O Captain My Captain

Of all those who fought for justice and equality over the centuries, of all those who were martyred for their troubles, Abraham Lincoln is the one who is my personal hero. A homely man, a man not much loved by the people until after his death, he saw the United States through its bloodiest conflict. He issued the Emancipation Proclamation, freeing the slaves - not because he had to, but because itwas the just thing to do. And at the end of the Civil War he was murdered for it, his assassin proclaiming him a tyrant.

I love Gandhi, I love Martin Luther King. I love Nelson Mandela. but I revere Abraham Lincoln because he was not fighting against injustices done to his race, but rather by his race.

"Slavery is founded in the selfishness of man's nature -- opposition to it in his love of justice."

The word 'slavery' could easily be swapped for 'racism' or 'prejudice' to make it relevant to the isues we are confronted with today.

I wish Honest Abe was with us today. In the face of global terrorism and suicide bombers deliberately targeting children and escalating racism and nationalism and religious fundamentalism, we could use such a man to guide America (and by extension, much of the world) through the dangerous waters we find ourselves in. Not just politically or militarily, but morally.

Instead, we have George Bush.

Exploring racism, exercise one:

Comments are of course welcome, but whether you comment or not, think about the questions and explore not only your answers but your reactions to your answers.

Ok, let’s imagine a race of people. They look similar to us; five fingers and five toes and two eyes and one nose (rhyming not intended, but kinda cute in a sickly way). These imaginary people live 500 years on average, and their average IQ hovers around 300. Both males and females of this race are twice as strong as the strongest living human, and they need to sleep only an hour and a half or so each night. Their facility with language borders on Shakespearean, each and every one. They learn calculus at the age of nine. They learn the principles of art in nursery school, and most of them can create art, be it music or painting or sculpture, that puts the greatest of our artists to shame. They view men and women as absolute equals, and nothing is more precious to them than their offspring.

Would you say that these hypothetical people are superior to homo sapiens?

What if I told you these imaginary superbeings were, each and every one of them, criminally insane? Murder isn’t a crime to them; in fact, if you are able to kill someone through stealth or a stand-up fight, you are praised. Mass-murderers are like sports stars to them, and serial murderers are revered artists. What if I told you that the only way these individuals could earn the right to procreate is by raping their chosen mate, male or female as the case may be? What if I said that they saw it as their right and duty to enslave any species that couldn’t fight off their military advances?

Would you consider them superior to us old homo saps?

A rainy day in the life of a dog owner

So yeah, it's raining. Like it tends to do, here. Personally I like rain. But you know who doesn't? My dog. As brave as the day is long, willing to take on anyone and anything threatening his family, Angus absolutely hates the rain. As soon as the first drop hits the windowpane, he's on me like white on rice on a paper plate in a snowstorm.

It's kinda cute, but mostly just pathetic. I mean, take a look at those sorrowful eyes.

Link-fest

(tragically deformed m&m photo courtesy the museum of food anomalies)

So I fell asleep on the couch at 8:30 or so, just in time to miss Battlestar Galactica*. Woke up about five hours later with Cookie Monster wedged into the small of my back and a big hard plastic yellow star digging into my temple. My loving family had abandoned me to my fate and gone off to bed.

Stumbled around the house aimlessly, blinking and scratching. What to do? Surf the net. And so I stumbled upon The Dumb Network. Specifically, the top 25 dumb laws. Here is a selection for your delectation:

• It is legal for a male to have sex with an animal as long as it does not exceed 40 lbs. Location: United States, West Virginia (okay, first, wtf? second, why under 40 lbs? third, i know it's west virginia and all, but wtf? fourth, wait, you said LEGAL, didn't you. As in, like, legal, as in not illegal? *shudder* Fifth, why is it legal for males and not females?)
• You can't drag a dead horse down Yonge Street on a Sunday. Location: Canada, Ontario, Toronto (so do your dead horse dragging on saturdays like god intended)
• Persons classified as "ugly" may not walk down any street. Location: United States, California, San Francisco
• Idiots may not vote. Location: United States, New Mexico (actually, this is not a dumb law, just an unenforceable one. Sadly.)
• You may not have more than two dildos in a house. Location: United States, Arizona (one would hope that two would be enough. perhaps the law should have stated no more than two per occupant, though. must consider hygiene issues)
• It is considered an offense to shower naked. Location: United States, Florida (and you thought Singapore was prim and proper, not letting you walk around your house naked.)

In other news, do people who park like idiots piss you off? Well, I'm not saying you should order these bumper stickers and attach them to poorly parked cars. But it sure would be funny.

Here's one of the funniest rants I've read in a long, long while. And christ i want to know where to buy this pacifier for MachineBoy!

Finally, I have found my new calling. For those who were worried about what MercerMachine would do after his notice at work was over, fear not. I've decided to open a franchise!

*actually, battlestar galactica is tonight. the tv gods are merciful!

London Underground Bombing

Of waste and again of waste, and of the waste of wasting, o void, o desolation:

...of the vessel shattered and the vessel cast away, o oblivion.

-Hayden Carruth

Yeah, they struck a great blow against the oppressors, those heroes of the faith; secretaries and middle managers, shop keepers and telephone repairmen and pizza delivery guys all wiped out in an instant. God will surely favor them; for now the world is one step closer to... to what, exactly? Sorry, I forgot. To the endy of tyranny. Which tyranny again? The tyranny of the decadent West, right, I forgot. The tyranny that can only be ended by blowing up hairstylists and accounts receivables clerks, those architects of oppression.

Body by body the world is being made into a place that God is sure to favor, right? And those who have wrought the great change in the blood and flesh of children and grandmothers and nannies and nurses and graphic designers and shoe salesmen, they are certain to sit at the right hand of God on Judgment Day, right?

Right?

The 4th of July: Why?

So it's the 4th, and I am not watching fireworks or cooking meat or having a celebratory drink.

For those not in the know, July 4th was the date that the Second Continental Congress ratified the final version of the Declaration of Independence, thus ensuring Great Britain would bring a shitstorm of blood and violence to American shores.

Rather than go on about my own memories of July 4ths past, I thought I would set down the actual text of the Declaration. Boring? Maybe. But in 1776 it was positively riveting stuff. And the tremors of its creation can still be felt today, all across the world.


The Declaration of Independence of the Thirteen Colonies

In CONGRESS, July 4, 1776

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.

But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.

Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain [George III] is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained, and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the meantime exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people, and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies, without the consent of our legislatures.
He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For protecting them by a mock Trial from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:

For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:

For depriving us in many cases of the benefits of Trial by Jury:

For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:

For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:

For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated Government here by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to complete the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms. Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren.

We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us.

We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here.

We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence.

They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by the authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare.

That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown,

and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain is and ought to be totally dissolved;

and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce,

and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do.

And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.


Amen.

My New Favorite Word

(Lifted from a rough draft of a FAQ I was recently editing. No, I didn’t come up with the word myself. I’m just not that cool.)

“Q: What happens to my unused loyalty points when my membership expires?

A: Upon expiry of the membership, a member has one month from date
of membership expiry to fully utilise the remaining points. After which, all the
unused points will be automatically zerolised. (emphasis mine)”

I cannot adequately express how much I love this new word. From now on, milk is not expired, it is zerolised. Ditto any vouchers/coupons/etc. In fact, let’s do away with boring words like ‘divorced’ or ‘terminated’ or ‘retrenched’.

“How’s the wife, Frank?”
“Oh, didn’t you hear? She zerolised me three months ago.”
“Gee, that’s tough.”

In fact, on my tombstone I don’t want boring born and died dates. Instead, I want “Utilized” and “Zerolised”.

God, this word rocks.

The Wee-hours edition of SomethingSticky

Have been incredibly busy due to work, and when I get home must pay attention to fambly not laptop, so SomethingStickyhas been sorely neglected. Still have a couple of interviews to give, expat at large passed me a literary baton, jaschocolate passed me a movie baton, and there are literaly dozens of people/issues/situations I haven't had time to properly mock. Sigh.

In other news, I've handed in my resignation. MrWang and Rana have cautioned me about blogging work-related issues, and I thank them for their concern and wise words, and will leave it at this: I feel as though a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders, whatever the future holds.

I stopped by the hideout after work one night (don't remember which anymore. wednesay?) to listen to daryl dj for a bit. Tres cool. While there saw like five of the guys from eye for a guy 2. Tres weird. the one guy with the pony tail has since gotten a nice harcut, looks much better. Everyone else looked the same. the short funny guy (harold?) asked the dj before daryl, Jon, who did a particualr song. It was the Ramones. I thought everybody knew the Ramones. So anyway, yeah, that's my eye for a guy story.

Today we went looking at houses, as our lease is coming up soonish. Went to joo chiat. I never knew there were so many hookers outside of geylang. But lots and lots of cool places to eat. It's like the EDB or URA or whomever said 'all KTV lounges must be within stumbling distance of decent food'.

Actually, to show you how oblivious I was, [redacted] had to point out to me that the hookers were in fact hookers. I hadn't really thought about why there were numbers of women wearing skimpy, revealing evening clothes in the early afternoon. I was too busy lugging MachineBoy around on my shoulder, as it was just too hot to keep him in the pram. They certainly weren't giving me the eye, as man with baby walking down street would be a hard sell, no matter how good you might be. After I saw the fourth Hotel 81 in a 2km walk, though, any doubts I had were pretty much dispelled.

Managed to take a look in the Today paper. Apparently my arch-nemesis Neil Humphreys has received some nasty emails from people calling him a pervert ang mo and telling him to leave his degenerate western moral values where they belong. The reason? A satirical article he wrote suggesting Singapore should build a nudist retreat to boost tourism. Never mind, Neil, they didn't get it when I called for your death, either. There's just no pleasing some people.

Well, it's lidat, loh. Now go get some sleep.

wuh?

buh
Originally uploaded by MercerMachine.

sometimes you just gotta stop and say 'wuh?'

In other news, I've no idea what it is I'm supposed to be doing with my life. Be a good father, sure. Be a good husband and son.

But also I think somewhere I'm also supposed to be happy, and have a personal purpose beyond familial duty.

I'm good at what I do (when I'm allowed to do it); contrary to what you might believe from reading this blog, I'm a good writer and can translate that into marketable copy. I know retail intimately, and customer service, and actually enjoy retail and customer service when I am allowed the latitude to make it work the way it's supposed to.

That's really enough for me, from a professional aspect. I just hate it that my talent and experience is constantly second-guessed and belittled, and when I turn out to be right, the Powers That Be conveniently forget the fact that I told them so.

So anyway, yeah. Wuh?

The Pink Tyranny Is Over...

But the wounds will take time to heal. I apologize to those who were blinded/emotionally scarred. I can only say that it will never, never happen again.

Xiaxue I am not.

Bad, bad idea

I thought it would be funny to change my template to pretty pretty pink, sort of a continuation of the joke about having to be more like xiaxue to become a Tomorrow.sg editor. Ha ha.

Now I'm nauseous and my eyes have begun to bleed.

WirelessSticky!

Went to Funan today and now have wireless! Of course the signal doesn't actually travel far enough to get to my home office, but at least I can slack on the couch while I blog. Before now I had to cram myself in a tiny corner next to the television, and had to lean to the left if anyone wanted to change the channel.

Connecting was needlessly complex, though, and eventually required me calling Starhub... is it just me, or do they write those manuals specificaly to frustrate the end user?

In other news, dubya seems to be having a hard time of it back in the US (cue false sympathy). According to Yahoo news, his approval rating has been below 50% for weeks. Gee, some buyer's remorse going on? Too late now, Red States. You rode the elephant, now you get to scoop the poop.

As the war in Iraq drags on and American soldiers continue to get killed for a cause that was controversial from day one, I guarantee his approval rating will continue to slide. The problem is, he doesn't care. He doesn't have any more elections to win, now does he?

The best that can happen is that any proposal he tries to push through gets stalled in Congress. It's about damage control, now. Bush doesn't have to worry about re-election, but thankfully the house and senate do. And since only 15% of Americans believe that Congress is doing anything that directly benefits the American people, maybe it's finally time for American government to start shaking off the bush 'compassionate conservatism' pall.

Oh, and where the hell is Osama?

prettypinkangus

prettypinkangus
Originally uploaded by MercerMachine.

Which just goes to show you, no matter how hemsem angus and I are, pink is just not our color.

Saturday. I remember when Saturdays were about sleeping late, eating sugary cereals, walking around the house in my boxers and watching sci-fi movies till about three, then going out to the bookstore, having a late late lunch, watching a movie, going home, taking a nap, then going out to a club.

What a slacker.

Why I can't be a Tomorrow.sg editor

MercerEditor
Originally uploaded by MercerMachine.

jim said...
"you'd need to be an "award-winning" blogger and also probably a photo of yourself decked up in pink on the top of your every other page.

plus probably coz she was one of the people who was at the meeting/drink session which spawned off the tomorrow idea."

Well, jimmy, never say never. Pretty pink picture, check. Now must bribe some organization to award me with something asian. Next, must invent time machine or else drug and brainwash all attendees of tomorrow conception orgy-- uh, meeting/drink session.

This is not a dig a xiaxue...

...but why is xiaxue an editor at tomorrow.sg? To my knowledge she has never posted anything there. Ever. Like, ever.

Technically speaking, I deserve to be an editor at Tomorrow.sg more than she does (d'you hear that, Tomorrow.sg powers-that-be?). No only have I contributed my own witty witty stuff, I have upon occasion (okay twice I think) even submitted (gasp) someone else's post. Someones who were almost as witty as yours truly.

Also I am kind, loyal, thrifty, good with babies and dogs, and have a better-than-indifferent hygiene record.

What more could ya want?

Take this job and...

So I haven’t posted in a while because I’m getting hammered at work. To make a long story short, the MercerMachine is ready for a change. So if anybody wants to hire a kwai ang mo marketing manager with rather good copywriting skills and a cheerful disposition, just drop me a line. Pay is no issue; will work for dignity.

The Sunday Morning News

Latest Headlines:

SPG talks to TNP, but I don't know what she said 'cause I haven't left the house to pick up the paper yet.

Bugis Junction: Former Japanese red-light district. By way of a nice article from the Japan Times Online. So when you go to eat at Billy Bombers, think of the Karayuki-san.

Don't touch the girlies in S'pore, says the New York Daily News. At least not in a business meeting. Wait 'till later that night at Orchard Towers. Then, ask them if they've had their dinner first.

SPECIAL FEATURES

Special Feature Re-revisited: Another S'pore expat. The Screwy Skeptic resides in Chicago, is called Ang Moh Zha Bo by her Singaporean relatives, wonders whether she should come back to the Lion City, and apparently has access to a hookah. Well, Screwy, if you do, take my advice and leave the hookah in Chicago.

Abuse the Machine: Last call. Due to the underwhealming response to the 'Abuse the Machine' Contest, this will be the last week. Currently Little Miss Drinkalot and Cap'n Intrepid are tied for first place, and may well have to share the prize. How they work out who gets to wear the t-shirt on what day may be problematic.

Advice Column: SomethingSticky has a new advice columnist. So don't be shy, just leave your questions in the comment field. You'll soon be receiving timely advice.

That is all.

The triumphant return of Blogdog!

Blogdog returns
Originally uploaded by MercerMachine.

Back by popular demand, Blogdog (aka Angus) has chosen to share his canine wit and wisdom with a needy blogosphere.

So, without further ado, I present to you the first installment of 'Ask Blogdog' (but since no one knew about it, I've had to make the questions up myself).

Dear Blogdog,

I have never gotten along well with my parents, but lately they have been very nice to me, talking about buying me a car for my graduation, etc, etc. What's going on? Should I trust them?

Sincerely,

Suspicious in Shenton Way

Dear Suspicious,

When the hairless hind-walkers offer you a treat to go into the bathroom, don't trust them! You will soon be wet and smelling like a bad imitation of jasmine or lavender, rather than your normal wholesome just-rolled-in-something-rotting odor.

If they do manage to trick you, be sure to bolt out of the room at the first opportunity and roll yourself dry on their beds. And don't let them forget the treat.

Dear Blogdog;

I'm going the the Bloggers.SG convention next month, where I will finally meet BloggerX face to face. We've had sort of a flirty relationship for months now, and while I'm excited to meet him, I'm also afraid. What if he's ugly, or creepy?

Signed Toa Payoh Trepidation

Dear Trepidation;

When first meeting anyone, bury your nose right in their crotch. That will tell you everything you need to know.

Dear Blogdog- I work so hard and yet all I ever get is complaints. No one seems to appreciate all the effort I go to at work, at home, even at the parent teacher association. What should I do?

Frustrated in Farrer Park

Dear Frustrated,

Who can say why they hover around waiting for you to poop, only to scoop it up in a plastic bag and throw it away? The main thing is you got to poop on the grass instead of having an accident on the carpet, and nobody can take that away from you.

Got a question for Blogdog? Don't be shy, just leave a comment below.

JOURNALISM SHOCKER: TNP fails to cite blogger source

So in Thursday’s edition of the new paper, on the front page, top left corner:

"The S’pore cabby who cares. He’ll give 50% discount if…" and then it says to turn to page 10. I’m thinking to myself, ‘gee, this sounds familiar’. I turn to page 10. And ta-da, a two page article on the CAREBBY. Here’s a quote:

"You can call this cabby Mr Discount. And he’s a celebrity of sorts in the Internet world. Cabby Tony Eyo is a hit in local online forums and blogs."

And that’s it. No citing of sources. No mention that Hang Yong was the first to write about it, or that Tomorrow.sg was the first to pick the story up via Lancerlord on June 11th; five full days before TNP. To my mind that runs pretty close to plagiarism. If you agree, you can address your comments (civil ones, please) to the journalist responsible, Esther Au Yong (mailto:estheray@sph.com.sg).

If the story is newsworthy enough to be picked up by a print publication, then the originator of the story deserves the simple respect of a citation.

Hot fresh interview, straight from the oven

Without further ado, I give you the long awaited interview of the Facetious Cap'n Intrepid!

The Official Interview Game Rules1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying “interview me.”2. I will respond by asking you five questions — each person’s will be different.3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

1) You have been chosen to participate in the next season of the reality TV show 'Survivor'. What is your strategy? How many people will you outwit, outlast and outplay?

2) Sarong Party Girl and xiaxue are in a baby oil wrestling match. Who would you bet money on? Who would you like to see more skin from?

3) If you could be one fictional character, who would it be? If you could have one superpower, what would it be?

4) Who has been the greatest personal influence in your life and why?

5) Boxers or briefs? Alternately, corset or teddy?

Bonus Round: Is there an Intrepidette in your life? If so, what attracted you to her? If not, would you consider doing as Sandralicious and triple period have done and advertise on your blog to win a date with the Cap'n?

VOCIFEROUS COWARDLY CRETINS DON'T LIKE PUFFY NIPPLES

This is for the three people living in Outer Mongolia that haven't heard about Sarong Party Girl posting nude photos on her blog. To sum up the debacle in a couple rambling sentences, urbanmalebitch writes about it, cowboycaleb posts it on Tommorrow.sg, and a few vociferous cretins complain. Anonymously, of course, as in addition to being cretins, they're also cowards.

Here's the deal: Michelangelo carves nude statue of David, we call it art. Davinci sketches the nude male form, we call it art. Botticelli paints bare breasted, voluptuous maidens, we call it art. We celebrate these and thousands of other works of art dealing with the unadorned human form; we consider them treasures of our species.

SPG posts a very tasteful, professional black and white nude photo of herself, one that was obviously carefully planned, lighted, art-directed with thougtful consideration to composition and form, and it gets called pornography.

So what is it, then? Is it that only dead white men can create nude art, or is it that SPG prefers living white men?

Grow up, vociferous anonymous cowardly cretins. Nobody made you click on the link. You weren't coldly, calculatingly stalked by a nude photo of an attractive female. It didn't leap on you out of the bushes, a puffy-nippled ambusher, catching you unawares. No, you went looking to be insulted, shocked, outraged, so that you could indulge in that most Singaporean of pastimes: Complaining.

The world is a big, big place, and Singapore is terribly small. Almost as small as your minds. The fact that SPG unabashedly shows her body and talks openly about her sexual preferences (knowing where she resides and what sort of reception she will get from narrow-minded, bigoted creatures such as yourselves) only serves to point out that not all Singaporeans are content to, sheeplike, blindly accept this society's rather haphazard mores.

You hate that, don't you?

Well, that's too goddamn bad. And here's another thing to keep you up nights, you dumb SOBs: under our clothes, we're all nekkid. EVEN YOU. You came into the world naked, you dolts. Nudity is only 'dirty' if/because we choose to make it so.

And as for sexual preference, the truth is you dislike SPG not because she wants to sleep with white men, but because she doesn't want to sleep with YOU.

Now go play in traffic, and stop bothering those of us who have two wits to rub together.

The Saturday Morning News

The Morning After
Originally uploaded by MercerMachine.

Latest Headlines: MachineBoy and Big Bird and an empty bottle. The shame.

News News: The New Paper forgot to use the word 'SHOCKER' on their front page today. How are we to know whether there are any lurid stories in this edition? So irresponsible.

Special Feature 1: Sarong Party Girl says 'size does matter. I've never seen a 2.4 inch dildo.' Also, SPG bares all (again).

Special feature 2: Expat at Large is back, after Lycos hijacked his website. That'll teach him to buy American.

Special Feature Recap: Elyrie added to the list of young female Singaporean expats. She's in Washington, D.C. Sadly, no mention of promiscuous roomates, but read anyway as she has rather more than two thoughts to rub together.

Advice column: Hie thee to a nunnery!

Health: Reason #93728 why Little Miss Drinkalot cannot lose weight.

Opinion Forum: God, I miss real Tex-Mex. If one more person tells me that Taco Bell is Tex-Mex, I will tie them to a chair and force feed them moo goo gai pan, chortling all the while and repeating 'It's Chinese food, you know?'

Random Horrific Link: Barb Jump

BOY BAND! BOY BAND!

The Seething Masses
Originally uploaded by MercerMachine.

Apparently there is a band called Energy. Apparently they are from Taiwan. Apparently they are freally freaking popular.

Apparently I am oblivious.

Anyway, they're at HarbourFront Centre tonight signing autographs for their new album 'Final Fantasy'. Hey, isn't that title sort of, uh, taken? Never mind, they're a BOY BAND!

The photo shows only one fifth of the should-be-seething-but-actually
-patient masses.

I'm getting old.

In other news, I mourn the death of all that is noble, intelligent and meaningful. As usual. When did we settle for mediocrity? Yes, I have been listening to Leonard Cohen again. 'Everybody Knows' to be precise.

'Everybody knows that the dice are loaded/everybody rolls with their fingers crossed/Everybody knows that the war is over/everybody knows that the good guys lost...'

Aargh. Who'd have thought that seeing teenagers waiting for what I suspect are talentless hacks, their adoration palpable, would bring on this existential hum? Tonight I feel that somehow as a race we are diminishing ourselves, generation by generation. From Beethoven to the Backstreet Boys. From Michelangelo to Mondrian (and worse). From Shakespeare to, oh, god, pick your talentless hack. Hell, close your eyes and run down the new fiction aisle at Borders, knocking books off the shelf as you go. Please.

Bah, humbug.

Give a maid 4 days off a month? 'Unthinkable' says real bitch.

Tonight on Channel five, they featured emails from people weighing in on whether to give maids four days off a month. Someone named 'Fisty' opined that it would be unthinkable, as maids might run around and make friends with males.

Please, God, let karma be a real force in the universe.

Little Miss Drinkalot: Interview with the MercerMachine

The own-self sabo own-self interview, which the lovely, talented, perspicacious Little Miss Drinkalot was kind enough to put to yours truly:

At 7:15 PM, Little Miss Drinkalot said...

Ok, I am going to jump queue, cuz MM easy to ask questions. :)

MercerMachine, here are your questions:

1) You mentioned "horrible flipper-like appendages". I take offence. Why are flippers horrible? Flippers are cute. You know, like Flipper the dolphin.

2) You claim Singlish is a Frankenstein's monster. Please name the corresponding body parts for the following phrases - a) "Wah lao eh!!!" b) "Ah bu den??" c) "You see here got, got. You see here no got, no got."

3) I forgive you for not wanting to give your mom a mammogram. But name 5 people whom you would like to give a mammogram to. Why? (And Mrs Machine does not count, ok?)

4) You're in marketing. I need advice. Should I buy chicken eggs or a slab of pork?

5) You talk about racism in Singapore. I think the fact that there is tolerance here in Singapore is far better than shooting each other's guts out. What is the worst example of racism you've witnessed in your life?

 Okay, here goes:

1) You mentioned "horrible flipper-like appendages". I take offence. Why are flippers horrible? Flippers are cute. You know, like Flipper the dolphin.

I thought his name was flubber. Or am I getting my Disney franchises mixed up? Nothing is wrong with flippers per se, unless you like, wanna open a door or use a keyboard, or pick yer nose. Especially that last one. I would really miss mining for the green gold.

2) You claim Singlish is a Frankenstein's monster. Please name the corresponding body parts for the following phrases - a) "Wah lao eh!!!" b) "Ah bu den??" c) "You see here got, got. You see here no got, no got."

a) Wah lao eh (exclamation points optional) obviously dug up from a Laotian graveyard. From it's forceful nature and according to my Taber's Medical Encyclopedia of Quackery, wah lao eh is either a hemorrhoid or ear hair, as this is what you say when you find out you've got it/them and realize you've suddenly become an old bastard overnight.

b) Ah bu den (question marks required) According to the guy in the guard shack downstairs, this is the body part you invite people you are not fond of to kiss.

c)you see here got, got. you see here no got, no got. This would either be the presence or absence of breast enhancements (thus the double got/no got).

3) I forgive you for not wanting to give your mom a mammogram. But name 5 people whom you would like to give a mammogram to. Why? (And [redacted] does not count, ok?)

Unofficially, 1. Milla Jovovich, because while she's hot, there isn't much there and so my job would be quite easy and I'm a lazy sob.

2. Neil Humphreys, because guys get breast cancer too, and who knows, maybe he's been nice enough to develop it for me, thus leaving me as the heir apparent of ang mo singapore satirism, and, uh, three other people. Next question!

4) You're in marketing. I need advice. Should I buy chicken eggs or a slab of pork?

Listen, in the long run sure you cold buy one other the other, and be mildly satisfied. But for a truly 'wow' breaking of your fast, might I suggest you buy both? Consider it an investment in your future gastronomical happiness. In fact, for only a little more, I can put you into the latest model of *toast*. Now this is a craze that's sweeping the nation, I tell ya. You put a little butter on it, you put a little jam or jelly--oh, but here, let's make it easy. We'll just get this shopping cart here and go aisle by aisle. You brought your wallet, right? Good. Have you heard of yoghurt? I've got a friend who...

5) You talk about racism in Singapore. I think the fact that there is tolerance here in Singapore is far better than shooting each other's guts out. What is the worst example of racism you've witnessed in your life?

On a serious note, I have been personally touched by violent racism. My aunt was killed by a black man who, when caught, told the police that he'd just decided to kill the next white person he saw. That'll teach my auntie to go to the corner store to buy a carton of milk.

I would never claim that America is in any way superior to Singapore when it comes to race relations. I would say that I don't understand how some Singaporeans can be so casual about racism.  Someone referred to my son as a 'tsap sing' (sorry about the spelling) He didn't see anything wrong with, in essence, referring to MachineBoy as a half-breed bastard.

As I've said in other places, I don't understand how anyone can be casual about racism, because when I was growing up, my generation in the US was the first to benefit from a real concerted effort to reach kids with the message that we're all equal, whatever the color of our skin. In the US, racism certainly exists, but I don't think anyone thinks of it in a casual manner, be they racists or anti-racists.

Well, they're pulling the microphone away from me now. Thanks for the interview!

The Official Interview Game Rules

1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying “interview me.”
2. I will respond by asking you five questions — each person’s will be different.
3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

From a real poet

(Shamelessly lifted from mr brown, this poem describes perfectly what it was like for me when MachineBoy was first born, and he and MrsMachine were both lying there exhausted in the hospital bed)

The Saviour

I will draw heavy wagons around you tonight.
I will station large men in high towers.
I will call God to hurl down thunder and lightning.

I will speak slowly in a calm voice.

I will build large sirens at the gate to our city.
I will surround us with barbed wire.
I will shine torches in the faces of all who pass by.

My eyes will not blink.

I will listen carefully to stories concerning the activities of heroes.
I will dig deep trenches in firm clay.
I will wear armour removed from the shoulders of beetles.

My back will be held straight.

I will collect wood to be used in the lighting of fires.
I will paint bold signs in red paint.
I will loose fast dogs to hunt in long grass for intruders.

I will ask you not to be afraid.


Glenn Colquhoun From Playing God

Random shut up and write link: Zoetrope Virtual Studios

Drought

And the rain waits, gravid and still
For crumbling leaves and cicada shrill
To tempt it down out of its leaden gown.
Another day.

Porch lights burn through the night
Yellow, rancid, offering empty welcome
Moth flick, dusty wings circumscribing heavy air.
Another night.

Hovers the rain, coy, scenting this slice of August,
A rolling bruise on the sky. The asphalt heat haze,
The tar incense, the flaking paint and crazed mud cracks
A thousand desperate letters, o my love please come back-

Another day.

Random intensely personal, sometimes painfully poetic blog link: the world through apricots, like he said

The Saturday Morning News

Smoov
Originally uploaded by littlejennifer.

Latest headlines: MachineBoy is still cute, wonky tong is actually a porn star, and little miss drinkalot is now a tomorrow.sg editor at large.

All is right with the world.

Special feature: 'Singaporean girls in faraway lands'. fool of a took resides in the land down under (along with her rather frightening, rather promiscuous roommate), flyingfaeries muses randomly in london, and wonky tong finally breaks it off with her own (rather frightening, rather promiscuous) roommate in canada.

Advice column: Don't eat the yellow snow, experts agree; never play cards with a man named Doc; and never go to bed with someone who's got more problems than you.

Random horrific link: Chainsaw the Children

sgblogconspiracy: you've only begun to worry

So SHINE, a teeny-tiny tentacle of the Cthuluesque government is going to provide refreshments for the Singapore bloggers convention. The conspiracy theories are rampant. Surveillance cameras, positive identification, blah blah blah. It all misses the point.

The point, dear stickyites, is that they are providing REFRESHMENTS. THINGS YOU PUT IN YOUR BODY. FOR FREE. They know that no self-respecting Singaporean will turn down free food/drink. Diabolically clever, they are.

You see, once the attending bloggers have consumed the fruit punch and mini-chocolate chip cookies, the least of our worries will be nano-tracking devices. In actuality, ingesting these ‘tasty treats’ could lead to far, far more frightening scenarios:

Frightening Scenario #1
We all wake up in a blogging re-education camp. Six months later, when we are returned to the world, all our posts revolve around themes such as, "The Government and you: Forever" or "Questioning and/or mocking authority is for the diseased of mind"

Frightening Scenario #2
Some weeks after the convention, all attendees suffer a frightening metamorphosis in which both hands become horrible flipper-like appendages. All our posts look like this: "v.nnloavdsjfnkjvds nk dmjhgfddf rt f yuuyi hrdesxr"

Frightening Scenario #3
Much like the movie ‘The Stuff’, bloggers cannot get enough of said tasty treats, and will do literally anything for more, making them incredibly pliant to the demands of SHINE.

Sure, go ahead and laugh. But I’ll be bringing my own snacks, thank you very much.

ABUSE ME!

After careful consideration, I’ve realized that some of my dear readers believe that I’m too mean, harsh, and/or too much of an asshat. Which is fine. But some have intimated that (gasp) I might not be funny! This strikes me to the core. (See this post)

Therefore I am calling for all and sundry to abuse moi—that’s right, take your best shot. BUT: You must do so in an amusing fashion. You funny, me laugh. You not funny, me cry and call a guy I know named Guido who does things to kneecaps.

The meanest/funniest entry wins a t-shirt emblazoned with the following:

I MESSED WITH MercerMachine AND IT WAS GOOD!

(or an alternate slogan of appropriate villainy. Open to suggestions.)

This masochistic contest will run until the day before the boggercon. I reserve the right to have impartial judges make the final decision as to who wins (anyone interested, please contact me)

The prize will be awarded at next month’s bloggercon, with appropriate kowtowing by yours truly, right before we are all rounded up and put into a blogger re-education camp.

Let the flying barbs of wit commence!

AKA 'NO VOLUME DISCOUNT'

AKA 'NO VOLUME DISCOUNT'
Originally uploaded by MercerMachine.

How bad ads are born, part 2:

Client: we sell at $8 each. I want to get people to buy many at once, though.
Copywriter: Okay, we can offer them a volume discount.
Client: No, the price is $8 each.
Copywriter: So no volume discount.
Client: Right. But I want to get people to buy many at once.
Copywriter: …
Client: You’re the advertising genius, right? You figure it out.
Copywriter: Okay… I have one idea. Maybe they won’t do the math….

bad graphic designer. go to your room!

bad graphic designer. go to your room!
Originally uploaded by MercerMachine.

How bad ads are born:

Client: I want to use the tagline ‘have a head for maths’. Make the visuals fit that, okay?
Designer: Okay.
Client: also, your quote is too high. I can only pay half that.
Designer: (sighs, mentally checks his savings account. Sighs again) Okay…
Client: also, I need this for the magazine by three o’clock today.
Designer: (trying to decide where to hide the body) Okay.

An Intemperate Climate

Strong silence squats in places gone for good
the wind blows through these rooms and makes no sound
the water rushes by somewhere outside
the grackle winds the motor of the world.
In stillness shallow breathing is preferred.

Rather than commune with you, defer-
no half-measures, no shining beads of glass
nothing to deflect the eye from truth
nothing to coat the dread and cold of loss.
Preferring this to simpleton obtuse.

Preferring open eyes at midnight and beyond
staring through the dark towards the ticking clock
and bedsheet numb and trailer creak to - to anything at all.
At two a.m. the pipes moan fearful polyglot
the wind could swing the heartache if it would, but so will not.

In empty rooms the silence is as varied and as hard
as thoughts at two and three a.m. awake in sleeping world
and severance is bitterer than ever guessed to be;
moonlight wanes out in the pines and also there, in company
the taste of some great poison that leaves its victims live.

(a conversation with God about losing faith)

Why Dogs Don't Blog

blogdog
Originally uploaded by MercerMachine.

(My dog Angus's post)

wake up dude gotta pee wake up gotta pee wake up wake up gotta pee gotta PEE downstairs now aaaah... i smell CAT! where? where? okay dude coming now back upstairs hungry now hungry hungry hungry NO! NOT DOG FOOD AGAIN! ...zzz... noise? BARK! let's play huh? wanna play? want my tennis ball? want it? want it? CAN'T HAVE IT! mine mine mine GIVE IT BACK! (repeat x3) ...zzz... gotta poop gotta poop gotta poop hey gotta poop now gotta poop go downstairs umph urg aaahhh BIRD! okay coming back upstairs hungry now hungry now hungry hungry NO! NOT DOG FOOD AGAIN! ...zzz... telephone! BARK! let's play huh? wanna play? wanna? want my rope? want it? want it? CAN'T HAVE IT! mine mine mine GIVE IT BACK! (repeat x5) ...zzz...

you get the picture

YOUR BLOG IS YOUR BRAND; or, HOW TO BE KIASU ABOUT SELF EXPRESSION; or, HOW TO SUCK ALL THE JOY OUT OF BEING A BLOGGER WHILE CREATING MORE READERSHIP*

*in 10 easy steps!

As I've mentioned before, I have a keen interest in all things marketing related. So without further ado, I present Tuck School Professor Kevin Lane Keller's BRAND REPORT CARD as it might apply to your blog:

(Rate your blog on a scale of one to ten, one being shitty and ten being fucking-A awesome for each characteristic below. Then create a bar chart that refelects the scores. Then send me chocolate chip cookies--the chewy kind, not the hard crunchy ones)

1. The blog excels at delivering the benefits readers truly desire. Have you attempted to uncover unmet reader needs and wants? By what methods? Do you focus relentlessly on maximizing your reader's product and service experiences? If you are a female blogger, have you invested in a good digital camera and lingere? If male, have you invested in these things along with a mask and wig? For all bloggers, have you retrofitted your living space to accomodate all the bondage equipment yet?
2. The blog stays relevant. Have you invested in product improvements that provide better value for your readers? Are you in touch with your readers' tastes? With the current blogging conditions? With new trends as they apply to your blog? Are your blogging decisions based on your knowledge of the above? Have you shamelesly ripped off other bloggers' posts a la Caramon the copycat?
3. The pricing strategy is based on reader's perception of value. (note: the price a blog's readership pays is time, just as the cost a blogger pays is time) Have you optimized price, cost, and quality to meet or exceed readers' expectations? Have you invested in Photoshop in order to make sure you meet or exceed readers' expectations?
4. The blog is properly positioned. Have you established necessary and competitive points of parity with competitors? Have you established desirable and deliverable points of difference? Have you made yourself more brown than mrbrown? More finicky than finicky feline? more intrepid than cap'n intrepid? More, uh, james-like than james?
5. The blog is consistent. Are you sure that your blog is not sending conflicting messages and that it hasn't done so over time? Conversely, are you adjusting your blog to keep current? If you start off as an asshat, do you continue to be one?
6. The blog portfolio and heirarchy make sense. Can the corporate blog create a seamless umbrella for all the blogs in the portfolio? Do the blogs in that portfolio make sense? Does this question make any sense in the context of blogging? Why is the sky blue, mummy? Are we there yet?
7. The blog makes use of and coordinates a full repertoire of marketing activities to build equity. Have you chosen or designed your blog name, logo, symbol, slogan, packaging, signage and so forth to maximize blog awareness? Have you said something inflammatory in someone else's blog to attract hits to your own? Have you posted pictures of scantily clad chicks, regardless of whether they have anything to do with anything?
8. The blog's writer understands what the brand means to readers. Do you know what readers like and don't like about your blog? Are you aware of all the core associations people make with your blog? Do your readers think you are an asshat, and is that necessarily a bad thing?
9. The blog is given proper support, and that support is sustained over the long run. Are the successes and failures of marketing programs fully understood before they are changed? Is the blog given sufficient R&D support? Have you avoided the temptation to cut back marketing support for the brand in reaction to a downturn in the market or a slump in readership? Have you offered cold hard cash for those who read your blog, or at least threatened to burn down the houses of those who do not? If not, why not?
10. The blogger monitors sources of blog equity. Have you created a blog charter that defines the meaning and equity of the blog and how it should be treated? If your answer is yes, back away from the computer, slowly, make your way outside, and scream at the top of your lungs 'god, someone please help me!' Do you conduct periodic blog audits to assess the health of your blog and to set strategic direction? If so, see above and add hair pulling and gnashing of teeth.

There you have it. Blogging fame in 10 easy steps!

PUBIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

If you're looking for a nekkid xiaxue sketch, try here. (Though it's NOT xiaxue, as you will read.) If you're interested in further scantily clad not xiaxue images, please be advised that there is an upcoming not xiaxue swimsuit issue!

Thank you. We return you now to your regularly scheduled blog.

Candlelit Vigil Cancelled: Expat @ Large Found Drinking

Since Expat at Large has been missing for something like a week now, I was contemplating beginning a vigil (candles optional). However, before I could organize the community and send out search parties (okay, that wasn’t going to happen) E @ L surfaced on cap’n intrepid’s comments page:

"E @ L stuck in strange country (Australia) with only his work
laptop and trying to come to terms with wierd local customs involving
consumption of large quantities of alcohol... Help! send more beer... but not VB
please."

Good to know you’re well enough to be particular about your booze, Expat, though I was really looking forward to having a "E @L Watch" section on this blog, complete with a section counting the days you’d been MIA…

GOD TOLD ME TO SAVE YOUR BREASTS

momogram
Originally uploaded by MercerMachine.

First Kylie, now this.

Apparently the Powers That Be have chosen me, MercerMachine, to wage war on breast cancer. How do I know this? First there was the Kylie debacle, and today this well intentioned but shudder-inducing poster. Signs and portents everywhere.

No mister pretty pink poster whose copywriter obviously skipped the part where you GO THROUGH SOME SORT OF EDITING PROCESS WHERE DOUBLE MEANINGS ARE WEEDED OUT, it just so happens that I do NOT want to give my mom a mammogram, because

a) I'm not trained,

b) gross,

c) I don't have the equipment laying around, oddly enough and

d) so, so very gross.

Okay, listen up people. Let me try to be as plain as I can: Breast cancer is bad. If you or someone you know has breasts, get the bearer of said breasts to have a mammogram done regularly, as breast cancer can kill you dead dead dead. Don't believe me? Read on.

UN-FUN BREAST CANCER FACTS:

Every 13 minutes a woman dies of breast cancer

Breast cancer is the leading cause of cancer death in women between the ages of 15 and 54, and the second cause of cancer death in women 55 to 74.

WHY THE BREASTS NEAREST OR DEAREST TO YOU SHOULD GET A MAMMOGRAM:

The first sign of breast cancer usually shows up on a woman's mammogram before it can be felt or any other symptoms are present.

Ninety-six percent of women who find and treat breast cancer early will be cancer-free after five years.

Okay, God? Can I get back to blatant sensationalism now?

GET WELL, KYLIE'S BREASTS

AP photo, Straits Times, Thursday May 19


Maybe it's just me, but considering the fact that Kylie Minogue is battling breast cancer, you'd think ST could find a photo that reeked less of crude, thoughtless, inconsiderate irony.

On the other hand, The Straits Times, Like SomethingStickyThisWayComes, is all about the sensationalism rather than oh, say, the news.

On page 2 of Life!, yet another picture of Kylie, featuring not her breasts but her tush. The caption on that one? 'Aussies Rally Behind Kylie' (emphasis mine).

Who was the editor that didn't catch all this? I want to hire him/her! Sensational!

DINGOS ATE MY BABY!

In a blatant bid for more readership of this blog, I have decided that all future articles will have some sort of sensational headline. I arrived at this decision after observing certain definite trends at Tomorrow.sg:

Photos of young, attractive female bloggers garner hits. Like crazy, man. As I am not a young, attractive female, this option is out for me. I suppose I could go and photograph young attractive females (though they may not be bloggers, but really, who would care?), but this would incur the wrath of MrsMachine. There would be a serious hurtin’ put on me. Alternately, I could take photos of very attractive and definitely female MrsMachine, but she would demand control of the creative process, and I would never end up getting to post any pictures as she is so particular.

Posts by respected, long-time bloggers such as mr. brown and la idler garner hits like crazy. I am not a long-time, respected blogger like mr brown or la idler. In time I may well become so, but let’s face it, that would take, like, time. And energy. And talent. My family motto is ‘Instant Gratification Takes Too Long’.

Posts about bloggers getting sued or bloggers calling groups of bloggers ‘infantile’ garner hits like crazy. I really, really don’t care to be sued. Not because I’m afraid of the lawsuit (MrsMachine is a lawyer, and a damn good one) but because I am afraid of MrsMachine. In actual fact, I wouldn’t have to worry about any lawsuit because she would kill me dead if I got into that kinda trouble. She’d kill me and hide the body and then mumble something about ‘being in the interest of administrative convenience’. As for calling anybody infantile, well, ring-ring, hello pot? This is kettle. You’re infantile.

So, the above avenues to blogging fame being duly explored and discarded, I’ve decided my only option is sensationalism. To give you a sneak peek into the SomethingStickyThisWayComes future, here are a few articles you can expect:

• THAI BOYS NEED LOVE, TOO
• THE ANG MO WHOREMASTER OF GENTING LANE
• THAT SEVERED FINGER IN MY MEE SIAM COST ME EXTRA
• DEATH PENALTY FOR DRUGS? LET'S TEST THAT THEORY
• IRENE ANG: OUR FORBIDDEN PASSION
• CHERYL FOX: SEAN CONNERY'S LOVE CHILD?
• THE SINGAPOREAN WHO HATED SEAFOOD
• CHANNEL NEWS ASIA TO REBRAND ITSELF 'ASIAN HISTORY CHANNEL'

Stay tuned, folks.

Why Water is Too Wet In Singapore, or, Retail Hell

I spent a large portion of my life in one retail atmosphere or another, but it wasn’t until I came to Singapore that I realized what retail hell truly is. I thank my lucky stars that I am no longer on the front lines, dealing with customers like this:

To make a long story short, it’s one of those warehouse sales at the exhibition center, and an auntie has bought a pack of four plastic hooks that you stick on your wall with a suction cup, the kind of hook that locks, apparently. Why you need a hook that locks, I don’t know, but that’s not the point. The point is, the pack is four hooks for a dollar, and it seems that when she got home she discovered that one of the hooks was faulty. So she decides to take the MRT back to the warehouse sale and complain. Over 25 cents.

I’m not a mathemagician, but I’m pretty sure you can’t even step on a train for less than, what, 60 cents? And of course she will have to go back home again, so minimum, she is out $1.20 over a 25 cent plastic hook.

And then I heard it, and everything became clear to me. The Phrase:

"How are you going to compensate me for my TIME?"

Listen people, there is no compensation for time. When time is gone, it’s gone. There’s no getting it back. I know. I wrote to George Lucas after Episode I asking for my two hours back and he explained it all to me in that annoying jar jar binks voice. Meesa so sorry. You no getta time back, no, never.

How are you going to compensate me for my time? The phrase is trite, tired and frankly insulting. It translates directly to "I’m a greedy SOB and you need to give me a discount or some other form of compensation or else I’ll be very unpleasant in front of all these nice people who will then think you’re a big jerk and then you’ll get bad word of mouth and your sales will go down."

It’s a form of blackmail. If retailers give in, they get screwed. If they don’t, they get screwed. If Singapore is known for its lacklustre customer service, it’s in direct proportion to how much Singaporeans complain. Sometimes I think Singaporeans will complain that water is too wet. [redacted] does it, and it never ceases to amaze and embarrass me. When she goes off on some poor clueless pre-teen behind the counter in a fashion outlet or whatever, I just cringe and tiptoe away. I mean, it may make her feel better and she often gets some sort of voucher or whatever, but damn it’s rude where I come from. The technical phrase, actually, would be ‘showing your ass’.

Should anyone accept shoddy service or goods? Of course not. But try operating on the assumption that it’s a mistake and not some evil plot by the evil Retail Overlord designed to screw you personally. Your blood pressure will go down. You may live longer (compensate yourself!) And if you speak reasonably and rationally and get the problem resolved on the spot, you won’t have to go all kiasu and screech at people over the phone and wonder how you will be compensated for that time you wasted fuming.

And who knows? Maybe, in time, the poor retail wage slaves will start to care about their jobs instead of enduring them, and fewer problems will arise, and less precious units of our lives will be wasted on bickering about frigging plastic locking hooks.

Just a thought.

Unreserved Disclaimer

I MercerMachine do hereby swear or affirm that I am in no way libelling or slandering anyone anytime unreservedly. Except George W. Bush. And racists. And people who write bad, bad books and make money off them. Unreservedly. So let it be written, so let it be done. Bathe her and bring her to me. Amen.

Books That Should Never Have Been Written, Part I: The Black Throne

I don't know if I can do this. It was painful to read; how much more painful will it be to write about? But my conscience tells me I must, lest someone else accidentally picks up this book under the impression that it might actually readable. Do not, I beg you! Learn from my mistake!

You would think that when Roger Zelazney and Fred Saberhagen get together to write a book it would be worth reading. I mean, these are two of the biggest names in science fiction and fantasy. Zelazney rose to immortality on his Amber series, and Saberhagen's Berserker series is one of the biggest sci-fi franchises on the shelf. Both have been critically acclaimed.

The premise of The Black Throne is... well, I guess that's where the trouble starts. The premise is rather muddled. It has to do with Edgar Allan Poe (a man whose writing I was raised on, which probably explains a lot) and multiple universes and a girl named Annie and her Kingdom by the sea and a fellow who is much like Poe, except his name is Edgar Perry and he's not mad or an alcoholic or much of a writer. He's like Poe's healthier, less exctiting alter ego. He's Poe if Poe was more like Kipling, except not so smart.

Poe, Perry and Annie meet in a kingdom by the sea throughout their childhood, apparently. And then something happens and Annie and Perry are thrown into Poe's world, and Poe is thrown into Perry's (our) world, where things are less magical. While Annie and Perry muddle through various adventures, Poe seems to keep some sort of connection to the two and writes of their adventures in garbled fashion. Thus Murders in the Rue Morgue, Mask of the Red Death, etc are born. It all sounds rather interesting, except it isn't.

Here is an excerpt, and it illustrates both what I mean by the muddled feel of the whole book and also what I mean when I say imitation has its limitations:

"Walking on that gray, warm morn through fogs which entombed his world in near-viscous whiteness, perfect as snow, quietening as cloak or shroud, the boy moved with a certain deliberation, wordless voice within his head, veiled forms swaying about him, avoiding cobble and branch in passage through the wood behind the school, oddity back of a place once known well, occuring mystery somehow situated to hold his soul chrysalis for a vital season, somehow special, personal, and marking a passage distinctive as scar or tattoo upon his life and forever."

Can someone please buy these guys a period? Or trade two for one for a comma? Look, I know what they're trying to do. But Only POE could get away with that sort of crap, because only POE could come up with the sort of macabre, fascinating idea that would make putting up with that sort of crap worth it. We read Poe despite the twisted run-on sentences, not because of them.

I was going to go through all the terrible bits of the book, but I just don't have the strength. Here are the highlights:

1) When Poe's alter ego Perry writes poetry:

These recent days be bloody stuff
and also recent dreams.
I seem to hear a phthisic cough
by life's eternal streams.
Death lurks and laughs his ass off.
At least that's how it seems.

At first I thought this was meant to be a little light humor. Then I realized it wasn't. Then I gagged.

2) The 'Plot' (not to be confused with the premise): Annie is a powerful supernatural woman who has been manipulated by three 'mesmerists' to shift the Edgars around in their worlds so that she can build up some sort of a psychic charge and power an alchemical transformation of lead into gold. Huh? Well, a LOT of lead into a LOT of gold. Oh. Well, at least there's a lot of gold at stake. Perry trails after her and her kidnappers from Richmond through Paris, parts of Spain, the Antarctic and New York. And in the end, she doesn't even need his help to be rescued.

3) The south pole is actually a big drain in which all water drains through the center of the earth and gets spat up through the north pole. Sort of a constant flush. Perry's ship gets sucked in, but 'just by chance' they had rescued a Dutch balloonist sometime before. They ride the baloon to NORTH AMERICA with only one brief stop.

4) Perry digs a trench in the middle of the villain's fortress and hides it with a piece of tarp. Never mind that the room is actually a room, not a dirt-floored hovel, or that one of the many henchmen would have noticed him, or that the writers, who yet again badly damaged our willing suspension of disbelieve then don't even bother to use the offending trench in the plot. Just never mind.

5) The villain of the piece makes Perry the sole beneficiary of his last will and testament. Why? Nobody knows. Well he may have been Perry's father. But that's just speculation. "Perry. I am your father, Perry. Join me on the dark side of the force, where we kidnap young girls and make them turn lead into gold. C'mon, Perry, you know you want to.'

5) There is no black throne in the entirety of The Black Throne. There is however a black chair. A 'shiny black chair'. So that's okay, I guess. As long as it's shiny.

I'm tired now. Let me sleep. Maybe the pain will subside. It's not enough that I suffer from literary poisoning, but you people make me talk about it too? Go read the Black Throne for yourself, then!

No I don't mean it. It's only the pain.

Along Orchard Road Pt 1: Tourists from Hell

So the other day my wife and I were walking down Orchard road close to Forum when we spied a middle aged woman and her two sons (roughly ten and twelve if I had to guess). The mother was wearing a sweater, and her two sons were wearing those kinds of jackets that are quilted inside and rain proof outside. It was probably 33 degrees that day. I pointed and laughed (subtly). My wife shushed me and said they were probably tourists. I said 'tourists from where? Hell?'. My wife hit me. She hits me a lot.

Look, I 'm used to heat. I'm from south Texas, where we like to say there are two seasons; summer and February. The heat can be brutal there, I can't remember when temperatures didn't reach 40, and sometimes they spike to 45. Every year charitable organizations have fan drives, because the elderly who cannot afford air conditioning start dying from the heat around the middle of June, and this continues into October depending on the weather. I have literally fried an egg on my sidewalk.So me and heat, we're acquainted.

But when I saw this trio who felt chilly in Singapore, I began to suspect that heat and I weren't as close as heat had led me to believe. That heat had, in effect, been faking an intimacy with me. Why? Who knows why the elements do what they do.

Who were these people? I wanted badly to know, but Mrs Machine forbade me to go up to them and enquire, on pain of pain. So I can only assume that they were indeed tourists from hell. Or New Orleans, because compared to New Orleans, Singapore's heat is a dry heat. And besides, most people can't tell the difference between hell and New Orleans anyway.