Disclaimer: The article
may contain poorly sketched out sexual innuendos, since I have not been
updating this site all that much and marketers are always telling that sex sells. I mean, look at the Pandas.
Lately, I have been fascinated by the onslaught of social
media networking premature orgasmic ejaculations on how rotten the government
of Malaysia has become, precisely pointing out the prime minister himself, in a
shaky man-on-top position, Najib Tun Razak, who is accused of, in simpler terms, hoarding/holding on to/swindling/scraping/aijamalakkadigiri-ing lots of
money, really plenty that would make a piggy bank the size of Belgian Blue
cattle (they are the Schwarzenegger version of beef steak source that goes
Moouuaargghhharghghh when slaughtered) explode into smithereens and orbit the
earth for eons to come and give us prolonged unintentional bovine scented drop in temperature not unlike when the mighty
Krakatoa erupted back in 1883.
Actually, that may counter global hard-on, I mean, global
warming issue. But that’s for another time.
The eruption I mentioned is a sort of a metaphor of an actual ejac…okay,
eruption happening in Malaysia as well. The issue about the deal with 1MDB and
the Desperate Dan sized pie dough of dollar bills has been circulated in the
internet space, spread through online media networks, bitched about in coffee
shops and had many users with sexless and sleepless nights thinking why the
pisspot links they shared in Facebook didn’t get many “like” clicks unless they
posted them alongside the picture of their much maligned, poorly used reproductive
organs.
It is not the subject of possible penetration, wait, I mean, perpetration of monetary
criminal offence itself that amuses me; the PM may have those gazillion smackers
all for himself, with remaining few more bajillion stuffed in his single,
er-hum, mattress. What makes me smile with glee, tickled with fancy and scratch
my psoriatic scalp absorbingly, and stroke my…err…beard is the
speed with which our people handle information with regards to the ongoing
issue, usually resulting in typing quick half-witted comment (even worse than
my quarter witted ones, fancy that), and tapping on the share button faster
than the fastest gun in the West since my Guruji Clint Eastwood blasted Lee Marvin in The Good, The Bad and The Ugly flick, a title which aptly
describes Malaysians’ general patience, intelligence and herd mentality. Also
the stimulating fantasy, the rubbing out and the aftermath cleaning up.
Whatever they are bitching about, there will be an outcome
for sure. The current PM, Najib Razak, is seriously looking at not having his
job back the next term, as there ought to be lots of pressure from within his
cabinet, thus resulting in him giving orders by shooting blanks. Guilty or not,
he is a man with two prosthetic arms in
need of a self-administrated pleasure squeeze.
Speaking of prosthetic, the whole damned thing was spurred on heavily by the former
Prime Minister, the once admirable, venerable (then hated to the core by
pro-opposition supporters) Dr. Mahathir, now enjoying his retirement by quickly
lighting a dynamite, lobbing it at his own political party’s direction and
disappearing behind the rock chuckling at himself at the experiments he has kept throwing at gullible, nay, matured Malaysians (the previous
pro-opposition supporters now like him…you work out the psychology yourself,
its easy). The man is definitely going to laugh his way to wherever he is
heading to when he is done with earthly life.
The links sources shared generously by the social media
networking users are usually from online media portals which have relationship with the ruling
party as smooth and easy as THE Road Runner and Wily Coyote, and quite a big
number comes from blog sites which are as virile as castrated rabbits.
There are plenty of emotional folks out there, having the same feeling a retiree will have when his or her lifetime savings were flushed down in a third world hole-in-the-ground type lavatory. Except, quite a number of these overworked online worriers are richer than you and certainly are goddam richer than poor me.
It’s okay for them to feel worked up. It is natural, but
being a huge fan of Sherlock Holmes, I would like to repeat the same mantra the
famous fictional sleuth used to spout in his stories, “data, data, data”. Hard
evidences, cold facts, solid alibis, undeniable motives, and credible witnesses, among others, are needed to beat a perfect crime, and to me, there is never a perfect crime. Think of the time when some of you got caught smoking as a kid.
All these events, issues, predicaments and doodleheadedness
brings me to the riveting 1972 Hollywood flick, belonging to political genre of
course, The Candidate. A Democrat campaign
manager (played by the awesome Peter Boyle with cool menace) persuades a
leftist lawyer (the young, brilliant Robert Redford), to run for a senate seat
against a Republican and while things start smoothly enough, Redford is forced
to be deploy several dirty tactics to smear the opponent. He wins, after long
tiring campaigning, and the last scene of the movie shows him, in a room with
his campaign manager, with the victory party going on outside, now very quiet,
and he asks, “Now what?”. Movie ends.
When Najib is no more in power, for he will, one day or
another, I will like to ask the same question, “Now what?” The heavy rain has
subsided, the Godzilla has gone back to the sea looking for female humpback whales never to come back again, the fiery
explosion from which the internet warriors walked away coolly from in
slow-motion, which has since stopped, with the fire hosed down and the peace and order have been
restored.
And then…those itchy fingers and imaginative brain will start playing tricks or treat again. We homosex...sorry, homo sapiens were never born satisfied, or, as biologist Richard Dawkins put it aptly, have ‘selfish gene’ that is cocksure and penetrating in thoughts….hmm…..Anyway, that is why we are can outlive the dinosaurs…or at least Sue the T-Rex (really, ‘she’ existed and I need to mention dinosaurs for ball busting...oh god, blockbuster purposes)
And then…those itchy fingers and imaginative brain will start playing tricks or treat again. We homosex...sorry, homo sapiens were never born satisfied, or, as biologist Richard Dawkins put it aptly, have ‘selfish gene’ that is cocksure and penetrating in thoughts….hmm…..Anyway, that is why we are can outlive the dinosaurs…or at least Sue the T-Rex (really, ‘she’ existed and I need to mention dinosaurs for ball busting...oh god, blockbuster purposes)
Thrust me, it will start all over again. Hang on, I meant,
trust me. Jizz…I mean, Jeez. Kill me.