind of saying, "This is my coop, get the heck out of my way, don't mess with my women."

I immediately took to the task of interviewing (hey, Uncle Grouchy is also a journalist, remember) to interview a prominent rooster (or cock) in a prominent coop, Colonel Sand Dust. I offered him Feldman’s explanation.

“Chicken shit!” the colonel almost spat at me. “All these intellectuals, with their chicken feed knowledge. I’d rather be henpecked than agree to his explanation.”

So, I asked him the exact reason for cocks, err…roosters, to crow in the morning. “We crow in the morning,” said Colonel Sand Dust, “coz we don’t crow in the evening, moo-haha-haha!” Later an ambulance from a local asylum passed by. God knows why.

Another explanation was given by the site, it says the following:

There presumably could be some other phenomenon that occurs regularly to trigger the crow. For instance, if a bus goes by at that time, and your rooster interprets the noise as that of an intrusion by another rooster. Or it could just be that your rooster's sleep cycle wakes him up at that time.


That actually explains why a rooster became Chicken Rendang the following day during my estate (plantation) days.

But to mistake a bus for another rooster, maaaan, the rooster must be stupid. We all know that roosters don’t have four tyres.

One last explanation was given as thus:

Feldman quotes Janet Hinshaw of the Wilson Ornithological Society: "Most of the crowing takes place in [early] morning, as does most singing, because that is when the birds are most active, and most of the territorial advertising takes place then. Many of the other vocalizations heard throughout the day are for other types of communication, including flocking calls, which serve to keep members of a flock together and in touch if they are out of sight from one another.

To be in touch, it would help if the roosters have cell phones. Like human, instead of saying hello, the usual greeting can be, “Where are you?”

The tradition of recognising roosters as some religious creature still exists. I found this explanation in the net:

Various religions throughout history have assigned special significance to the cock's crowing; it was said to have been the first animal to proclaim the birth of Christ. Both some Christians and the Norsemen held a belief that the end of the world would be heralded by the crowing of a mighty rooster.

Not only them, but Lord Murugan (A Card carrying Hindu Lord) has a rooster has one of his favourite creatures. He rides peacock for a quick transit, but I am not sure why he need a rooster.

Roosters have also been used as a sacrificial lamb in some cults. Shouldn’t it be sacrificial rooster then?

IT should also be noted that a noted obscenity ‘Cocks*cker’ comes from the word cocksacker – the bugger who sacked too many cocks, despite Rooster/Cock union protest.

Okay, I made that up. Just cock and bull story.

Monday, April 18, 2005

Why Blog?

I woke up suddenly yesterday and a question lingered on my mind, "Why me? Why do I blog?"

Look, blog is an important innovation in the 21st century. Everyone and anyone can become journalist. A journal of their personal thoughts and actions. I am a writer with a publication, and shouldn't that be enough?

The question wrecked my mind and I couldn't go back to sleep. Then, I realised that it is not good to have long naps on Sunday afternoon. So, I got up and set to writing this.

You see, long time ago I had wanted to become a columnist. An important columnist who dedicates his weekly column addressing socially critical issues like why the armpit need bushes of hair. My training was in scriptwriting, and it is basically about actions and thoughts and voices of other individuals, not your own.

Being a movie freak (as opposed to movie buff) I set up a site (http://rakeshkumar7.tripod.com) to post my reviews, but they are reviews, not my thought on all those important questions in life. I want a place to talk about life, death and why the in-between sucks. I want a site to reflect on my own life and bore the hell out of the visitors. I want a log book where I can look back and say, "Men, was I that bad in writing?"

And so, this blog was born.



But right now I have only two dedicated visitors. One is a gal whose blood circulation is fuelled by caffeine, and another, an ex-colleague, who one day innocently asked: "If Singapore has its own little forest reserve, do they have Orang Asli in it?"

I need to work on attracting more people to this blogsite. So, first thing first, I need to do branding. That's right, that hot thing they poke in the cow's ass. You call that branding, right?

Now, how the hell am I going to sell Grouchy Days as a brand? What kind of logo would I use for it? Can I cheat the visitors by proclaiming that it is a reality-Blog, now that everything on reality is sellable? Can I offer special downloads, like addresses of pirated DVD vendors who can give "special discount wan."?

How? Alas poor Groucho!

To be continued...

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Not for the weak stomach!

Warning: like most of my writing, it smacks of political incorrectness. For example, I think US of A is run by a Dictator. See, incorrect politically. I'm gonna talk about weight problem here, so, for those who are not comfortable in reading it, I suggest you go the next blog which is probably about flowers, bees, and bird dung.

Now, my weight problem. Called my mom that day, and guess what was her first query? "When are you getting married?" Okay. That was first. The second was, "What's your weight now?" I can imagine her standing by the phone holding the ladle, even if she has finished cooking hours ago. I mean, shouldn't moms be asking stuff like, "hey, checked out any babes lately?" Or, "How many crates of beer you want this weekend?".

But then, mom is mom. So, I confessed. I said I saw the latest picture of myself and I looked like a pig. A PIG!!!!!!

Scenario:

Pig 1: Hey, you look fat like a pig.
Pig 2: Snort.
Pig 1: Right.

Well, it was not only mom. Some folks I have not seen for sometimes said that too. I was going, "Man, haven't seen you for sometimes now. How the hell are you?" "Oh you know, miserable as usual. What's with that tummy, bro?"

And my face! When I put on weight, it gets bloated, and I get double chin. So, off to the regime.

I have started to jog now. I was doing okay when an uncle of mine said, 'no, don't jog unless you used to be a runner."

What? Like running guns. Hehe.

He said, "Walk".

Fine. Walk. But don't we do that everyday? We walk to the room. We walk to the fridge. We walk back to the room. We walk back to the fridge and when we run out of beer, we take a quick walk down to the shop to get a few more. I mean, how much more walking can we do?

If the feet can talk, what would it say, with all these walking?

Feet: Listen, you yellow bellied chicken shit! Why torture me when it was all about your tongue and belly.

Me: Shut your mouth. Oh hell, you don't have mouth.


That, folks, is where the problem is. Its all about our mouth. Tape it shut, and sure you'll lose weight.

Speaking of which. History of weight watching began back in...

Hey, where the hell do you think you are going? Come back here.

Thursday, April 07, 2005

The Predicaments of Post-Banana leaf lunch.

I had banana leaf lunch today.

And I feel sleepy. Don't you get sleepy right after having banana leaf meal? No? What did you do? Eat the leaf?

I mean, I smell controversy. Why banana leaf? Let me tell you what I think, I_

What? What do you mean you don't care what I think? I have a theory, okay!

My theory is this: Banana leaf contains stuff that makes you sleepy. It is not the meal, its the banana leaf. Get it?

As usual, lets uncle Groucho take you a ride back in time.

The Indians were mostly credited for inventing banana leaf. They have also been credited for other invention, like chewing betel leaf, spitting betel leaf juice, creation of language spoken while holding the betel leaf juice, and of course the favourite fable of crabs.

Coming back to the invention. My theory is, they were soooo workaholic at that time, to the point of risking their lives working their ass off. So, the King summoned the chief scientist cum doctor cum lingual professor cum.

"Professor cum, my workers are working too damned hard. I fear that their lives may be threatened."

"Great to hear that O' King."

"Not that, idiot, if they die who are going to work in my kingdom? The Bangladeshis?" (note that this could have been first case of immigration in the history of the world, even though the country Bangladesh didn't exist).

"Quite right, my master. I shall work on a remedy," saying which the professor took nap right in the middle of the king's court.

"What nonsense!" said King in southern Indian accent, though he recently mastered the Northern Indian accent."Sleeping in my own court, when I have not even dismissed you. Wake up you son of a bitch."

The professor woke up and apologised. But somthing struck the king.

After rubbing the swollen part, the king said, "You just took a quick rest. What did you have? Did you eat or drink anything that made you sleep?"


"Oh, I was experimenting on zopiclone. Supposed to be sleeping pills. Good for rest, you know," said the professor raising his eyebrows appromixately three and a half time.

The King couldn't believe it. He finally found a solution. "Lets manufactur it and sell it in US dollars."

"But the workers?" asked the professor.

"To hell with them!"

And so....where was I.

Yeah. Banana leaf. Right. I err...gotta go, now.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

When the wrong place gets stiff...

How many of you have woken up with stiff neck in the morning? Hallo? Dang, guess its monologue huh?

It happened again. I was walking like Robocop minus the superpowers. In fact, I might look downright arrogant, not wanting to turn my head and all. I might look at your sideways with a raised eyebrow, as if I have caught you making snide remarkes. The truth is, its the freakin's neck. I can't freakin move it.

I guess to make this blog more interesting and fact based, I will check on the history book.

Lets see, the first stiff neck incident occurred to Jurassic Era (There are other eras, but Spielberg haven't filmed them yet), when the T-Rex got stiff neck when he woke up in the mornig. So, he grabbed the quitar and sang the blues:

Woke up this mornin'
With a freakin stiff neck, I'm gonna kill ya, you m**********r!!!!!!

So, you believe in that comet theory, huh? Heh.

Then, as we move forward we come to the Shakespearean era. Yeah, the Bard himself got it when he was writing Hamlet. Hamlet was supposed to be a slapstick comedy about an egg, but he got the stiff neck and the rest is history.

I am not blaming or crediting stiff neck for many occurences in history, but I am just relating to you the rage I feel now. I feel like killing poor, defenceless insect, and if anybody got one, post it to me. Grrrr.....

Have I told you about sore throats?

Friday, March 18, 2005

The day when computer crashes

Technology is supposed to make our lives easier. True? Eeeeeeeeeet! Wrong answer

They make our lives miserable when they break down. That's right, I am talking about computers. That's when you feel miserable, you can't sleep, you can't keep awake, and there are mild thoughts of suicide.

Wait, that's hangover.

Well, something similar happens when your dear PC breaks down. Today, its not mine, but my colleague's that started showing finger and refused to work, even when offered compensations.

So, like a true hero, I got onto the saddle and tried to do something. Guess what?

It got worse.

Now, we have to call the real expert and something that our boss doesn't like will certain to happen - more bills.

Why can't they invent something that won't and can never break down. I mean technology is so advanced that they even have viruses for cellphones now. Destruction seemed so easy.

So, now I will have to live with the guilt, over the weekend, that I screwed my colleague's PC. God have mercy on my poor soul.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Dreaming online

I have a website, it's name is Rakesh's Movie Talk. Okay, it was named after me. I wanted to name it after some prominent folks, but I ain't got enough dough to pay for the rights. Mine is the cheapest.

The trouble with maintaining a website is maintaining it. That's right. I love to put my stuff up there, but the job of loading it, man. So, I always end up apologising for the lateness of it all.

The best thing about having your own website is that you can do whatever you want with it. You can post anything up there. Of course, I have to reword that sentence, if you get calls from authority. Otherwise, its okay.

As for me, I had always fancied myself as a movie critic. I am not sure about qualification. Maybe you need some film studies background. I don't have any. I only qualify because I am a movie buff, in a limited way since there are still thousands of movies which I had not seen.

So, there you go. My site is the platform for me to be a practising film critic, except I don't get paid for it. I mean, through websites you can become businessment, president of your own cult, prophet, journalist, etc.

And then what?

Find way to find income through it? I have heard so much of it, and many ideas put forth are brilliant. And what am I to do with my site? I know well that the quality of the writing in there ranks probably only a bit highter than those you find in teen chat room. I can't sell it.

So, all in all, I see my chat, like this blog, function as some kind of journal. A reminder on how I felt about certain movie at that time. And, hopefully if I had been careless, I might find traces of occurences in my life at the time I wrote those reviews.

I talked too much. Ciao.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Something to talk about...

Some babe called me up and asked about my blogsite.

Can you believe it? Someone actually read my blog.

Or she just wanted to highlight top ten worst blog in the world to some potential bloggers wanna be.

Well, guess I shall talk about something today.

See, this morning I met couple of guys, one French and another Greece. They deal with Submarine batteries. They wanna sell it to the Malaysian Navy who'd be getting the Scorpene submarines.

The thing is, I interviewed this man for the Asian Defence & Diplomacy magazine and he liked the article. Its just another run-of-the-mill stuff that I cranked out a couple of months ago.

And then, she removed her clothes one after another, sighing and moaning while at it...

There, I managed to keep you awake. We need sex and violence, right?

And today he started asking me, "So what do you think are the chances?"

Me? Opinion? On defence industry? He must be freakin' kidding me. The only think I know in-depth is probably movies. Or James Bond. Or boiling eggs.

So, I cranked up my eyebrows, gave an expression close to one you get when you are having constipation and said, 'Look, I don't know much about these things."

Or something like that. But I did tell him a thing or two about Malaysians being generally not US friendly, and they might actually get some orders after all.

Coming back, I reflected. And it reflected back, so I guess I can't comment much.

Its hard to let people know how much you know. Especially when you are journalists, where people tend to think that you know everything. Yes, we do know everything...that we don't know.

There, I shall leave you in this properly confused state. Take it easy...

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Million Dollar Baby

Those who know me, knows that I am a big Clint Eastwood fan. Those who don't know me, it's about time. You don't know what you haven't missed.

So, I waited and waited and finally it came. No, I am not talking about my sex life. I am talking about the best film ever made by Clint Eastwood.

The film, Million Dollar Baby, will keep my grappling with Insomnia the next few weeks. It's THAT powerful. And I don't think Eastwood is ever gonna make a movie this good or give a perfomance this powerful.

I would like to go on record to state that this is the best movie ever since the Millenium. I would also like to go on record to say that Chris Rock sucks as a host for Oscars.

I don't quite recall a favourite movie in the nineties, either. Lemme check my top ten...Nope, the latest is White Hunter Black Hunter which was out in 1989. So, probably the best after another Eastwood film. I guess being Eastwood fan, I am a bit biased.

I need to rework on my top ten, now. Till then....
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