There are some business that I just stumble over. This happens to be one them. I’ve always been very keen in using unmanned aircraft to improve crop yield.

In the last two years, I have single handedly tried to use my influence to shift the German Underground Gaming Guilds and the Internationale to undertake further research and development to make this idea…. a reality.

I was told recently, the Germans have successfully developed a radical wing design. I will be going to Munich to see first hand the software upgrades and how this technology can be used to improve yield.

I am hopeful.

Darkness 2013

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“Yester years gamers are today’s family man. Now please don’t be confused. These people don’t go around with long hair or sport leather jackets with evil looking patches. These people are all professionals. They hold high positions in industry. They are exactly the sort of people that you want to have as neighbors. People who you know will never give your grief and high blood pressure.

But always bear in mind they are all gamers.

Why is this important? Because what you need to understand is this is a community.

And to wage war effectively, I think it is best you go ask around who is the man of all seasons? I want you to know who I am first. Then I promise you. We will fight.”

If there is only one reason why I consider it the duty of every family man to start a family. It is simply because your awakening as a real father, husband and mentor does not really begin UNTIL you decide to make a commitment to have children.

Darkness 2013

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“Gentlemen, I am not here to tell you how to live your life. As for starters I know that your life has hardly even begun – you’re just warming up like the way you stretch before yoga. A run. Just marking time.

That’s really all you’re doing. But once you seed life and you bring a child into the world – that’s when your life really starts. That’s when it hits you really hard that maybe you should have studied harder in school and played less – listened more instead of talking all the time.

You will begin to reflect on the meaning of life. The real McCoy not the Kong Yee or Joseph Singh claptrap – but the real questions that will dog every thinking man at some point in his life.

It is a process of awakening – it is also a long journey of hits and misses, deep introspection and what I can only describe as deep living. Yes, there is such a thing as deep, shallow and even wafer thin inconsequential living – and within this category of living. There might also exist sub categories of living – a life of dissipation – a sweet life.

But since you only live once, past through here only this one time – why live the shallow life? Why opt for the Scady Cat cover my ass all the time life? Why not just live life the way it was supposed to be lived? Fully and completely – to turn that great wheel of life full circle.

Without fear. Full of hope. A better tomorrow.

All these things. You will only be able to do when you make a commitment to bring a new life into this world. As what you have done is to begin writing the first chapter of your life as a family man.”

This morning – I decided to pay Lily a visit in Tanah Merah Estate.

It is not unusual for me to tell all my women from time to time – if you want me to stay and love you, then you must cultivate yourself to be nothing less than a perfect woman.

This I always tell them is the secret recipe to bring out the perfect man.

It is only when both men and women know their respective roles and why they have to play their part in the way nature has ordained for them – only then can there be perfect harmony and peace. Otherwise there will be complications – and other distractions that may lead a man astray – distractions involving, nutty women who have to ” pitifully beg” fat and ugly men to fuck them. Along with perhaps spending alot of time trying to figure out the philosophy of what it means to give a confused woman a sympathy fuck. To me all this is nonsense that I can never understand!

Such complications should always be avoided in life.

Darkness 2013

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“I like my women to be correct with me – whether they are tall, educated, polished, beautiful or sexy is not an issue, but they have to know how to regard me correctly – that to me is very important – they simply need to know their place. And if they are confused then I will just tell them the facts of life – and that will be the end of the sum of all their fantasies.

I think that is one reason why I miss Dotty so much – as she was the most correct woman I have ever had the privilege to know – it was not only pleasurable to be with her, but it would not be wrong to say that such a woman can really bring out the best in a man. I cannot tell you how edifying that is to a man – to be reminded constantly of his role and how the classical chinese gentlemen should always treat a woman who is younger than him. Words cannot explain how much I miss Dotty.

My feel is every woman should set aside some quiet time everyday and reflect deeply on the art of shaping the type of man that she desires (instead of wasting their time listening to con men like Kong eye or Joe Prince Singh)- too often, I feel the general outlook of women is flawed – as they will often say, I have to LOOK for Mr Right. But from my experience, Mr Right needs to shaped like wet clay by the female hand – in certain cases even dragged out forcefully by a strong willed woman. As to be perfectly honest there are really so many men in a man. You have no possible idea how confused we all are….that is why it is not unusual from time to time to hear of cases of older men fucking kids – that to me is wrong in so many ways.

As I have always harbored the deep conviction – that a whole and complete man can only be created through the hand of a woman – left to his own, it is impossible for a man, no matter how capable or intelligent he is to strive for completeness, wholeness and oneness – this narrative I feel has been hijacked by the militant feminist of our age. As what I am sharing with you boys today is secret knowledge that only real men know and keep close to their hearts.

As men we all have to understand one thing about ourselves – we are first and foremost hunters. That is why if left to our own without a whole and complete woman to remind us constantly of whence we came from – we men will all probably be running around in shit in our pants as we are all so engrossed in our new found business game that we don’t even realized – poof! We have turned into feral animals – animals with teeth – animals that don’t even have any qualms about eating their own kind.

But if you’re a man who suddenly hits his head one day and forgets how to be a man any longer and you’re lucky enough to met a whole and complete woman – then you will not only recover your essence, but you will also be shaped by her to be a whole and complete man – that is why gentlemen, I can almost guarantee without a shadow of doubt – there is no such thing as a self made man. As that state of complete perfection in manhood lacks the vital touch of a woman.

No accident gentlemen that history is redolent with accounts of great men. But look closer. The whole and complete woman stands near this great man. You could even say, this natural symmetry like the tapering of a banyan leaf – curl of a sea shell occurs so often that surely it must be some wonder weapon to make boys into men.

I think women in general do not really know how much power they have to shape the goals, aspirations, world view and even the way he comes before the world – they don’t realize how much equity they have in the whole schema of creating a new man.

Such women I think have to be dangerous – you see they all know how to be correct. That’s to say they know what brings out the best and worst in all their men.”

” 

RSCN3398

Today, my son phoned me asking frantically: why mummy had placed a large manila card written with the words, PROPAGANDA beside the Strait Times.

I told my son sternly over the phone…..this is father’s wish…as there were certain things that a boy needs to do for himself BEFORE he has a right passage to manhood…my curious son did not understand….but I have absolutely no doubt, the seed of awakening has already been planted.

Now it can only grow within his mind.

Governments can do anything they like, but it’s up to the family man to give it the thumbs up or throw a spanner in the works.

Either way, I have very little doubt – the sleeper will awake!

Darkness 2013

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“The ultimate role of every family man is to make sure that he lives his life as closely as possible to the truth – and if the merchant of lies come near his family – he has every right to demolish them with the power of the truth. And that will be the end of that. They will just have to pack up like a travelling circus and leave town…that is the way I have always seen it. 

Please have no doubt of my power to influence…have absolutely no doubt whatsoever! As to wage technical war in this area proficiently - I think its never a good idea to underestimate your enemy. Never! I will fight you….and we will win! As to the best of my knowledge no one has ever been able to out run the truth – so you are not fighting with me…No! What you’re doing is waging war with the entire history of humanity…good luck to you…you will need it!”

Hotel Business

March 27, 2013

I just want to diversify a bit from my core business which is plantations. I am not even talking about a big expansion. Just something to wet my beak. Even then it seems many established hoteliers have begun to put up road blocks in front of me – I ask for so little. Even that they are not prepared to give. That leaves me very little choice. Now I will simply have to take!

Darkness 2013

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“I need to be loved constantly. If there is even one moment when I feel that I am either not in love or part of this wonderful thing any longer - then from my many of years of experience, it can get very dangerous – that’s to say, if you really want to bring out the worst in me, then put up road blocks before me – put up barb wire even – and if possible try to put up even a machine gun post – but I’ll still storm it. I think that has to be part of the thrill factor of business – there is something definitely very disturbing about all this…as it is really so primal.”

pupa-puposka-snow-globe-17158-5647_zoomThe most beautiful thing that two people can do together is to share a moment in time that they can truly call their own.

Just imagine the very idea of being able to hold a moment like a heavy weight in the palm of your hands as you would a snow globe. To shake it from time to time when the world goes crazy and just still your mind as you peer at yourself and the one you want to be with in the snow fall of this tiny another world.

To watch it and wonder how many times you have returned to this place in your mind’s eye – to remember the smiles, laughs and sunny skies that never ever seem to fade.

surimantrek20032There was this time when I just started my business – I spent six months in the jungle. I don’t think words can truly measure up to what six months really means when one is in the jungle. I wouldn’t even try to explain it to the lay person. As its impossible to imagine it unless you have a very good imagination – all I wish to say is, six months is roughly about the time when you will begin to discover why Robinson Crusoe never bothered to shave any longer – six months is also just about the way point where you will probably discover there is a very fine line between sanity and madness.

guildsmenindonesia23423But through that six months of ordeal - one thing kept me centered. This idea of a snow ball in a room somewhere in my head. When things would get really nutty. I would just run to this place and lock the door and shake this snow globe and watch the snow fall. Then it all comes back to me slowly – and I am suddenly filled again.

I know who I am and what I must continue doing. It all comes back to me. That is just my way of carrying on. I guess. My way of keeping my sanity during those six long months in the jungle. My way of continuing that is.

Darkness 2013

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“Today I received three calls from on Nokia mobile phone from Dotty. One at 0734. The second at 1834 and the latest at 2341. Maybe she is calling out to find out how I am getting along. But I know that’s not possible. As there is no reception here. We are too deep and far off the grid. But I heard the phone ring. I am not hallucinating. I actually heard it ring, as clearly as I hear the roar of the engines now. I heard it as I can see the sun fingering through the canopy. How is this possible. Have I suddenly passed through to another world? Have I died and gone to heaven.

Perhaps – but when I look up at the mirror in the field tent – and see a gaunt old man staring back. I say to myself. I have spent an eternity in the jungle – I know it can’t be true. As each day passes it is harder and harder to maintain the discipline with the men without resorting to threats of violence.

We gambled against the jungle. She ate us up and spat out the seed – that’s what we are all really like right now after spend so long in the field – none of us are moored to anything in that other world. The jungle makes it presence felt every moment it’s like a vacuum cleaner that keeps on devouring all that’s good, noble and separates the homo sapien species from animals – all these the jungle has scoured away, layer by layer, day by day as we all make our way deeper and deeper into it’s womb.

We cannot fail. We have to break through – I know it’s over that hill. I just know it deep down in my heart, it’s over there. “

Log entry 186 / The Suriman Trail Expedition – 2007

One reason why many of the villagers believe – the devil stays in the plantation mansion on the hill is bc – from time to time, they see so many different types of men emerging from the shadows form that hill on a half moon light such as this.

You need to understand. These strange characters who they come across – the rubber tappers as they awake earlier than others as latex only flows runny when its cool between the hours of three to seven – they have all seen these very different men streaming like shadows across the fronts.

As simple folk they don’t understand – to them its like a B movie Batman character minus the special effects lah.

From time to time such as a halfmoon night like this – they see men who are so unlike the man – they see, talk amd eat with during the day time – the farmer who wears a bush jacket and always speaks in a low and respectful voice –  to me this is perfectly natural – as there are so men within just one man – as there are probably so many women in a woman.

Most people don’t know this – but I’ve always known it. And since this is the only condition I’ve ever known and no other – that is how it is.

We all have so many people running around in our heads – we may deny it and tell the whole wide world that we have got it all together. But in truth, all these people in our head just take their turns like one of those village square dances, where one person jumps in – do his thing – then another takes over – that is the way I see the subject of character.

I don’t see character in terms of one solid dead block of consciousness. To me, the type of man that I am at any point in time is really a function of where, who and what’s standing before him that really brings out the different sides of who you really are.

Everyone has a limit. You have one and so do I. Push a man, any man for that matter to his limit. And he could just flip off the edge and a completely new person who you never known stands before the world.

That’s how I’ve always seen it. Character. As it remains very much the reason why we continue to deny this reality is because we pride in the belief that our character is that are entirely different from the self to even exist as individuals – psycho that’s, but perfectly functional individual characters which are different to the side that we so often project to the world.

As I said, there are so many men in a man – there is the slick gangster who once carried money for the four houses, the ruthless and hard Chinaman Cocoa Planter who once turned the wheel of life in Africa in a little patch known as Gabundi Estate – and last night, there was the man who went on to make war with the marauders who have been causing grief to the small holders – man who many villagers saw again – the devil..

There are really so men in a man. So many that even I don’t know who they are any longer.

Darkness 2013

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“The man who came down the hill that half moon night stood on a ledge mid-way – to the far distance a yellow halo of a little village glowed like a little candle lit lantern.

“How easily it is to snuff it out.”

The man had tried to stop this man from coming out – but with every recounting of yet another sad tale of crop theft, house breaking, armed robbery, bullying of the poor and defenseless folk – a fire ignited like thunder flash somewhere in his primal consciousness.

He could feel the muscles in his jaw line tightening. The tenseness around the edge of his lips when his nostrils flared. His eyes narrowing. Fist clenching – till somewhere between two palms – the Chinaman Cocoa Farmer of Gabundi Estate, Uganda, Africa jumped right out – and now that man who once turned the wheel of life as a farmer in the dark continent was mountain biking thru the meandering plantation roads in the moon light. His trusted side kick – a jet black Doberman followed. Together man and beast raced to a spot where the man planned to send the icy cold cinder of fear in the hearts of those bandits who had now descended on his community like a pack of wolves.

Throughout the whole week the man had used his extensive network of clandestine services to ferret out vital intelligence about this gang – the rubber tapper, fish monger, village doctor, vendors, coconut harvesters, victims, police – all of them provided him with vital information to build up a complete picture of this group. This the man knew how to do, to fight – in Africa, he had traded ivory illegal across the narrowest runs of the Ganbezi. The French foreign legion was always behind him, but he knew better and for the time that the man traded in ivory, it was a decent innings – in Sudan and thereafter Chad, the man was a mercenary. A soldier of fortune – a strange and peculiar type, as he only seemed to want land to plant for his services rendered.

A man. One of many men who reside deep within the marrow of my bones. You know it’s true what they say, a leopard can never change it’s spots – I lived that life, it passed right through me like X-ray – sure it left a residual in me that even carries forth today – it’s me and I am not going to deny it – the man who now moved quietly and unseen throughout the plantation – the man who knew that each palm was exactly 19ft from the other and to avoid casting a moon bean shadow, he would have to zig- zag across the field.

As the man closed in on the spot where the bandits planned their raid on the oil mill. The man saw it all, he knelt low and watched them through field glasses. He could spot a thirty something blaring out orders – this is the leader, he thought to himself – cut off the head and the body will die.

The man stood up – the spotlights pointing to the other fence highlighted the lone image of one man standing against eight – in that momentary pause of time, the Bandits froze. The man who wore the skull mask and leveled the arrow at their leader was none other than the devil who lives on the hill.

At the very moment the arrow was loosed – images began to unravel like a scroll dropped from a flight of steps revealing it’s deepest mysteries. The man flash backed to the moment when he had first set eyes on the cote de noire – where he thought to himself. He would be finally free from the perpetual hunt from the triads – the invisible hand, the all seeing eye – they would never come here. terra incognito.

They didn’t come. But others came. They razed his farm to nothing. The man who loosed the arrow that half moon night didn’t want to kill the leader of the bandits – he just wanted to send a cold cinder of fear into his heart. To remind him that if he misbehaves then creatures of lore and monsters will descend upon him – the arrow found it’s mark, missed all vital nerves and came right through the nose.

A warning shot. A wound that even allows you to watch TV and ride a bike. But what if it went back 25mm or forward by 15mm. And let’s not even discuss the upwards or downwards – a warning shot.

As I am sure even an expert would consider that type of shot highly improbable – consider the distance, the size of the target – a head shot. It had to be one as that is that sends the coldest shard of cut ice into the heart of matters.

In that brief span of time – the man weep. He cried for the man who he had to be that night. A man who he has always tried to run away from – he cried.

And the arrow found its mark.”

fwerfefIf the small man cannot gainfully turn the wheel of life to even put food on table for his family - then everything will unravel. The natural order that holds the center together will simply collapse and give way like a house of cards.

Recently, a gang of night marauders have been raiding the cash crops of many of the small holders.

Just yesterday, a Malay couple came to me. The wife streamed with tears as she recounted the sad story of how their harvest in their small banana field had been stripped by thieves. The day before a group of Chinese pineapple farmers recounted the same story. And the week before an Indian goat herder mentioned how theives had just stole three of his prized goats in the night.

I do not blame the police. As the area to be covered is so big. They simply do not have either the resources or man power. 

But I know that something has to be done – something……as at times to keep the wheel of life spinning smoothly….certain things like dirt need to be cleaned up…

Darkness 2013

I came across this old beat car by chance. Bought it from the owner who told me that if I removed it as soon as possible – I would be doing him a big favor. I intend to restore it back to its former glory. I am good with my hands. You could say it brings back old memories. Memories that are both sweet and bitter - but nonetheless, they are my memories.

There are times when I feel many of my readers do not realize how much of what a author writes is based on real life experiences and encounters. If only they knew…..if…. 

The Confessions of a Singaporean Gangster in London – Chapters 17 & 18 “An Account of an English Miner’s Wife”

Extracted from the e-novella (condensed version) The Confessions has todate sold 300,021 copies and has been translated into 39 languages – it remains the best seller by Darkness – this has been brought to you by the Brotherhood Press.

In Wales, located some six hundred miles or so North of London – lies the sleepy town of Llanwrtyd Wells hidden snuggly between two towering mountains – hikers often recount to other each somewhere mid- way up those steep valleys, how they could make out every detail of this tiny toy village, with it’s red roof church spire which tilted ever so slightly, to the only red bricked post office building and even the park square with it’s circular lime stone fountain.

On a clear day, one could even see beyond the town square with it’s four sided clock tower and beyond, the only school with it’s white washed walls of Cumbrian stone and open grassy rugby pitches. If one proceeded higher, one could just about make out a row of shops at the very far edge of this little town – one of them located somewhere around the middle, in between a garage and a funeral parlor was the “The Magic Bowl” Chinese take away.

There really wasn’t anything magical about the “magic bowl” – like all other Chinese take away’s, they had chicken chow mein and choy suey in their menu and on Fridays after midnight, they offered a ten percent discount with double servings of sweet and sour pork. Neither for that matter was the young Chinese couple that magical either, the husband with his short cropped hair, limped and had terrible scars on his face, (his wife had mentioned something about a car accident and a terribly vicious one at that, I dare say) he hardly spoke a word, neither did he have much of an opinion except to smile politely from time to time – but it’s like that with those Chinese, they never say very much – his young wife would often be the chattier of the two and exchange pleasant words with the patrons who were mostly made up entirely of lorry drivers stopping for either a rest and some hot and cheap food before they resumed their journey Northwards – the wife took orders from the counter, while her quiet husband cooked behind the kitchen, one could only really only hear him behind clanging on his pots and pans and only see part of his hands in the cut out in the wall, where packed food would be brought out to the counter.

During the day time – when business was slow in the magic bowl and lorry drivers preferred to make the most of their day light hours – the quiet man would often be seen behind the kitchen with his tools fixing motorized wheel chairs or lawn mowers – they said, his workmanship was first class – but really, I am sure those lads were simply being kind, after all he looked hardly like an engineer and more like a tradesman with his soiled baggy overalls stained with patches of mineral oil he hardly ever took off even when he was seen around town doing his errands – so one day, when the clock tower failed to sound and all that the railway tradesmen could do was to take off their hats and say.

“Bloody old girl finally kicked the bucket – she breathe her last, she did – well after all she lived a ripe old age ain’t it, seen, bloody Hitler’s bombs and all that – it’ve be sad to see the old girl go.”

When the quiet man heard there was money to be had in the fixing – he made his way to the town council and asked for the blue prints of the tower clock and though the clerk refused at first – saying only registered tradesmen where allowed to work on council property and it was the law and nothing could be done about it and since he neither had the right papers or was registered, working on the clock was really out of the question- his superior, a barrel chest Welshman overhearing the conversation, simply handed over the dusty blue prints,

“You can keep it mate, those bloody blue prints are in Blooming German, they might as well be bloody written in chinky chink language – you’re wasting your time mate, but go on give it a go, if you like laddie –it wouldn’t half hurt if you gave that old bat a good working over, if nothing else. “

That whole week the quiet man worked on the clock tower even checking out a German – English dictionary from the library to help him make sense of those blueprints – and one day when it sounded as it usually did at twelve – even the railway stewards who maintained the tracks looked up at the tower clock in amazement, some saying quite openly.

“Bloody chink brought her back from the grave – fancy that!”

So after being paid his repair fee by the town council – the quiet man made his way into the only antique shop in Preston and picked out a gold band with oak leaf carvings in relief, I imagined he must have wanted to give this sort of gift for so long to his wife, but till then they hardly made enough to make ends met – According to the Jewish merchant,

“The China man knew exactly what he wanted right down to the words engraved on the inner side of the ring”. The Jew often said, it was strange for such an uneducated man to appreciate such fine poetry, the engraving read.

“To my one and only love – who was always strong.”

Whatever, little he had left from fixing the clock tower, the quiet man spent it on a white evening silk dress with prints of red roses, he would later say to the lady who owned the shop, it reminded him of someone special.

Even the councilor, who had a day job as a the local postman would often be heard recounting in the pubs,

‘Half the bloody town is dropping off like flies – the other bloody half is falling too pieces – and the only chappy who seems to be able to put it all together and make it work again is the chink”

So one morning, when the councilor made his way to the magic bowl, where the quiet man could always be seen with his tools behind his kitchen – the councilor cum post man made his offer for an opening in the town council for the position of a engineering supervisor – to take charge of the towns common boiler, traffic switch board and main supply generator – he was saddened to hear the quiet man declined the offer politely after hearing some forms had to filled up and sent to London for approval since he would be an official employee of the town council. In the words of the quiet man,

“You embarrass me with this offer – I neither have the skills or training for this sort of thing – I am a simple man – and one should not really make a big story of the clock tower either, because all I really did was to strike it with a hammer – but from time to time should the boiler or the switch board go on the blink –you have my word I will be more than happy to take a look at it”

On the weekends the quiet man would be seen climbing the valleys – he climbed alone. Starting off earlier than the others even before daybreak and though he was known as the quiet man who limped a little when he climbed – when he climbed it was not unusual for those who saw him saying, “he climbs like a tormented soul” – for he would often stop and stare defiantly at the mountain with eyes of an uncommon man –

But even these accounts can’t really be trusted, as when climbers often slipped and fall as they often do– the quiet man would always be prepared to patch them up – his quiet manner hardly conveying a trace of anger.

When the quiet man came down from the mountains usually around lunch time – his wife would always be seen driving up to the foot in the mountain in the grayish white Morris van – only six months ago, the quiet man had bought it from the junk yard merchant who said,

“No I wouldn’t consider selling you that heap of rusted rubbish –what do you take me for I am a junk yard merchant, I have you know we English take pride in what we do – no she beyond a junk (the merchant shaking his head) but if you could give me a 50% discount on your take away’s for the next six months– we can call it a done deal”

Though the quiet man bargained it down to 25% with a free wanton dumplings no matter what the order – that same day hardly had he shaken on the deal, he began to work on the junk. Till one summers day, this couple could be seen laughing quite hysterically as they drove round and round our little town in this old car with it’s patchy paint job – and when they finally ran out of roads, because our town was so small – the quiet man came to lie with his wife on the grass – from time to time – he would be see caressing her breast, kissing or whispering into her ears – and just when the sun turned the valley a bright orange splendor, the quiet man simply stood staring out into the vast expanse of the English country side – his eyes conveying the sadness of man who perhaps remembered the passing of a loved one and during these quiet moments which seemed quieter than even the quiet man himself, his wife would slowly come to stand beside him, as if she knew of a terrible secret they both shared.

And the quiet man would simply look at her and bury his scarred face into her bosoms.

darkness 2002

As many of you may already know. I usually commune with my readers privately though they may post a comment on my blog. Recently Zarheit wrote to me about concerning: how to effect change?

Reading his comment – my feel is, it would be a criminal waste if I just left it unread. So here goes.

The words went through a few times in my head. No sense was made the first few attempts to. Then, it finally did struck me – Change from within. In order to affect change, one had to first successfully enter the group, be part of them, be an insider. Human nature dictates anxiety of outsider-unfamiliar groups. Similarly, one would be more susceptible to influence or advice from a confidant, a member of the family. Never mind what words I said make perfect sense, who was I to barge into their scared home turf, making disparing remarks of their taste in furniture? Who was I to comment about decade-long traditions never in their minds thought possible? Who was I?

The outsider.

Then again, before anything happens, change must come from within me. Within myself, the very fibre, the essence. Something deep down inside. Falsehoods and truths. The passive and the active. The favorable and unfavorable. The thin red line separates them apart, ultimately allowing for flexible interpretation with an adaptive mind.

We are only merchants of convenience, products of our times. The irony mocking, of having forgotten the writings Sun Tsu, only to be reminded again.

Like all physical forces of nature, the interactions of the mind of man and subsequent actions has the effect of inertia. No one would change the way of doing things until proven favorably so. Even for the accomplished pianist, to fine tune fingerings of habit would prove difficult. Hence, I can see where this incremental factor comes into play. Slow change is better than no change, better received than fast change and can ride on the euphemistic labeling of ‘progression’.

Zarheit

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“Any idiot can propose and effect change – take the case of that super duper idiot and his “dream” team mini Lee – what we have here is a man who has changed every aspect of Singapore as we know it – on paper it looks good, stellar and even admirable – its so good that even many have praised Singapore.

But when you tabulate the invisible cost to shattered dreams, missed opportunities and what I can only describe as a life without any prospects of hope – then you will begin to see that the benefits of these changes came at an exhorbitant cost – a cost that is so high that I do not believe any sane government elsewhere will even consider for one moment emulating what Singapore has done. On this I have absolutely no doubt.

But the true genuis – the statesman, not the cheap used car politician will do the same. ONLY he will effect change by respecting the space, dignity and hope of those who he leads.

I think if you want to change a thing – anything, then it pays to first consider whether this can be done with incurring ill will, mistrust and shatter lives – on this score. I would have to give Mini Lee a fail! Wonder no more why when he says, ‘we are in this together.” No one believes him except his gin gang.”

 http://youtu.be/99wpZlUeZ4Q

I will write later when I have the time. I am now out in the field.

Today I received a call from a distressed restaraunter – it seems he’s having problems with a kitchen hand who seems to spend hours sieving through rice grains to make the perfect bowl of rice for only me whenever I dine there - this came as a great surprise to me as I dine there quite often and it never occured to me that anyone would go to such lenghts to spice up my meal.

But when I reflect back – there is a kitchen hand who seems to always serve me. And even watch me whenever I wolf down the apparently perfectly and heavenly bowl of rice - her name is Jia Jia – a kitchen hand –  according to the proprietor, the girl is love struck – she should remain always in the kitchen, but for some reason when the farmer dines there – she will serve him personally and even watch by as this man eats.

I merely told the distressed restaraunter - I understand and went on to add, please let me try to set things straight.

That evening, when Jia Jia served me another perfect bowl of rice – I asked her what is the painting that hangs on the wall?

She replied, it was lotus flowers on a pond – I went on to recount to her that there is an order, symmetry and structure to everything in this world and that when the lotus flower blooms then the bees will come – and after that the birds would feed on the bees and so on and so forth – life is a series of seasons – this I shared with Jia Jia was the way of the world – I went on to tell her that the perfect bowl of rice that she served me was simply against the natural order of things – as the man who rightly deserves this is the husband who will one day share the privilege of turning the wheel of life with her – I told her that I cannot eat this perfect bowl of rice. As I can never be that man.

I think Jia Jia understood what I was trying to convey to her. She will cry her eyes out in the kitchen – but I also believe it is best to be clear and concise about such things – my only regret from now onwards – I will never be able to enjoy a perfect bowl of rice any longer.

Darkness 2013

———————————————————————-

BEFORE

AFTER

I have left out the main body of the conversation between me and this silly girl – as I believe certain should be kept private.

“I like my women to be correct with me – whether they are tall, educated, polished, beautiful or sexy is not an issue, but they have to know how to regard me correctly – that to me is very important – they simply need to know their place. And if they are confused then I will just tell them the facts of life – and that will be the end of the sum of all their fantasies.

I think that is one reason why I miss Dotty so much – as she was the most correct woman I have ever had the privilege to know – it was not only pleasurable to be with her, but it would not be wrong to say that such a woman can really bring out the best in a man. I cannot tell you how edifying that is to a man – to be reminded constantly of his role and how the classical chinese gentlemen should always treat a woman who is younger than him. Words cannot explain how much I miss Dotty.

My feel is every woman should set aside some quiet time everyday and reflect deeply on the art of shaping the type of man that she desires (instead of wasting their time listening to con men like Kong eye or Joe Prince Singh)- too often, I feel the general outlook of women is flawed – as they will often say, I have to LOOK for Mr Right. But from my experience, Mr Right needs to shaped like wet clay by the female hand – in certain cases even dragged out forcefully by a strong willed woman. As to be perfectly honest there are really so many men in a man. You have no possible idea how confused we all are….that is why it is not unusual from time to time to hear of cases of older men fucking kids – that to me is wrong in so many ways.” 

Archery+Jungle Survival

March 17, 2013

I get tons of e-mails from mainly huntsmen, asking me what’s the most effective way to survive in the jungle – all too often, they will ask,

“What do you bring along for a 30 day hike?”

The way I see it, the single most important factor in jungle survival is to be able to proceed as fast as humanly possible to your planned way point – to do this efficiently. Traveling light is not optional. It is a skill set that needs to be mastered.

To accomplish this – you need to be able to hunt and eat well on the go – there is literally tons of game in the jungle IF you know how to bring it down cleanly and efficiently – so it baffles no end when folks tell me that they need to bring rations, granola bars etc – that to me is just plain stupid, suicidal bordering on infanticide.

If you’re planning to trek deep in the jungle with a 30kg backpack. Then you’re going to get bogged down and the jungle will just eat you up and spit out the rest of you. That sort of hunting strategy is well and fine if you’re looking for game in some Disneyland nature reserve or national park in the US or Europe. But in a tropical jungle every ounce of dead weight will just grind you right down to a pulp- this brings into sharp focus the need to develop a highly efficient method of hunting effectively to move fast and quietly through the thicket.

The only way to accomplish this is by mastering the bow – it is silent and in the right hands it can bring down ANY prey up to a distance of 70 meters with remarkable ease- carrying firearms to me is one of dumbest things to do if you want to move fast and quietly in a jungle. First it weighs a ton (plus your shots) and every time a shot rents out. You’re just telling everyone – knock, know whose there?

In the video (please watch it in our proprietry holovision and try to avoid Youtube) - the method that is used is coupled with hunting dogs (in this case since I am target shooting my dogs know that it’s just a practise run. However for the demo sake – when the arrow is loosed – the hu ting dog should always be facing your front. In the video after the shot. A hand signal is given (arm outstretched which means remain in current position) – in an actual hunt once the arrow finds the prey - command the dogs to close in for the kill. You will need to do this, otherwise you will have to spent half a day just trekking the blood trail to find it’s carcass) - please pay close attention to the set up. Your arrows should NEVER be rigged to your bow. As this will interfere with your movement and add weight. Strap it to your backpack and train to nock the arrow in complete darkness. The entire sequence of loading to firing should be one smooth action. Do notice very little time is spent on acquiring the target – as I am a strong believer in shooting instinctively rather than relying on your sights.

A water back pack, bow, machete and a couple of arrows  is really all you need to bring along with you into the jungle to survive forever. Anyone who tells you different just doesn’t have any business romping around the field - the entire kit weighs less than 5 kg. That means you move fast and silently that to me is what I’ve learnt from the tribesmen.

Happy hunting.

Darkness 2013

P.S: Frankly speaking I have absolutely no idea why anyone in their right frame of mind would even want to lug food with them when they go into the jungle – they have to be either stupid or just plain ignorant when it comes to the whole business of hunting – really I don’t understand what the fuss is all about.

This cow held up a convoy transporting my fresh fruit palm oil for nearly an hour. You go figure out who won.

Lily & The Simple Life

March 16, 2013

I know only one method to refrain from the possibility of leading a destructive, careless and selfish life.

In this regard, I am always mindful of how the good life – la dolce vita - the pleasurable sort can so often unravel a man’s character. You could even say my resolute rejection of all luxuries remains my only amulet against this solvent. In truth, I’ve always harbored a morbid fear of ending up one day living a life of dissipation.

At my present age and station in life. It seems to me my only motivation is to continue leading a simple life free from all lofty pretensions and affectations that so often warps many who suddenly come to money.

This may seem easy, but it is not. I assure you. The good life has a way of creeping up on one like a thief in the night. As now I am no longer constrained by the limits imposed by a salaried existence – where it’s not so different from filling a pot with a hole. These days you can even say, I am a man of means – perhaps not one who has as much latitude as a heiress like Lily. But nonetheless I feel relatively free.

Today during breakfast with Lily before leaving for the field – I shared with her my philosophy about - I looked her squarely in the eyes and told her my only wish is never to disappoint whoever is foolish enough to love me, or to leave them scarred.

I apologized for my bad behavior and went on to tell her that I am an alpha male – and though this may come across as petulant, the very idea of a woman giving me expensive gifts simply rubs me the wrong way. I went on to tell her, the fault resides in me and not her.

Lily smiled, shed a tear of happiness and promised me that she would never ever give me any more expensive presents again. I believe when she looked at me just then – she finally understood why I’ve behaved so badly these few days.

Darkness 2013

——————————————————

“You may wear a very expensive watch, drive even a very big car and tell everyone that you know this or that mover and shaker – but in a plantation setting all these things really count for nought. As what remains vital and important to those who turn the wheel of life in a plantation setting is simply this – when the elders are vexed, do they come to you? If the small holder finds it difficult or impossible to gainfully turn the wheel of life, do they come to you? When the specter of famine, pestilence and the evil eye knocks on the door of the community – will the community come to you and say, lead us farmer?

To me this the litmus test of what is means to be a true bull shit free leader – no hype and spin – no mind bending propaganda – just plain and simple living and call a spade a spade talking. That is really all there is to it.”

Darkness 2013

Exorcism Kampung Style

March 15, 2013

To the Malays who live in the kampung. I am known as the one who can communicate with the spirits who live nearby in the mysterious jungle. These spirits are known as the Orang Bunian. Till today it remains a great mystery to me why so many consider the farmer as a man who can fellowship with these supernatural beings.  

Perhaps it is because they believe I can transform into A-Mak, the giant mythical white monitor lizard who the tribesmen deep in the jungle venerate as a spirit being that may from time cross over to this world from in the spirit realm. Though I suspect, it may have more to do with with lashings of jungle moonshine.

Some have even claimed that they have seen and had a conversation with me in this altered state, though I have no recollection of such an encounter - then there are others who remain perplex how it is possible for me move unseen, unheard and to appear in two or more places at the same time in the plantation. Or for that matter how a man can spent so much time in the jungle and yet feel so at ease in what many consider to be a hostile environment - but whatever their beliefs – in the countryside it is virtually impossible to deny the existence of the supernatural – supertition is rife.

After nearly five years turning the wheel of life as a farmer. I have concluded just as religion is a form of opiate for the masses – so is supertition. It runs deep into the marrow of plantation life - to me playing this role is not about being someone so different that he may be considered a charlatan. It’s really just a means to an end. Not so different from discovering the similarity in what is apparently different, and finding a means to reach the end – that is to palliate the fears, soothe the anxieties and ameroite the concerns of those in my community.

As Shakespeare once framed it:

“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,

My attitude is simply this: if they believe - then I have very little choice but to play that role. This is after all a role as old as the hills it’self.

I understand if those of you reading this in Singapore may consider the sum of all this as just hocus pocus – but I assure you all, what makes it real is belief – hence it has to be real. Very, very real indeed.

Darkness 2013

—————————————————————————————————————

“Spirits jumping into people are all very normal and common occurrences in daily plantation life – there is never a boring day for me. It is really like Amytiville horror, Jasper the ghost and the Blair Witch project all rolled up into one kooky package – as when the spirits jump into humans, it’s not so different from commuters jumping on a bus who drive them to that other world- they seem to do it all the time.

I want make it clear in plantation life – the devil not the Western conception of the guy who goes around trying to chalk up souls. Neither is he necessarily a baddie. He’s really just a normal bloke.
Possibly even a jolly good fellow – he’s just really someone who fulfills a very important function on the community.

there was this time when a young school girl tore off her clothes and demanded that I kiss her. I banished the spirit by whispering to her licky licky and kissing was not my thing, I rather tie her up and fuck her ass - when she heard this, the evil spirit left her in one blink of the eye – poof! Next thing, she was begging to have her clothes back again.

On another occasion when an evil spirit jumped into a villager. He became so violent and started threatening his neighbors by swinging his machete wildly - again I was called after the Bomoh (medicine man) despite numerous attempts failed to calm him down – I looked into the eyes of this man – and told him plainly, I shall turn his weapon into a poisonous snake on the count of three – and after he came to his sense. I assured him that I will speak to his boss about his crushing debts. And again like magic. Poof! The spirits departed.

There was even a case when a young school teacher began to behave exactly like Linda Blair in the movie, the exorcist - eyes rolling back, green vomit complete with deep Ah Kuah voice - even the bomoh and the local saih kong (ghost police) ran for cover –  it scared the shit out the villagers and since no one knew how will be next, productivity fell drastically- and again I was called to chase out this naughty spirit - I simply looked this woman in the eyes and counted from one to ten and told her that – life is beautiful. It need not be like this and I shall do everything in power to find her a husband and again evil departed. Poof! She was back to her previous self again. 

The question now Gentlemen is do I believe in all this hocus pocus? Well let me put it this way – many years ago when I first started farming in Africa – I realized that it is almost impossible to deny history, culture and many of the myths, legends and folklore of a community - if one does not play the part. Then it is almost impossible for one to be an agent of positive change in a community. In Uganda my farm hands referred to me as the Shahidi Kalo – as I was a rain maker. A cheiftan in his own right.

Now to be honest with all of you, there is really no magic to all this – all I would do is aim my antique anti aircraft gun at a big fat cloud and loose a shell filled with silver halide and lance the clouds to create rain – but as hard as I tried to explain to the Adomako tribesmen how this could be done - no one believed me – so eventually, they said the Chinaman who wears knee high boots, flared riding breeches and sported a shoulder holstered revolver has to be a shaman, medicine man and intercessor to the the forces of good and evil.

In Singapore I suspect there are also many incidences of spiritual possession involving the upper echeleon of the PAP – as they seem to say one thing and do the complete opposite all the time – in my opinion, there is no known cure for this sort of possession – it is like terminal cancer.

As you can see for yourself gentlemen – life as a farmer is much easier in a rural plantation setting. Much easier I suspect in Singapore. As over there both the custodians of power and mainstream pressed are not only possessed. But they do not even know they are possessed.”

Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its shams, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy

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“The sexiest woman is this world need not be the most beautiful. Nor nubile. Not to me. She merely needs to radiate a cultivated a sense that she perfectly comfortable with herself. I have always found such women irresistable.

I don’t believe it’s possible for any thinking man not to be stirred by such a woman.

This afternoon I met Lily for lunch. I arrived earlier than usual, but she was already there – she didn’t notice me. As she was absorbed reading a book. Though I was quiet a distance away from her – I sat down on a table some distance away observing her – all around her there was a heady swirl of perpetual movement, chattering and clatter.

Yet smack right in the middle of this maelstorm, Lily remained perfect calm like a solitary orchid framed against a canvass of lush greenery - as if she stood apart from it all. And as I watch on.

I couldn’t help feeling assaulted by how badly I have treated Lily in these last few days - I reckon it may something to do my over inflated ego and acute inferiority complex in not being able to come to terms she is so much wealthier than I will ever be - with this realization a pure wave of shame swept through me and when she looked up. She smile. At that moment, I realized …she was the most beautiful woman in the world….”

Ragu son of Arumugam the fifth generation rubber tapper doubled as the curator of the plantation Kalimah temple. Standing before him that morning before the sun broke was the man in his trade mark bush jacket and sun glasses. Ragu turned to the night watch man who nodded his head as if both men knew what had to come to past.

Long before the stranger had made his appearance. The night watch man had woken up earlier than usual for the whole week to keep the tongue of light in the shrine burning – this was their only protection against the malevolent forces of darkness. As a boy, Ragu had been innitiated into a sacred ritual by his father and the elders on the importance of placating malevolent forces, it had began with the grave words, “listen very carefully or….” – and now the mythical creature had appeared before them – Ragu steadied his nerves as he enacted the ritual that had been handed down to him by his father and his father before him. It was a ritual as old as the hills – a ritual that would never be allowed to see the light of day.

The night before. The villagers were told to keep their doors and panelled windows tightly shut till Ramu, the jet black, white footed noisy temple dog howled three times. Menstruating women and virgins were told not to bath, wear perfume and stay indoors. A vegetarian meal had even been prepared for all the villagers the night before. All this was done to ensure that the ritual of receiving the devil passed smoothly. And now as in successive generations – he had appeared as it was written.

As Ragu looked on at the man who stood motionlessly before the shrine. He shuddered slightly. At age 65, the curator of the Kalimah temple realized deep in his bones. This day would surely come. It was after all written in the annals of plantation history. As even both the Mahabratha and Ramayana bore witness to the existence of the devil – the unwritten chapters that is, the unseen chapters that no one ever read except those who knew the ancient ways.

And now that Ramu VIII, the 30th descendant of the noisiest pariah dog in the world who no one could ever silence in plantation history- not even the curator himself who fed him everyday had come to stand quietly and obediently beside the menacing stranger – the curator of the temple and the night watch man both surmised – the man, the devil stood before them – it must be him.

This strange scene had been played out for generations – both the curator and the night watch man knew it as a ritual as old as the hills itself. If there was even a single deviation in the ritual – that whole year a curse would befall the villagers. There were after all omens and strange occurrences that had come to past before the arrival of the stranger. Just the other day when fresh milk was offered as alms to the naga shrine, it had curdled and soured almost as soon as burnt sandal wood was offered – followed by a sighting of a golden cobra in the temple grounds. This was preceded by elephant sightings and the reversing of the river that ran along the temple grounds. Even the elders who had seen the passing of more seasons than they cared to remember realized surely this must be the handiwork of the devil himself. During the evenings when the cicadas murmured along side the rustling of swaying palms – the curator had sat beneath the shade of the ficus trees and asked the village elders,

“How shall we deal with the devil when he appears.”

The village elders who knew the ancient way of the hills had merely sighed and mentioned,

“We will have to deal with him in the way our forefathers had dealt with him – he will not be denied entry into the temple grounds. He cannot be denied. He will have his quarter. Give him what he wants and he will bless us all.”

And now the man had appeared at dawn. Ragu had wore his black dothi instead of his traditional white prayer tunic – as for the night watch man, he had worn a white shirt. Both men as boys had once heard their fathers recount to them, be respectful to the devil and never deviate even as much as one hair breathe from the ritual – his clothing must always be hung on the highest post to the right on a copper nail. Never on a steel or iron nail. He may bring the whole roof down – he must never be offered blood offerings or there will be much mayhem – if the ritual goes well, he shall keep the covenant between man, land and the heavens in perfect harmony.

It was a ritual that was steeped in plantation tradition. A ritual that even the man who wore the bushjacket and sunglasses wondered how he had slipped into, in the way an actor suddenly stumbles on a script only for all to expect him to play his part – the man did not ask why or even how – he would play this role year after year unfailingly.

After the ritual when the naked stranger placed his ten fingers and on the kolam (rice paintings) and blessed the grounds – both the night watchman and the temple curator approached him to offer him a morsel of sweet coconut. The stranger took a mouthful and gave the remainder to the night watch man to be burnt as offerings to the Gods.

It was then that both the curator of the temple and night watch man breathe a sigh of relief. The ritual had come to an end – each step had been executed to true perfection with not even the slightest deviation – the great wheel of life would turn smoothly that year. The stranger smiled, dressed, shook the hand of the temple curator and disappeared into darkness.

Soon a new and beautiful day would unfurl.

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The uber rich believe resolutely that everything is for sale in this world. Generally, I believe that to be true as well. Then again I don’t believe that “truism” holds in every case. There will always be exceptions – Lily has given me a very expensive car as a gift. She actually believes that this will make me love her more. I can see it in the way she carries herself.

All that, this stupid act has done is to compel me to consider the theoretical possibility that Lily and me will always be like two very different islands separated by the infinity of time and space – we have nothing in common whatsoever.

As I looked on at the car impassively. I could see her pleading yearning look in her eyes – “love me.” – “love me please..can’t you see I’ve given you a car…now love me back!”  All I could manage to do was to radiate a mix of disinterest and disgust. You all have no possible idea how I can play with a woman’s emotion - to even toy with it in the way a cat plays with a mouse, to even deny her my love and to watch on coldly as she slowly shrivels up and dies tiny slices of death before me.

When the salesman told me that Lily was particularly fond of the cup holders – I simply told him – that is the foolish ways of a woman. Lily could tell that I was not happy – she walked away briskly with tears in her eyes. Before she did so, she called me a cruel and heartless man. I reckon she could well be right on this occasion. I am cruel. I am heartless.

I wonder to myself whether she knows that I much prefer to buy a car with my own money. No. I don’t suppose Lily and her uber rich type will ever know that or even why…never…never ever.

Women like her seem to only want to see the world through their rose tinted glasses. She even elides the fact that I am a married man. As if it’s some how possible for her to alter the finality of my marital status – by just ignoring it. And now this.

I feel sorry for Lily. As all she has managed to do despite her best efforts is to fashion an abusive relationship.

Darkness 2013

To me it is very strange to regularly hear others lamenting: how the vast majority of natives expect the government to do everything for them - this I feel misleads terribly. It may probably has something to do with over dosing on a regimen of what’s regularly served up by the mind bending propagandist ST. (I told you all, you’re what you eat. And if you can buy into that idea. Then you’re probably what you read as well)

In truth, no one expects the government to do everything – all they really expect is the barest minimum, that is: a level playing field in the workplace, the elemental right to dignity of labor i.e a wage that keeps up with the cost of living –  along with the promise for opportunities for upward mobility besides the corsetted elitist robot scholar system - in my farmer’s almanac when a government fails to deliver on these basic needs – then they fail on the basic and elementary. They don’t even get a ‘D’. Not in my book. They just fail outright!

Whether the government chooses to admit or not – in my opinion, all they have managed to accomplish under Mini Lee’s watch is to fashion a social Chernobyl of shattered dreams and the glorious life of the battery chicken for most in the middle classes. The last ten years will I am sure be considered as the “lost years.” The reasons are multifarious. As for the justifications – well go read the White paper and judge for yourself. To me it makes no sense.

If I had to boil it all down to one word as to why Singapore is so busted for the natives these days - it all boils down to an uncompetitive party political outfit that prioritized and chased the wrong set of goals i.e economic growth at all cost. They were just a bunch of dummies who placed profit before people without really bothering to scale the deleterious social, cultural and moral cost – and I really don’t believe that sort of error of judgement is reversible. The damage has already been done. And it’s serious.

I know they MAY be trying their best now to reverse the engines and slam the brakes – but my gut feel tells me whatever they have put in place for the last ten years has gathered so much momentum – that even if you pull on the levers of power, it would just keep on ploughing ahead like the Titanic 30 seconds before it struck the iceberg.

What most people don’t tell you is statecraft is a damn unforgiving game – it’s not so different from sudden death. Get it wrong and the after effects can last for generations – like how our abysmal baby birthrates can be traced all the way back to zoo keeping policies hatched during the seventies. My point is these residual effects will always play a preponderant role in shaping the future.

As for me, I personally do not believe the promise of the good life in Singapore for the middle class can be reasonably fulfilled any longer. Sure there exist winners – as there will always be stories of “I made it despite the incredible odds.” But for the vast majority of the middle class. I really don’t see how as a segment of society they can move upwards with so many ill conceived policies that are just hobbling upward mobility. All that the custodians of power can do now is try to sell the jaded middle class the idea that they should live within their means, which in call a spade a spade parlance simply means, suck it in and lump it lah.

Now if those are the set pieces of what it means to work, play and live in Singapore – then the prospects for the middle class has to be bleak.

I will speak plainly. As I only past through here once. The government fucked it all up! They have left the whole matter of the widening income gap to deteriorate to such a level where it’s doubtful that it can be sustainably rehabilitated. Neither have they insulated the middle class sufficiently from cut throat competition from the unmitigated influx of foreign PMET’s to allow the natives to retain a core in most professional vocations. As a result in certain fields, vocations and industries – foreigners have been able to create their own ethnic fiefdoms very much little India, China town or Micro Manila where they literally take over whole industries – much to the detriment of the natives who find themselves marginalized, displaced and in certain cases discriminated in their own country!

I am not even going to go into housing, cars, cost of living, healthcare et al. As I want to be brief – suffice to say, there are so many things that are broken and stressed in Singapore. All is not well.

My point is in life – you can’t just leave things to just rot for so long and hope that you can turn it all around in one stroke of the pen.

In my opinion Singapore is broken. For the natives at least. As for the rich and famous crowd it may well be the next Dubai, Monaco or Monte Carlo.

But tell me, if you’re a father – would you ask your children to put on his number four pick up a semi automatic and defend Monaco? No family man would ever do that. When I first came to work in Singapore. I loved the place, love the way things worked. I even told myself if there was ever a war. I wouldn’t have too much trouble persuading my rest of the voices in my head to defend this place I eventually came to call home. But these days its different, everyday I just see so many of my friends been pushed to the very edge that I don’t feel that’s right at all. I’ve never been in a place where a nation can eat and spit out it’s people like cashew nuts- and if that is the case, then Singapore is not so different from all the other places where it’s messed up. The only difference is you’re experiencing grief in a Disneyland setting – these days Singapore is just another global city and to be frank as far as global cities go – it offers a pretty crummy deal for the middle classes.

I’ve crossed a line in my head. I don’t want to blog socio politico any longer. I just want to make a decision and walk right through the door – the way I see it, there is really one thing left for the family man to do - migrate to another country where there is still a government that’s still sees the wisdom of putting people before profit. A place where money is still a means to an end and not sn end by itself.

I will have to speak to my wife. I need to sit her down and explain to her my Plan B. I don’t think she has even thought of this yet. We will need to make long range plans for our children – as all I see are dark clouds in the horizon and they are coming our way.

Darkness 2013

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“Gentlemen, do you all remember the scene in Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist,  when the children at the orphanage, who only had paper gruel to eat, watched on transfixed at the rich people eating a big meal through a window? I wonder how did those children feel?

In my opinion that is what will increasingly happen in Singapore – the rich will grow richer. As for the poor they can only see their lot diminishing day by day. And when the gulf becomes too wide then what you will have is those who will have everything and those who can only look on helplessly by the side lines. You end up with class along with culture war. I want to be crystal clear. This is not a dystopian futuristic scene of Singapore. It’s already happening today.

Now can any family man in this forum tell me honestly - whether he likes his children to grow up in that sort of world?

There you have it Gentlemen. Now you all know what to do. The way I see it – they can go and find some other idiot to be their hamster running on a wheel that goes nowhere while the dangle plastic nuts before them - I ain’t going to allow my kids to grow up to play that shitty game. I want them to enjoy the thrill and exhiliration of gainfully working to own a car. I don’t want them to slave 40 years as a salaried man just to buy a pigeon hole in the sky. Or for that matter get squeezed by a vampire state that didn’t even bother to get their priorities and principles right from the word go – and go through life perpetually stressed just to feed a few delusional people who are sitting at the apex of the pyramid – I mean if I just sit back and allow everything to take it’s natural course – then what’s probably going to happen is my kids will just come to accept this hellish life as a normal, well adjusted and purpose driven life.

I really don’t think most people realize how perfectly sane, reasonable and even well educated people can get accustomed to living in a vampire state especially when they see everyone else doing so. I really don’t believe the good life just comes to you by default either – sure you got to work for it, break your balls even, pay the price - my point is in a vampire state you can do all that and still end in square one – that’s the main problem we have in Singapore today too many fucking rungs are missing in the ladder.

So if you happen to be a family man and you want the good life or a better tomorrow, then I say, you have to learn to connect the dots. And not simply surrender your consciousness to the mind bending propaganda machine. You have to protect and nourish that idea: you are the master of your destiny – and flesh out your own plan B separate from the whole idea of government – because if you leave it all to those stupid people and just go with the flow. I can more or less guarantee you, you’ll be so incredibly fucked!”

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