The 1MDB Issue, Sue The Dinosaur And Procreation.

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)

Thrust me, it will start all over again. Hang on, I meant, trust me. Jizz…I mean, Jeez. Kill me.