The power of observation

April 26, 2017

In the moment of my youth I didn’t talk at all. Most of the time I seemed to be in my own world, spaced out from all worldly affairs. Or so that was how it must have came across to most people.

The truth was I had nothing much to say….but all the while I observed those around. I learnt to wear an expression like a frozen smile of dolphin whenever those around me spoke as if I wasn’t even there. I witnessed first hand their indifference, cruelty and callousness.

One day the school bully asked me for my pocket money. I gave it to him. On the following day he did the same and this would continue for as long as I could remember…..so long even that I had grown accustomed to going hungry during my lunch breaks.

I can’t remember what it was…maybe it was the color of the bully’s bicycle that drew me to it….I remember it as a deep metallic blue like paraffin.

That day I spoke for the very first time in my life, I told the bully in a stammering voice – I would very much like to have his bicycle to keep…you see in my known understanding of the world – this was really quite normal. Just as I had handed my pocket money to the bully every time he asked….I just thought if I asked him for his bicycle…he would do the same….instead he looked quite shocked when I spoke and at first he didn’t know what to do.

But you need to understand. You see I just didn’t look at him – but I really really looked at him if you know what I mean….with very unusual eyes that day that could well have burnt holes like laser beams into bricks….it was a look that even he knew somewhere in his pea sized brain, if he had said, no….it would certainly have been a very colourful for him.

I don’t remember very much else after that, but I do remember that I was very happy to ride that blue bicycle for many many years.

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‘In the moment of my youth. I had great difficulty in understanding the way of the world. For instance I could never quite understand why whenever I worked, all the boys were paid except me….even if I was paid…usually I only received a fraction of what they were paid despite putting in the same hours.

One day thru the influence of one of my relatives who worked as a clerk in the dockyards. I managed to secure a position as a kennel janitor in a sprawling rubber warehouse depot. My job required me to clean out the kennels, bath the dogs and cook for them.

The chief supervisor of security didn’t like me very much…he used to murmur to the other dog handlers….that boy is a weirdorama, but he has a way with dogs. They like him too much. So during pay day he would usually take seventy percent of my salary.

One day when the supervisor caught me training a German Shepard to play catch – he got so infruriated he held me by the collar. When I cried out the pack proceeded to tear furiously at him. The other dog handlers rushed to the scene but even they were powerless to stop the carnage…there were too many of them…and they were all very angry.

I just looked on impassively.

After that the supervisor was hospitalised for a very long time. I remembered visiting him with my Mother in the hospital. He looked like an Egyptian mummy. It was hard to say whether he was happy to see me. All I could remember was his eyes darting around frantically like pin balls from side to side….maybe that’s his way to signal to us how happy he was to see me – after all it was an awlfully long journey by bus just to be by his side in his hour of need.

To cut a very long story short soon thieves descended on the warehouse. Eventually the owner approached one of my relatives asking whether I would like to fill the vacant position of the supervisor. This man was a planter who wore a handsome Savile Row bush jacket, smoked a briar pipe and wore sunglasses which he rarely ever took off – they said he wore a glass eye and had once fought valiantly against the communist during the Malayan emergency deep in the jungle in Grik.

The great planter looked briefly at me and after a few puffs he patted me on the head and said,

‘Pay day is on the first Wednesday of every new month. Be there to make your mark.’

I worked hard, keeping the kennels clean as best I could, let out the dogs at night, slept in the pantry and in the morning counted in the dogs….soon all the thieving stopped.

Every Wednesday I would stand in line with men taller than I as a heavy table was placed under the shade of a sprawling ficus tree and when my turn came the planter would always ask me to make my mark on a ledger while an Indian clerk counted out crisp notes grudgingly all the while complaining quite openly what an unheard travesty it was for a boy to earn a full wage of an adult and every time the planter would just ignore him his ramblings and hold out his hand smilingly whereupon I would kiss it as a sign of utmost respect to person and institution.

Only for him to hand me a Mars bar from England with the words…good…carry on.

I can recall vividly even today, the planter had the faint aroma of ancient wood.

At the end of my first year of employment I was voted by all the dock managers as the most diligent worker and won a Telenfunken Color TV set.

These were my only lasting observations in the moment of my youth….it seems we all learn to live by just observing.’

Do I agree with Shanmugum’s latest clarification on how sentences meted out by the Singapore courts need to take cognizance of public opinion so that justice is not merely done…but more importantly it is SEEN to be done.

Absolutely. Infact I agree with the law ministar to such an extent where if you want the reasons why I agree with him….kindly just read what he has to say concerning this subject. I really have nothing further to add.

Infact the degree of my agreement is so complete and total I have even abandoned all plans and aspirations to start a criminal career in Singapore as church leader or director of a Football club.

But…yes there is a BUT I am afraid…and a very big BUT at that.

As how is the courts supposed to go about gauging public opinion when in the last 6 years, the government has relentlessly clamped down on all commentaries concerning court proceedings – this it continues to do by holding the proverbial sword of Domacles over anyone or institution that comments on, on going court proceedings by leveraging on the law of contempt of court. To exacerbate matters the enforcement of this legal structure has been administered in such a arbitrary manner approaching strictly liability that even the most casual opinions concerning on going court proceedings can be interpreted as tantamount to scandalising the judiciary.

As a consequence hardly anyone these days will venture a comment, opinion or even anything approaching a complete sentence on, on going court proceedings – given that the narrative is already bracketed in earnest.

This should prompt the perceptive reader to ask, HOW can one indulge in talk about capturing accurately public opinion when it doesn’t even exist in the first place and if that is the case HOW the hell is the courts supposedly to accurately scale their sentences in such a way where justice is not only done…but it is also seen to be done in the court of public opinion?

It cannot..there is a fundamental cognitive flaw in Shanmugums logic. As the instrument to gauge public opinion is well and truly shuttered.

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‘When I first heard about the move to clamp down on all discourse about court proceedings. I was quite surprised. As doing that is akin to killing the proverbial canary in the mine. Because even if there exist strict laws to stop people from talking about the courts and even if there are attempts to bracket the narrative – it doesn’t mean no one talks about the subject any longer. Don’t be immature that is not how the real world works not even in Looney tunes. It just means when they talk it is probably in some place that you don’t even know about and can’t hear what the substance of the conversation is or even how big or small it is and that is all it means. Neither do you have the slightest idea where that conversation might be going….it is just a big black hole.

If this comes as a big wallop of a surprise to you….you should try growing up.

Time and again history has shown the narrative cannot be effectively bracketed. As even under the panoptical pineapple eye of soviet era surveillance the conversation continued thru the samizdat movement.

So the question is how can officialdom be part of that conversation? – it cannot….not in my opinion at least, because the traditional conversational pathways have all been short circuited.

So this idea of talking about gauging public opinion can only conducted contemporaneously, it cannot be conducted in real time and for anyone to try to do so is akin to having a conversation about snakes in Norway…the bloody thing doesn’t exist over there!

And if it doesn’t exist. Then how can one reasonably go about the business of intelligently gauging public sentiment?

Do you see the cognitive flaw in logic?’

Dogs like The King are NOT natural born killers…..I may not know for instance how old King Kong is…or even where he was born…but this much I am 100% certain……someone deliberately planted that evil seed called violence into his being.

I realise it’s very hard for many to see Rottweilers in an endearing light. After all, they do suffer from a grevious perception problem. Infact I even believe this breed should only be strictly restricted to the security and military services, not because it is elementally violent. As margin for error is incredibly slim for the lay dog owner not to mention those dearly unfortunates who may be around the vicinity this blur sotong is simply too high – the ignominious reputation of Rottweilers hardly any elaboration it is after all a macabre story.

Breed originally for combat and entertainment in the colliseum. Rottweilers used to gobble Christians for sport. The ancient Romans who first deployed this fearsome breed in battlefields to tear thru enemy ranks like a hot knife thru butter…. Tacticus the Roman strategist once recommended the use of Rottweilers to blunt cavalry attacks – since they are stocky and have an unusually low center of gravity. They were especially adept in blunting a Greek phalanx by sneaking below the shield and bringing a man down. Once a Rottweiler bites, it is like a hydraulic claw it’s almost impossible to wriggle free. They can drag out a man like a tractor using their short and powerful legs and that’s followed by a lightning bite to the back of the neck – knowing the origin of the breed is a form of intelligence as it will allow the dog handler to get into the mind of the dog.

Even the most accomplished dog handlers can get blindsided by this breed…as usually they make the mistake of going in with a John Wayne Gung Ho attitude….the results are usually catasthrophic.

I need to break The King’s mindless aggression as soon as possible….I need to go deep into his brain and erase that evil program that someone once callously programmed into his being……otherwise power without the means to gainfully exert control over it is simply too dangerous to have around – the King needs to be transformed into a highly discipline soldier dog.

To accomplish this. I will leverage on the collective psyche of the pack – the pack will break The King down to zero and he will be rebuilt back again…..it is a very long process.

Once I have finished with The King hopefully he will know that real power comes only from iron discipline…..should I fail.

King Kong would have to put down….I wish it’s possible to paint a happier story, but under the given circumstances there is no way to lighten the facts…it is what it is…..that is why those who once planted that evil seed called violence into such a beautiful creature knoweth not what they do…they are like fools giving children hand grenades to play with…as they have robbed them of their inherent innocence thereby opening up the horrendous gates of hell to such cruel possibilities….foolish people.

Power without responsibility is dangerous….it needs to be destroyed.

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‘I realize, it is very difficult to argue the case persuasively to most Singaporeans even those who may be reasonable that locking up master Amos like some wild animal was a great mistake.

But to me it will always be a travesty of humanity only because when one is young – one can only see the world thru very innocent eyes….even a potty mouth child will see the world thru this fairy tale lens I imagine.

But once innocence is summarily snatched away….even should you say in a righteous tone, he broke the law….even should you insist, he knew what he was getting into.

I say when a child can no longer see the world thru those innocent eyes – then it’s almost impossible to get them excited over anything else – he can only grow up to be mistrustful, cynical, resentful, angry and destructive.

That is why I hope master Amos does not spent too much time in jail….as once a boy cultivates a bent to only see the world thru the eyes of cynicism…then it could be said he will take a very wrong turn in life at so young an age and that would be very difficult to turn around.

He would be lost for many many years….during that time he can only be destructive to himself and others.

What I wonder was accomplished…again, yes you can very well say in that righteous tone – he broke the law…he knew what he was getting himself into.

But pray tell…what is the final outcome?

And this is where I will turn to you and ask, do you know how hard it is to turn it all around when one so young takes a bad turn?

Maybe you don’t care to know or even feel that’s hardly an issue worth considering since you can’t possibly see how your attitude is in some way part of the problem…..and that to me will always be the real problem with Amos Yee.

Like I said, I hope he is released soon for his sake and…..of course…ours.’

Those of you who regularly read by blog will probably know that I have taken a vow to renounce my evil ways. However, lately I am not being able to resist the dark side….just the other night I woke up quite suddenly at half past four and for some inexplicable reason began to flesh out the rough outline of starting either a church or Football club in Singapore.

I began to simulate the pay outs at first thru a series of very simple decision trees….nothing too eleaborate….just a series of rudimentary scams – on virtually every occasion since the penalties were so darn low…this led me to the logical conclusion that even should I end up in jail for a 3 year and a bit sentence. It would most probably be a kacang puteh price to pay for my criminal activities…after all providing I keep my nose clean in jail and don’t get into any fights. I would probably be walking as a free man in two a bit years….which isn’t bad considering hotel Changi is FOC so this would probably allow me to stash my ill gotten gains in some high interest off shore account.

Of course I don’t want to go back to my evil ways again….but given the high pay outs and the remarkable ease at which the system can be gamed right to the hilt providing one has the means to hire good Lawyers along with the irresistible incentives of ultra Low penalties….the criminal way of life in Singapore is certainly a very tempting proposition that takes a lot of will power to resist.

I must take more cold showers these days. Go for regular jogs and not allow my mind to wander to far of the beaten path….I must really try….I must.

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‘Am I

CEBESA cost about $1. I add one to my coffee every morning…seems to work.

Since I am an acute sufferer of Citysystis. I’ve had to develop an anti serum against the death rays of the city.

I first came across squid ink when I noticed it was an active ingredient which is widely used as the tribal equivalent of Prozac. In most tribal mythology the color black is associated with mysticism that’s because it’s a color that is very closely associated with the paradox of death and renewal…darkness represents the end of light, but since without it there can be no appreciation of light it also signifies the beginning of all life.

Squid ink* is widely used in Italian and Spanish cooking as it adds a very distinctive flavour and adds an inviting sheen to food. The ink itself is composed mainly of melanin (the pigment that influences skin color), but it also contains proteins, lipids, minerals (especially iron) and the amino acid taurine, as well as dopamine – a neurotransmitter associated with positive mental states.

Usually I add a whole sachet of squid ink to black coffee….it helps a lot and I am hopeful that I may have finally stumbled on a cure for Citysystis.

*Squid ink is currently not expensive, not at all. But I am sure it will be. As the health boffins begin to take more interest in the magical properties of squid ink – that is why I seldom ever share much concerning jungle cures and much rather keep the circulation small and tight to curb commercialisation.

Having said squid ink is cheap it does however take some effort to seek out in Singapore. There is a speciality food shop in Singapore…it’s called Culina. They were located somewhere on the Thai embassy side of Orchard Rd. Maybe you can try there.

I do not agree with what Mr Kong has done. Infact, I happen to believe he is a confidence trickster par excellence. Nonetheless, from what he and his family had to endure for the last gruelling six years.

I can only say I have the upmost respect for the way he has managed this affair with dignity, respectability and stocism.

This aspect of his character cannot be taken away from Mr Kong.

Regrettably the same cannot be said about how the courts have handle this Mother of all flip flops.

They had two bites at the cherry and they still can’t seem to get it right….and now we are told this is not over (whatever that may mean) and presumably they’re planning for a third to nail it right – this really makes me wonder why would the third bite be any different.

The fact that in both occasions there was no unanimous decision suggest there is something either fundamentally wrong with the charge sheet, statute or interpretation of the spirit and intendment of the statute.

Besides even if they managed to get their act together. It’s conceivable all they would really accomplish is to only discredit the entire judicial process by running afoul of the doctrine of double jeopardy. If it exist in Singapore that is…and even if it didn’t some one in authority (hello is anyone there?) should at least bear the onus of clarifying how black became white or a square with 90 degree corners became a round circle….after all even the holy office of the AG owes the reasonable befuddled man on the street – a fiduciary duty to explain how a case that was eventually sunk on a ‘technicality’ proceeded so far and so long as it did with so many inherent flaws and at I can only imagine to be a monumental cost to tax payers. We after all live in a world where money and opportunity cost doesn’t grow on trees. Not to mention how the judgement of this case would have an impact on all other contemporaneous and future cases relating to cheating.

There is of course that other cogent consideration whether the sentences did infact the reflect the gravity of the offence accurately along with whether justice was seen to be done – will it serve as an effective deterrent. Or will it merely broadcast the message crime does indeed pay?

All that I imagine is water under the bridge – as it stands, they had two bites at the cherry and they egged it up royally thereby allowing a con man and his gang to walk short of their full term…bear in my mind all I have said here is my lay opinion – at the end of the day, they would have to live with that in the court of public opinion.

As for Kong Hee and his unfortunate associates I wish them and their family well – it must be tough for them all. But the same must also be said of many who donated only to feel cheated by the final outcome….but depending on how one may interpret, ‘it’s not over yet.’

Who except maybe God really knows what might finally happen.

Hello is anyone there?

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The return of King Kong

April 21, 2017

I took some time off on the first half of the day to bond with King Kong. He seems to be still reeling from his harrowing experience – but after taking him thru his paces Kong seems to be coming very much into his own.

Dogs like Kong have incredibly strong personalities – they cannot be forced to do anything they don’t want to do.

The trick is to just be consistently calm. Still internally to such a point where there are no fleeting thoughts….nothingness like a still mirrored lake that only radiates serenity. Nothing except for maybe what’s happening in nowness. Dogs can sense nervousness, fear and a range of emotions – they are very sensitive and can easily pick up and feed on negativity only to mirror it back.

Being genuinely calm is key and from my experience that is really all it takes to establish a strong bond with an abused dog…..it is a very gentle and quiet process. One where it’s jugular for the handler never to show fear. No shouting or yanking on the leash is required….all it takes is patience and above all understanding.

Calmness is not nothing….it is a form….and it is this form that will allow the dog handler to step into the heart and mind of the troubled beast.

Once the dog feels comfortable then everything becomes possible. He will step forward by himself and “stake a claim” to a particular space, area, or object by marking it with his urine…in dog lingo it just means, ‘I like it here, I might just stay here a while.’

I am very confident, in no time King Kong will forget his painful memories and all that will exist is sunny days rolling carefree in freshly cut grass and freaks of juicy bones….he is finally home.

Very few things in life gives me more pleasure than to have the power to bring happiness to animals.

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‘I have long realised there is a constant battle raging between two battling creatures within every man. One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is what the tribal elders call the good, noble and benevelont creature – he is the cool breeze that blows on a scorching day. As he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.

If you are wondering which of the two will win in the epic fight that is raging in every person – the answer is very simple….it is the creature that you choose to feed.’

The city and everything about it is like a giant krytronite rock that slowly weakens me from deep within. I can feel it’s invisible life sapping rays deadening everything within me deep down to the marrow of my bones – the pavements are all too flat and features….my feet are always in pain. I am afraid of crowds and I can’t take too many colors in one go….I get a splitting headache.

But since I am compelled from time to time to go to the city for business. I have no choice, but to develop some way to this live in peace with this disorder.

Usually when I feel my life force is depleting to a dangerous level. I will lumber to the nearest park and sit there while I slowly recharge. In the event none is available, it is not unusual for me to knock on the doors of mansions in leafy neighbourhoods with lush gardens to ask the mistress of the house for permission to recharge my life force in her garden. I seldom ever encounter problems. Some initial curiosity and hesitation perhaps. But this soon passes. In a while mistress of the house will usually serve me a cool drink with cakes. Based on my numerous experience, most people can usually be counted to be quite reasonable and understanding even if they consider my request somewhat peculiar.

Women I find tend to be very understanding and also very curious at the same time. Men on the other hand have a tendency to express reservations and even outrage, but this soon passes when their wife’s remind them there is no need to be rude….that is because all women have natural ESP, they can sense danger better than men….and they know I am genuine and my need is very real and urgent.

If it gets really bad. It’s not unusual for me to climb over walls of stately mansions. It is not a matter of choice!

As the death rays of the city can at times be relentless and ravage me mercilessly. Fortunately dogs of all known denomination and breeds are also born with very sensitive ESP powers – they can intuit once they see me, I mean them and their masters no harm…..I just need to rest in their garden. To commune with nature. So even the large breeds will usually give me sympathetic looks of quiet understanding, some especially the alpha killer breeds will even stand guard over me. As it is vampire thing. They can sense a kindred spirit is in a weakened state and requires looking after.

Recently a kind lady whose garden once I climbed over quite a while back ago was so thoughtful as to compile a list of addresses of stately mansions thru out the length and breadth of the city with lush gardens – when this fine lady handed me the list, she said, I can rest in any of the listed addresses and be reassured ‘no misunderstandings of any kind will ever occur.’

This angelic soul who I understand to be a very powerful, influential and wealthy socialite told me in a tone of gentle concern, that should I ever get myself into any trouble with the law on account of my ‘unusual’ habit of climbing over the walls of private property. As according to her, my actions can be so easily be misconstrued. She would never be able to forgive herself for the travesty. I assured her, I too don’t ever want to ever end up in Block 7 of IMH as well. I just want to rest in a garden and recharge my life force till my power bank reaches five bars.

As a consequence this lady has taken the liberty of circulating my photo along with a short explanation in her facebook account to inform all her high society friends that should any of them encounter a strange man attired in a bushjacket knocking on their door driving a four wheel drive with oversized tires, asking for permission to rest in their garden…they should always remain calm and make every possible effort to fulfil my request promptly, as it is a matter of life and death that pertains to my mental, psychical and spiritual well being…I should be treated like a kind and gentle soul always with the upmost patience, consideration and thoughtfulness.

I now finally have a passport to enjoy all the beautiful gardens in the city. I told this lady, from today onwards, I am so happy I no need to climb over walls again. I am really so happy and grateful to her.

I started late hoping to avoid the city jam….but no luck. Soon found myself crawling like a snail with other snails. I am not used to stop and go driving. Not at all. I am more accustomed to driving desolate plantation roads where one seldom ever sees traffic for miles at a stretch…. it takes all my concerntration just to remind myself I am in the city….very stressful.

I was called to share my culinary skills with a group of aspiring chefs on how to properly prepare Norwegian salmon – salmon just happens to be one of those dishes that comes across as deceptively simple….but it’s really more complicated than just throwing a slab of fish in a skillet.

For one even in commercial kitchens 99 out of 100 it’s done all wrong – result: the skin has a tendency to come across as slimy and the meat is very often dry and flavorless.

The right way to pan fry salmon is to first pat dry the fish completely on both sides and set it aside for fifteen minutes spread out on a paper towel with a light sprinkling of flour to create a crispy outer shell – usually salt and pepper and a dash of thyme is enough. Less is more when it comes to oily fish. As salmon has a natural flavour and over spicing it tends to rob the fish of its elemental aroma and sweetness.

Just let the fish do 99% of the job.

Heat up a dollop of butter, lash with finely chopped garlic and set it skin side to fry for a whole minute while pressing it gently down with a spatula….professional tip: NEVER place the raw salmon in the middle of the pan. That dries it out. Always fry in one corner of the pan, as this will allow for more heat control by removing the pan from the flame and tilting the pan so that the fish oils are further infused into the fish during the frying process. Doing it this way also allows for the fish to be flipped with minimal movement to avoid breakage. Always use a spoon to ladle oil to further fry and render the top side brown and crispy – this ensures the meat doesn’t dry out too much thereby retaining all its juices. Avoid the temptation of moving the fish too much with a spatula. Instead shift and tease by moving the pan, otherwise the fish will break and juices will seeped out. Do the same for the otherside and don’t forget to fry the sides as well.

This was the best of the lot…the color is just right. As for the taste it’s not overcooked and done to perfection retaining the springiness and crumbly texture of salmon without coming across as too dry and flavorless. The presentation is simple and elegant depicting a fern in lightly whipped mustard vinegarette,

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‘Youths absolutely need to take pride in their craft….once the element of pride has been successfully incorporated into a trade then and only then will it acquire the capacity to transform the mundanesss of work into some thing mythical, curious and magical.

Without this one vital X factor…work will just be a trudge…litany and grind and soon everything will begin to decay into mediocrity.

To convey this lasting attitude concerning the dignity of labor is seldom easy especially to a fickle minded audience such as youths – as usually this requires a certain level of showmanship and story telling skills.

But once one is able to successfully plant the magic seed there is an opportunity for every worker to find himself in work and that journey of self discovery can often be an intensely happy and edifying experience…suddenly the entire field of possibility IN work becomes much more than just work. Suddenly it is imbued with thinking quality…suddenly the worker isn’t just a monkey trained to pick coconuts.

As the labor has become a thinking thing….a delightful mystery filled with endless possibilities and wonder and curiosities.

The sleeper must awake…..’

It’s the same sad story. Owner was a passionate animal lover. It seems he’s especially fond of large and dangerous breeds. Dog since birth has been raised as a one master dog and is devoted to only him and no one else. One day owner suddenly dies of a heart attack. No one else seems to be able to control the Monster dog. Not even the house servants who have muzzled him so tightly blood is dripping from his mouth. Dog is angry, confused and anxious. He hasn’t seen his owner for days. He doesn’t know what is happening. Dog prowls around the neighborhood – one of the Uncle’s insisted the dog has been terrorising everyone….he shouts out, it needs to be put down. The rest cheer him on. Everyone looks to me as they all know I seem to be able to live with exceptional harmony and happiness with all animals….I tell them all in a soft tone please strive to be patient…let us explore what is possible calmly.

Meanwhile no one dares to go out….not even for a walk. To complicate matters none of the deceased servants seem to be able to communicate with the locals. They are all foreigners who no one seems to understand – from what I can make out, they seem to converse in only a curious variant of Francaise that the Guinea spice merchants use, the older generation at least…a French Creole called ‘parkour’- a language once considered dead and was last used three hundred years ago during the Atlantic slave trade in Africa.

To cut a long story short….I was called in by the neighborhood committee.

I was able to subdue King Kong with just a bucket of water and a quarter of a chicken….apparently the house servants have not removed his muzzle for four days! So the dog was famished.

After the meal. I told King Kong in Parkour – I am so sorry. Your owner has begun his long one way journey….he will never ever return….but I have more important things to tell you – you are in a crazy place, yes that is what the city is…it is so crazy that everyone even thinks they’re sane…that is what makes the city especially dangerous to your kind….and since you don’t seem to be able to pretend to be crazy like this crazy people…they will hate and fear you…even if they have to manufacture their own version of the truth…they will do it…and there can really only be one possible outcome – men with shot guns are going to shoot you dead King Kong….you best follow me back to my plantation…..you will be happy there…you see it’s really quite simple King Kong…You and I…we just don’t belong here…things will be OK for a while….but the more they look at you. At some point all they will ever want to do is kill you! It’s the same old story.’

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Paying homage to being well dressed, neat and groomed simply means you are very serious about how the parts fit together in the right sequence for it all to come together very nicely…so seriously infact do you regard this social convention – that you are even willing to go that extra distance to come across as someone who regularly gives the highest level of respect to people and institutions and especially yourself…as the CEO of your personal brand.

When the serious men of this world give you nods of approval – they are not just saying….he’s well groomed and neat and knows how to give respect to people and institutions.

Please wise up! What they’re saying to themselves and their peers is simply this – this man knows how all the parts fit together in their correct sequence to all come together nicely….he is one of us…he can be trusted…he is worth investing in.

‘I am never ever said, you don’t have a right to dress in a T shirt and sneakers for a power meeting. Never!…that is not what I said. Infact you have every right to dress like that PROVIDING you earn the privilege to do so. But it should be only AFTER you’ve put a down payment on a a Honda jet…that’s all I am saying. AFTER that you can even dress in even a gunny sack. Or Pokemon Go jump suit. Better still go around stark naked….no one will frown on you…no one will even consider putting you in IMH.

All they will probably say is you’re slightly eccentric and that is all.

Know how the parts fit together in the right sequence for it all to come together…that’s all I am saying.

Did I ever say no one has a right to munch on banana’s keep their hair long like a caveman and strut around in public in pyjamas while shouting profanities like Amos Yee…No! Never ever said that either…not even so much as once. All I said was if you want to dress and talk like him – you better have the largest portfolio of equity in every shipping firm in the world….AFTER that you can grow your hair as long as you want and even wear your pyjamas to work.

Know how the parts fit together in the right sequence for it all to come together…that’s all I am saying.

Did I ever say you don’t have the right to screw around like Alvin Tan till your dick drops off? Or take selfies of yourself and your ding dong and post them for the whole world to marvel at. Never!….all I said is you can only do that AFTER you own all the majority shares in Time Warrner along with possibly CNN and for safe measure at least three other Fortune 500 companies.

Know how the parts fit together in the right sequence for it all to come together…that’s all I am saying.

We don’t do stupid things like pull the rip cord three quarters of the road down a degree….or for that matter out the cart before the horse…only really stupid people would make life hard instead of easy for themselves.’

Look carefully! This is not just another mountain of random garbage – it’s an artistic redention of a giant leatherback turtle fashioned from hundreds of plastic bottles and non bio degradable nick nacks that regularly make their way like silent killers to the food chain of turtles and fishes in the seas.

Both the giant leatherback and Olive Ridley are facing imminent and certain species extinction due to mankind’s callous culture of unmitigated and mindless consumption of plastic.

Soon these great and magnificent animals will certainly go the way of the dodo bird….when will mankind learn?

When?

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‘Man will always be a destroyer. He is like a child. He cannot help it as this child is addicted to the narcotic of the profit motive like sweets. That is why I am internally convinced never before in history of mankind has there been such a real and urgent requirement for the rich and influential to subscribe to a code of ethic – a guiding philosophy not only of how best to live without hurting people and planet, but a superior logic where man might perhaps begin to reverse his corrosive lifestyle that is the cause of so many of the problems of our tumultuous age.

If it is not the rich and influential who should rightly lead the masses – then may I ask who else is best predisposed to do so?

There are many people who label me a communist – they say, he was enamoured by Franco’s simplicity towards life as a youth. That is why he takes exceptional pride in living a spartan’s existence…of military utility like a Templar knight.

But how else would one go about the business of convincing the masses that money is meaningless except perhaps for one to dedicate oneself wholly to this way of life to demonstrate to the masses money is chimeric.

The paradox is even I least of all can absolve myself totally from the blame of being associated with the culture of mindless consumption…after all I yearn to own a Honda jet. It is in my sights….and I imagine that sort of corrosive attitude must have rubbed off on so many of you.

After all I am hardly a normal person. When I walk into a room full of frontier men – They all stand up. I can even see the admiration they all have for me….but I say only this.

We need to tone down….above all we need to be grounded to the fundamentals…the basics of life.

If I had the opportunity to do it all again….maybe I would simply say to all of you what I have already Long known – money is not a big deal…it’s really quite meaningless infact. To be perfectly honest with all of you….I really don’t know what the fuss is all about…..I really don’t know.

To me it’s just a big nothing….and that’s the truth.

We simply need to hold on to that reality….it’s nothing.’

Singapore has two Super duper con men who specialise in faith scams. The first is of course Kong Hee. The second is another who goes by the name of Mr Singh, but for some reason he calls himself Prince. Prince of the nation of what? I dunno. Maybe prince of the princes of rip off land.*

Now the way I see it, it’s very simple – if one con man goes behind bars for too long a time…all it would mean is that one and only con man whose still free will get stronger and bigger and more evil….there would not be any con man competition…competition keeps them actually from growing too fast and being too disruptive.

Who benefits? No one….as more people will get conned with only one as opposed to two con artist.

As for the courts. I really don’t know what’s going on any longer. I am not trying to be malevolent or mischievous….I am so confused that my head actually hurts. After six long years it’s still clear as mud! From my understanding of past precedents. In the vast majority of cases involving appeals, the judges don’t seem to have a problem of nailing it right the first time – usually they are so right the sentences are even increased and rarely ever reduced to discourage appellants who don’t have merit and are just trying to game the system. But in the case of Kong Hee and gang – they have all walked away with significantly reduced sentences in many cases halving their previous sentences.

If I knew organized crime was such a low risk and high pay out career proposition. I would probably dedicate myself to a life of crime from the word go when I was back in Singapore….why study so hard and bother with whole nonsense of going straight as an arrow – when I can get a Korean haircut and hypnotize really wide eyed and dumb people who are more than willing to sell their HDB’s in the name of whatever – while I take their hard earned proceeds to live the life of the rich and famous in LA….Forgive me. To all who I have single handedly lead astray with bad advise. I should not have been so dismissive of leading a criminally inspired life. What a tragic waste!

This is merely a suggestion…perhaps in future judges should declare their allegiance to their respective faiths before presiding over cases involving religion and money….ordinarily…professionally and even anecdotally that should not be necessary at all….but given the unusual outcome along with countless twist and turns that no one seems to be able to understand… I think it’s fair to say consistency and most importantly consensus seems to be lacking to such a grevious extent where many feel that justice has not been done in the Kong Hee and gang trial and that should certainly be a source of concern to the judiciary.

*If for any reason you want to sue me please just drop me a comment. I assure you it will not be published and I will happiest to follow up with my lawyers to see you in court. I am a farmer and I will stand by what I say to be my best understanding of the truth along with always telling it as I see it without fear or favor. Please understand it’s not personal. I just can’t write with a policeman running around my head.

While in the city. I was invited by an erudite group of antrophologist to give my studied opinion of what appears to be a wooden depiction of a scadey cat monkey. It seems no one can agree on what this monkey is supposed to symbolise.

I told them all it’s a toothache monkey – this chap is usually placed next to a person suffering from an excrutiating toothache to spiritually cut the pain. The droppy chest is supposed to represented loss of power.

Same goes for this exceptional charming lady I am standing next too (check out the well plucked eyebrows) – she’s supposed to be a love goddess who has supernatural powers to render the dearly unfortunate wifey more beautiful and even has rare powers to improve a man’s libido…..don’t even need to be a Mensa member to figure out how it works. All one needs to do is stand next to this beauty for a couple of minutes every day and in no time even your hunchback and two metric ton internal beauty other half would look like a hot Sasha Grey.

Tribal symbolism is very easy to understand actually, often it’s incredibly straightforward and bullshit free….very easy to connect the dots…there was one time when I was treated for chronic migraine deep in the jungle….all the witch doctor did mumble something like yabadabado. There after he whipped out a big dino bone club and proceeded to give me two quick whacks on my perfectly healthy big toe …..after that the pain in my head disappeared completely. Instanteous cure…faster than even extra strong soluble Panadol…as thereafter all I could do was hop around feeling the pain on my swollen toe…the pain in my head poof! It is was gone…very simple…no mystery there….no Da Vinci code there.

As for this grumpy chap. He’s called the dream merchant…well to cut to the chase he’s like the United Airlines of the tribal world. If let’s say you’re feeling stressed and need a holiday from presumably yourself – the quack will be summoned. He will whip up a beverage of Ganja leafs along with other unmentionable stuff and put this wooden figurine with wings next to your teddy bear and soon you will soaring to your dream destination with probably no teeth…but never mind there is always a lot of room for accommodation along with improvisation in all tribal Airways….the bottom line is you will get a seat!

If only all things in life can be like the tribal way. All our problems will disappear very quickly….only judging by the number of shocked expressions in the crowd. I have a feeling I would not be invited for any talks in future…maybe they should fashion an effigy of me….to cure what I wonder.

Hate from the tap

April 16, 2017

The worst type of hatred is the variety that is inspired by governments against those who they don’t agree with it or threaten their legitimacy…..that is because usually the hater regards that sort of sentiment as acceptable, safe and even normal….but the only reason why they choose to hate along these lines is because firstly, they don’t have the balls to hate for all the right reasons…secondly they only choose to hate when others higher up gives them the permission to hate.

These haters are cowards…

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‘Many people remain quite curious why I don’t seem inclined to say anything harsh against Amos Yee….some have even seen fit to regard this as a form of tacit support for Amos.

But I think these people who form such opinions are very presumptuous….as WHY should I hate? Fact of the matter is…I don’t hate just because everyone seems to think it’s normal or even acceptable to hate…..I don’t ever do that….I have my own mind and beliefs to go the other way.

But I suspect one reason why I don’t wish to hate Amos Yee and instead wish him and his family well is simply because he’s a child…he may be potty mouth…but nonetheless he is a child and should be accorded all the rights benefiting a minor.

If other people want to hate him…go ahead…that is your life….do what makes you happy….only these haters would do well to ask from time to time whether the strong sentiments they choose to display were truly theirs and not someone else’s belief.

The problem as I see it, is too many people seem to be so busy jumping on bandwagons these days…no one seems inclined to ask, why am I doing and saying the things I do…..if they did just that. And only that. Maybe they would discover the real puppet masters who are responsible for their hatred and anger.

This is life….stupid people will always be easily manipulated like remote control toys…that is why they will always be very dangerous to themselves and others…as they are too lazy to think for themselves.’

When I first started to turn the wheel of life as a farmer. I was just a simpleton who was happiest minding my own business – planting row after row of palms – one day I saw an immaculately dressed rich landowner in a creme bush jacket standing beside a shiny black Mercedes looking down at me from high above. He was on a hill – I took off my baseball cap and waved at him – he merely looked on impassively. I remembered his features, they were granite hard and he had an aloofness about him that was characteristic of all landowners – as if he was fashioned from stone – that very night, gangsters knocked on my small little hut. I was told, if I wanted to live, I should consider selling my tiny veggie patch to him and return back to Singapore. So I fought them all and eventually his lands became mine.

After that, that motherfucker cobbled together a motley crew of landowners to fight me. And I fought them all tooth and nail. I gave back as good as I sucked it all up.

Eventually all their lands became mine. And another came. I fought them as well. I have been fighting so long that I cannot even remember not fighting.

One day when I was sitting down in kopitiam minding my own business munching on kaya bread and kopi O kauh – a group of businessmen sat down on my table. They poured me tea and called me taipan – that was when I realize there was no one else to fight in this valley.

Recently, I cast my eyes across another valley – as I need more land. That was when I saw him from a promontory – he looked like just a simpleton who was happiest minding his own business – planting row after row of palms in his veggie patch. When he saw me, he took off his baseball cap and smiled innocently. The man had just finished wiring his chicken coop. It was a beautiful smile and if I had to hazard a guess, this must be his first run at a season. They all have that wide eyed look of optimism when they’re new. I remembered muttering to myself – As I looked down from high above. I could tell this man had absolutely no idea that an invader was standing right before him or even the slightest inkling why I had come all the way here.

At that very moment, a storm of memories swept across the desolate plains of my consciousness…and I remembered who I am and whence I came from …that was when I looked down and said to myself, “Yes….I understand now….I understand completely”….the circle is now complete…I have come full circle.

I finally understand…I understand completely..the horror…the horror.

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City

April 15, 2017

I am always very proud of myself whenever I walk around in crowded places without getting anxious…..

A while back ago I told a sad couple who has an autistic child….never be ashame of your child…..not even if all others seem to ever do is to give you looks of disapproval. Because should you be so weak minded as to succumb to that sort peer pressure then all you would end up doing is to spend all your waking moments trying to pound a square peg into a round hole…it is not that the hammering is exhausting work. Or that it’s frustration.

The problem is that you will end up destroying the peg.

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‘I am autistic. I may not come across as noticeably autistic…..but that’s only because at some point in my life I experienced a moment of epiphany where it could be said I realised I was different from all other boys.

The first lesson every autistic person who comes to consciousness learns is the world can be a very cruel place….it is always trying to make everyone dress, think and behave the same. So I spent a lot of life pretending to be someone who I am not…..I do it so well that unless you’re incredibly perceptive you would probably not realise that I am autistic.

But I am autistic. And to be autistic simply means one has to learn to live as best one can in a world where everyone is trying to hammer a square peg into a round hole.

I gathered very early on in life that for me to gainfully live a purpose driven life I needed to dedicate myself to financial liberty to create a world within a world to protect me from the ravages of the world.

As a consequence I started working very early in life. My first job saw me working as a dog handler – since I can walk into the heart of animals. They trust me completely. Even at a very young age I could get animals to do virtually anything from jumping thru hoops to putting kids who bullied me in hospital for a very long stay.

Even today I trust animals more than humans.

When I reached adulthood. My Father experienced a catastrophic financial set back and when it seemed as if I had to put my studies on hold – I told myself just like Forest Gump – I will tranverse the great ocean and make my way to the UK, where I would work and get myself an education. I worked many jobs to put myself thru University – it was an epic perpetual grind. But I always took exceptional pride in my labor….I saw work not only in terms of salvation….but as a sort of discipline approaching religion….as a means of rendering me equal in a bent world. And that attitude would see well thru the most of life.

I guess what I am trying to say in a round about way is I have always had an expcetional level of faith in nature – that’s to say I believe wholeheartedly – what nature takes cruelly with one hand she will give back in equal measure in another way….and that single minded belief was really why I never saw my autistic nature as a deficit. Or anything resembling a character flaw. Rather I could always take solace in the calm belief – despite my many flaws that may have rendered me fragile in so many worldly domains….I was overtly conscious …I can do many things that other people can never ever do….not even if they have ten life times.

I can for example crunch numbers with remarkable ease in my head and reduce lecturers who singled me out for villification into shambolic grovelling children. Squeeze in whole tomes and maps along with tabula data in a single sitting only to spit it all out without even a single error in punctuation mark or a full stop. If I am really bored. I can even peruse thru a telephone book with an air of mischief and in a matter of a few minutes draw correlations as to why people with the name Smith would likely die younger than let’s say someone who goes by the name of Harris. I can even tell you what’s the probability of North Korea firing an ICBM under a given set of conditions and it would be mathematically spot on with zero margin for error!

I can do all these things and much more…..

But I think what’s important is for one to strive daily to hold on jealously to that belief even if the world makes it awfully hard to do so – nature is incredibly fair…she is….and if you care to still yourself and look at nature…that is how it actually is….what she takes with one hand…she will give back the same in kind secretly with another…..you have not been shortchanged in life!…if you’re autistic or have to raise an autistic child.

You would do well to always remember this…as to forget it is to be opposite of hopeful and without that there can never be a break out!

All it takes is for someone to discover your gifts and to love and accept you for who you really are instead of trying to make you someone who you were not meant to be….I am a farmer. Not any farmer. But if there exist an Olympics for farming. I would most certainly be up there amongst the highest yielders based on efficiency of hectarage….these days, ironically I no longer need to pretend so hard to be someone else any longer.

These days other people who need my business are more than willing to do that and much more…..but what did you really expect….like I said, I have incredible faith in nature….what she takes with one hand she gives an equal measure with another….you just need to learn to discover and appreciate what she’s provisioned…it’s all given….it’s all there….the accounts are all squared.

So give up the idea of trying to be someone else or the guy next door…besides that idea is overrated…if other people don’t have the intelligence or imagination to appreciate you for who you are….just tell them to go and fuck right off – trust me the funny thing with money….is they will even ask how do you like me to fuck myself?

Just be incredibly proud of who you are and have faith the cards you have been dealt in life have been is very good to go!

One day I will walk into a show room in America and buy a brand new yellow Honda jet and fly it around the world.’

Want to sue me?

April 13, 2017

Want to sue me? Please go ahead….as my daily expense is USD$1, that’s it – that’s exactly how much I spend every single day…as I don’t pay for parking or for that very much else. Coming to think of it….I don’t even know what the fuck to do with all my $. So please come and sue me….but I will call it the way I see it pariah airlines…yes pariah United airlines…pariah…pariah…pariah…pariah and I will continue to sell down that stock and encourage everyone who cares about human and animal rights to do the same….pariah…pariah…pariah…pariah airlines.

Please come and sue me as I really don’t even know what to do with all my $! Furthermore since I am a farmer and 9 out of 10 people can’t help but be fond of Farmers…please sue me.

Fight you any day in court!

I knew I would eventually find him….after all. There are only a few places that he’s likely to end up in. That was at least what I told the tribal elders a few weeks back ago…..deep in the jungle, when they told me he had scooted off to the land of the undead.

Omo is just a teen. A month back ago he got into a fight with some of the boys in his tribe. Some of them called him a hopeless hunter (a great insult in tribal culture…the greatest slight to befall a man)….Omo must have been terribly hurt and in a fit of anger he had told them all – I will show you all….one day, I will go beyond our emerald green universe into that other unmentionable world and you will all see for yourself how I will ride the steel elephant…..the following day Omo disappeared.

No one knows where he went……some held to the belief Omo may have after all made good on his promise and ventured into our unmentionable world.

It took me a while to find Omo. But I knew on the wane of the second full moon….when the moon hugs the horizon lower than usual casting long shadows in the night – Omo would not be able to resist his tribal instincts to hunt for fresh meat….that is a primal program of all tribesmen.

That very night I ventured into a nearby banana field that’s favoured by hogs….I heard from the villagers the week before a tribesman had been spotted there wandering all by himself.

I could tell by just surveying around the banana field. Omo had survived on only a basic diet of tapioca and wild fruit…he would require meat I had said to myself….it’s probably the only thing he dreams about since he set foot into the pheriphery of the world of the undead.

That night I set up camp nearby a stream just a stone’s throw from the banana field – I had hunted a hog earlier in the day and it was turning around a large skilletted fire lashed with fresh turmeric root to flavour the night air.

Some time after midnight Omo emerged gingerly from the thicket…..he asked furtively, is that you Ah-Mak….before I could reply. Omo exclaimed, ‘I will not go back great albino monitor lizard…I know the tribal elders have sent you to bring me back,..but they’ve insulted me.’ I told Omo, Ah-Mak wants you to sit down beside him by the fire and just eat. Again Omo said, ‘I will not go back…I will stay here and I will show them all.’

That was when I lost my patience with Omo and turned to darkened bush and shouted out…Eat! Obey me!

Soon Omo was sinking his teeth frantically into the succulent meat…he wolf it all down. After the hearty meal I told Omo under the wan of the crackling fire that Ah-Mak the great albino monitor lizard had grown weary of living amongst the undead in the dream world. I went on to share with Omo I would be more than willing to trade places with him and while he stayed here to take my place amongst the undead. I would much rather make my journey back into the depths of the jungle….back to the real world and return back to my quiet life as a monitor lizard deep in the jungle.

When Omo asked why, I told him that living amongst the undead has been an unimaginable hell and for so many years all I can do is dream of returning back to my life as a quiet monitor lizard deep in the jungle.

I ended my recount with the promise of redemption….finally there is actually someone who is willing to trade places with me!

That was when a shudder of terror rippled thru Omo. Shortly thereafter Omo asked, Ah-Mak wants to go back home? Yes I replied…Ah-Mak is tired of living in the world of the undead….he longs for a simple care free life deep in the jungle untouched by the grubby hands of the undead.

The following day. I woke Omo up and told him. Now that you have volunteered to take my place in the world of the undead….I must teach you how to make use of the steel elephant. I dragged Omo to my car…all the while recounting to him the virtues of how this meachanical beast would be able to deliver him to the heart of the undead….as he can use it to travel to the flaming forest…the city.

Omo began to tremble…he pleaded with me…I did not volunteer to take your place. I growled at him and asked in a stern voice, ‘why are you changing your mind?’

He began to cry like a fearful child while I began to recount how those in the land of the undead spent all their waking hours working non stop just for the right to earn the right to a miserable pigeon hole…and since there was no game in the flaming forest (city)…the undead were forced to labor for miserable tokens called money just to fill their stomachs….I even told Omo, how the undead spent all time competing and killing each other just to live a better life and to cap it off I cried out – look how old and ravaged Ah-Mak has become just living amongst the tribe of the undead….can you not see it is a poisonous hell?

Omo began to hit himself over and over again on his chest (this is where the tribesmen believe their brain resides) as he shouted out, ‘what kind of God forsaken hellish place is this? It’s completely fucked up beyond all recognition….even animals don’t live like this!’ Soon he began to plead with me, ‘Ah- Mak we must go now. Now! It is not to late….we can still return back home!…deep into the jungle faraway from the evil grasp of the undead! Let us go now! Omo will lead the way….back home…where we belong.’

That was when I turned to Omo and looked at him only to ask….is that possible? Is that really possible?