Ready, aim and duck.

It is with a heavy heart that I take up my pen to write these the last words in which I shall ever record the singular gifts of …

Wait, those are words by one Dr. Watson, the opening paragraph that leads to the story about the final days of Sherlock Holmes, which was actually full of baloney seeing that Holmes returns (See The Empty Window. Also see Gillette, Barrymore, Rathbone, Cushing, Lee, Moore, Heston, Brett, etc. and of late a certain Downey Jr.).

Well, to connect things, this marks my return to my beloved blog, triggered by an unusual incident involving a malnourished duck and red paint, which is why the regret about taking up my pen. Fret not; I use a goddam keyboard, not a pen.

Purveyors of newspapers and online news portal must have been mortified recently about the incident involving a splash of red paint and a barely alive duck in a box placed in front of the office of the insipidly very government friendly, er-hum, news portal Malaysiakini.

For one I felt that it was strange…has Malaysian politics gone to the dogs, I mean, ducks?

Sometimes back, some blokes were parading a head of a dead cow (you can’t, naturally, parade the head of a live cow considering that it may burrow additional holes to the supposed bearer’s posterior) in a religiously motivated action that shook the nations and rocked the calm world of bovine grass grazers. It was event that sent many news editors into orgasmic pantaloons that rattled many a cubicles around in the media industry.

But cows have been safe ever since, bar the rude mammary intrusion or deadly intervention by meat peddlers. Likewise, the remainder of the duck population in this country may go on with their lives waddling away and hoping that someone would outlaw Peking Duck dishes.

What amazes me is this: why do such a thing that will only make readers, especially those who are too lazy to turn a newspaper page and are generally anti-establishment (it’s cool to be “against it” See Marx Bros “I’m against it” epic song), voracious clickers of the mouse, openers of browsers and critics in armchair (with beverage of choice) to be more than eager to provide hits to these portals that mostly rely on advertisements and foreign investments. Or so I think…allow me to sip iced water.

A conspiracy theorists would actually suggest that the whole stunt was mainly concocted to boost the organisation’s fame amongst the supposedly erudite news junkies, and enhance its image as fighters of national cause amongst those who can’t even fight against bodily fat, or coffee shop analysts whose forte, till this day and age, remains at not discussing on what they are shoving in their mouth. For all you know they might be expressing their displeasure towards the recent government policy on pest control while not realising that domestic flies were hitching a ride on the toast straight into their collective oesophagus’.

But my polite query is this: Why a duck?

Why not a chicken? Or a cat. Okay, not a cat. I have an ex-colleague of mine working there and she’s terribly fond of cats and pull a stunt like that she will blow the whole country into oblivion.

Incidentally I like cats and ducks, especially the animated versions. We all know how Tom and Sylvester the cat always get the shit end of the stick. And so does poor old Donald Duck (I just got the shit end of the employment stick, but that’s another matter). And this incident gave a totally new twist to the world of Malaysian politics.  

But not this poor duck. What sin has it done to deserve to be the pawn of political intrigue? Why is not where it should be (simmering in a pot)? These are the question future historians would struggle to answer as they shove in spoonful of duck rice.

I am not smart myself, but this incident only confirms one thing: most Malaysians are about as bright as the rear end of a Penguin. And that is an insult to those birds. Malaysians are still at the drooling stage politically and should be more cautious about making political comments.

Like the ones on the recent foray by one opposition political leader who bulldozed his way into contesting for a seat in a township mostly known for satay. Satay, for the uninitiated is chunks of meat with a stick driven to it, a thrusting gesture not unfamiliar to the said politician. There were praises from the supporters and complaints from those who consider it to be a waste of public fund while being chauffeured around in expensive cars paid for by taxpayers.

But I am unfazed. Like most Malaysians, I am not going anywhere. I need not store and cherish these idiotic moments, they will resurface in form of slapstick nightmares – you don’t know to whether you should be worried or laugh your ass off and continue supporting noodle-heads and Billy goats to run this country.

There are still more wonderful moments to come in the Malaysian political scenario. I am upbeat about it, while reminding myself to renew my passport, because we Malaysians are awesome when it comes to heaving ourselves from hot pot and directly into the inferno.

By the way, the Marx Bros song I mentioned above incidentally appeared in their best entry back in 1930s, a masterpiece of a film titled “Duck Soup”. I rest my case.