While I was waiting my turn at the clinic yesterday, a little boy of about 5 was also there. His sister was running a fever and was brought there by the grandmother. Since both siblings were under her care, he went along.
Not long after, both their parents arrived at the clinic.
His behaviour reminded me so much of many of the seasoned hypocrites I see at work. That fake smile, that calculativeness in pitting grandmother and mother at odds when his mother asked him to do something that the grandmother didn't.
That fake smile. That fully exposed frontal teethy smile with those conniving, calculative eyes... The last I've seen such a display was during my basic military training, when one of the recruits tried to wiggle his way out by acting dumb and moronic. And yet, this is a 5 year old boy.
I still get shudders when I think about him.
Showing posts with label crises. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crises. Show all posts
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Thursday, April 01, 2010
HDB Millionnaire?
My darling government should be concerned. In fact, it should be very concerned. Clearly, Singaporeans are now not afraid of their government. At least, not in the investment realms. Ok, add marriage and having babies to that list of things that Singaporeans simply don't care two hoots about what the men and women in white are urging us to do.
Singapore is likely to witness the first case of an HDB apartment - with a 99-year lease - to be transacted at a whisker under $1 million dollars. For those like my fortunate friends in the US who are not aware of leased land, the government allows Singaporeans to own their HDB flats for a lease period of 99 years. While that is stated on paper, Singaporeans will have to give up their flat should the government want to conduct en bloc upgrading of the estate or when the housing lease is up, whichever is sooner. At the current state, the former is happening more frequently than the latter. I have yet to see 99-year-old flats being repossessed by the state.
I shall not delve into the ethics of evicting me from my home - technically, I am not even an HDB apartment owner - or discuss the immorality of forcing me into another housing loan for a new flat that I don't want - many other Singaporeans cannot wait to move out of their free-range chicken farm into a chicken coop - but I shall say that HDB housing, a right of Singaporeans, is now becoming elusive.
It is so elusive that a single man can expect to fork out his arm, his leg and may be what hangs between his leg to buy an HDB flat. And add to that, he can pledge his heart, corneas, lungs, kidneys, and testicles even (!), to secure a housing loan, which he can expect to service for the rest of his life. (The gender under question is intentional - a woman "can expect to service for the rest of her life" sounds way too colourful for the G-rated nature of this innocent looking blog. *Blinks innocently*)
Now that the Bishan Executive Mansionette is going for S$900,000, Singaporeans are now of the belief that the shit hole they live in is worth twice as much as was valued by the HDB valuers.
Before we go forward, let us take a giant step back to see this travesty through the eyes of this innocent blogger. *Blink blink blink (think Bambi)* Let's do some sums!
Total value of unit - $900,000
Cash-over-valuation - $170,000 (This portion needs to be paid for in cash!)
Valuation - $730,000 (I don't quite believe this; EM valuation hardly break 700k)
5% cash downpayment on Valuation - $36,500
15% cash/CPF downpayment on Valuation - $109,500
80% or less bank loan on Valuation - $584,000 (If you decide to take a smaller loan, you have to fork out even more cash or CPF.)
In other words, this buyer has a total of at least $206,500 in cash sitting freely around! House buyers (or potential ones) know that there is still stamp duties to be paid on the house and lawyer fees!
How in the world did this happen?
Many worker bees like us are required to either go out and collect pollen and feed the hive or spend the whole time breeding the Queen Bitch. I mean, the Queen Bee. For the pittance we are often paid, how do we accumulate $200,000 in cash at all? I am hard pressed to come up with HALF that amount, much less have the full $200,000 lying around.
Given the CPF caps that are applied since two recessions ago, CPF is paid for the first $4500 of our salaries. This is again a complicated calculation process but it is suffice to say that there is very little likelihood to build a CPF to that grand scale as above.
Although market watchers will dismiss these HDB windfalls (for the owners) to be one-off, most houseowners will be emboldened by the news and begin withdrawing their units from the market and relaunch them at even higher prices. I have already experienced that with a few units I viewed recently. What will this world come to?
How is it possible for a single Singaporean man to own a roof these days? *Continues in his search for the Widowed Childless Rich Old Dying Datin*
Singapore is likely to witness the first case of an HDB apartment - with a 99-year lease - to be transacted at a whisker under $1 million dollars. For those like my fortunate friends in the US who are not aware of leased land, the government allows Singaporeans to own their HDB flats for a lease period of 99 years. While that is stated on paper, Singaporeans will have to give up their flat should the government want to conduct en bloc upgrading of the estate or when the housing lease is up, whichever is sooner. At the current state, the former is happening more frequently than the latter. I have yet to see 99-year-old flats being repossessed by the state.
I shall not delve into the ethics of evicting me from my home - technically, I am not even an HDB apartment owner - or discuss the immorality of forcing me into another housing loan for a new flat that I don't want - many other Singaporeans cannot wait to move out of their free-range chicken farm into a chicken coop - but I shall say that HDB housing, a right of Singaporeans, is now becoming elusive.
It is so elusive that a single man can expect to fork out his arm, his leg and may be what hangs between his leg to buy an HDB flat. And add to that, he can pledge his heart, corneas, lungs, kidneys, and testicles even (!), to secure a housing loan, which he can expect to service for the rest of his life. (The gender under question is intentional - a woman "can expect to service for the rest of her life" sounds way too colourful for the G-rated nature of this innocent looking blog. *Blinks innocently*)
Now that the Bishan Executive Mansionette is going for S$900,000, Singaporeans are now of the belief that the shit hole they live in is worth twice as much as was valued by the HDB valuers.
Before we go forward, let us take a giant step back to see this travesty through the eyes of this innocent blogger. *Blink blink blink (think Bambi)* Let's do some sums!
Total value of unit - $900,000
Cash-over-valuation - $170,000 (This portion needs to be paid for in cash!)
Valuation - $730,000 (I don't quite believe this; EM valuation hardly break 700k)
5% cash downpayment on Valuation - $36,500
15% cash/CPF downpayment on Valuation - $109,500
80% or less bank loan on Valuation - $584,000 (If you decide to take a smaller loan, you have to fork out even more cash or CPF.)
In other words, this buyer has a total of at least $206,500 in cash sitting freely around! House buyers (or potential ones) know that there is still stamp duties to be paid on the house and lawyer fees!
How in the world did this happen?
Many worker bees like us are required to either go out and collect pollen and feed the hive or spend the whole time breeding the Queen Bitch. I mean, the Queen Bee. For the pittance we are often paid, how do we accumulate $200,000 in cash at all? I am hard pressed to come up with HALF that amount, much less have the full $200,000 lying around.
Given the CPF caps that are applied since two recessions ago, CPF is paid for the first $4500 of our salaries. This is again a complicated calculation process but it is suffice to say that there is very little likelihood to build a CPF to that grand scale as above.
Although market watchers will dismiss these HDB windfalls (for the owners) to be one-off, most houseowners will be emboldened by the news and begin withdrawing their units from the market and relaunch them at even higher prices. I have already experienced that with a few units I viewed recently. What will this world come to?
How is it possible for a single Singaporean man to own a roof these days? *Continues in his search for the Widowed Childless Rich Old Dying Datin*
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
One gets it right!
Got this youtube video in my email this morning.
Honestly, this is what I wish I could do to parents out there when I first began teaching.
I stand by my belief that some people ought to be neutered and never be allowed to have children. After all, we should not let stupidity propagate.
Oh, but then we begin to welcome foreign talents [sic].
Honestly, this is what I wish I could do to parents out there when I first began teaching.
I stand by my belief that some people ought to be neutered and never be allowed to have children. After all, we should not let stupidity propagate.
Oh, but then we begin to welcome foreign talents [sic].
Monday, September 14, 2009
Killing Me Softly...
Spent about two hours in the Changi General Hospital's Accident and Emergency Department's Observation Room when I went over for follow-up treatment last Friday. Immediately on entering the room, I was plonked on an empty bed. There was a patient on my left (Bed 7) and an empty bed on my right (Bed 5). No prizes for correctly guessing for my bed number.
Beds 1, 2 and 3 were empty while on Bed 4 lay this Malay guy who was conscious but hooked to various monitors. He's perhaps in his 30s or 40s and if anything, I'd suspect withdrawal symptoms rather than any real medical emergency. But what would I know.
Bed 7 on my left lay a sleeping guy, possibly a national serviceman, wrapped up in his blanket. I was not sure if he's malingering but I was beyond caring now. I had problems of my own to worry about. Bed 8 seemed to be occupied but the patient was blocked by the mass on 7. Bed 9 was empty. Bed 10 lay this Chinese man who looks like he's from China but I might be wrong. Beds 11 and 12 were empty.
I was waiting for my turn to get my CT Scan done. Right after I was made to lie in the bed, my blood pressure was taken and the nurses manning the OR counter began talking about the age of their new patient and his condition. Yak yak yak...
The nurses woke Patient 7 not long after I was settled in and asked if he could manage to go home by himself. I guessed that was the beginning of the long weekend and the hell he couldn't! So, off he went. I saw the gaunt patient on Bed 8. Bed 10 went up for his scan and I waited my turn, when the machine became available.
Before long, Bed 10 seemed to come back down while I fidgeted, went to the loo, was made to sit on a wheelchair, wait in the wheelchair, wheeled up to Radiology, and got my scan done.
Act 1 was complete when the CT machine fired the last x-rays through my skull and possibly semi-cooking my brains. I was wheeled back to the OR and made to get back on my bed.
* * *
"You must drink water. See, ask you to drink water, you don't want to drink? Today you're back in here again." So goes the son to his father, the patient on Bed 8.
"Yesteday, we came here and you were vomiting. They wanted to put you on the drip and you don't want.
"What can we do now? No point telling me that they use such a big (gauged needle) one on your now, right? Yesterday, if you take, you won't need such a big one.
"You need to drink water. How can you not drink water? Yesterday, when the doctors let you go home, you were told to drink lots of water. But you say the water makes you vomit. Now doctor X cannot do anything for you. God can't do anything for you either.
"Don't worry about anything at home. Everything will be fine. The home will still be there when you go home. You should just stay in here and start drinking water.
"You cannot go home now. See? Even God doesn't want to take you yet. So, how?..."
Apart from some occasional low groans and some raspy, unintelligible sounds, the son persisted on his soliloquy. There was resignation, not anger.
"See? I already take leave today. I got no choice since I have to bring you here. Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Saturday. I don't have to work. And today I take leave to bring you here..."
The battle of making dad drink water was amazing. While I tried to resist turning over to take a look, when sonny left, I sneaked a peek. Old man seemed to be burning. His face is flush reddish purple and his lips were dry and chapped. His eyes were listless as he stared out into the clinically white lighted room, his mouth gaping like a beached goldfish gasping for air.
* * *
"Oh, Mr So-so. I'm your doctor. I've just seen your radiology report. I think you have got a mini-stroke. You know, a TIA..."
Man, I know a TIA. It's short for transient ischaemic attack. I just watched it for the third time on Royal Pains the night before. Oh shit, what if I had a TIA from the car accident...
The patient on Bed 10 must be pretty taken aback. Stroke? How is that possible? He looked perfectly normal. Normal weight range, normal everything.
"Mr So-so, TIA is like a stroke. You see your films? There is this dark region. The blood flow to the area is affected."
I could almost see myself spouting these lines. Man, when I go to the US for studies, I'm going to audition for a role in some medical drama. I could play the role of a plastic surgeon who gets a patient who wants a pair of 38H and midway into the headlights enhancement operation, she had a TIA, wakes up after emergency rescue and decides that, for the sake of her fragile life, she wants a pair of 42L instead. The patient's name? Miss Giant Parts Greenberg. ;)
"We don't know if there is permanent damage. No. You cannot go home. You must stay in the hospital and we need to treat you. We will find out the extent of the blockage and see if you have any permanent damage here.
Such words were not exactly the most comforting to me, since I'm also waiting for the CT scan results.
Doctor turned to Patient 10's wife and asked, "Do you know if he complained of any weaknesses on one side of his body...?"
A poignant Miss Saigon moment descends. I feel walls in my heart closing in, I can't breathe, I can't win...
* * *
I had quite enough by then. Between the time I was sent for the scan and my return, which was less than 15 minutes, the OR room dynamics had changed. There was now a Patient 5 on my right now and he was offered lunch. That junior category senior even asked to see the lunch menu. He really thinks that when the ambulance crew euphemistically call hospitals hotels, they are thus hotels? Crazy.
Patient 1 was an old man/woman - honestly, when you are old and shrivelled up, no one can tell your sex any more - and s/he was sleeping. Or maybe unconscious. S/he is awaiting admission.
Bed 2 was occupied by a huge Indian lady who was to be admitted. When the enrolled nurses asked her to sit up, they asked her, "Can you sit up?" and then asked if the bed, which was supposed to wheel her to her ward, could support her weight. Somehow, after watching Nurse Jackie, I feel strangely comforted.
On Bed 3 was a Malay old man who wanted to be given his painkillers, forget about any treatment and scoot home soonest possible. He looked like he wished to be home, never mind should anything happen to him. I doubt he was of dischargable patient calibre but to subject a senior category senior citizen to more treatment seemed brutal. And what do I know? I'm just an aspiring medical drama quack.
Patient 4 was more sober by then. Maybe they injected a little something into him? I was not sure. By then, I was already pretty much killed inside by the flurry of bad news and the negative vibes.
"Can I leave this place?" I asked the nurses. "I wanna get lunch."
"Do you have relatives with you?"
"No, I came alone. Oh, never mind. How long will this take?"
"About 1 hour."
"1 hour? I can wait. It's just another 15 minutes."
In an environment where it's bad news galore - the sign at the OR entrance
read, "Due to high occupancy, you will only be allocated your bed in the wards when it becomes available," or something to that effect - find an excuse and get out before your heart gives out when your news come.
Still, high occupancy rates in "Cannot Go Home" Hospital? Amazing. Singaporeans must be damned desperate to go there.
As I waited, there was a fresh commotion in the nurses area about how they intend to complain about a staff nurse or doctor who passed disparaging remarks about the hospital. Apparently, the fellow said something like, "No wonder people say Changi is a bad hospital. If I had a family member who was ill and needed to go to the hospital, I wouldn't even send them (sic!)here." And to make matters worse, this utterance was made in front of the public. Apparently, the OR nightingales are going to launch a joint attack on the hawk by claiming that he was out of line, unprofessional and whatever.
Ah, at least some bitching near my comfort levels. I don't know what transpired but the nightingales seemed perturbed enough to say words to the effect that Changi is a great hospital and if any of their loved ones fall sick, they would have no qualms to send them here because of the high levels of care. Oddly, I feel a little more confident, even if Changi is not even on my shortlist for anything.
* * *
1.15 pm. The wait was getting unbearable. The OR was not exactly changing much in terms of patient numbers but there was clearly a need to get rid of bed hoggers. My case came up for review at the counter. A re-triage of sorts.
"This patient looks all right."
"Yah, 29 years old..." - goddammit, there is ABSOLUTELY no one who's 29 in the OR! I'm the youngest and I'm way past 30! - "and the signs are stable. Blood pressure ok."
"Ok, let me call Radiology."
29 years old? Ha! I was 29 once. But how could they work out my age to be 29 when that was half a decade ago?
"Hello, Radiology? A&E OR ah. Can I discharge this patient? We need the beds."
The next thing, I was told I could leave the observation room.
At that moment, I knew there was nothing very serious. But honestly, the lack of privacy in the OR and the deluge of bad news bombarding the patients in the room can rapidly cause anyone to slip into a transient depression. The what-ifs can really be heart stopping and mind blowing.
I quickly bundled out of the OR and went back to the waiting area, where the doctor walked out of his consultation room and asked for another 2 hours to clear my case as the senior enough radiologist wasn't available to countersign on my CT report and a verbal ok from Radiology and from only one radiologist wasn't good enough to get me discharged as an emergency case.
Still, being able to get out of the A&E for a quick lunch and some shopping to remove the negative thoughts and vibes that plague the free mind - despite the giddiness from the mild concussion - can be a little uplifting.
Beds 1, 2 and 3 were empty while on Bed 4 lay this Malay guy who was conscious but hooked to various monitors. He's perhaps in his 30s or 40s and if anything, I'd suspect withdrawal symptoms rather than any real medical emergency. But what would I know.
Bed 7 on my left lay a sleeping guy, possibly a national serviceman, wrapped up in his blanket. I was not sure if he's malingering but I was beyond caring now. I had problems of my own to worry about. Bed 8 seemed to be occupied but the patient was blocked by the mass on 7. Bed 9 was empty. Bed 10 lay this Chinese man who looks like he's from China but I might be wrong. Beds 11 and 12 were empty.
I was waiting for my turn to get my CT Scan done. Right after I was made to lie in the bed, my blood pressure was taken and the nurses manning the OR counter began talking about the age of their new patient and his condition. Yak yak yak...
The nurses woke Patient 7 not long after I was settled in and asked if he could manage to go home by himself. I guessed that was the beginning of the long weekend and the hell he couldn't! So, off he went. I saw the gaunt patient on Bed 8. Bed 10 went up for his scan and I waited my turn, when the machine became available.
Before long, Bed 10 seemed to come back down while I fidgeted, went to the loo, was made to sit on a wheelchair, wait in the wheelchair, wheeled up to Radiology, and got my scan done.
Act 1 was complete when the CT machine fired the last x-rays through my skull and possibly semi-cooking my brains. I was wheeled back to the OR and made to get back on my bed.
* * *
"You must drink water. See, ask you to drink water, you don't want to drink? Today you're back in here again." So goes the son to his father, the patient on Bed 8.
"Yesteday, we came here and you were vomiting. They wanted to put you on the drip and you don't want.
"What can we do now? No point telling me that they use such a big (gauged needle) one on your now, right? Yesterday, if you take, you won't need such a big one.
"You need to drink water. How can you not drink water? Yesterday, when the doctors let you go home, you were told to drink lots of water. But you say the water makes you vomit. Now doctor X cannot do anything for you. God can't do anything for you either.
"Don't worry about anything at home. Everything will be fine. The home will still be there when you go home. You should just stay in here and start drinking water.
"You cannot go home now. See? Even God doesn't want to take you yet. So, how?..."
Apart from some occasional low groans and some raspy, unintelligible sounds, the son persisted on his soliloquy. There was resignation, not anger.
"See? I already take leave today. I got no choice since I have to bring you here. Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Saturday. I don't have to work. And today I take leave to bring you here..."
The battle of making dad drink water was amazing. While I tried to resist turning over to take a look, when sonny left, I sneaked a peek. Old man seemed to be burning. His face is flush reddish purple and his lips were dry and chapped. His eyes were listless as he stared out into the clinically white lighted room, his mouth gaping like a beached goldfish gasping for air.
* * *
"Oh, Mr So-so. I'm your doctor. I've just seen your radiology report. I think you have got a mini-stroke. You know, a TIA..."
Man, I know a TIA. It's short for transient ischaemic attack. I just watched it for the third time on Royal Pains the night before. Oh shit, what if I had a TIA from the car accident...
The patient on Bed 10 must be pretty taken aback. Stroke? How is that possible? He looked perfectly normal. Normal weight range, normal everything.
"Mr So-so, TIA is like a stroke. You see your films? There is this dark region. The blood flow to the area is affected."
I could almost see myself spouting these lines. Man, when I go to the US for studies, I'm going to audition for a role in some medical drama. I could play the role of a plastic surgeon who gets a patient who wants a pair of 38H and midway into the headlights enhancement operation, she had a TIA, wakes up after emergency rescue and decides that, for the sake of her fragile life, she wants a pair of 42L instead. The patient's name? Miss Giant Parts Greenberg. ;)
"We don't know if there is permanent damage. No. You cannot go home. You must stay in the hospital and we need to treat you. We will find out the extent of the blockage and see if you have any permanent damage here.
Such words were not exactly the most comforting to me, since I'm also waiting for the CT scan results.
Doctor turned to Patient 10's wife and asked, "Do you know if he complained of any weaknesses on one side of his body...?"
A poignant Miss Saigon moment descends. I feel walls in my heart closing in, I can't breathe, I can't win...
* * *
I had quite enough by then. Between the time I was sent for the scan and my return, which was less than 15 minutes, the OR room dynamics had changed. There was now a Patient 5 on my right now and he was offered lunch. That junior category senior even asked to see the lunch menu. He really thinks that when the ambulance crew euphemistically call hospitals hotels, they are thus hotels? Crazy.
Patient 1 was an old man/woman - honestly, when you are old and shrivelled up, no one can tell your sex any more - and s/he was sleeping. Or maybe unconscious. S/he is awaiting admission.
Bed 2 was occupied by a huge Indian lady who was to be admitted. When the enrolled nurses asked her to sit up, they asked her, "Can you sit up?" and then asked if the bed, which was supposed to wheel her to her ward, could support her weight. Somehow, after watching Nurse Jackie, I feel strangely comforted.
On Bed 3 was a Malay old man who wanted to be given his painkillers, forget about any treatment and scoot home soonest possible. He looked like he wished to be home, never mind should anything happen to him. I doubt he was of dischargable patient calibre but to subject a senior category senior citizen to more treatment seemed brutal. And what do I know? I'm just an aspiring medical drama quack.
Patient 4 was more sober by then. Maybe they injected a little something into him? I was not sure. By then, I was already pretty much killed inside by the flurry of bad news and the negative vibes.
"Can I leave this place?" I asked the nurses. "I wanna get lunch."
"Do you have relatives with you?"
"No, I came alone. Oh, never mind. How long will this take?"
"About 1 hour."
"1 hour? I can wait. It's just another 15 minutes."
In an environment where it's bad news galore - the sign at the OR entrance
read, "Due to high occupancy, you will only be allocated your bed in the wards when it becomes available," or something to that effect - find an excuse and get out before your heart gives out when your news come.
Still, high occupancy rates in "Cannot Go Home" Hospital? Amazing. Singaporeans must be damned desperate to go there.
As I waited, there was a fresh commotion in the nurses area about how they intend to complain about a staff nurse or doctor who passed disparaging remarks about the hospital. Apparently, the fellow said something like, "No wonder people say Changi is a bad hospital. If I had a family member who was ill and needed to go to the hospital, I wouldn't even send them (sic!)here." And to make matters worse, this utterance was made in front of the public. Apparently, the OR nightingales are going to launch a joint attack on the hawk by claiming that he was out of line, unprofessional and whatever.
Ah, at least some bitching near my comfort levels. I don't know what transpired but the nightingales seemed perturbed enough to say words to the effect that Changi is a great hospital and if any of their loved ones fall sick, they would have no qualms to send them here because of the high levels of care. Oddly, I feel a little more confident, even if Changi is not even on my shortlist for anything.
* * *
1.15 pm. The wait was getting unbearable. The OR was not exactly changing much in terms of patient numbers but there was clearly a need to get rid of bed hoggers. My case came up for review at the counter. A re-triage of sorts.
"This patient looks all right."
"Yah, 29 years old..." - goddammit, there is ABSOLUTELY no one who's 29 in the OR! I'm the youngest and I'm way past 30! - "and the signs are stable. Blood pressure ok."
"Ok, let me call Radiology."
29 years old? Ha! I was 29 once. But how could they work out my age to be 29 when that was half a decade ago?
"Hello, Radiology? A&E OR ah. Can I discharge this patient? We need the beds."
The next thing, I was told I could leave the observation room.
At that moment, I knew there was nothing very serious. But honestly, the lack of privacy in the OR and the deluge of bad news bombarding the patients in the room can rapidly cause anyone to slip into a transient depression. The what-ifs can really be heart stopping and mind blowing.
I quickly bundled out of the OR and went back to the waiting area, where the doctor walked out of his consultation room and asked for another 2 hours to clear my case as the senior enough radiologist wasn't available to countersign on my CT report and a verbal ok from Radiology and from only one radiologist wasn't good enough to get me discharged as an emergency case.
Still, being able to get out of the A&E for a quick lunch and some shopping to remove the negative thoughts and vibes that plague the free mind - despite the giddiness from the mild concussion - can be a little uplifting.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
On tenterhooks
The brain is almost unreliable these days with words I hardly use. The latent memory store does not maintain its integrity enough. I had to check a dictionary, I turn to online ones these days, to check if my tenterhoooks was spelled correctly. D*mn, I was really that tentative about it. But that shouldn't come as a big surprise to me. My entire being last week and this has been on tenterhooks for more things than one.
(Very soon, I should write an academic essay here and then direct all my students to come over here to take a look at one correct academic writing piece so that they know what is a hook, what is a thesis statement, what is a topic sentence, what are admissible evidence, what are cinchers etc... But that is a day in some future.)
The first salvo was my 4 month old Nokia phone not holding charge. I had to send it down last Tuesday to the Nokia service centre and kick up a fuss there because the counter staff tried to shirk out of their product warranty. He claimed that battery life - even if the user manual stated that it lasts up to 300 hours on standby - can be as short as 48 to 72 hours because of all sorts of factors. Yeah, right. When I got the phone new, the battery held charge up to 240 hours (10 days). Now, it drains itself flat, on standby mode, in 48 hours. What could have happened? All sorts of what factors? What about a spoilt battery? I stood my ground and my phone was finally taken in for repair.
The service centre called to inform me on Friday last. The phone is ready for collection. Fine. Looks good to me. Then my computer crashed. It shut itself down and would not reboot.
Housemate said the hard disk crashed. I was devastated. (I can spell devastated because being Murphy's favourite nephew, this word is more frequently used than tenterhooks. Honestly, there is no need to be on tenterhooks usually; one does not often have impending trips.) I hope that it is not. If it is, all my hard work and trip information would be gone. I need to start writing emails to the people I wish to meet to check the timing all over again.
To make things worse, the scheduled back up hard disk went AWOL and had not been backing up my stuff since May. The laptop was finally sent in to HP that same day at 7 pm and even at HP, I had to raise my voice (just a little) at them. It was the third time in a row that I was told my set was not under warranty. However, the fact that my set was under extended warranty (note to all HP laptop buyers: First critical crash-and-burn will occur within 6 months of the first year warranty's expiry; second within 6 months of the extended warranty's (usually for an additional next 24 months) expiry) was established about 4 months ago when it was discovered that HP did not register the set for extended cover. The supporting receipts were faxed to HP, who acknowledged receipt of the extended warranty. Yet, this time, my set was still... Fortunately, the receipts were in the car. Housemate genius conveniently left the documents in the car foreseeing that another showdown would be inevitable given the reliability of HP products. So warranty was finally settled.
But HP has not gotten back to me to tell me if their initial diagnosis of a motherboard failure was correct. The laptop isn't with me yet. I'm working on my older laptop with an external monitor. The LCD screen died 1 month after its 36 month warranty. I probably need to blame certain bloggers who are always in pink for shocking my poor monitor out of consciousness. I jest, but the only reason why I stuck to HP is for their after sales service.
Mini hiccups and the Wii... Oh, after my intial encounter with Super Mario Galaxy and my decision to lay off it entirely, I went back and played the game for a few more times and cleared a few more worlds. But I digress. Amidst these awful occurrences, I had a great save from a friend-cum-mentor. She made me prepare a list of critical info to send to her for a quick browse and from her, I managed to get a document - perhaps the most important one of all - back. It probably saved me another 2 weeks of research to put that same list back together. Yes, it ain't easy reading pages and pages of CV and description to decide if you can work with that someone on your postgrad studies.
I now wait with bated breath, my luggage and all not packed yet, for any news of my laptop. Defnitely on tenterhooks, you bet.
(Very soon, I should write an academic essay here and then direct all my students to come over here to take a look at one correct academic writing piece so that they know what is a hook, what is a thesis statement, what is a topic sentence, what are admissible evidence, what are cinchers etc... But that is a day in some future.)
The first salvo was my 4 month old Nokia phone not holding charge. I had to send it down last Tuesday to the Nokia service centre and kick up a fuss there because the counter staff tried to shirk out of their product warranty. He claimed that battery life - even if the user manual stated that it lasts up to 300 hours on standby - can be as short as 48 to 72 hours because of all sorts of factors. Yeah, right. When I got the phone new, the battery held charge up to 240 hours (10 days). Now, it drains itself flat, on standby mode, in 48 hours. What could have happened? All sorts of what factors? What about a spoilt battery? I stood my ground and my phone was finally taken in for repair.
The service centre called to inform me on Friday last. The phone is ready for collection. Fine. Looks good to me. Then my computer crashed. It shut itself down and would not reboot.
Housemate said the hard disk crashed. I was devastated. (I can spell devastated because being Murphy's favourite nephew, this word is more frequently used than tenterhooks. Honestly, there is no need to be on tenterhooks usually; one does not often have impending trips.) I hope that it is not. If it is, all my hard work and trip information would be gone. I need to start writing emails to the people I wish to meet to check the timing all over again.
To make things worse, the scheduled back up hard disk went AWOL and had not been backing up my stuff since May. The laptop was finally sent in to HP that same day at 7 pm and even at HP, I had to raise my voice (just a little) at them. It was the third time in a row that I was told my set was not under warranty. However, the fact that my set was under extended warranty (note to all HP laptop buyers: First critical crash-and-burn will occur within 6 months of the first year warranty's expiry; second within 6 months of the extended warranty's (usually for an additional next 24 months) expiry) was established about 4 months ago when it was discovered that HP did not register the set for extended cover. The supporting receipts were faxed to HP, who acknowledged receipt of the extended warranty. Yet, this time, my set was still... Fortunately, the receipts were in the car. Housemate genius conveniently left the documents in the car foreseeing that another showdown would be inevitable given the reliability of HP products. So warranty was finally settled.
But HP has not gotten back to me to tell me if their initial diagnosis of a motherboard failure was correct. The laptop isn't with me yet. I'm working on my older laptop with an external monitor. The LCD screen died 1 month after its 36 month warranty. I probably need to blame certain bloggers who are always in pink for shocking my poor monitor out of consciousness. I jest, but the only reason why I stuck to HP is for their after sales service.
Mini hiccups and the Wii... Oh, after my intial encounter with Super Mario Galaxy and my decision to lay off it entirely, I went back and played the game for a few more times and cleared a few more worlds. But I digress. Amidst these awful occurrences, I had a great save from a friend-cum-mentor. She made me prepare a list of critical info to send to her for a quick browse and from her, I managed to get a document - perhaps the most important one of all - back. It probably saved me another 2 weeks of research to put that same list back together. Yes, it ain't easy reading pages and pages of CV and description to decide if you can work with that someone on your postgrad studies.
I now wait with bated breath, my luggage and all not packed yet, for any news of my laptop. Defnitely on tenterhooks, you bet.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Broken Bow(l)
Well, the title was really a pun on one of my favourite songs, "Broken Vow," by David Foster and Josh Groban.
But broken bowl caused me some grief, indeed, last night.
I had steamed rice in a stoneware bowl in a Chinese wok. When I was about to serve dinner, I tried to retrieve the bowl with a pair of calipers typically used by restaurants to take out hot crockery from ovens or steamers. So as I crimped the calipers on the side and tried to remove the bowl out of the wok, the bowl broke.
I am not sure if the bowl slipped, hit against the wok and broke, or if the bowl fractured, slipped and hit against the wok. However, not that it might matter that much. The combined weight of the bowl and the rice and the resulting force caused by the dropping of the bown of rice tipped the contents of the wok - hot water - right down my thighs and the top of my feet. I had just turned the fire off from steaming the rice some 20 minutes before, so the heat was pretty high still.
I dropped everything, went straight to the bathroom and hosed scalded trotters under running water.
A while later, I re-emerged and cleaned up the mess. The broken pieces were picked up and thrown away, the rice tossed into the bin and I clean the floor for stoneware fragments. There were extremely sharp shrapnel, which I managed to pick up.
Right after, I slathered my burnt legs and feet with some cream and had dinner.
Despite the pain last night, I believe the burns were mostly first degree. By this morning, most of the pain is gone and I'm back.
What an evening!
But broken bowl caused me some grief, indeed, last night.
I had steamed rice in a stoneware bowl in a Chinese wok. When I was about to serve dinner, I tried to retrieve the bowl with a pair of calipers typically used by restaurants to take out hot crockery from ovens or steamers. So as I crimped the calipers on the side and tried to remove the bowl out of the wok, the bowl broke.
I am not sure if the bowl slipped, hit against the wok and broke, or if the bowl fractured, slipped and hit against the wok. However, not that it might matter that much. The combined weight of the bowl and the rice and the resulting force caused by the dropping of the bown of rice tipped the contents of the wok - hot water - right down my thighs and the top of my feet. I had just turned the fire off from steaming the rice some 20 minutes before, so the heat was pretty high still.
I dropped everything, went straight to the bathroom and hosed scalded trotters under running water.
A while later, I re-emerged and cleaned up the mess. The broken pieces were picked up and thrown away, the rice tossed into the bin and I clean the floor for stoneware fragments. There were extremely sharp shrapnel, which I managed to pick up.
Right after, I slathered my burnt legs and feet with some cream and had dinner.
Despite the pain last night, I believe the burns were mostly first degree. By this morning, most of the pain is gone and I'm back.
What an evening!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
B*** S***
On Saturday, organisers hope to get 1 billion people to believe and take part in their BS.
These 1 billion people are supposed to switch off every d**n thing in their homes and live in total darkness and quiet to save an hour's worth of electricity.
These 1 billion people are supposed to believe that our philandering ways have led to a crisis called global warming.
These 1 billion people are supposed to think that their turning off their electrical equiment for an hour, and then blasting them the rest of the year - regardless of need - to make up for it, is going help preserve the earth for a period of time enough for a new generation to spawn.
1 billion of such people are already in existence. We don't another 1 billion. We don't need to be them. Look at the people around the world who have no electricity. Oops, make it no home, not even basic shelter. Aren't they the most ardent supporters of your BS? They have more than sufficiently atoned for our sins. Why should we pretend that we need to disrupt the sick system even more.
These 1 billion people are going to tax the generators so badly at the end of their 1hour of hypocritical BS when they reignite all the equipment at the same time. If I suffer a power outage, I'll engage all other sane folks to initiate a class action suit against the perpetrators of such BS.
How can 1 billion people, almost 15% of the world's population, all be tricked into believing that global warming is a man-made occurrence? Haven't scientists shown with historical ice ages that the earth is merely going through a hot stage now, and then our next ice age will come later?
1 billion *more* morons. That's an assault on our combined IQ scores. For that one hour, we lose all the geniuses to the drama-mamas, who think with their hearts and groins rather than their brains. Didn't some people suggest that the 1 hour of BS be spent in fornication? How that idea sucks! How is the heaving and panting not adding to greenhouse carbon dioxide gases? And then what happens when our population grows by another 200 million more in 9 months?
Fortunately, these 1 billion people will NOT include me.
The world will end. But it will not be because of me, but because of the 1 billion people who have chosen to vote for "This Planet." Earth Hour? For heaven's sake, grow a brain for a start.
These 1 billion people are supposed to switch off every d**n thing in their homes and live in total darkness and quiet to save an hour's worth of electricity.
These 1 billion people are supposed to believe that our philandering ways have led to a crisis called global warming.
These 1 billion people are supposed to think that their turning off their electrical equiment for an hour, and then blasting them the rest of the year - regardless of need - to make up for it, is going help preserve the earth for a period of time enough for a new generation to spawn.
1 billion of such people are already in existence. We don't another 1 billion. We don't need to be them. Look at the people around the world who have no electricity. Oops, make it no home, not even basic shelter. Aren't they the most ardent supporters of your BS? They have more than sufficiently atoned for our sins. Why should we pretend that we need to disrupt the sick system even more.
These 1 billion people are going to tax the generators so badly at the end of their 1hour of hypocritical BS when they reignite all the equipment at the same time. If I suffer a power outage, I'll engage all other sane folks to initiate a class action suit against the perpetrators of such BS.
How can 1 billion people, almost 15% of the world's population, all be tricked into believing that global warming is a man-made occurrence? Haven't scientists shown with historical ice ages that the earth is merely going through a hot stage now, and then our next ice age will come later?
1 billion *more* morons. That's an assault on our combined IQ scores. For that one hour, we lose all the geniuses to the drama-mamas, who think with their hearts and groins rather than their brains. Didn't some people suggest that the 1 hour of BS be spent in fornication? How that idea sucks! How is the heaving and panting not adding to greenhouse carbon dioxide gases? And then what happens when our population grows by another 200 million more in 9 months?
Fortunately, these 1 billion people will NOT include me.
The world will end. But it will not be because of me, but because of the 1 billion people who have chosen to vote for "This Planet." Earth Hour? For heaven's sake, grow a brain for a start.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Capitalism and Capitalists
There is a rather big, but fortunately sedate, crossfire between a few bloggers whose blogs I read. It is fortunate too that the big pond separates them. I wonder if the two old fogies will end up trading blows if I ever put them together. I can't care two hoots really, so long as they don't rain the blows on me.
But interestingly, both of them are arguing across tangents. It's like trying to get two skew lines to meet. No doubt the cross one another at an angle, skew lines do not meet. Still it is inteersting.
The issue revolves around capitalism (a neutral concept revolving around money grabbing) and capitalists (a neutral term revolving around money grabbers). The problem is the money grabbers are giving the concept of money grabbing a bad name. At this point, we know that some governments are guided by the money grabbing concept but run by the people who draw their support from the money grabbers. This is what I think the US is mired in now.
In contrast, what we don't have a outright money grabber governments (maybe we can find one or two of these governments, perhaps in the African continent) run by money grabbers.
The problem now is no one knows which is which anymore. In any case, I'll cordially invite the Kiwi and the Texan to drop by and give their two cents if they care to. Hopefully, they can achieve some agreement in this neutral territory while we watch with bated breath how B. Hussein is going to deal with M. Ahmadinejad if the latter says he wants both the money and also to keep his nuclear bombs.
But interestingly, both of them are arguing across tangents. It's like trying to get two skew lines to meet. No doubt the cross one another at an angle, skew lines do not meet. Still it is inteersting.
The issue revolves around capitalism (a neutral concept revolving around money grabbing) and capitalists (a neutral term revolving around money grabbers). The problem is the money grabbers are giving the concept of money grabbing a bad name. At this point, we know that some governments are guided by the money grabbing concept but run by the people who draw their support from the money grabbers. This is what I think the US is mired in now.
In contrast, what we don't have a outright money grabber governments (maybe we can find one or two of these governments, perhaps in the African continent) run by money grabbers.
The problem now is no one knows which is which anymore. In any case, I'll cordially invite the Kiwi and the Texan to drop by and give their two cents if they care to. Hopefully, they can achieve some agreement in this neutral territory while we watch with bated breath how B. Hussein is going to deal with M. Ahmadinejad if the latter says he wants both the money and also to keep his nuclear bombs.
Saturday, November 08, 2008
The Economic Crisis
Times are bad and a global slowdown is imminent. That's a good thing, unless you're the President-elect promising to do the Rob-in-Hood. Yeah, you know, hood your face, rob the rich, and keep it yourself? Oh, I mean, give to the poor.
The Reds got the US$700 billion rescue package passed. Clearly, this is not enough. Change we need!
I read this morning that the Blues are going to continue the US$700 billion rescue package. They are going to introduce "more stringent" criteria to help them decide who gets saved (the blue backers?) and who doesn't (anything from purple to red?). In addition, they are putting out another US$175 billion stimulus package.
This is still throwing good money at bad. Worse, those with money now have to watch out because they may lose their hard earned moolah to the authorised robbers.
Don't fret! Pass me your money. I'll save them for you. I'll help you invest in Singapore properties. These will only appreciate in value as Singapore land is scarce. And you don't have to worry about the harsh winters and hot summers. We have an agreeable equatorial climate for you guys.
Oh, you're not interested? Fine. Forget I asked.
Getting back to the original discussion, the Red package is bad. The Blue package is essentially the same as the Red package. But it's good. Change you need?
Yeah right. Amazing how people are just so happy with the wine bottle is changed and not the rancid contents.
The Reds got the US$700 billion rescue package passed. Clearly, this is not enough. Change we need!
I read this morning that the Blues are going to continue the US$700 billion rescue package. They are going to introduce "more stringent" criteria to help them decide who gets saved (the blue backers?) and who doesn't (anything from purple to red?). In addition, they are putting out another US$175 billion stimulus package.
This is still throwing good money at bad. Worse, those with money now have to watch out because they may lose their hard earned moolah to the authorised robbers.
Don't fret! Pass me your money. I'll save them for you. I'll help you invest in Singapore properties. These will only appreciate in value as Singapore land is scarce. And you don't have to worry about the harsh winters and hot summers. We have an agreeable equatorial climate for you guys.
Oh, you're not interested? Fine. Forget I asked.
Getting back to the original discussion, the Red package is bad. The Blue package is essentially the same as the Red package. But it's good. Change you need?
Yeah right. Amazing how people are just so happy with the wine bottle is changed and not the rancid contents.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The (Bad) Writing on the Wall
Reluctantly, when all else have lost the ability to bring another round of oohs and aahs after the rush of yet another over the top euphoria at the exchange, the hidden weapon was unleashed.
It was the last thing the phobic leaders wanted to do. To unlease this device could mean dependence on it for a long time. The leaders fear silence on the Street as people flock to enDow their Jones.
Different genes, different sizes. Some countries offer the weenies, while others, the FTSEs. Others like theirs Hang Seng while some, like TW, like them Weighted. Some are so SET in their ways that bootleg KOSPIs (copies) of the magic wand have reared their ugly heads.
Still, to keep the XDAX in NASDAQ, the ultimate comfort weapon, the cash d*ldo had to be taken out from the deepest recesses of the bank vaults of the various central banks. These used to be the singular weapon of pleasure for the you-know-who but now it has to be shared among everyone because there is a sense hanging in the air that with equal misery come equal pleasure. Or so we hope.
Unfortunately, time will prove once again that the ultimate weapon would be shoved up the wrong hole.
It was the last thing the phobic leaders wanted to do. To unlease this device could mean dependence on it for a long time. The leaders fear silence on the Street as people flock to enDow their Jones.
Different genes, different sizes. Some countries offer the weenies, while others, the FTSEs. Others like theirs Hang Seng while some, like TW, like them Weighted. Some are so SET in their ways that bootleg KOSPIs (copies) of the magic wand have reared their ugly heads.
Still, to keep the XDAX in NASDAQ, the ultimate comfort weapon, the cash d*ldo had to be taken out from the deepest recesses of the bank vaults of the various central banks. These used to be the singular weapon of pleasure for the you-know-who but now it has to be shared among everyone because there is a sense hanging in the air that with equal misery come equal pleasure. Or so we hope.
Unfortunately, time will prove once again that the ultimate weapon would be shoved up the wrong hole.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Round 2: Commonsense 0 Greed + Fear + Stupidity 1
It had to happen.
I'm expecting it, anyway, the bailout.
Now watch the financial inferno implode.
I'm expecting it, anyway, the bailout.
Now watch the financial inferno implode.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Round 1: Commonsense 1 Greed 0
Commonsense prevailed.
Sanity prevailed.
Congress voted off the US$700 billion salvation package.
Those who lived within their means are saved.
Now watch the greedy ones.
Muahahaha.....
Sanity prevailed.
Congress voted off the US$700 billion salvation package.
Those who lived within their means are saved.
Now watch the greedy ones.
Muahahaha.....
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Why disasters are good for us
Too often, people are lulled into complacency when things go as planned. People take comfort afforded by the relative calm and, by and large, believe that if nothing is on fire, then everything is fine. Many people go by the adage, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Unknown to many people, things may not be "broke" at the moment but there could be people who are trying to "enhance" the "ain't-ness" by tampering with the products. For each and every expose that shows who the real bad guys are, I am pretty certain that there are many other heinous acts that have gone unnoticed. All too often, to be constantly on our toes to monitor the entire market is untenable because of the massive effort required. However, if we need a shake-up quickly, a disaster may be the best option because of its wide-ranging impact.
Disasters in aviation lead the way in showing how a slip-up can shake up an entire industry. One does not have to look far to realise that the ultimate outcome of aviation disasters was a much safer flying environment for travellers. From zero, investigators learnt about metal fatigue, autopilot limitations, aircraft limitations, pilot training manual mistakes, substitution (of parts) problems, wind shear, bird strikes and so on. Each and every disaster precipitated immediate rounds of aircraft checks and aviation practices reviews. It forces industry players to review and propose new updates, changes, training checks, flight safety improvements and most importantly, renew their respect for human lives in the knowledge that human beings are ultimately at the mercy of the equipment they create. Who would have expected, for one, that the black box on the aircraft is given more protection than the pilot and the passengers?
Similarly, the recent Sichuan Earthquake showed us that Chinese engineers have achieved a world's first in civil engineering - they managed to use "soy pulp" (aka toufu zha) to build houses. The race to trace the history of this practice has led to an ongoing review of the building codes in the region. People are concerned how they could be sold such houses and how public buildings such as schools could also be built in this way with such material. People around the world wonder how such houses are built too. But I am also rather sure that engineers in regions that are immune to earthquakes must also be reviewing their bulding codes - do they really need to reinforce their concrete beams and piles with steel rods since the Chinese have showed that under non-earthquake circumstances, these are not necessary? Some people may be able to get cheaper soy pulp houses in the near future.
People living in the hurricane/typhoon zones and tornado-afflicted areas may especially be interested in these kinds of houses. Imagine, you get soya milk after the disaster. You will be swimming in soya milk! And think of all the benefits that you get from these houses - people get crushed to death by concrete beams and pillars. But do you see or hear of people crushed to death by tofu pulp? No! These people are buried because they added concrete to reinforce their pulp. See? The moral of the story here is not to be too smart!
Talking about additives, the latest melamine additive scandal hit the Chinese dairy market right in the balls, I mean bull's eye. The practice was aimed at "showing" a higher nutritional value of the milk during its decomposition through the emission of more nitrogen, a measure of milk with higher nutritional value. Of course, many of us would have realised that the milk is so nutritious that Chinese, Hong Kong and other babies taking them have ended up with kidney stones. And some of them were so over-nourished, they died. The whole world and China are now looking to check if there are other melamine enhanced milk or related products. Looking back, I do not recall steriods killing that many people, even though WWE wrestler Chris Benoit's death did raise a hue and cry in the North American media. By the way, it was the Chinese media leaking the story of the tainted milk (how I hate the English term; the Chinese call it du-nai, which sounds like tonigh(t)) that led to the expose of this latest scandal; had it not for them, Chinese Dairy apparently would have kept quiet about the entire issue. But how does one add melamine to milk? Imagine melamine is what my chopsticks are made of. How could anyone add that to food? And is it in solid or liquid form? Or did the farmers rub melamine to cow udders to promote milk growth? Or maybe it is injected to make the udders harder so milking can take place more often? Sigh, to quote my favourite "philosopher" from beside Down Under, "I really don't know". Oh, it's the male, not the female, though he has threatened the hanky act too! I wonder what's with the southern hemisphere folks and their handkerchiefs.
Disasters are usually broadcast by the media. In at least one case, I am sure the media has a hand in - the recent Wall Street meltdown. Yes, I blame the media. The media has been guilty of not calling it when they had the ability to. While earning big bucks for themselves is important, the media should blow the whistle when they see the obscene subprime rape. They did not; there was defintely insufficient media expose - isn't that their job - of the issue and I wonder who the guy was who short-sold Lehman until the brothers lost their shirts of their backs. Maybe one day, time (or maybe Time) will tell. I am pretty sure that that story will sell for many bucks. I cannot wait to learn more about the guy who changed Wall Street's landscape. (I am sure many investors are cursing me now, after seeing their investments crash into the proverbial wall! Oh yes, I think some Walls' ice-cream is also being recalled for having used tainted milk.)
As my examples show so far, the world loves a disaster. Diana died - disaster. Mother Theresa died - disaster. Michael Jackson's nose collapsed - disaster. Pope dropped dead - disaster. Hurricane Katrina struck - disaster. 2004 Boxing Day Tsunami - disaster. George Bush got elected for a second term - disaster. Al Gore didn't win - disaster. September 11 - disaster. Sichuan Earthquake - disaster. Hurricane Ike - disaster. Obama wins - disaster. McCain wins - disaster. AIG collapes - disaster. AIG saved - disaster. Marking assignments - disaster. So what's new? What is not a disaster these days?
With the spate of "disasters" now, everything is being checked and rechecked. People are suspicious of everything. You know what is truly a disaster? I received a free - yeah, FREE! - packet of chocolate hazelnut bars in my pigeon hole courtesy of the welfare committee where I work. The first thing I did, I read the packaging from the first word to the last trying to see if the word China appeared anywhere. Or tainted milk. I'd eaten the thing without a second thought in the past.
I think I'll let the rest eat first. If they don't die...
PS. I won't be held responsible for anyone attempting the "Chinese Building Feat - the Soy Pulp Building Method" because it is more an analogy of their concrete being non-reinforced rather than literally being a soy pulp structure. That, would have been a tremendous eye popper!
Disasters in aviation lead the way in showing how a slip-up can shake up an entire industry. One does not have to look far to realise that the ultimate outcome of aviation disasters was a much safer flying environment for travellers. From zero, investigators learnt about metal fatigue, autopilot limitations, aircraft limitations, pilot training manual mistakes, substitution (of parts) problems, wind shear, bird strikes and so on. Each and every disaster precipitated immediate rounds of aircraft checks and aviation practices reviews. It forces industry players to review and propose new updates, changes, training checks, flight safety improvements and most importantly, renew their respect for human lives in the knowledge that human beings are ultimately at the mercy of the equipment they create. Who would have expected, for one, that the black box on the aircraft is given more protection than the pilot and the passengers?
Similarly, the recent Sichuan Earthquake showed us that Chinese engineers have achieved a world's first in civil engineering - they managed to use "soy pulp" (aka toufu zha) to build houses. The race to trace the history of this practice has led to an ongoing review of the building codes in the region. People are concerned how they could be sold such houses and how public buildings such as schools could also be built in this way with such material. People around the world wonder how such houses are built too. But I am also rather sure that engineers in regions that are immune to earthquakes must also be reviewing their bulding codes - do they really need to reinforce their concrete beams and piles with steel rods since the Chinese have showed that under non-earthquake circumstances, these are not necessary? Some people may be able to get cheaper soy pulp houses in the near future.
People living in the hurricane/typhoon zones and tornado-afflicted areas may especially be interested in these kinds of houses. Imagine, you get soya milk after the disaster. You will be swimming in soya milk! And think of all the benefits that you get from these houses - people get crushed to death by concrete beams and pillars. But do you see or hear of people crushed to death by tofu pulp? No! These people are buried because they added concrete to reinforce their pulp. See? The moral of the story here is not to be too smart!
Talking about additives, the latest melamine additive scandal hit the Chinese dairy market right in the balls, I mean bull's eye. The practice was aimed at "showing" a higher nutritional value of the milk during its decomposition through the emission of more nitrogen, a measure of milk with higher nutritional value. Of course, many of us would have realised that the milk is so nutritious that Chinese, Hong Kong and other babies taking them have ended up with kidney stones. And some of them were so over-nourished, they died. The whole world and China are now looking to check if there are other melamine enhanced milk or related products. Looking back, I do not recall steriods killing that many people, even though WWE wrestler Chris Benoit's death did raise a hue and cry in the North American media. By the way, it was the Chinese media leaking the story of the tainted milk (how I hate the English term; the Chinese call it du-nai, which sounds like tonigh(t)) that led to the expose of this latest scandal; had it not for them, Chinese Dairy apparently would have kept quiet about the entire issue. But how does one add melamine to milk? Imagine melamine is what my chopsticks are made of. How could anyone add that to food? And is it in solid or liquid form? Or did the farmers rub melamine to cow udders to promote milk growth? Or maybe it is injected to make the udders harder so milking can take place more often? Sigh, to quote my favourite "philosopher" from beside Down Under, "I really don't know". Oh, it's the male, not the female, though he has threatened the hanky act too! I wonder what's with the southern hemisphere folks and their handkerchiefs.
Disasters are usually broadcast by the media. In at least one case, I am sure the media has a hand in - the recent Wall Street meltdown. Yes, I blame the media. The media has been guilty of not calling it when they had the ability to. While earning big bucks for themselves is important, the media should blow the whistle when they see the obscene subprime rape. They did not; there was defintely insufficient media expose - isn't that their job - of the issue and I wonder who the guy was who short-sold Lehman until the brothers lost their shirts of their backs. Maybe one day, time (or maybe Time) will tell. I am pretty sure that that story will sell for many bucks. I cannot wait to learn more about the guy who changed Wall Street's landscape. (I am sure many investors are cursing me now, after seeing their investments crash into the proverbial wall! Oh yes, I think some Walls' ice-cream is also being recalled for having used tainted milk.)
As my examples show so far, the world loves a disaster. Diana died - disaster. Mother Theresa died - disaster. Michael Jackson's nose collapsed - disaster. Pope dropped dead - disaster. Hurricane Katrina struck - disaster. 2004 Boxing Day Tsunami - disaster. George Bush got elected for a second term - disaster. Al Gore didn't win - disaster. September 11 - disaster. Sichuan Earthquake - disaster. Hurricane Ike - disaster. Obama wins - disaster. McCain wins - disaster. AIG collapes - disaster. AIG saved - disaster. Marking assignments - disaster. So what's new? What is not a disaster these days?
With the spate of "disasters" now, everything is being checked and rechecked. People are suspicious of everything. You know what is truly a disaster? I received a free - yeah, FREE! - packet of chocolate hazelnut bars in my pigeon hole courtesy of the welfare committee where I work. The first thing I did, I read the packaging from the first word to the last trying to see if the word China appeared anywhere. Or tainted milk. I'd eaten the thing without a second thought in the past.
I think I'll let the rest eat first. If they don't die...
PS. I won't be held responsible for anyone attempting the "Chinese Building Feat - the Soy Pulp Building Method" because it is more an analogy of their concrete being non-reinforced rather than literally being a soy pulp structure. That, would have been a tremendous eye popper!
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Cold comfort is no comfort
The bubbles have burst at last. But there are still some bubbles that are hiding in the corner.
A single friend and I spoke recently and invariably, we talked about our long running concerns which had been shared between us since 2006.
Both of us were incredulous as we watched the markets soar beyond reasonable heights and marvelled as we saw how people spent money like there would be no tomorrow.
We kept looking at the growing bubble. We reminded each other to keep our monies close. We talked each other out of investments. Avoid big investments anyway. We tried our best to save our salaries - it was getting progressively harder to save up because the cost of living was inching up quietly.
We wondered how people could live such lavish lifestyles and own two houses (and thus service two loans) when we, both single and were then (she still is, I'm no longer) getting rather good pay packets. We had little to worry about, except our basic needs essentially.
It was evident that when two rational people share the same outlook, there is something very long. We laughed at how long the paper could contain the fire, how tough the bubble could be to withstand the elements, how many skeletons some closets can accommodate.
Subprime was all the rage. Sub- means below or not as good. Yet, people thought they had flourished under the banner of sub-optimal living. As they tried to reach for their prize, the thickness of the ice sheet they are standing on grew thinner and thinner.
Now the cracks are showing and shore is beyond reach. People who en bloc-ed are losing their bollocks. I hope this will not be too rampant but there would be people losing their shirts on their backs. I hope SMRT and LTA get the MRT platform doors erected fast or there could be more train delays.
AIG showed how you think you have protected yourself, only to have all the money you've invested in your life Houdini in front of your eyes. DBS Treasure 5 is another joke now. Fortunately, it's the rich who are losing their marbles, I mean money.
I'm going to sort out my accounts knowing that Singapore Laws only protect the first $x dollars for each bank depositor. I'm going to be careful. Given how things are, one could be better off keeping their monies in a pillow than to a bank. Safe deposits may not be a bad idea after all.
This is a financial crisis that no one wants to see. But all the signs point to its inevitability. It is a matter of time and now, it's time. Eat your bitter fruit as you have sowed your seeds.
Greedy folks have played the housing and other market out of the ordinary person's reach. It's pay back time and I hope a loanshark's interest would be levied.
God bless Wall Street and America.
Have fun, world.
A single friend and I spoke recently and invariably, we talked about our long running concerns which had been shared between us since 2006.
Both of us were incredulous as we watched the markets soar beyond reasonable heights and marvelled as we saw how people spent money like there would be no tomorrow.
We kept looking at the growing bubble. We reminded each other to keep our monies close. We talked each other out of investments. Avoid big investments anyway. We tried our best to save our salaries - it was getting progressively harder to save up because the cost of living was inching up quietly.
We wondered how people could live such lavish lifestyles and own two houses (and thus service two loans) when we, both single and were then (she still is, I'm no longer) getting rather good pay packets. We had little to worry about, except our basic needs essentially.
It was evident that when two rational people share the same outlook, there is something very long. We laughed at how long the paper could contain the fire, how tough the bubble could be to withstand the elements, how many skeletons some closets can accommodate.
Subprime was all the rage. Sub- means below or not as good. Yet, people thought they had flourished under the banner of sub-optimal living. As they tried to reach for their prize, the thickness of the ice sheet they are standing on grew thinner and thinner.
Now the cracks are showing and shore is beyond reach. People who en bloc-ed are losing their bollocks. I hope this will not be too rampant but there would be people losing their shirts on their backs. I hope SMRT and LTA get the MRT platform doors erected fast or there could be more train delays.
AIG showed how you think you have protected yourself, only to have all the money you've invested in your life Houdini in front of your eyes. DBS Treasure 5 is another joke now. Fortunately, it's the rich who are losing their marbles, I mean money.
I'm going to sort out my accounts knowing that Singapore Laws only protect the first $x dollars for each bank depositor. I'm going to be careful. Given how things are, one could be better off keeping their monies in a pillow than to a bank. Safe deposits may not be a bad idea after all.
This is a financial crisis that no one wants to see. But all the signs point to its inevitability. It is a matter of time and now, it's time. Eat your bitter fruit as you have sowed your seeds.
Greedy folks have played the housing and other market out of the ordinary person's reach. It's pay back time and I hope a loanshark's interest would be levied.
God bless Wall Street and America.
Have fun, world.
Friday, August 01, 2008
She writes... He writes...
Thanks to Mr Singh, I have ideas for the next blog entry.
Readers alert: Vulgar language.
She writes...
Dear Journal,
Haiyah, another new teacher. This time it's this airhead asking if we like to skate. Skate... sigh, cheapskate more like it. One day this teacher who promise us everything, the next day, come in and give what spelling test.
Sex-key-per-there-lian? Talking about me in chastity belt is it?
Die-ah-them? Yeah, you're right. Those bloody boys all should die for laughing at me.
Guo-dam? Wh... what is that? Is it go or is it them?
I really have no idea. I scored zero and many of my friends also. Everything so difficult. And when he returned us the spelling test the next day, he became this saviour of the world again, muttering that "I'll turn you all into aces."
Ace Ventura Pet Detective? I dun wan. Be aces for what? I just want to find a rich man who loves me. Oh, forget about love. Just make sure the money is there and the sex is good.
Talk about sex, this is depressing. The bloody stick showed positive. I'm two weeks late. And that stupid boy act blur like nothing has happened.
He promise me nothing will happen one. He says the "we draw her" method is very accurate. And he asked me to calculate my cycle. Aiyoh, what cycle? Bicycle? I this month 5 weeks, last month 6 weeks, two months back 4 weeks... Calculate what?
Do, do lah. No big deal. But I'm getting scared. Cos I'm feeling like vomiting sometimes in the morning. And it's been two weeks...
Please, Journal, I can't be preggie. Not now.
Digress again. Sigh, that's my biggest problem. I always forget and start going off in all directions.
That stupid man. He made us write a literature essay. Literature essay is always boring. I racked my brains and came up with a half-page answer and then he complained and complained that my points were not supported, I didn't write grammatically.... yah dah yah dah yah dah. He dunno I didn't choose lit one meh? It was given to me because the D&T teacher didn't want me (they say I got gold fingers, cannot touch tools), the F&N teacher say I got butter fingers, and the art teacher said I got lazy fingers. So I got to do lit. But what the hell is Romeo and Juliet doing?
The question is so stupid. "In what way had the feud between the Montagues and the Capulets affected the people around them?" Simple mah, Mercutio died, Tybalt died. The Nurse played middleman and acted as the messenger (almost like traitor like dat) and... So boring, just write out the half page and in the end spend another 2 weeks rewriting.
I really give up. Shit, need to go and pee already... wait a while.
Still nothing. I think I'm screwed.
Love,
Huay.
PS. Actually, the new lit teacher quite good looking. I like his moustache and I really wonder if he is as good as he looks. ;)
He writes...
Wah lau eh, write what journal? Everytime ask me to write journal write journal. I simply hate writing man. Wah, better stop complaining. Write so many words already. Incredible.
That bloody woman keeps badgering me that her big aunt not here yet. Who the fuck cares whether it comes or not? To me, it's very clear. I pull out and everything shoot on her belly. Should be lah. Can't see too clearly. The grass patch under the Whitley Road flyover is not very well-lit. But I really pull out before it shoot. So if she's pregnant, so what? How can she prove it's mine?
But she's good man. My groin feel very shiok. I wonder when I can have her best friend also. Maybe both of them... :P
The new lit teacher is really a pain in my ass man. Talk with that accent and tries to win us over with his skateboard. Wah, simi lai eh? Skateboard? These days, I already riding motorbike. Still skateboard. Wu yah bo?
I think he's got a cuckoo jiao in his head. One day, we tells us we are at the top of the world, the next he told us we are complete morons. After that, he said we will turn into aces. With our spelling tests results so excellent, yeah, right. That's all I can say.
Sex kwee pay the lian - me pay the lian for sex? Unlikely leh... so far it's always under the flyover.
Pussy learn i must - what? I still need to learn pussy? Chey, I literally learn to eat pussies liao.
But what the fuck lah. Still get zero for the test. What to do? I not the study type. I wonder if I have a chance to go out and be bouncer. After all, my basketball physique is not too bad. And I'm big, long and strong.
Hard again. Let me take care of it.
Kwee Seng.
Readers alert: Vulgar language.
She writes...
Dear Journal,
Haiyah, another new teacher. This time it's this airhead asking if we like to skate. Skate... sigh, cheapskate more like it. One day this teacher who promise us everything, the next day, come in and give what spelling test.
Sex-key-per-there-lian? Talking about me in chastity belt is it?
Die-ah-them? Yeah, you're right. Those bloody boys all should die for laughing at me.
Guo-dam? Wh... what is that? Is it go or is it them?
I really have no idea. I scored zero and many of my friends also. Everything so difficult. And when he returned us the spelling test the next day, he became this saviour of the world again, muttering that "I'll turn you all into aces."
Ace Ventura Pet Detective? I dun wan. Be aces for what? I just want to find a rich man who loves me. Oh, forget about love. Just make sure the money is there and the sex is good.
Talk about sex, this is depressing. The bloody stick showed positive. I'm two weeks late. And that stupid boy act blur like nothing has happened.
He promise me nothing will happen one. He says the "we draw her" method is very accurate. And he asked me to calculate my cycle. Aiyoh, what cycle? Bicycle? I this month 5 weeks, last month 6 weeks, two months back 4 weeks... Calculate what?
Do, do lah. No big deal. But I'm getting scared. Cos I'm feeling like vomiting sometimes in the morning. And it's been two weeks...
Please, Journal, I can't be preggie. Not now.
Digress again. Sigh, that's my biggest problem. I always forget and start going off in all directions.
That stupid man. He made us write a literature essay. Literature essay is always boring. I racked my brains and came up with a half-page answer and then he complained and complained that my points were not supported, I didn't write grammatically.... yah dah yah dah yah dah. He dunno I didn't choose lit one meh? It was given to me because the D&T teacher didn't want me (they say I got gold fingers, cannot touch tools), the F&N teacher say I got butter fingers, and the art teacher said I got lazy fingers. So I got to do lit. But what the hell is Romeo and Juliet doing?
The question is so stupid. "In what way had the feud between the Montagues and the Capulets affected the people around them?" Simple mah, Mercutio died, Tybalt died. The Nurse played middleman and acted as the messenger (almost like traitor like dat) and... So boring, just write out the half page and in the end spend another 2 weeks rewriting.
I really give up. Shit, need to go and pee already... wait a while.
Still nothing. I think I'm screwed.
Love,
Huay.
PS. Actually, the new lit teacher quite good looking. I like his moustache and I really wonder if he is as good as he looks. ;)
He writes...
Wah lau eh, write what journal? Everytime ask me to write journal write journal. I simply hate writing man. Wah, better stop complaining. Write so many words already. Incredible.
That bloody woman keeps badgering me that her big aunt not here yet. Who the fuck cares whether it comes or not? To me, it's very clear. I pull out and everything shoot on her belly. Should be lah. Can't see too clearly. The grass patch under the Whitley Road flyover is not very well-lit. But I really pull out before it shoot. So if she's pregnant, so what? How can she prove it's mine?
But she's good man. My groin feel very shiok. I wonder when I can have her best friend also. Maybe both of them... :P
The new lit teacher is really a pain in my ass man. Talk with that accent and tries to win us over with his skateboard. Wah, simi lai eh? Skateboard? These days, I already riding motorbike. Still skateboard. Wu yah bo?
I think he's got a cuckoo jiao in his head. One day, we tells us we are at the top of the world, the next he told us we are complete morons. After that, he said we will turn into aces. With our spelling tests results so excellent, yeah, right. That's all I can say.
Sex kwee pay the lian - me pay the lian for sex? Unlikely leh... so far it's always under the flyover.
Pussy learn i must - what? I still need to learn pussy? Chey, I literally learn to eat pussies liao.
But what the fuck lah. Still get zero for the test. What to do? I not the study type. I wonder if I have a chance to go out and be bouncer. After all, my basketball physique is not too bad. And I'm big, long and strong.
Hard again. Let me take care of it.
Kwee Seng.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Do you think it gives me an orgasm?
Went back for a second acupuncture treatment for the bust back yesterday. The second time in two days.
And after the acupuncturist nagged at me that I am visiting too frequently, when I went to collect my meds, the pharmacist gave me another earful about not coming twice in two days for meds and acupuncture, should at most visit twice or thrice a week for such treatment yah dah yah dah yah dah.
Hello! First, the physician on the first visit gave me flu meds, which if you do not know, will not address the bust back. Anyway, the meds you had dispensed are 2/3 done, since I went last night. You know - 3 days' med contains 9 doses. By last night, I'm 5 doses done. Ok, I'm 6 doses done. I took a double for my first dose, as I usually do for Chinese meds. And the remaining meds are going to run out today - don't worry, I won't waste any medicine - so, what's your problem?
It's not as though I am such a pain seeker that getting jabbed, electro-stimulated through needles and a harsh post acupuncture massage is going to give me an orgasm!
* * *
The Age, 27 June 2008
Craig Platt
European budget carrier Ryanair has taken its cheeky reputation to new levels, with chief executive officer Michael O'Leary suggesting business class passengers would receive free oral sex on flights.
O'Leary made the saucy remarks during a press conference in Germany about Ryanair's Trans-Atlantic flights.
Explaining that Ryanair's long-haul flights would feature a business class that went against Ryanair's typical low-budget ethos, O'Leary remarked that "in economy it will be very cheap fares, say 10 Euros, and in business class it will be bed and blowjobs".
While O'Leary's remark was obviously a joke, he repeated the controversial comment and wanted it translated for the journalists.
"In business class," he said, "it will all be free - including the blowjobs."
He then asked the translator the German word for oral sex. After being told there wasn't one, he remarked "terrible sex life in Germany".
I recall the European airlines I've flown before. I'm going to claim that I suffer from a serious bout of amnesia here about my experience but I am going to conclude that I don't think I will be excited at all to fly on Ryanair's business class, much less get me an orgasm.
* * *
More things that won't hit the mark:
- Oil hits US$140 as Libya warns of production cuts.
- E. Coli in tomatoes, beef; salmonella in other things, except money in my pocket.
- Singapore raises pump prices the third time in a month despite respite in oil prices.
- Rates for electricity going up.
There, go figure.
"Some days the balls don't bounce where you want them to bounce or they don't land where you want them to land." - Maria Sharapova, after being beaten 6-2, 6-4 in the second round of Wimbledon by the 20-year-old Alla Kudryavtseva, who is ranked 152 places beneath her and has previously won only four matches this year.
And after the acupuncturist nagged at me that I am visiting too frequently, when I went to collect my meds, the pharmacist gave me another earful about not coming twice in two days for meds and acupuncture, should at most visit twice or thrice a week for such treatment yah dah yah dah yah dah.
Hello! First, the physician on the first visit gave me flu meds, which if you do not know, will not address the bust back. Anyway, the meds you had dispensed are 2/3 done, since I went last night. You know - 3 days' med contains 9 doses. By last night, I'm 5 doses done. Ok, I'm 6 doses done. I took a double for my first dose, as I usually do for Chinese meds. And the remaining meds are going to run out today - don't worry, I won't waste any medicine - so, what's your problem?
It's not as though I am such a pain seeker that getting jabbed, electro-stimulated through needles and a harsh post acupuncture massage is going to give me an orgasm!
* * *
The Age, 27 June 2008
Craig Platt
European budget carrier Ryanair has taken its cheeky reputation to new levels, with chief executive officer Michael O'Leary suggesting business class passengers would receive free oral sex on flights.
O'Leary made the saucy remarks during a press conference in Germany about Ryanair's Trans-Atlantic flights.
Explaining that Ryanair's long-haul flights would feature a business class that went against Ryanair's typical low-budget ethos, O'Leary remarked that "in economy it will be very cheap fares, say 10 Euros, and in business class it will be bed and blowjobs".
While O'Leary's remark was obviously a joke, he repeated the controversial comment and wanted it translated for the journalists.
"In business class," he said, "it will all be free - including the blowjobs."
He then asked the translator the German word for oral sex. After being told there wasn't one, he remarked "terrible sex life in Germany".
I recall the European airlines I've flown before. I'm going to claim that I suffer from a serious bout of amnesia here about my experience but I am going to conclude that I don't think I will be excited at all to fly on Ryanair's business class, much less get me an orgasm.
* * *
More things that won't hit the mark:
- Oil hits US$140 as Libya warns of production cuts.
- E. Coli in tomatoes, beef; salmonella in other things, except money in my pocket.
- Singapore raises pump prices the third time in a month despite respite in oil prices.
- Rates for electricity going up.
There, go figure.
"Some days the balls don't bounce where you want them to bounce or they don't land where you want them to land." - Maria Sharapova, after being beaten 6-2, 6-4 in the second round of Wimbledon by the 20-year-old Alla Kudryavtseva, who is ranked 152 places beneath her and has previously won only four matches this year.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Post Sichuan quake thoughts
Long before (well, about 3 to 4 days before) the quake, I was already feeling unwell. I knew something big was coming. It wasn't different from the 2004 tsunami. But I only wished I knew where it was going to be.
Or would that have made a difference?
It's been almost three weeks after the quake. News are still coming in about the death toll, the quake lakes threatening to burst their barriers and the arduous reconstuction journey ahead.
These are normal, although, honestly, fatiguing to hear so much of all these... I somehow have this thought that come 1 Jun, there might be another biggie. It'll be 68 days to the Olympics. I don't know... It seemed to be a rather bad year for China.
Another development that is getting rather out of hand is fund raising for the quake victims. I guess Singaporeans have to capacity to be overflowing with love, since the last major catastrophe we had was the New World Hotel collapse. After that, we hardly had anything to bleed the country's coffers or the gullible Singaporeans' wallets. We weren't hit by the tsunami or any other natural disasters, except for ever increasing oil and food prices.
But what bugs me is the fact that people are organising fund raising events wave after wave after wave... like many small little tsunamis that take turns to hit different coasts, each time requiring a mass evacuation. It's plain tiring to be constantly bombarded. And there are confidence tricksters out to make a quick buck. Fraudsters apart, people raising money begin to look at you in a funny sort of way when you decide and tell them that you have had donated enough to such causes.
Hey, how much can ONE person donate? I am neither Jet Li or Jackie Chan. How am I going to find so much moolah to give away, especially when I need to worry about where my next meal is coming from? I don't go around telling people that I gave $x at y to the Sichuan victims, do I? So, don't assume that if I say I am not giving, I hadn't given.
The Chinese, as with many other peoples, are very expressive people and know how best to tug at heartstrings. The two poems below, with their laymen translations (from me), are case in point. If you need drama-mamas, try getting the Chinese. It some times make me wonder how people in Singapore could be bawling their eyes out when the only things they recognise in Sichuan are the pandas. And yet they speak of their suffering and their misery, as though they were a part of the entire catastrophe. To outsiders looking in, this is so... hilarious.
I am not a callous person. But I believe to be believable and to be above board, you need to temper your willingness to help with good sense and good taste. Otherwise, your emotions are most ill-placed.
Or would that have made a difference?
It's been almost three weeks after the quake. News are still coming in about the death toll, the quake lakes threatening to burst their barriers and the arduous reconstuction journey ahead.
These are normal, although, honestly, fatiguing to hear so much of all these... I somehow have this thought that come 1 Jun, there might be another biggie. It'll be 68 days to the Olympics. I don't know... It seemed to be a rather bad year for China.
Another development that is getting rather out of hand is fund raising for the quake victims. I guess Singaporeans have to capacity to be overflowing with love, since the last major catastrophe we had was the New World Hotel collapse. After that, we hardly had anything to bleed the country's coffers or the gullible Singaporeans' wallets. We weren't hit by the tsunami or any other natural disasters, except for ever increasing oil and food prices.
But what bugs me is the fact that people are organising fund raising events wave after wave after wave... like many small little tsunamis that take turns to hit different coasts, each time requiring a mass evacuation. It's plain tiring to be constantly bombarded. And there are confidence tricksters out to make a quick buck. Fraudsters apart, people raising money begin to look at you in a funny sort of way when you decide and tell them that you have had donated enough to such causes.
Hey, how much can ONE person donate? I am neither Jet Li or Jackie Chan. How am I going to find so much moolah to give away, especially when I need to worry about where my next meal is coming from? I don't go around telling people that I gave $x at y to the Sichuan victims, do I? So, don't assume that if I say I am not giving, I hadn't given.
The Chinese, as with many other peoples, are very expressive people and know how best to tug at heartstrings. The two poems below, with their laymen translations (from me), are case in point. If you need drama-mamas, try getting the Chinese. It some times make me wonder how people in Singapore could be bawling their eyes out when the only things they recognise in Sichuan are the pandas. And yet they speak of their suffering and their misery, as though they were a part of the entire catastrophe. To outsiders looking in, this is so... hilarious.
I am not a callous person. But I believe to be believable and to be above board, you need to temper your willingness to help with good sense and good taste. Otherwise, your emotions are most ill-placed.
孩子快抓紧妈妈的手 (Child, quick grasp Mother's hand)
孩子快
抓紧妈妈的手
去天堂的路
太黑了
妈妈怕你
碰了头
快
抓紧妈妈的手
让妈妈陪你走
妈妈
怕
天堂的路
太黑
我看不见你的手
自从
倒塌的墙
把阳光夺走
我再也看不见
你柔情的眸
孩子
你走吧
前面的路
再也没有忧愁
没有读不完的课本
和爸爸的拳头
你要记住
我和爸爸的摸样
来生还要一起走
妈妈
别担忧
天堂的路有些挤
有很多同学朋友
我们说
不哭
哪一个人的妈妈都是我们的妈妈
哪一个孩子都是妈妈的孩子
没有我的日子
你把爱给活的孩子吧
妈妈
你别哭
泪光照亮不了
我们的路
让我们自己
慢慢的走
妈妈
我会记住你和爸爸的模样
记住我们的约定
来生我们一起走
Child, quickly grasp Mother’s hand
The road to heaven is turning dark and Mother’s afraid you’ll hurt yourself along the way.
Quick, grasp Mother’s hand
Let mother accompany you
To walk to heaven before it gets too dark and I not to be able to see your hand
Ever since the walls collapsed, I am no longer able to see again your thoughtful eyes
Go on, Child. There is no more misery in the road ahead, no more endless books and daddy's fist
I want you to remember Daddy and my looks
So that we can carry on our journey in our next life.
Mother, don’t worry. The road to heaven is a little crowded.
My friends and I have resolved not to cry
Each child’s mother is everyone’s Mother
Each mother’s child is every Mother’s child
In your days without me around, please give your love to all the other children
Mother, please don’t cry, for your tears will not light up our path to Heaven.
Let us find our way to complete our own journeys
Mother, I will remember Daddy and your looks
And remember our promise
So that we can carry on our journey in our next life.
抓紧妈妈的手
去天堂的路
太黑了
妈妈怕你
碰了头
快
抓紧妈妈的手
让妈妈陪你走
妈妈
怕
天堂的路
太黑
我看不见你的手
自从
倒塌的墙
把阳光夺走
我再也看不见
你柔情的眸
孩子
你走吧
前面的路
再也没有忧愁
没有读不完的课本
和爸爸的拳头
你要记住
我和爸爸的摸样
来生还要一起走
妈妈
别担忧
天堂的路有些挤
有很多同学朋友
我们说
不哭
哪一个人的妈妈都是我们的妈妈
哪一个孩子都是妈妈的孩子
没有我的日子
你把爱给活的孩子吧
妈妈
你别哭
泪光照亮不了
我们的路
让我们自己
慢慢的走
妈妈
我会记住你和爸爸的模样
记住我们的约定
来生我们一起走
Child, quickly grasp Mother’s hand
The road to heaven is turning dark and Mother’s afraid you’ll hurt yourself along the way.
Quick, grasp Mother’s hand
Let mother accompany you
To walk to heaven before it gets too dark and I not to be able to see your hand
Ever since the walls collapsed, I am no longer able to see again your thoughtful eyes
Go on, Child. There is no more misery in the road ahead, no more endless books and daddy's fist
I want you to remember Daddy and my looks
So that we can carry on our journey in our next life.
Mother, don’t worry. The road to heaven is a little crowded.
My friends and I have resolved not to cry
Each child’s mother is everyone’s Mother
Each mother’s child is every Mother’s child
In your days without me around, please give your love to all the other children
Mother, please don’t cry, for your tears will not light up our path to Heaven.
Let us find our way to complete our own journeys
Mother, I will remember Daddy and your looks
And remember our promise
So that we can carry on our journey in our next life.
Friday, May 30, 2008
妈妈别哭 (Mother, do not cry)
妈妈别哭，我现在已没有痛苦
不用再看我，你一辈子也会记住
地震来得那么唐突
没有什么可以遮护
幸存的同学真让人羡慕
那一刻，求生的愿望强烈却茫然无助
妈妈别哭，我不能陪你走今后的路
这么多人陪我我不会孤独
却担心你悲痛地泪流如注
我多么希望你能幸福
我多想长大了孝敬父母
我真的不想早走这一步
妈妈别哭，地震是大地在发怒
也许是它一时糊涂
才伤害了这么多无辜
我只是不幸中的一卒
还有更多的人惨不忍睹
泪水掀不起压我的混凝土
妈妈别哭，别再抱着我幼小的身躯
我已没有往日的温度
呼吸和心跳已经止住
请给我换上爱穿的衣服
拿来我爱读的书
假如天堂里还有学府
我会在梦中告诉你考试的分数
妈妈别哭，天灾人祸是对圣灵的荼毒
你柔弱的身躯无法挡住
只要妈妈你还活着
就是上天对我们的眷顾
因为有你，每年清明那小坟上，会多一锹土
Mother, do not cry. I am no longer in pain now
You will not need to look at me again to remember me for a lifetime
The earthquake came suddenly;
Nothing could shield us from its destruction
We really envy our schoolmates who survived
At that moment, the desire to fight for life was intense but alas, futile
Mother, do not cry. I cannot accompany you on life’s road any more
There are many people with me and I won’t be lonely
But I worry that sorrowfully tears flow endlessly
How I hope that you can be happy
How I want to grow up and be filial to you
I really do not want to leave this early
Mother, do not cry. The earthquake is but Earth’s anger
Perhaps it was muddled for a while
Not realizing how it wrought misfortune to that many
I was only one of the unfortunate ones;
There are more worse off than me
Your tears cannot raise the concrete slabs off me
Mother, do not cry. Do not hold my young body
I no longer have the warmth of the days past
Breaths and heartbeats have already stopped
Please put on my favourite clothes
And bring me my favourite books
If there is a school in the heaven
I will tell you my examination score in your dream
Mother, do not cry. Natural and man-made disasters are our tribulations
Which your delicate body is unable to block
So long as, Mother, you are also living
It is Heaven’s blessings on us
Because of you, at each All Souls, a new layer of soil will be added to our little graves
不用再看我，你一辈子也会记住
地震来得那么唐突
没有什么可以遮护
幸存的同学真让人羡慕
那一刻，求生的愿望强烈却茫然无助
妈妈别哭，我不能陪你走今后的路
这么多人陪我我不会孤独
却担心你悲痛地泪流如注
我多么希望你能幸福
我多想长大了孝敬父母
我真的不想早走这一步
妈妈别哭，地震是大地在发怒
也许是它一时糊涂
才伤害了这么多无辜
我只是不幸中的一卒
还有更多的人惨不忍睹
泪水掀不起压我的混凝土
妈妈别哭，别再抱着我幼小的身躯
我已没有往日的温度
呼吸和心跳已经止住
请给我换上爱穿的衣服
拿来我爱读的书
假如天堂里还有学府
我会在梦中告诉你考试的分数
妈妈别哭，天灾人祸是对圣灵的荼毒
你柔弱的身躯无法挡住
只要妈妈你还活着
就是上天对我们的眷顾
因为有你，每年清明那小坟上，会多一锹土
Mother, do not cry. I am no longer in pain now
You will not need to look at me again to remember me for a lifetime
The earthquake came suddenly;
Nothing could shield us from its destruction
We really envy our schoolmates who survived
At that moment, the desire to fight for life was intense but alas, futile
Mother, do not cry. I cannot accompany you on life’s road any more
There are many people with me and I won’t be lonely
But I worry that sorrowfully tears flow endlessly
How I hope that you can be happy
How I want to grow up and be filial to you
I really do not want to leave this early
Mother, do not cry. The earthquake is but Earth’s anger
Perhaps it was muddled for a while
Not realizing how it wrought misfortune to that many
I was only one of the unfortunate ones;
There are more worse off than me
Your tears cannot raise the concrete slabs off me
Mother, do not cry. Do not hold my young body
I no longer have the warmth of the days past
Breaths and heartbeats have already stopped
Please put on my favourite clothes
And bring me my favourite books
If there is a school in the heaven
I will tell you my examination score in your dream
Mother, do not cry. Natural and man-made disasters are our tribulations
Which your delicate body is unable to block
So long as, Mother, you are also living
It is Heaven’s blessings on us
Because of you, at each All Souls, a new layer of soil will be added to our little graves
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Did We Get It Wrong?
She had to pass her N level examinations before she could be promoted to Secondary 5 to complete her O level examinations. Or, with the N level passes, she could have gone over to the Institute of Technical Education, where she could get some form of "tertiary" education. In any case, she had completed her 10 years of mandatory education, stipluated by Singapore law.
Yet, since she had decided to attend Secondary 5, an almost inordinately tough additional year to obtain her O level certificate. One of the reasons for the difficulty is in the difference between the syllabi to be tested at the two years. Another reason, which might or might not be true, is that while the O level certificate has international recognition, the N level certificate has none.
What's my point?
I was invigilating a paper where this student placed her head on her table and dozed off less than 30 minutes into a 75 minutes Physics paper. She was not alone sleeping in the middle of the paper.
Being a responsible invigilator, I went round waking people up. There was no way the 75 minute paper is going to be completed in 30 minutes. I couldn't even do it myself. And when I tried waking this thing up, she lost her temper and threw a tantrum.
I begin to wonder if we have gotten it wrong. If so, what went wrong? And finally, what are we going to do about it?
Yet, since she had decided to attend Secondary 5, an almost inordinately tough additional year to obtain her O level certificate. One of the reasons for the difficulty is in the difference between the syllabi to be tested at the two years. Another reason, which might or might not be true, is that while the O level certificate has international recognition, the N level certificate has none.
What's my point?
I was invigilating a paper where this student placed her head on her table and dozed off less than 30 minutes into a 75 minutes Physics paper. She was not alone sleeping in the middle of the paper.
Being a responsible invigilator, I went round waking people up. There was no way the 75 minute paper is going to be completed in 30 minutes. I couldn't even do it myself. And when I tried waking this thing up, she lost her temper and threw a tantrum.
I begin to wonder if we have gotten it wrong. If so, what went wrong? And finally, what are we going to do about it?
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