I have just returned from the troubled lands across the sea to the East. I am spent. I just want to lie down on my military camp bed and sleep. But Lily has thrown it out – it seems she has renovated my house during my brief absence.

Instead there is now a super duper expensive water bed in my room – it even comes with computerized temperature control. I reckon its impossible for me to sleep on this strange surface. As it feels as if I am lying down on jelly – I miss the stiff hardness of stretched canvas – it’s unrelenting tight as a drum stretched out pelt rack feel.

Lily has also brought in a giant sized flat screen TV into my room. She refers to it as a window to the world. More like an intrusion. It comes with limitless channels. The colors are vivid. The whole experience surreal. Images seem to almost jump out giving one impression that New York, Tokyo or Paris is just a window away. There is only one problem. I don’t watch TV. I only listen to the BBC world service. That it seems has also been thrown out. The instruction manual informs me, the new TV comes with a radio and it’s even considerate enough to display colorful fishes whenever I set it to radio mode. I have three modes: reef coral paradise, gelatin jelly dreams and aquamarine bohemian rapture. Sounds like exotic sex in a high class bordello – whatever that might be? I can’t help wondering why would I ever want to watch fish swimming while listening to the radio? Ridiculous!

Even my simple rattan smoking chair that doubles as my night side table has been thrown out – there is now a high tech massage chair in it’s place. It looks more like something out of a sic-fi movie and from time to time, it even reminds whoever is in the room that it can offer Shiatsu to Thai massages – I wonder can it still double as my trusted night table for me to put a my watch, glasses and book on? I guess it could, if I can ever find three strapping lads to shift it closer.

As for my trusted mechanical horse – my Toyota four by four has now been driven out of the garage. Instead there is now a spanking new top of the range cherry red Range Rover sitting there imperially – I peer through the smoked glass and can just about make out the hand stitched connoly leather upshostery – kitsch mahogany paneling and tell myself, it’s no bloody good. I know it wouldn’t even last one expedition in the field.

I know my reaction to all these changes may come across as ungrateful to many. But I much prefer my simple way of life – in truth, I am fond of my Spartan threadbare way if life – where from time to time it’s even necessary to get by with the help of superglue, duct tape and rubber bands – it may not be aesthetic pleasing to the eye or even come with limitless choices like the new TV, but there is a manly charm to this life that I find almost edifying – Lily doesn’t realize all those things she sees fit to consign to the rubbish heap all have a soul about them in the way they fit into my life as a planter.

Rough wearing cotton that only seems to be manufactured in Khaki. The variety that needs to be broken in before it even feels comfortable. Things that are all grist in one form or another to most people that only the hardship of field life can render important and valuable to those who are accustomed to hardship – things that are all infused with the faint smell of ancient wood mixed with gun oil. All these things are me – it seems as through the years, my spirit, essence and manliness has some how managed to permeate these dead objects to transform the ordinary into the miraculous. They all have soul. They all can tell stories. They all have certain wabi-sabi charm about them that only I can appreciate.

I want to tell Lily these things. That was why I was angry with her.

My life in the plantation is a Templar knight’s existence. Monastic. Military. Ascetic. Functional. Bullshit free. A sort of existence where only things that have the requisite resilience and purposefulness endures and the vapid, pretentious and frivolous is always chased out – as when my farm hands come into my world – they instinctively know my life isn’t so different from theirs – and this simple life validates their claim that those who lead are never ever so different from them after all. A life style that palliates their fears that the rich may not after all be cigar chomping monsters after all. A life that soothes their anxieties and nourishes the idea of that the man who lives on the hill is truly one with the community – it makes them feel comfortable, at ease and even secure in the belief that all is well with the world after all – that this is what the purpose driven life has always meant to me – the farmer, the benefactor, the custodian of that great wheel of life who constantly works to keep the balance between man, land and the heavens in perfect harmony.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not into self flagellation, hair vest or gruel. Infact, I happen to enjoy the occasional adrenaline rush of splitting a Ferrari in half. I even enjoy the ambrosia of beluga cavair with champagne along with a private box at the Opera from time to time. But these things all have a time and place that must always remain separate from my daily existence as a planter.

As here I need to keep to the rhythm, cadence and tenor of my community – I need to be seen sharing the burden of their trials, fears and anxieties – above all I just want my military camp bed back!

I want to tell Lily all these things. Lily does not know why I was brusque to her just then. She is in my room now crying her eyes out rolling in her water bed with some fat Italian man on TV blaring out Nessun Dorma in full surround sound.

This is not the first time I slapped a woman…I don’t suppose it will be the last either. When I wake up. I will be nice to her. Now I just want to sleep.

Darkness 2013

———————————————————-

“When I was a young boy I had a neighbor who owned a tanned German shepherd. Most boys in my neighborhood were afraid of this dog. They were all petrified of her. Except me.

Even at that tender age. I realized in my bones. I could talk to animals like no other human. It was something that just came very naturally to me.

Everyday after school I would stand outside the gate of this big mansion and play my double happiness made in China violin – thinking back now. I guess it must have been a child’s way of conveying to such a magnificent animal that you are truly beautiful.

One day this dog jumped over the high fence and knelt down before me. Milo, that was the name I gave her. I taught Milo how to roll over and even play dead along with othet tricks. It was one of best friendships in the moment of my youth. As since most parents were already brainwashed by the PE teacher who hated me – most of them told their children not to speak or play with me – people can be cruel – as they all considered me queer. So I spent most of my play time with Milo and my friends the trees.

One day the owner must have found out about my afternoon escapades with Milo. He came to our house in a big Mercedes and told my parents that I should not go near his dog any longer. He went on to tell my parents that it was after all his property and that he had paid a small fortune for it. He even threatened to sue my parents. We were poor so my parents told me never to play with Milo again.

But I was not the sort of boy who listened to adults. Even at that tender age. I was very much my own man. So everyday after school. I would play my violin and Milo would jump over the fence and we would go off for another great adventure again and again.

One day the rich man stood at the balcony and asked his Sikh driver to stop me playing my violin. When I refused. The Sikh grabbed and smashed my violin – I was furious and I told him that he now owed me $15.20 cents. Both the driver and the rich man laughed at me. They even called me names like gila boy and piathiam (psycho boy). So I gave Milo the command to attack. Milo fixed the driver nice and proper. As the rich man watched in horror from the balcony. I didn’t like it when people called me names. I like it even less when they break my things. He was hospitalized with 40 over stitches. After that I looked up at the rich man and told him that he now owed me $50. As my uniform, shoes and school bag was now stained with blood – the rich man told me mockingly he could easily afford another dog and he planned to put Milo down by feeding her poison that evening. I told him that I was not like other boys. He should not make things worse. I told him that if he did that to my Milo. I would play my magic violin to another large dog down the road and he will suffer the same fate as the Sikh driver. To press my point, I commanded Milo to bite the Sikh again till he fainted. The rich man’s face turned white like snow this time. I stared at him with fiery eyes. Even at that young age, I had mastered the art of war: psychological warfare.

After that incident the owner’s wife suggested to my father, maybe it would be better if the dog stayed with us – since the wife was a strict Buddhist, she didn’t feel right to put the dog down – she said it was Karma, fate, destiny or something along those lines. I think that rich man sent her because he was scared of either me, Milo or both of us.

Before this lady left, she took out fifty dollars and gave it to me. She told me to find a place in my heart to forgive her husband. Since I was a boy of my word. I kissed her hand and looked her in the eyes and told her that was not possible – her husband had after all broken my one and only joy – my magic violin – the accounts would have to be squared,

“tell your husband that he can buy things, but men like me will always take it from him.”

I went to tell her that I knew he didn’t treat her well. As I often heard her crying in the evenings. I went on to tell her I could not guarantee the safety of her husband – he had after all broken my magic violin. The accounts had to be squared.

You see when a dog loves you. She is not unlike a woman who is in love. She will do anything to please her master – that is the way I saw it then and even now.

Many years later when I entered secondary school. The rich man was mauled one evening by a pack of pariah dogs. He never recovered from his wounds – and was wheel chair bound thereafter. Shortly, he died. During the funeral the wife of the deceased man told my father it was karma, fate or destiny, something like that – I played a happy tune during his funeral. Everyone scolded me. But no one smashed my new violin this time.

I don’t think that rich man knew the art of truly owning a thing. He may have owned Milo on paper. But Milo loved me. And I loved Milo. And when you think about it – that sort of relationship is indestructible – it wouldn’t be wrong to say that is the only thing that really matters.

The moral of the story is there is much more to just paying for a thing and claimimg you own it. Life isn’t that simple. I don’t care whether that thing happens to be your car, bicycle, wife, mistress, girlfriend. If you don’t know this, then one day someone is just going to come along and say to her “come!” And believe it or not, she will just drop everything and follow that man who bothered himself with the business of understanding this thing called real ownership – I don’t even care if you’re a politician, leader or someone really rich – you will know loss, if you didn’t bother with this chapter of life. I can almost guarantee it 100%.

As to truly own a thing – you must FIRST put ALL of yourself into understanding this thing – only then will it honor you with something very special that goes beyond the dictionary meaning of the word ownership – you know it’s secrets – you have become it and it becomes you. One cannot exist without the other – they have become one of the same reality.

I pity the man or woman who doesn’t know this idea of ownership. As they are likely to lose things, people and opportunities that may come their way in the great journey of life. The idea of understanding why a thing first needs to be understood completely, nourishing it, loving it so completely and perfectly that it can only permeate your soul – that to me is true ownership – when the mundane is transformed into the miraculous.

I don’t think many rich people understand this idea of ownership – that is why they are never really satisfied with what they already have. They are always searching and searching and searching. Always.”

Last night the serious men paid me a visit in the dead of night. They appeared nervous, if not anxious. So I poured them all double shots of brandy to steady their nerves as they recounted their woes to me.

It seems things are spiraling out of control in the distant land across the sea to the East. The oil mills there have all ground to a halt as everyone is afraid that a war may erupt very soon in the acres and acres of oil palm fields. One of the serious men mentioned. If this continues for any longer then it would be impossible for many to turn the wheel of life over there.

I told these nerve wrecked men plainly these were professionals and it would be impossible for even the armed forces to secure a decisive victory – it was after all guerilla warfare and its likely they are fighting a ghost army – I went on to tell these men for them to continue turning the wheel of life under this tiring conditions. They would seriously need the help of a particular creed of men who would be required to run their oil mills, drive their lorries continue harvesting. Men who were accustomed to the art of war. Not just any art of war, but one that was waged in an oil palm plantation.

I went on to tell these men. Such men were not easy to find. They were not cheap either.

I went on to tell them, that if I decide to do this. Then I want a stake in oil milling. They did not refuse. They did not even bargain. They agreed. One of them was even surprised that I asked for so little.

So we shook on the terms. And I told them that I will make a few phone calls. As their helicopter lifted off and pierced the darkness of the oily night till only the desolation of the unfurling night remained. I found myself standing all alone looking up at the crescent moon – I remembered…. Another age. Another time. Another life.

I must have stepped outside my own skin. Soon I found myself standing and looking at the man who remained motionless as he stared at the moon.

I saw a man colored by the troubled and distant past. It must have been a terrible past that he had tried so very hard to forget and now, it had been suddenly unleashed. Yes, the man must have dipped one foot into the river of time taking him back to hell – he remembered the faint smell of cordite. The pillars of black smoke. Gun shots renting in the distance, the chop, chop, chop of gunships and artillery shells screeching – it was all coming back to him slowly….his other lives…the horror…horror…horror.

Somewhere in this churning sea of memories of the lives of desperate men – the man must have wondered to himself why was he so unlucky to have known only one brief moment of respite from the horror of wars – when he had once married a good and decent girl and settled down as a family man in Singapore.

As the man looked on at the godless night sky. He must have wondered to himself, what was it about the enterprise of war that always seemed to search and seek him out no matter where he went to turn the wheel of life – to even single him out in a sea of humanity like some divine finger that marks him out as different from the lives of all other men. Had he perhaps angered the Gods in his last life? Was he maybe cursed like the ancient mariner to repeat the terror again and again till the end of time? Or was it simply that he had stumbled across some invisible line where serendipity and epiphany intersected like a man who suddenly finds himself smack in the middle of a mine field when all he ever wanted to was to plant row after row of trees.

Somewhere in these thoughts. The man who stared out that night at the moon as if lost in his own thoughts shifted nervously as he noticed a well dressed stranger in a dark Italian suit with his hair slicked back emerging from the shadows of a row of palms – it was the gangster who once carried the money for the four houses in London China town.

“Where there is war, there is opportunity.” Soon another man who looked exactly like the first man only slightly older- this other stranger was attired in flared riding breeches, knee high polished boots and sported a shoulder holster revolver who the man recognized as the Chinaman Cocoa farmer of Gabundi Estate in Africa – “Get yourself together you fuck! You know that hoodlum is right. Besides this is what you always wanted….an oil mill….now is the time to milk them dry!”

Yet the man who stared at the moon that night did not acknowledge any of these strangers who had suddenly stepped out from his head. Soon more men came out – the man who once smuggled ivory along the Gambezi, the fresh faced young boy who once fought a war with no name in Cambodia followed by the Panamanian sugarcane farmer who once ran an illegal goldmine in Honduras. They all came right out of the man’s head and hovered around him. But still he ignored them all.

As I looked on at this man who continued to stare steadfastly at the moon – I reckoned, he must have been waiting for one more stranger to emerge from the corridors of his head. Yes…he was waiting. It showed in his demeanor. In the strange way he even looked at the moon. As if he knew instinctively….that all those other men were simply trouble makers….they could never be trusted…..He was waiting for that man who once married a good and decent girl and turned the wheel of life in Singapore. The good man. The family man. The man who would usually appear to him pushing a peculiar three seater pram. The man who once even joined a church and wanted to live a life as straight as an arrow. But no matter how long he waited. How much he willed it. The family man never came out.

Even when the creeping dawn curled over the brow of the hills. The man still waited for the family man to appear. At times he would strain his ears for the creaking sound the three seater baby pram made – but only the sinister howls of distant wolfs could be heard – when the bright disk of the sun finally fingered out and exploded lighting the sky like a violent splash of blood.

The man finally closed his eyes and bowed his head.

RSCN1544

I am currently out in the field now. I just couldn’t help adding my two cents to this crazy proposition by Ng Yew Kwang of trying justify growing the economy by squeezing as many humans as possible into a telephone booth. It didn’t take very long to demolish the nutty prof’s ludicrous suggestion – that’s how it is when a crumbly truth is forward – one kick and it all comes tumbling down like a pack of cards!

If the nutty prof and our beloved daily rag, Pravda is not happy. I just want them to know there is plenty more where that came from. You all have no idea how much I am holding back. Not idea whatsoever.

What I especially find cerebrally insulting about the nutty prof’s suggestion is how it has been highlighted by the ST that seems to treat it as some timeless and universal truth. Its conceivable the mind bending press believes that none of us read broadly, travel widely or even have the rudimentary capacity to compare, contrast and reason to derive at an informed decision.

In reality, there are plenty of ways to grow the wealth of a nation besides putting the population on round after round of steroids. To be frank with all of you. I cannot envision a more destructive, bovine and callous way to grow the economy.

Below is a comment post that I added in Chin Leng’s post. Do check it out, Chin Leng runs an excellent site that I regularly read:

http://mysingaporenews.blogspot.com/2013/03/contorted-justifications-for-bigger.html

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Chin Leng & Gentlemen,

A very good morning to you all. I am writing from the field. So I will be brief, concise and deadly.

Last night attended a Chamber of Commerce dinner with Lily. I was asked by a group of Singaporeans whether there is any truth to what the good Prof shared.

I told them all what the Buddha once shared to his disciples:

“Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.”

I went on to explain WHY the propagandist ST has no other choice but to make a mountain out of a molehill from this Prof.

Gentlemen let us call a spade a spade. To me this is just another attempt to engineer consent by tagging on the moniker of a man who is supposed to be a subject matter expert.

I must however emphasize the good Prof’s logic is a travesty of reason and flies in the face of anecdotal evidence.

Now let us proceed to the unpleasant business of the coup de grace.

How true is it Gentlemen that a bigger population is the ONLY way for a nation to succeed?

Not true at all! Consider this. Many cities which are blessed with real and not fake elite planners have succeeded without having to put their population on steroids to grow the economy.

Stuttgart has only 0.6 million and they seem to be doing a good job churning out Mercedes, Munich with a population of about 1.2 million is home to BMW, Sweden with a population of about 0.7 million is home to Ikea, Stromberg, Saab. And incidentally has the highest patent per capita. Zurich with a population of about 0.4 million is the financial capital of the EU. They also do brisk business selling boutique chocolates and quaint cuckoo clocks.

Now Gentlemen, what is the good Prof talking about? now I want you all to consider, why does the ST even feel the need to publicize the views of someone who obvious didn’t even do his research before opening his mouth.

Now you all know the truth.

A very good morning to all of you.

Darkness 2013

————————————————————————————————

“If you sell yourself as the best outfit in the world. And all you can really come up with is run of the mill solutions. Then I say you’re short changing tax payers. If those legends in their own mind can’t find the requisite elan, panache and brain juice to grow the economy creatively with what’s avaliable, then perhaps they should get foreign talents to run their ministries. To me it is really as simple as that. I really don’t have any hang up’s about getting for example the New York mayor to run a town council or for that matter a really creative bureaucrat that has a stellar turn around record to run a dead beat ministry – after all what does it matter whether it is a black or white cat providing it catches mice?

The ST can lie to everyone, but they can’t lie to me. You see I’ve seen the otherside of the coin – lived it even and I can tell you once your eyes are open – its pretty hard to buy into the some of clap trap that I regularly come across in TV and the daily rag.

So if you’re young, take my advice – try to get a study stint abroad. Go out there and see the world. The same applies if you happen to be a middle manager. Try to work in the EU or the US. Broaden your range of experiencial knowledge along with your world view. Speak to your reporting line manager and try to get a transfer for two or three years.

I think everyone owes it to themselves to be cultivate a world view where they can see the world as it is and not what others say it is

If you don’t take take this attitude seriously and just leave it all to someone in TV to tell you how to live your life. And one day you end up bald, fat, poor and no one wants to fuck you – then I say, you have no one to blame but yourself.

Look when I was in Singapore and someone asked me what I wanted to really do with my life. I would tell them that I wanted to be a farmer. And most of them laughed at me. And those were the polite guys. The nasty ones just said, this chap is off his rockers…just ignore him and keep him in one corner. He ain’t going to go anywhere in life.

You know people can be cruel when you see the world differently from them – they can stick all sorts of label on you….misfit…anti-social…troublemaker etc. And that was what most people did to me. And I don’t blame them. I don’t. As there is no land in Singapore. So that proposition must sound crazy I guess.

But you know what, when everyone is just going one direction and you’re going the opposite – then I think somewhere in that desolation, loneliness and pathos – you will find something really hard and resilient deep down inside you. And once you find that hardness, stubborness or just plain dog headedness. You’ve crossed a line somewhere in your head. When that happens nothing is impossible any longer.

I didn’t realize it then at that time – but now when I stand on a hill and look at my plantation. I realized all I was really doing all that time when I went against the grain was to train my mind to be perfectly comfortable with the idea of being different.

I think at times, we may all try too darn hard to fit in, say the right thing or come across as the model team player. And in doing so we all try to be so polite, accomodative along with trying our best to please everyone – not realizing that when we do all these things to gain the approval of others – all we are really doing is mortgaging our dreams away. Today when I dress up in my bushjacket and I go up to these same people who once laughed at me…no one is laughing anymore. I mean no one.

The illusion has become reality. So please don’t hold it against me if I come across as confrontational or if I rub you the wrong way – as that’s just the way it is when you see the world differently. “

Supply an answer to this question. I received this in my e-mail today. I believe it is a question that so many wish to seek further clarification on. Given that we have a propagandist press that only seems to be interested in forwarding lies, disinformation and mind bending accounts of reality – could you please do us all a favor and just answer the question.

You don’t have to reply to personally to me. But maybe you can clarify the matter as you did for Anak Abu through a channel that you are most comfortable with. I just thought you should know about this. As personally, I get this question thrown to me almost every single day. And to be perfectly honest with you.

I don’t have the slightest idea what is happening – as there seems to be an information black out on this ONE question. Everyone seems to want to talk over crowding or whether we can build enough roads, houses and public toilets to prepare for the ramp up in population. But no one seems (including your boss) very interested to discuss why although blue collar migrant workers have been controlled – there doesn’t seem to be the same committement to regulate the influx of foreign professional and PMET’s from further hollowing out the middle class.

You know Chuan Jin. I want to share something to you. One real man to another real man. I want to believe….you have no idea how much I want to believe.

Darkness 2013

————————————————————

To: Mr Tan Chuan-Jin, Acting Minister of Manpower.

Mr Tan, you still unable to come down to ground zero & understand the local casualties among Singaporeans, caused by your PAP Government pro-foreigner policies. The consequences of these policies have led many local PMETs to premature unemployment & forcefully early retirement.

As explained during countless number of meetings held between your PAP Government, PAP-linked local unions & of course, not forgetting the Singapore National Employers Federation (SNEF), local Singaporean workers have no issue with those foreign workers (FW), holding work permits. These workers are indispensable & basically, they hold down to jobs that most Singaporeans not keen to take up. These sectors are mainly in construction, manufacturing, shipyard engineering, F&B customer service & domestic help.

In the mentioned sectors, as Minister in charge of Ministry of Manpower (MOM), you should try not impose unnecessary policies & restrictions, whereby intake quotas for such workers need to be sustained on longer period of time, especially in the booming sector of construction.

Singaporeans’ main bone of contention lies mainly in the unrestraint issuance of S-Pass during the last 10 years or so. The continuance of employing these foreigners under S-Pass is the main sole reason why there is a prevailing wage suppression among local junior or middle-level PMETs. These foreigners are employed on a lower renumeration, as compared to local Singaporeans with similar qualifications. Employers are always eager to hire them as staff expenses on these S-pass foreigners are much lower, in terms of salary & non-existent employer’s CPF contribution. Simply said, these so-called ‘foreign talents’ are simply ’stealing’ jobs from ITE / Poly / recent Uni graduates.

In response to the reality of situation at ground zero, this is the category where the maximum quota cut should be imposed immediately.

But unfortunately until now, Mr Tan, you still don’t get the big picture where the grievances among local Singaporeans are coming from! Times & again, this predicament has been made crystal clear by all Singaporeans to your PAP Government that FOREIGN TALENTS (and not foreign workers) are the main culprit in suppressing local employment & a fairly-compensated salary. Many of these ‘foreign talents’, who are employed under S-Pass, come into Singapore’s employment market with dubious or fake qualifications as proven with many court cases.

Let me refresh your memory. Last week, an assistant manager from Haryana for persecuted for submitting a fake degree from Punjab University during his S-Pass application. Because of your MOM’s casual & lax attitude in checking these credentials, this Indian National was able to be on a payroll for 6 months. So, what do you have to say on this? 

If your PAP Government is dead serious on cutting foreign intake for local employment, then the quota reduced should be more specific & targeted. This is especially so in those categories that hurt local Singaporeans’ chance of employment. Well, I do not have to elaborate further as I believe you have all the experts working for & under you!

Besides employing these ‘foreign talents’ at a lower cost, please don’t tell Singaporeans the same old story that these foreigners with S Pass are more talented, more qualified & more skilled in doing a job as compared to a Singaporean. And, worst of all, these foreigners bring in their family members into Singapore during their employment here. With their long-term presence in Singapore, I’m not surprised many social & civil issues are happening & slowly affecting Singaporean’s national identity in the long-term.

Mr Tan Chuan-Jin, my last piece of advice to you as a locally-born true Singaporean. If you want to maintain your status quo as a Minister to what you are now and beyond 2016, I suggest strongly that you heed steadfast to whatever feedback & aggrievances which have been verbally expressed by frustrated local Singaporeans!

I believe you are still in cloud nine!

By Fair Comments

 

Supply an answer to this question. I received this in my e-mail today. I believe it is a question that many also wish to know. Given that we have a propagandist press that only seems to be interested in forwarding lies, disinformation and mind bending accounts of reality – could you please do us all a favor and just answer the question.

You don’t have to reply to me. But maybe you can clarify the matter as you did for Anak Abu. I just thought you should know about this. As personally, I get this question thrown to me almost every single day.

You know Chuan Jin. I want to believe….you have no idea how much I want to believe.

Darkness 2013

————————————————————

To: Mr Tan Chuan-Jin, Acting Minister of Manpower.

Mr Tan, you still unable to come down to ground zero & understand the local casualties among Singaporeans, caused by your PAP Government pro-foreigner policies. The consequences of these policies have led many local PMETs to premature unemployment & forcefully early retirement.

As explained during countless number of meetings held between your PAP Government, PAP-linked local unions & of course, not forgetting the Singapore National Employers Federation (SNEF), local Singaporean workers have no issue with those foreign workers (FW), holding work permits. These workers are indispensable & basically, they hold down to jobs that most Singaporeans not keen to take up. These sectors are mainly in construction, manufacturing, shipyard engineering, F&B customer service & domestic help.

In the mentioned sectors, as Minister in charge of Ministry of Manpower (MOM), you should try not impose unnecessary policies & restrictions, whereby intake quotas for such workers need to be sustained on longer period of time, especially in the booming sector of construction.

Singaporeans’ main bone of contention lies mainly in the unrestraint issuance of S-Pass during the last 10 years or so. The continuance of employing these foreigners under S-Pass is the main sole reason why there is a prevailing wage suppression among local junior or middle-level PMETs. These foreigners are employed on a lower renumeration, as compared to local Singaporeans with similar qualifications. Employers are always eager to hire them as staff expenses on these S-pass foreigners are much lower, in terms of salary & non-existent employer’s CPF contribution. Simply said, these so-called ‘foreign talents’ are simply ’stealing’ jobs from ITE / Poly / recent Uni graduates.

In response to the reality of situation at ground zero, this is the category where the maximum quota cut should be imposed immediately.

But unfortunately until now, Mr Tan, you still don’t get the big picture where the grievances among local Singaporeans are coming from! Times & again, this predicament has been made crystal clear by all Singaporeans to your PAP Government that FOREIGN TALENTS (and not foreign workers) are the main culprit in suppressing local employment & a fairly-compensated salary. Many of these ‘foreign talents’, who are employed under S-Pass, come into Singapore’s employment market with dubious or fake qualifications as proven with many court cases.

Let me refresh your memory. Last week, an assistant manager from Haryana for persecuted for submitting a fake degree from Punjab University during his S-Pass application. Because of your MOM’s casual & lax attitude in checking these credentials, this Indian National was able to be on a payroll for 6 months. So, what do you have to say on this? 

If your PAP Government is dead serious on cutting foreign intake for local employment, then the quota reduced should be more specific & targeted. This is especially so in those categories that hurt local Singaporeans’ chance of employment. Well, I do not have to elaborate further as I believe you have all the experts working for & under you!

Besides employing these ‘foreign talents’ at a lower cost, please don’t tell Singaporeans the same old story that these foreigners with S Pass are more talented, more qualified & more skilled in doing a job as compared to a Singaporean. And, worst of all, these foreigners bring in their family members into Singapore during their employment here. With their long-term presence in Singapore, I’m not surprised many social & civil issues are happening & slowly affecting Singaporean’s national identity in the long-term.

Mr Tan Chuan-Jin, my last piece of advice to you as a locally-born true Singaporean. If you want to maintain your status quo as a Minister to what you are now and beyond 2016, I suggest strongly that you heed steadfast to whatever feedback & aggrievances which have been verbally expressed by frustrated local Singaporeans!

I believe you are still in cloud nine!

By Fair Comments

 

RSCN1544“We live today in an exceeding confusing age. Wonder no more why men don’t behave like men any longer. Instead they’re always searching for who they should be. They watch a movie and they say, I want to be like him! They walk around and see a bill board and they say, I want to be like that guy – if I buy that, maybe I can be ike him. They want to be  everyone else except who they are really supposed to be.

And after going everywhere for inspiration and spending so much time, money and energy for years and getting no closer to their goal – they all come to me defeated, tired and sad,

“Darkness can you please teach me how to pick up girls. Because I am already thirty and I am still a virgin. And my mom and pop are freaking nagging me to death! I don’t know who to turn too!”

Gentlemen, I did not really appreciate the magnitude of this problem at first, so I treated it as just a parvale frivole – till one day when I audited all my e-mails and noticed this was a reoccuring theme that seems to getting from bad to worse.

Some men tell me, they should change their wardrobe, get a better car, go for plastic surgery, sign up for a gym membership or strive harder to make more money to improve their prospects of marriage. One guy even told me he joined a church just to look for the woman of his dreams – what a dumb move. All he is going t get is cancer of the wallet from the likes of Kong Hee and Prince.  Waste of time!

I tell them all this is unnecessary and a giant waste of money. if you want a sure fire pick up line then I am not your man – you need to go to either Youtube or a cult church to look for a confidence trickster.

I guess these brothers all come to me as this is a very private thing that one man can only really share with another man – I say let’s not be coy about it. If this is a problem to you. Then it’s important to me as well. So let us try to work it out.

I will usually start by asking only one question – who are you? Guess what? None of them can even answer that simple question  – nine of out ten, when they try to answer that question. They realize almost immediately, they’re making it all up as they go along – words suddenly cease to have meaning – the world suddenly shifts a bit – everything seems to be labored. They are marooned in their own skull.

That’s really the cue for me to nod my head like an older brother and say to them – you don’t really know who you are, do you?

I go on to tell these brothers, that is a perfectly normal. As these days even seemingly successful men and women do not really know who they really are – as when you look closely at how they process information and make sense of the world. They seem to be everyone else except who they are really should be.

Gentlemen what I think is never really discussed openly –  is how is it possible for a man or for that matter a woman to be himself or herself these days?  That has to be mission impossible in this age of information overload. This age where everyone out there from marketers to politicians and crack pot cultist are trying their best to plant a flag somewhere in our heads!

Switch on the TV and what do you see? A man in white trying to tell you how you should live your life along with how you should define personal and organizational success. log on line and Bertha Henson is begging you to buy another mind numbing read of the propagandist ST.

Walk along the streets and what do you see? Tons of images ranging from metrosexuals sporting underwear to plastic men trying to sell you eu de cologne. They are all screaming out – you want to be cool. Buy! Buy! Buy!

Even when you all alone in your room. You’re not really your true self – you’re somewhere else living in either the distant past or some fantasy land in the future.

Even if you blast yourself to the surface of the moon – you’re still not yourself – as throughout your whole life, someone has scripted your beliefs – all you are really doing is regurgitating the life of someone else who once lived before you.

And like I mentioned earlier. That is perfectly normal. As we live in an exceedingly confusing age where even abnormality is normal. But what you need to understand is simply this – it’s an acquired taste – it’s not really you! Don’t believe me…take some time to connect the dots…but go easy…this is cheem and the last thing you want to do is trigger your mind to explode like a hand grenade.

When these men suddenly reach this realization – you should really see the expression on their faces. You all should. Oh my God! – it’s like they’re suddenly struck by some divine realization – a diamond tipped bullet square in between the eyes. Bang! Then it suddenly becomes so clear to them. A truism that has always been there all along that they did n’t even notice and it was right before them all this time.

As what they realize then is, they have searched everywhere except the one place that they should have searched all along – deep inside themselves for the answers. And that to me makes perfect sense. As no man or woman just walked over the hill and appeared from nowhere – we have all cone from eons of humanity – there are so many things we are yet to discover about ourselves. We spend billions going to the stars to search for the origins of life. But no one even says, I am going to explore my being. We are willing to talk and fellowship with everyone. But you never hear anyone saying, I am having a conversation with myself.

Let me share this secret with all of you Gentlemen – when you really know who you are and why you were put on this planet in this timeline and you see this grand design so clearly. And let’s not even bring God into this picture. He’s always been optional to me. That narrative is really for seriously confused men. So I am not even going to even go down that road. I am talking about the real McCoy. The original idea that came deep down from you.

Now if you can draw out that original man and just look at any woman with those eyes – she can only love you to bits. I am not kidding, it’s as simple as that. You don’t even have to take her out to Zouk and try to impress her with the plastic idea of how successful you are et al. No need. That is unnecessary. You could even be sitting with her on a park bench watching grass grow, she will still love you. As that is the only place she wants to be. Next to the person who understands her better than anyone in the world.

No woman can ever forget the man who understands her better than herself. It’s impossible. She can even get married to another man. But she will always return back to that man who knows himself and sees the world so clearly. She may even will herself to forget him. But it will take so much effort that she will probably die doing so. And if anyone touches one hair on your head. She will just murder that person. You don’t need to lift a finger. You don’t need to reassure her of your love – as she can feel your love in every cell in her body – as you made her the woman she is. Before she met you, she was exactly like you. A confused person who searched everywhere except where she should have looked- herself. You opened that door for her.

You drew out that original woman from a confused girl. You the original man. The man who you were always meant to be. The man who knows himself and probably every aspect of her like the lines in the palm of your hands. Tell me how can any woman not love such a man? Look! I’ve be honest with you – most things you read in a blog just ends up like urine – it goes right through you. But if you can hold on to this idea and just work it through like a man whose trying to make sense out of a foreign map – then you would realize at the end of the journey – this isn’t just an ordinary sharing – it’s just an incredibly life changing event! As when you think long and hard about it. No one has ever told you all this before – how do I know? Because it came right out from deep inside me. That is the truth and nothing but the truth.

So don’t believe for one moment that if you’re a man or woman who hasn’t found your soulmate yet. That you were put on this planet to nourish human suffering. That is not true. But before you can really believe. You just need to do one thing…be kind to yourself….take it slowly…..let the idea just swim in your head….for months even….there is no rush…

You just need to be yourself.”

—————————————————————————————————–

“When I was a kid. The headmistress told my distraught parents in a very serious tone, “your son is abnormal. We have to let him go.” It all started from one unfortunate incident. You see one day when I cycled to school – I found out to my horror that they had cut down a row of Ficus trees to make way for a new row of shop houses across the street.

There my friends, the trees laid all cut up into pieces. I cried and wailed and no one could understand why. The PE teacher said I was a naughty boy and threatened to spank me, if I didn’t stop my nonsense get into the school compound.

I told him that if he laid a finger on me – my friends would fix him nice and proper. He got so infuriated by my perculiar response that he smacked me. After that day no one ever spoke to me – all the parents told their kids, “don’t mix with that boy, he’s queer.” Even the rest of the teachers left me alone to do my thing – all except the biology teacher, her name was Miss Grace Lim.

One day when she saw me standing looking at a tall Chingay tree as I usually did after school. She sat beside me on a bench – she stroked my hair and asked, “what is it that you see?” I told her to be still and just listen. At first Miss Lim stirred restlessly. Maybe she wasn’t accustommed to sitting still for hours. So I held her by her cheeks and told her, “you have to remain very still Miss Lim. Otherwise you can never hear them speak.” And she did exactly as I told her – every day after school. We would sit for hours and just look at this tree. 

One day, Miss Lim turned to me and whispered,

“Oh my God!” She started to get nervous and her expression began to fill with horror – that was when I placed my little hand on hers and told her, “be calm Miss Lim. They don’t mean us any harm at all.” After that day, no one ever smacked me ever again. You see it is very simple Miss Lim finally understood. And once you understand a thing, it’s like crossing an invisible line in your head – life will never be the same again.

As for the PE teacher one rainy day, he took cover underneath a tree and a big branch came down on him. He broke his collar bone. I told him I had friends in high places that could fix him.”

 

 

The Lost Art of Hunting

March 1, 2013

Hunting to me is a way of reconnecting back to my ancient roots as man. It is a way of paying homage to my tribal ancestors who once strived to survive against incredible odds – it’s one of the most spiritually intense methods to sharpen my manliness and tune my mind to be a better husband, father, friend and community leader.

My feel is we men should never feel ashamed or even need to apologise about our natural manly instincts to hunt – there is nothing in life that is more natural than a man who is passionate about hunting.

In an age when both gender and sexuality and the whole idea of the purpose driven life is increasingly blurred, contorted and hijacked by half and quart men – we men should reclaim back what once made men great and real. 

If we ourselves in this age fail to do this or worst leave it all to the marketing manifesto or some religious charlatan to tell us how we should carry ourselves, talk, behave and relate to womenfolk – then how would our own children even know what it means to be a whole and complete man? They may all end up fearing their own manly sexuality and even be confused about how to relate to women. They may even fall into a hole and believe that it is alright to wear a dress, make up and even end up falling in love with other boys.

It is the duty of every family man to fashion his mind, body and spirit as the temple to keep the noble tradition of manliness alive to past it on to the next generation – he is the keeper of the secret arcanum of what it means to be the rugged individual and the mind who will go where no mind dares to go!

Darkness 2013 

————————————————————————————————–

Monitor lizard with palm kernels and cashew nuts and ginko

Ingredients:

– One monitor lizard – gut out without rupturing the bile sac (if it ruptures during gutting, never eat it, you will fall very sick. It’s no good. Throw it away). Wash the entire carcass with brine. And sun dry for at least 3 hours. Dispose of head and molar assembly (that is poisonous). Cut the tail into medallions (that is the juiciest part. I only eat the tail)

– Handful of Garlic and shallots

– Ginko nuts and a handful of oil palm kernels (if you dont have that can use one spoonful of nutmeg)

-Coconut juice (optional, but gives it a parvole aroma)

Directions:

– Stir fry shallots and garlic till the aroma is released. Quickly stir fry lizard meat till crispy and brown on both sides. set aside on a paper towel.

– Take a big pot. Fill with one litre of water put a large uncut onion and if you like a more exotic taste. A dash of curry powder and salt to taste – if possible try to get fresh coconut juice. Add in Ginko nuts, oil palm kernels bring to boil for 45 minutes.

Serving direction:

Lizard meat should never be consumed with rice. You will feel weird after that. It should be consumed with par boiled potatoes or tapioca root.

————————————————————————————————————

“We live today in an exceeding confusing age. Wonder no more why men don’t behave like men any longer. Instead they’re always searching for who they should be. They watch a movie and they say, I want to be like him! They walk around and see a bill board and they say, I want to be like that guy – if I buy that, maybe I can be abit like him. They want to be  everyone else except who they were really meant to be.

And after going everywhere for inspiration and spending so much money for years and years that they end up with cancer of the wallet – they all come to me defeated, tired and sad,

“Darkness can you please teach me how to pick up girls. Because I am already thirty and I am still a virgin. And my mom and pop are freaking nagging me to death! I don’t know who to turn too!”

Gentlemen, I did not really appreciate the magnitude of this problem at first, so I treated it as just a parvale frivole – till one day when I audited all my e-mails and noticed this was a reoccuring theme that seems to getting from bad to worse.

Some men tell me, they should change their wardrobe, get a better car, sign up for a gym membership or strive harder to make more money to improve their prospects in marriage.

I tell them all this is unnecessary and a giant waste of money. if you want a sure fire pick up line then I am not your man – you need to go to either Youtube or a cult church to look for a confidence trickster.

I guess these brothers all come to me as this is a very private thing that one man can only really share with another man – I say let’s not be coy about it. If this is a problem to you. Then it’s important to me as well.

I will start by asking only one question – who are you? Guess what? None of them really know who they are – the funny thing is when they press the pause button and really try to their best to get beneath this one question – nine of out ten, they start stammering. They fuck it all up – words suddenly cease to have meaning – the world suddenly shifts a bit – everything seems to be labored.

That’s really the cue for me to nod my head like an older brother and say to them – you don’t really know who you are, do you?

I go on to tell these brothers, that is a perfectly normal abnormal condition these days even for apparently successful men in this messed up age – as when we really take a look around us all, everyone seems to want to be everyone else except who they are really supposed to be. 

Gentlemen what I think is never really discussed openly –  is how is it possible for a man or for that matter a woman to be himself or herself these days?  That has to be mission impossible in this age of information overload. This age where everyone out there from marketers to politicians and crack pot cultist are trying their best to plant a flag somewhere in your head!

Switch on the TV and what do you see? A man in white trying to tell you how you should live your life along with how you should define personal and organizational success.

Walk along the streets and what do you see? Tons of images ranging from metrosexuals sporting underwear to plastic men trying to sell you eu de cologne.

Even when you all alone in your room. You’re not really alone – you’re somewhere else in either the distant past or some fantasy land in the future.

Even if you blast yourself to the surface of the moon – you’re still not yourself – as in your whole life, someone has always told you what you should, how you should response, what you should think and even how many times you should fuck a week!

And like I mentioned earlier. That is perfectly normal. As we live in an exceedingly confusing age where even abnormality is apparently normal. But what you need to understand is simply this – it’s an acquired taste – it’s not really you! Don’t believe me…take some time to connect the dots…but go easy…this cheem and the last thing you want to do is trigger your mind to explode like a hand grenade. 

When these men suddenly reach this realization – you should really see the expression on their faces. You all should. Oh my God! – it’s like they’re suddenly struck by some divine realization – a diamond tipped bullet square in between the eyes. Bang! Then it suddenly becomes so clear to them at that very moment in time. A truism that has always been there all along that they did n’t even notice and it was right before them all this time.

As what they realize then is, they have searched everywhere except the one place that they should have searched all along – deep inside themselves. 

Let me share this secret with all of you Gentlemen – when you really know who you are and why you were put on this planet in this timeline and you see this grand design so clearly. And let’s not even bring God into this picture. He’s always been optional to me. That narrative is really for seriously confused men. So I am not even going to even go down that road. I am talking about the real McCoy. The original idea that came deep down from you.

Now if you can bring that original man out and just look at any woman with those eyes – she can only love you to bits. I am not kidding, it’s as simple as that. You don’t have to take her out and try to impress her with the plastic idea of how successful you are et al. No need. That is unnecessary. You could even sitting with her in parkbench watching grass grow, she will still love you. As that is the only place she wants to be. Next to the person who she loves. And if anyone touches one hair on your head. She will just murder that person. You don’t need to lift a finger as she can feel your love in every cell in her body – as you made her the woman she is. Before she met you, she was exactly like you. A confused person who searched everywhere except where she should have looked for – herself.

You drew out that original woman from a confused girl. You the original man. The man who you were always meant to be. The man who knows himself and probably every her as well.Tell me how can any woman not love you? Look! I’ve be honest with you – most things you read in a blog is like piss – it goes right through you. But if you can hold on to this idea and just work way through it like a man whose trying to make sense out of a foreign map – then you would realize at the end of the journey – this isn’t just an ordinary sharing – it’s just an incredibly life changing event!

Just be yourself.”