It's here... Nasyid Cafe

As informed in my posting earlier this month, my article entitled NASYID JIWANG ALA ISLAM has finally been published in Nasyid Cafe today! And yes, it's in English. I tried to conjure up something in BM but ended up typing and deleting for two hours or so... I even tried translating and after three quarter way decided that my translation was pathetic and sad even. So in English than...

I will eventually upload the same here, but for those who simply can't wait, just click NASYID CAFE and enjoy!

Updates...

Dear Readers,

As things are currently tight for me at the moment, I am unable to update my blog with my writings.

Insya-Allah, I'm cooking up something and will have it ready soon. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Keep on following EPITOME OF RILES!

Coming soon... Nasyid Cafe

It gives me great pleasure to inform all of you that I’ll be contributing an article in Nasyid Café at the kind invitation of Mr. Benign. I am still working hard at it and will inform you once the same has been published.

I take this opportunity to record my warmest thanks to Benign and my fellow readers.   

Holidays

I enjoy going on holidays. I enjoy seeing my country, hence why I’d always go on a holiday locally whenever I can. But being the average Malaysian income earner and having two children to feed, two cars and a house to pay for, not to mention the bills, study loans and the dreaded but necessary credit cards, my holidays are often tied to a strict budget - And at times very strict. Given that, I am often forced to compromise and by compromise I mean go cheap. So no such thing as five star lodging and dining for me.

Unless you were born with silver spoons, you’d know that compromise means make do, to be easily contented and to lower our standards. This is especially true when I go holidaying in places like Kuantan and Port Dickson. Lodging in these places are dead expensive even if you’re willing to compromise. I was in PD a few years back and had paid RM 150 for a nights lodging which got me a room that looked like a red indian tepee. Granted 150 isn’t that much but considering that the room was as big as… well a tepee, the toilet had no ceiling and only roofed by the adjacent tree branches and the pillows softer only to logs, it was ludicrous! I was doing my thing in the lavatory accompanied by birds chirping and all the while contemplating on the likelihood of being bombarded by bird droppings. And have I mentioned that RM 150 I didn’t even get me a window?  Don’t even get me started on the service. It was day light robbery I tell you.

Than comes the struggle of finding dinner. Most restaurants would be packed with fellow holiday makers. And when I eventually found one, It’ll take 15 minutes just to place my order and an hour just to get the food on the table and by than my boy would probably be jumping on the table mistaking it for a trampoline and my daughter shrieking her throat out at which point I’d lost my appetite and decide to bang my head on table, short of pointing a gun to my head or stab my self on the chest.   

Now, the problem with compromise is that I have to be settled with less and occasionally much lesser than I am willing too which in turns brings about discomfort. When discomfort kicks in, it creates anguish and when that happens I get fed up and tired. Now, being fed up and tired defeats the very purpose of going on a holiday. I’d probably be happier at home, lazing on my L-shaped sofa whist watching Asmara and having a glass of ice drink at a call of my wife’s name. And all the while saving myself a few hundreds.

There is a way to resolve this though, stretch the budget and go for the best. Instead of spending 150 on lodging, spend 300 and get a well appointed sea view room and instead of being stuck in a restaurant by the roadside under a coconut tree somewhere whilst picking my nose for an hour, I should spend a hundred or two whilst seating in the comfort of a five star restaurant treated like a king.

This leads me to draw the conclusion that I shouldn’t go on a holiday if I have to compromise. In fact nobody should. I would also go a step further by proposing that all budget hotels and resorts intended for holidaying be burnt down and the ashes thrown in the sea. And the operators of these budget hotels and resorts should be trialed for grand theft!

But the problem with stretching the budget is, upon return I’d probably have to skip breakfast and lunch everyday until the next pay day and only have ikan bilis with fried eggs for dinner, if I’m lucky enough.

    

     

Ustazah Idola

When I first stumbled upon an advertisement in Astro on auditions for a new reality TV show dubbed ‘Imam Muda’ about a year ago, I remembered being perplexed and more so furious even before having viewed the show itself. I saw it as a mockery to the religion and the religious institution. The show eventually aired and I was right! To be frank I was as much of a loyal viewer as much as Rosmah is tall. I would nonetheless occasionally catch glimpse of the show, watch it for five minutes and switched to 734. 734 is Discovery Turbo by the way.

Despite people’s contention that the show was a move in the right direction citing big words like da’wah over and over again, I fail to appreciate this. What exactly is the entire point of the show? C’mon, if I wanted religious input I’d benefited more from watching Halaqah or Al-Kuliyyah.

Seriously, I recalled taking sight of one of the episode where these young Imams were attending religious classes, which started with the Ustaz citing bismillah followed by some welcome remarks and … puffhh…  nothing. The rest of it – which was the educational bit, was edited out and next thing you know the Imams were kicking around in the field in what appears to be football match – I really couldn’t tell at first because it seemed more like a group of men stomping on each other’s toes whilst the ball was at the other end of the field. So, in less than five minutes of the show the Imams had gone from attending religious class to stomping each other’s toes. What possibly can the viewers get from this? – Nothing. Where exactly is the da’wah in all that? – You tell me and I’ll give you ten ringgit.

I dare say that the show was littered with drama and more surprisingly slur and badmouthing. Again, c’mon, if I wanted drama, I’d be better of watching Cerekarama and if I wanted slur and badmouthing, I could just run to any government office in Putrajaya and seat in between the two ladies at the front desk where they’ll go at it all day long… Live! 

Anyhow at the end of the show a winner was picked, though till this day I couldn’t thoroughly comprehend what and how exactly the bloke won.

It was than proponed by some that this Imam Muda could serve as an idol to the youths of Malaysia. Fine. But my problem is this; Ali is a youth aligned to religion and through his religious studies has learned that Prophet Muhammad is the idol and best example to all muslims. Ali would probably draw the conclusion that Imam Muda is a joke and that guys who compete in TV just to be crowned Imam are dimwits, hence rendering the Imam Muda redundant to this crowd of youth.  But Abu on the other hand is not so incline towards religion thus never heard of Imam Muda and for that matter ‘Oasis’ and probably thought that ‘Oasis’ is a day spa in Ampang. Abu would therefore idolize Noh Hujan and rightly so especially when Mr. Noh will soon be wedded to the luscious Mizz Nina who incidentally is the daughter to a filthy rich banker. Mr. Noh is set for life! So, in this context our Imam Muda is again redundant, leading to the end question being, an idol to whom?      

Thus to conclude in a paragraph, the show is a bloody waste of time and without anything with the slightest resemblance of benefit to anyone.

Granted, it might not seem sensible of me to get all riled up over a show that ended quite some time ago, which brings me to the point of me writing this entry. I have read in a local daily that the same people behind that waste-of-time Imam Muda have now announced that there are coming up with the female version of the show, ‘Ustazah Idola’ I think. Ohhh the audacity!

If the show does indeed materialize, I say, being the good muslims that we are, spare the show the benefit of the doubt and watch the first five minutes of the opening episode. Make it ten minutes even. But if the show is anywhere as bad as the waste-of-time Imam Muda, pick up your damn remote and switch to 104 to watch re-runs of Akademi Fantasia. You’d probably get more from watching the latter.

No, on second thought if you’re a man switch it back. I mean, where else can you see a group of Ustazah all sweet and lovely smiling, laughing, teasing one another and may be later on do make-up. And… and… if you’re really lucky you might even be treated to see them jump around, up and down playing their rendition of netball. Yes, It’d be like watching the Beauty Pageant with tudung … just don’t drool over your TV screen please. If you don’t watch this than you’re either an idiot or gay or both! If you’re really observant and a die hard fan by than, you’ll also find that the tudung and clothes will shrink a size every week.,, liken to strip tease. Imam Muda eat your hearts out! Now this is a show that’s beneficial.

I can also foresee what would probably become of the overall winner… but let’s just see first whether this “Beauty Pageant” will get aired.       

       

Of religion and religious

I have to admit that the idea for this entry is not entirely original. In fact the motivation for typing this is triggered from the reading of my friend’s Blog. This friend of mine being he’s usual provocative and controversy inducing self decided to comment on the various Nasyeed group names derived from Bahasa Melayu and modified to English words which incidentally rendered the a great number of the names meaningless or at the most, daft. He when further so as to quote the names of those groups; All One, Saff One, Nur One, Feel One, Feel Honey, Are Buddy and In Heart, just to name a few and he made some “smart” remarks over the names. I read the article a few days back, had a few ha has and didn’t think much of it thereafter. To be honest, I didn’t think anybody would… but many did actually…

It attracted more than sixty comments in about three days and I was surprise at the types of response it generated. They were a number of comments containing pure hatred, disgust and written so vulgarly. And some of the arguments… ‘My God!’... was so shallow and narrow, more so than Sungai Gombak. And one Mr. Anonymous even went so far as to question and judge another’s faith and others even degraded themselves to name calling. I seriously wasn’t expecting this from a group of people who both promote and patron Islamic entertainment that is Nasyeed. These were supposed to be quote religious unquote people in favour of da’wah, for God’s sake! I expected that if they were any arguments than it would be laid out maturely, intellectually and in wisdom. But no, it was the exact opposite. At one point it was almost like two guys arguing over who had the longer penis. Embarrassing and appalling!

But come to think of it, I’m not and shouldn’t be all too surprised or even perplexed by this. The muslim society is now littered and plagued by muslims who are self proclaimed holier than holy and more judgmental than Judge Dredd. Now this group of people are usually those who have been recently “enlightened” religiously (so they thought anyway) and brought out from the dark by having acquired a few additional Quranic verses and Al-Hadith from their limited studies by attending religious education formally or informally and focusing mainly to the realm of fiqh. Hence the believe that they know more than others, hence the thinking that they are closer to God, hence their motivation to judge others. Had they actually paid better attention in class – or attended classes long enough before deciding to enlist themselves as Judge Dredd, they would also learn that Islam is a religion of life and it governs men’s life as a whole - ‘syumul’ I believe is the term. It is not just confined to the hukm of haram, wajib, etc but more so a religion that promotes morality, compassion and wisdom.

Being the muslims that we are, it is not our role to judge others or be judgmental for that matter, especially when it comes to issues relating to faith and piety. It is not our place to say that a muslim girl having red coloured hair and scantily dressed would certainly be in hell whilst another wearing a veil all the way to her ankle will surely be booked a spot in heaven. I would rightly think that this should be left to Allah’s will. Though I should make it clear that I do not take lightly the importance of covering the aurah and neither should you! Covering the aurah is a must and there’s no two way about it.

I was on the LRT quite recently at which point my sight was drawn to decently dressed muslim lady clad in proper veil and baju kurung seated on one of the few seats available. A stop later at Abdullah Hukum, a blind man stepped in the plain sight of all who were there. I deliberately observed who amongst the eight persons seated would give up their seats to the poor man. And it wasn’t the lady clad in proper veil and baju kurung… Hmm… So what happen to the compassion of that muslim lady? You would think that a lady like that would literally jump up and surrendered her seat without much thought, but that unfortunately was not the case. I am not contradicting myself here by being judgmental. After all, for all I know the lady could have been in pain and therefore rightly seating; but what this is, is just drawing and example of how form is not entailed by substance, which goes back to how a both Nasyeedians and nasyeed fans fail to practice compassions, wisdom and the other virtues in Islam as they’ve preached and heard.

I wouldn’t want to dwell further into religious lectures as I’m clearly not the right person to do it plus I might be accused of preaching without a permit! – And I wouldn’t want that. But the point I’m trying to make here is that we muslims should not be too engross in the “form” portion of Islam but rather we should focus on the “substance” itself. We shouldn’t be too engrossed in our pious outlook more than we are concerned about our overall behaviour… Don’t just look Islam but be Islam!

I could go all day quoting examples and instances of this religious anomaly like how a road hog turn out to be a Pak Haji and how I was mortified as unreligious for studying law, but I won’t. Because if I did, I would be no different from Mr. Anonymous! – to which I have incidentally become.   

 

If I have 200k to buy a car...

If I have RM200,000 to buy a car today, I would seriously consider buying any one of these second hand:

1st Choice - Volvo V50

 

... In RED with 18 inch rims, thank you.

2nd choice - Audi A4 2.0T

Yes, I'm fully aware that this is not the latest version of the Audi A4 but this one has the same 2.0 FSI found in the VW Golf Mk V but with a boot and a better badge.

3rd and final choice - Alfa 159

This car is no. 3 because it looks good but it doesn't drive as well. Plus, assuming I can get it for RM130,000, I'd probably need the other 70,000 next year when it breaks down in Gurun on the way back to Alor Setar. And because nobody drive's an Alfa in Kedah and because the mechanics there  probably couldn't even find the bonnet hatch and go 'pa nama... pa nama?',  I'd probably have to tow it back all the way to KL. But what do you expect? It's Italian and therefore built with the life span of a mosquito in mind. But when you buy an Alfa, practicality and economics should not be on top of your priority list. Just be stupid and follow your heart. And because it's such a beauty I'd consider being stupid!

Yes, with the same money I'd probably be able to get my hands on a BMW 3 series or a Mercedes C-class. But I won't because the BMW is a rich papa's boy toy car and the likely choice of Mr. MLM - who'd probably have it for one Hari Raya and part with it two months later due to drop in sales, and the Merc, well everybody drives one hence making it as exclusive as a Myvi.

Now because I don't have 200k at the moment and I doubt I will any time soon, I'll have to make do and be contented with this...

And mine is black by the way. End.

Sweet Swede Volvo

Volvos are safe. The newer Volvos are clad with so many electronic safety wizardry that Merlin himself would seem like a daft punter by comparison. ABS, EBD, ESP, EBA, BLISS (which is blind spot assist), seat belt pretensioners, airbags for every part of your body, etc. You name it they have it. You’d have to be very stupid to be able to crash one than. But even that I suspect will be resolved by Volvo in a year or two with the introduction of yet another acronym called SDA which stands for “Stupid Drivers Assistance”… It’s fool proof. And have I mentioned that there are fast too? Fast enough to give the teutonic Germans a run for their money at the very least. And in the event you crashed one at high speeds, you’d probably be able to walk away with a bruise or two and that’s about it. Hence the reason why I’d kill to own a V50.     

Having said that, the Volvos of the yesteryears are just as safe albeit the complete absence of all the electronic safety wizardry. I remember the first time I was given the keys to a Volvo about four years ago in the guise of a 940 GLE. I marveled at its sheer size, it was huge and thought of how it must stir like a barge and would require a tow boat just to park or rather dock it. I gave it a slight knock to the front fender and the driver’s door and the thud was rock solid. It was a tank!

The engine started with the finesse of Swedish cheese, all five cylinders and the interior all practical and utilitarian. I than made a slight nudge on the steering to the left with the intention of sliding to the left lane and… nothing happened; the car kept going straight like nobody’s business. My first impression was correct it really did stir like a barge. Only with greater persuasion did the Volvo finally obliged and shifted to the left. Being the barge that it is, the ride was smooth and silky, heavenly even.

I proceeded to floor the throttle whilst expecting a slight thump of the auto gearbox and I was left disappointed. Only after a long fifteen minutes debate between Mr. Throttle and Mr. Auto Gearbox did Mr. Auto Gearbox finally gave in and decided to drop a gear. And even than the Volvo did not so much as accelerated as it did wafted. The car finally reached 120 km/h a 100 kilometres later. And at 120 km/h the car told me, ‘Hey mate 120 is enough, not too fast but not slow either’, I than basically told the car, more power, more speed, the car replied in a reluctant tone, ‘suits you than. I’ll do as I’m told’. Eventually it did do 130km/h at about the same time it took a person to buy a movie ticket at TGV KLCC, queue to buy popcorn and coke, watch the entire movie, take a leak on the way out, pay the parking ticket, take an elevator down to the LG2 and start his car’s engine. Yes, that long.

After handing over the keys, I didn’t think much of the Volvo. Especially after a girl in the parking booth without even having looked at me called me a ‘Pakcik’. This led me to come to the conclusion that a Volvo 940 is an old man’s car and it was; the Volvo I drove belongs to my father-in-law. I pause a moment to make it clear that despite the generality of the statement, when read in the context of my father-in-law, ‘old’ should be understood as wise, matured and exalted.

But you know what? When I really thought about it, it made perfect sense. Without all the modern gadgetry, 120km/h is perhaps the fastest a car should ever be going. Safety being Volvo’s creed must have dictated that the rigidity of a Volvo shall be relative to the top speed of the Volvo. They decided that just like the 240 and 244 before, the 940 shall be modeled after a tank. That said, the 940’s engineers after relentless and countless calculations and crash test decided that 120km/h should be the top speed of a 940. But than a marketing guy comes into the scene and said, ‘hey this is a car with 2.4 litre engine and five cylinders, we can’t have it appearing on paper going marginally faster than a Sherman tank just because its built like one. It must go faster, otherwise how do you justify that big engine we have up front?’ Which than sparked an intense debate between the engineers and the marketing guy… tenser than the one in the Malaysian parliament. Several walk outs later and after abusive depiction of monkeys and what not, the engineers and the marketing guy finally reached a compromise, ‘OK, we agree that the top speed be increased BUT it will only accelerate to exceed 120km/h at the same distance one takes to drive from Sweden to Finland’. Agreed.

This to me makes perfect sense. Think about it? Have you ever seen a tank operator injured in a road crash? … My point exactly!

So, I now draw the correct conclusion that the newer Volvos are safe because their packed with all the modern electronic safety gadgetry known to men whilst the more historic one’s are safe because they were built like tanks and SLOW. Yes, ‘Volvo for life’.

A note of thanks

It has been three weeks since I first started blogging and I’m happy to report that I’m enjoying it! And that said I intend to continue as long as I can find the time and means to do so – both of which I have aplenty right now. If time and means is the yardstick of wealth, than I’m just damn rich and second only to the clerks in a government office in Putrajaya.

You see, blogging allows me to talk about things that I until seven months ago took for granted. There was a time in my life that I could talk a lot about cars, politics, music, etc and even get into nonsensical discussions and debates just for the fun of doing it – thanks to the available corum in a form of an Arham and Norhafeez and the topics being mostly inspired by Old Mike. Not to mention the daily dose of preparing submissions, affidavits and the excitement of cross examinations.

In a pathetic attempt to fill that void, I than resorted to agitating Ahmad by deliberately differing in my opinion from his (though I actually agree with him most of the time – which of course he doesn’t know), scrutinizing and patronizing his every opinion all for the sake of sparking an argument or debate if you like… which tends to become heated… very quickly. This I suspect is the reason why poor Ahmad has turned rather riley and short fused of late. And I suspect why we can even debate on the concept of syukur in the context of choosing a 6 inch or 1 foot Subway sandwich for lunch! It is at this point, I would like to sincerely record my sincerest apologies to my dear friend, Ahmad.

It is for this reason I started blogging to deter (no, restrain is a better word) me from agitating people like poor Ahmad and not to mention my wife, my mother and my kid sister. Plus by blogging I’m able to share my thoughts and ideas with the readers and even the world and that certainly is miles better than two guys debating over lunch.

Which brings me to the very reason of this entry, to thank and extend my warmest appreciation to my readers, friends and family. Special thanks to Benign and Tinta Al-Murabbi for their guidance, ideas and not to mention comments. Thank you to En. Amirul Bond for sharing ‘Epitome of Riles’ with his readers.   

Thank you also to Paie and Hope for their valuable comments and interest in my renderings. I had suggested to Paie to start up his own blog so he can share his simple theory on when anything goes wrong in the world it is because of the jews, when anything goes wrong in Malaysia it is because of the PM and when anything goes wrong in the company it is the management. I’m not sure whether he’s interested to take up my suggestion though.

And of course, bucket loads of thank you to my follower for life, Ainul Mardziah.

Thank you all!                    

Festival of sacrifice

It is that time of the year again, Eid Adha. Unlike Eid Fitr, Eid Adha is celebrated moderately by most Malaysian with the exception of maybe the Kelantanese and Kedahan hence the reason only a days public holiday is gazetted. It is essentially a celebration focused on sacrifice and it is in this spirit, my better half has rightly foregone celebrations in her hometown in Anak Bukit to celebrate Eid Adha in Johor Bahru. That and the fact that I’m out of annual leave hence a four to five hours (one way, mind you!) spine bending, neck twisting drive to the north is out of the question. I’d consider the journey had I own a Volvo though – Not one of those sluggish and sloth like 900 series which would take the distance from Rawang to Tapah to get to 120 km/h by the way, but the tarmac shattering boy racer-ish V50 with the turbo! But t because a car like V50 is on the other extreme side of cheap here in Malaysia I’d probably have to “sacrifice” my two children and probably my wife to own one… which will never happen.

All kidding aside, Eid Adha is a “Festival of Sacrifice" and an important religious holiday celebrated by Muslims worldwide to commemorate the willingness of Ibrahim A.S to sacrifice his son Ismail A.S as an act of obedience to Allah, at which point Allah in all His infinite wisdom intervened and provided Ibrahim A.S  with a ram to sacrifice instead. It is in the remembrance of this event Muslims are required to make sacrifice in a form of a cow, goat or even camel.  The meat is than divided into three parts to be distributed to others. The family retains one third of the share, another third is given to relatives, friends and neighbours, and the other third is given to the poor and needy.  

So, Eid Adha is all about sharing and caring. It’s about sacrificing a part of yourself for the greater good of others. It’s about giving… Hence my promise that I’ll remember it next year and celebrate my Eid Adha in Anak Bukit despite having only a one day public holiday plus not yet owning my V50 and having to break my back in the journey. That would be my ultimate sacrifice.

…Well no, that would not be the ultimate sacrifice actually, the ultimate sacrifice will be having to crawl in heavy traffic on the highway that I’ll be paying for, at which point I would not be driving any faster in a V50 than I would in a Proton Saga BLM; And the only difference being that if I am on a V50 I’ll look miles better than the bloke in the Saga. Miles… miles… and miles better.

So on that bomb shell, It is my hope that we celebrate the festivities accordingly and bid all of you Salam Eid Adha and have the safest of journey!

*Note: This article should not be construed as reluctance on my part to celebrate festivities at my wife’s but rather a reflection of how tiring it is to drive 900++ km in a day.

**Note to the note: The above note is made with my wife in mind – in case she decides to read this article.

Life and parking

It was formulated by one Jeremy Clarkson that you could tell a lot about a person from what he drives.  Applying this formula in Malaysia for instance, if one drives a Mercedes E-class, he’s probably well-off but showy and plain boring; if he drives a C-class however, he was until recently a common joe but has just made his first million, showy and plain boring. If one drives a BMW with 18 inch rims, well the person is probably into MLM. If a person drives a Korean make, than he’s probably making more than the bloke in the Gen-2 but not making enough to buy a proper Japanese. If a person drives a Japanese than he’s probably dull, doesn’t think much of cars, practical and would even be calculative with how much he spends for his own lunch, down to every single cent.

You’d now probably be thinking of how utterly rubbish and untrue this is- And you’re probably right, and to be perfectly honest, I do too despite having to crack my head for an hour thinking of how best to apply Mr. Clarkson’s formula to us Malaysians. It may be true from where Mr. Clarkson is standing but down here, the formula is about as unswerving as a drug addict and unreliable as the ETP, thanks to our ridiculous tax structure and automotive policy, a car can tell us nothing more about a person save for probably how much the person earns… which frankly speaking would interest me as much an Indonesian drama would- Zilch!

So without taking cars out of the equation, I’ve devised a better formula; a formula that’s more simple and better suited for Malaysians, and here it goes… ‘you can tell a lot about a person from how he parks his car’. And it works… brilliantly!

If you see a guy and his family of three frantically crying small children and a wife carrying the load of children’s essentials walking towards Ampang Point after parking his car under the scorching sun undoubtedly for free despite having ample covered basement parking for a fee course, than he is an inconsiderate and cheapskate retard. You might as well call the Welfare Department and get them to pick the children up because he’s probably starving them to death and not schooling them as well. The more expensive the car he drives, the more inconsiderate and cheapskate he is and all the more reason for you to call the Welfare Department.

If you see a car parked right at the exit of a bus U-turn of an LRT station (for free definitely), than that person is a self righteous, selfish and dimwitted fart. Because it’s obvious that in five minutes time there’s going to be a massive traffic jam because a bus is unable to complete the U-turn because of his car. The cheaper the car, the more he is a self righteous, selfish and dimwitted fart. You see, if it was say a Mercedes S-class or BMW 7 series or better still a Bentley Arnage, the person can’t really be faulted for parking his car in such manner as that person is likely to be quite important and therefore has the right to be self righteous, selfish and dimwitted and therefore worth the traffic jam. He is practically justified! Further more, the odds that the car is being driven by a chauffeur is very likely in which case you can’t expect too much from the chauffeur because the chauffeur himself probably drives a Kancil in which case putting into practice the above formula, the chauffeur is the most self righteous, selfish and dimwitted fart.     

If you see a Proton Persona nicely and properly parked right on the mark of the parking box which the owner has paid for, than the owner of the Proton Persona is likely to be a considerate, responsible, wise and flowered with all the other virtues possibly bestowed on a man. He is straighter than the straightest ruler and he is therefore loved by friends and family- But he would probably drive a Proton Persona (or its equivalent) for the rest of his life because to be able to afford anything more than a Proton Persona, he’d have to be inconsiderate and a cheapskate and/or self righteous, selfish and dimwitted in both daily life and work, because cars are just so expensive here. We’re lucky enough that we didn’t have to sell our kids to buy one!

But all is not lost though as Mr. Persona will eventually travel on a Toyota to his final destination albeit a van and because he is not an inconsiderate and cheapskate retard nor a self righteous, selfish and dimwitted fart, he will be fondly remembered by friends and family in their prayers.            

The mistaken case of Mr.z

People are not perfect. That is fact. Even a chap whom so happen is named ‘Kamal’ – which means ‘perfect’ in Arabic by the way, is very far from perfect. So much so that if you were to call out to him by his name, you’d be lying. In the same way you would be lying calling a girl who you know is damn ugly, ‘Ayu’.

So than, making a mistake or two every now and then is for the most part of it acceptable and even understandable. We are surrounded by mistakes - Taking your motorcycle instead of your car to work during rainy season is a mistake; making a career a change from a fairly paid Legal Assistant to a dead bored Manager in a GLC is a mistake; buying a Proton is a mistake; a lady wearing flashing red lingerie underneath a white linen shirt is a mistake, well no actually that will be picturesque. Anyway, you get the idea.     

You might even win people’s sympathy despite having made a mistake. People are forgiving and that is just human. So you’d make a mistake, people will likely sympathize and forgive you thereafter. This is basically the unwritten doctrine which is well embedded in the fabric of our society. So much so that even the police force is trying to invoke this doctrine by saying that a member of its force had shot a fifteen year old boy dead after practically showering the car with shots from a submachinegun leaving thirty two bullet holds after mistaking the boy for what? – Benjamin Netanyahu?   

This doctrine however does not apply just so easily to leaders. You see, the moment you’re a leader you’d be expected to be better, smarter, wiser than all the other blokes out there – at least that’s the general idea. You’d be expected to make sound decisions, exercise greater diligence and be firmer in your standings and believe. Putting it simply, a leader is expected to know better and that said, when a leader commits a mistake people will not be in too much of a hurry to sympathize and forgive. And people really shouldn’t.

Which brings me to Mr. Z, this is a guy who started of very well having established what is now the biggest law firm in Malaysia and thereafter decided that he wanted to give back and make changes to the society by venturing into UMNO only to find out that he had mistaken UMNO for PKR and believing that his place is in PKR, he later joined PKR and a year later whilst on the verge of losing PKR’s election after three quarter’s of the election found out that PKR’s leaders are corrupted and having admitted he had made a mistake in joining PKR he has now relinquish all post held in the party. Fuhh… that was long!

So Mr. Z has mistakenly joined UMNO and later made the same mistake of joining PKR. Two mistakes of a similar nature by a leader. Would I forgive him then? Yes, I would- And so quickly at that. Have I contradicted myself? Well- No.

                                                                                                                         

To understand why is not all too difficult; you just need to understand lawyers and the way they work. Now, when a potential client approaches a lawyer for legal representation in court, a lawyer would hear the person out and pretty much accept whatever is said at face value and as divine truth- even if the client could likely be lying through his teeth, having the moral standings of a fish and his forehead is painted with the words like “MY WIFE WEARS THE PANTS IN MY HOUSE”. It would not matter and it is not because the lawyer is stiff or plain dumb but rather he is duty bound to give the best possible legal representation to any person who walks through his office door. Than the lawyer would proceed to discuss the matters of legal fees, the importance of client’s attendance in court, providing him with the necessary document and most importantly to do as he is told. Than the lawyer tells the client that so long as the client agrees to all the above the lawyer would pour his soul into the client’s case; the lawyer than took up the case. All went well until a year later, the client suddenly grew a mind and decided that he doesn’t want his case to be conducted in the manner that it is and further decided to stop giving into the lawyer’s demands. The lawyer having warned the client countless times finally decided to discharge himself from representing the client and cited a multitude of excuses like- the client is no longer cooperative, he was mistaken for having thought that the client is committed to the case and all efforts to communicate with his client has been in vein. The lawyer will than be discharged, go back to his office and wait for another punter to walk through his office door and the same will likely repeat itself, again.        

If you are to rationally apply the above to Zaid Ibrahim’s scenario than what he did can easily be conceived as a man doing his job and staying true to what he has been trained to do. He is just a lawyer discharging himself from acting for a client whom he perceives as being ‘no longer cooperative, not committed to the case and all efforts to communicate has been in vein’. Period. In fact, I wouldn’t go so far so as to say that he made a mistake. I would in fact say that he is exercising his professional rights.

But if he was to start another political party, would I support him than? Depends… would you want to be represented by a lawyer whom you know would likely desert you half way through your case? Go figure.  

Smoking is actually good

Going through the internet you’ll be ever so fortunate to find anybody saying anything with the slightest hint of positivism about smoking and smokers. Really, Google ‘smoking’ and click ‘search’, in about three seconds- depending on how fast your internet connection is, you’d be overwhelmed by results of web pages shouting out and propagating the dangers of smoking, the vileness of smokers, how smoking can kill you and your family, how smoking brings about cancer, how your unborn child we turn out disfigured, on and on. Not a single hint of virtue in smoking, which is all as far as I can tell, true. And I tend to agree with the masses.

It is at this point I recollected what was said by Dato’ Fadzillah Kamsah on Sinar Pagi a few months back. According to him, for every bad thing or negative comment you make against a person you should at least shower him with ten good praises. This is to help his self esteem. If this is even half true, than the self esteem of a smoker I reckon is about the height of an ant. So to be fair to smokers, I’ve made it a mission to find good things to say about smoking but my effort has been in vein thus far, until… this morning. I’ve not found ten but just one, but at least there’s progress. One will just have to do for the moment.

Like most people, I too have bowel issues right after breakfast and that makes the lavatory a popular dwelling site. Unlike other mornings however, this morning half the the men in my office and the office next door decided to go all at once.  Since the cleaning lady could not get herself to wash the lavatory until after lunch- for whatever god forsaken reason, you could imagine the foul reek racing through my nostrils the moment I got within a hundred yards of the toilet. And as expected, the cubicles are jam packed save for the last one right at the end to which I had raced to get in.

As expected also, I had to endear the ghastly scent of all things horrid coupled with the glorious pitches and sounds of indecency. A minute truly felt like an eternity, two minutes smells like death. I was on the verge of suffocating, as suffocated as I would watching Buletin Utama propagating the “heroism” of Ministers in the Kedah flood- the difference being that in the latter I could change to channel 613 even and the suffocation ended.

I was on to my last breath of air when suddenly a revelation. A joyous ambience, a change of air as fresh as daisies in the morning; it was like waking up on a bed of rose petals in Fraser’s Hill; even better, it was like waking up to breakfast in bed.  It was simply heavenly and it was the smell of cigarette smoke. God bless the smoker! The fact that I was more likely to die of cancerous death than the smoker himself did not bother me at all. I was liberated by the smell of cigarette smoke. May you have a long and prosperous life Mr. smoker!

So there you have it! And to sum things up, this is the one good thing I’d say about smoking and smokers, ‘smokers, your cigarette smoke smells better than shit’, and that is saying a lot.                    

Proton Inspira : Inspired by Malaysian... government

The old saying goes ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’, which essentially means that one shouldn’t judge something by it’s looks alone. This proverb is especially true when talking about the newly launched Proton Inspira 1.8E in manual specification. Proton has with the launch of Inspira successfully taken this classic proverb to a whole new level.

Right at the outset, you’d be perplexed when contemplating how in god’s world did a car which started out as a Mitsubishi Lancer ended looking up like a swelled up version of the Proton Saga BLM… foul. Than you take four steps left and notice the rather masculine line pulled back all the way from the bonnet hood through the shoulder lines of the doors right up to the boot lid which to some extend suggests quality, rigidity and sturdiness of build. You’d than say- “hey this Proton is not too bad, please direct me to the booking form?” By this time of course you’d have forgiven the somewhat foul look of the front end and probably be enticed and interested to view the interior of the car all the while prepared to be awed and inspired. You pull up the door handle and the ‘click’ sounds fine. Than you raise your eyes to the interior and… pause… complete silence. All the awe and inspiration dropped and shattered like the tooth of a bloke whacked off by a thai boxer. Nothing but miles and miles of cheap mix of grey and black plastic coupled with black seats. A clear feeling of nothingness.   

At this point, I felt like slamming the door and leaving the dreaded sight of the interior. But to be fair I jumped in. No, I didn’t jump in actually- fearing that the interior would just shatter to bids, I slowly and carefully slide my bum on the driver seat and held the steering. And… the steering actually feels decent being clad in leather-ish material (I’m not sure whether it’s leather). And then the gear knob, not bad I thought. Finally, I braved myself to touch the rest of the dashboard and it was rubbish. Literally rubbish. It is as rubbish to look at as it is to touch. Don’t bother going to the dealers to touch it, just touch your garbage bin outside and you’ll get the idea. At this point your far from fond memories of the Proton Saga BLM would creep in again. After ten seconds I forgot whether I was in a RM30,000 Saga or RM80,000 Inspira. Only after a reconnection with the steering wheel did I remember that I was in something marginally better. And the seats… firm at all the wrong places. As comfortable as a foot stool basically.

Next, I slide myself to the back row- again slowly and carefully, only to be welcomed by the feeling of ridiculous squishiness and softness of the rear seat. I felt as if I was sinking in and being swallowed alive by the seat. I was slowly but surely going to drown. Now, if the driver seat is a foot stool than the back seat is an old couch. The sort of old couch I would gladly give-away to the security guard at the junction to my house for his pleasure seating at night. I tried to pull the door and I could have sworn that the door handle felt like it was giving way- the plastic flexed and stretched. Yes, the plastic is that bad! To be fair, the leg room at the rear is generous. 

‘Don’t judge a book by it’s cover’; unless you found the exterior foul at first look and didn’t think much of the car, you’d be greatly flabbergasted of how horrendous the interior is.     

The Inspira than is a car meant to make you look good (from the side at least) but you yes you the guy inside would be forced to dwell in grey plastic whilst your mother-in-law at the back would probably need to be yanked out of the back seat by a tow truck after an hours drive. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you would than soon probably die of suffocation due to the nauseous plastic whilst stuck in KL traffic right after thinking that you’ve actually paid RM80,000 for the car. But if suffocation doesn’t kill you than brain tumor would eventually.

So make no mistake people, the Inspira though having its roots at Mitsubishi is truly a Malaysian, or rather a Malaysian Government. It is liken to SPR, to the world they look all impartial in carrying out supposedly fair election but in fact infested with the accusations of phantom voters and the more phantom-esque votes by post. It is liken to SPRM, to the world looking all dignified but in fact faulted with the blood of one Teoh Beng Hock. It is even liken to Malaysia, looks good, developed and glamorous with KLCC, Putrajaya and soon to come 100 Storey Warisan Merdeka but the Malaysians are in fact scrapping away to make ends meat and constantly anguished with the thought of inflation and ever degrading pay. It is liken to the Malaysian Police; emm… no it’s not actually. The Inspira at least looks good from the outside, the police on the other hand…

 

The daftness in the 'Green'

There was a time when I would get a used plastic bag courtesy of my excursion to Tesco the weekend before and throw all my garbage in it, tie it up and on Mondays, Wednesdays as well as Fridays, take it out and let Alam Flora pick it up. The Tesco plastic bags were very well suited for the job as the size was just nice for two days garbage. Life was in order!

Than somebody presumably in Selangor and wearing a pleated suit had to come out with the idea of ‘no plastic bag weekends’ and all hell broke loose. A plastic bag is now a rare commodity in my household. Being the “green” and environmentally friendly person that you probably are, you may think that this is good thing, but to be honest it’s not. I’ll tell you why, just read on.

This idea of not giving out plastic bags is a contagious disease. Tesco was the only one doing it at first, than Giant decided to be hop on the green bus and now even 7 Eleven. If you have read my earlier article, “Going green or going daft”, you’d pretty much got the idea of how troublesome shopping plastic bag-less can be if you hadn’t already experienced it yourself. Before, I can even have the chance of experiencing the trouble from shopping plastic bag-less in Penang (Not that I want too), Selangor has provided me with an intimate preview of the troubles of not having plastic bags.

Because I now no longer have those nicely sized Tecso plastic bags anymore, I am forced to make do with smaller plastic bags… those sorts you get from buying your children’s tit bits from the neighborhood sundry shop, in red. The smaller size necessitates the need to use a few more than I usually would a Tesco plastic bag. As result, my wife would now divide the garbage, one for food scraps and leftovers, one for used diapers and one for miscellaneous trash. I would than take the three bags out as I would usually do. So now instead of using and throwing one Tesco plastic bag, I’m using and throwing three smaller plastic bags thanks to ‘no plastic bag weekend’. Anyhow, all was quite well in the beginning; till one fateful Monday, Alam Flora decided to leave me a token of appreciation. They decided to leave behind one of the three plastic bags behind and not surprisingly so, it was… wait for it… the one containing my children’s used diapers.

If you have any experience with children, you would have also experienced the foul stench and other worldly smell emitted by the diapers. This being the case, there was no way I was going to bring those things back in, brave the smell for two days only to have to bring it out again on Wednesday. I opted to leave it outside. I slept peacefully that night. Little that I know of the nightmare awaiting me the next morning.

Morning, got out of the house at 6.30 am and… there it was, remains of the diapers and its contents splattered all over the tarmac dead shot middle of my house! Please feel free to imagine what I had to do next.

Having learned my lesson, I than decided that I can no longer leave three separate plastic bags of garbage outside. This is now my ground rule, my creed even if you would. So, still being short and deprived of Tesco plastic bags, I was forced to sacrifice a Nike paper bag which could had been used over and over again had it not been sacrificed for the greater cause of  containing three small plastic bags of garbage. So now, instead of using and throwing one Tesco plastic bag, I am using four.                

Later I thought to myself, I cannot and will not (be able to) continue to throw garbage this way that. I couldn’t continue to throw away perfectly good paper bags and more importantly I was by than running out of small red plastic bags. I than against my soundest judgment and being clad in desperation decided that I have to purchase one of those big black garbage bags. It cost me RM2.90 for ten bags equivalent to 29 cents per bag. Yes, it now cost me money to throw my garbage. I’ve now gone from throwing just one Tesco plastic bag to throwing away 29 cents! Marvelous.

The best part of it is that those big black garbage bags are simply too big. An overkill I tell you. So, in a bid to feel that I’ve not wasted my 29 cents, I now throw more rubbish and garbage than I’ve ever had before. Anything and everything having the slightest resemblance of garbage, would be deemed garbage and it is than garbage. I’ve contributed more to the garbage pile now than I did before the ‘no plastic bag weekend’ and so has presumably everyone and anyone who doesn’t enjoy wasting 29 cents in Selangor.

So there you have it, my reasons as to why ‘no plastic bag weekend’ is just plain daft and utterly stupid. As daft as two girls seating on the floor of the LRT clad in Yuna-esque outfit whilst all the while having two vacant seats in front of them AND as stupid as people purchasing a Mitsubishi Lancer in September!  

Of fat and simply herding

It was simply mind boggling to see the herd relentlessly stomp their way through a narrow passage and obliterate everything and anything in their way into tiny particles of dust. Nothing can stop them from reaching the water hold. And I mean nothing.

You would probably think that I’m talking about a herd of elephants on National Geographic; well you’re wrong actually. I’m simply metaphorically describing a large group of plus sizes making their way to what may be described as a relatively small counter to sign up for the inaugural Quarter Pounder Challenge, an event touted to be organized annually by the company which is essentially a spin-off of that inspirational reality TV show for plus sizes, “Biggest Looser”.

  

You would think that these plus sizes would shy their way into getting an entry form and doing the necessary health checks but no, instead they all packed up tight, herding in a few lines to the extend that you would be forgiven to think that the building’s lobby has transformed into a stomping ground for migrating elephants, overnight! Seriously, it’s very rare that you see so many big people rambling about in a relatively small space.

Whilst observing this perplexing spectacle of nature, I could not help but notice how the female species dominates the herd leaving the very few males gasping for air in between. Could I than safely draw the conclusion that there are more plus size women than there are plus size men in the company? Au contraire, the number of plus size men and women as far I can tell is equal. Why is it than there are more women queuing up than there are men? The truth is, men are simply not bothered about their size nor their health for that matter. It is for this very reason you would see bald headed men with bellies the size of an Airbus A380 smoking their Dunhills on the sky garden whilst arguing on who would win PR13. This to me is simply natural. They are just being men!

Generally, it is normal for a married man two swell and fat up after marriage. And this is acceptable. Men generally do not have problems with being fat except those few men who feel insecure and apparently have trust issues with their spouses. This would most likely be the case for a man who started out slim after graduation but quadrupled in size six months after marriage. This category of men I would lovingly refer to as “the misrepresentators”. Fearing that his wife would have felt cheated and deceived as well as thinking that his wife will trade him for the likes of Awal, he would desperately attempt to shave a size or two. But to this man I would say, “damn you’re shallow!” Dear gents, your loved (by your wife) not because of your flat abs but its because of your heart, your personality, your faithfulness, your dignity and just maybe because of  the sizeable package you have in your pants. If the latter being package-ing is your wife’s issue, slimming down will do nothing for you!

Now there maybe another type of men amongst the herd, the slightly fat singles who attributes and blames his “single-ness” to his fat issues. Guys, there’s nothing unattractive about being chubby and cuddly. Ladies dig chubby men for the same reasons they do Pooh! You won’t see women sleeping while hugging ken the doll because there’s literally nothing much to hug but you do see them with Poohs. So, your problem is not that your fat but it’s most probably your less than appealing face that’s littered with holds the size of Langkawi and pimples liken to Gunung Merapi which is about to spit lava. In which case slimming down will not help… at all!

Dearest ladies whose idea of macho is Anuar Zain, please give this fat single man a chance. With them you would at the very least know what you’re getting and you stand almost no chance of ending up with the misrepresentator. Lets face it, single fat men are physically honest. Even if they do size up you’d be hard pressed to tell that they did.

So there you have it! The males amidst the herd of females are either fat, married and shallow or fat, single and ugly.

How about the women than? With them is not all that complicated. They are not there because they necessarily need to be there (at least half of them anyway), but they are there because they enjoy herding. Women enjoy eating in a herd, enjoy shop in a herd, they would even herd just for the sake of herding; they’ll herd up whenever they can and queuing to join a weight management program is as good any excuse; it’s inherent and genetic- And the building lobby with the endless exhibition and promotions is certainly the best venue for the women to herd.

One thing is certain though, the Quarter Pounder challenge will definitely be a success and I will be seeing more slim, hour glass shape figures walking around the lobby. The organizers being pleased with themselves will most certainly hold the same program again next year. The only difference is that they’ll have more participants next year; half of which are new to the company and the half would be last year’s participants who had successful loss a few pounds during the program but had since reacquired a few hundreds three months after it ended; serving as a testament to the fact that weight management programs simply don’t work.          

That other magazine

I did something that I’ve not done in ages recently; I bought another motoring magazine besides my monthly dosage of Top Gear.

As I was going to have lunch alone that fateful day, it crossed my mind that it would look odd and peculiar for me to be seated at a table practically underneath the LRT line in Plaza Pantai all alone doing nothing whilst subconsciously picking my nose. Such sight would most certainly lead passers-by to the conclusion that I am a boring and pitiful chubby bloke with whom nobody could be bothered to befriend most likely due to my habit of subconscious nose picking. So I hatched an idea to drop by at nearby news stand and pick up a motoring read. Since I’ve already bought Top Gear for that month buying another would be senseless hence I was force to venture into some other read and came across a magazine which claimed and I quote, ‘The Biggest Car Magazine in the World’ (if I recall correctly) in a clear plastic and for half the price of a TGM, I thought it was reasonable. I bought it and opened it up and found another back dated issue thrown into it, two for the price of one. ‘My god, this is brilliant’… so I thought.

I read it whilst waiting for my teh ais and nasi goreng sotong. The first few pages were fair, the typical automotive news probably taken up from some website or other international auto magazines. Then I came across a review by a certain Mr. B if I recall correctly of the Audi A6. Being an ardent fan of Audi, I was keen to read and of I went. At the end of the article though, the first thing to pop into mind were the words uttered by a certain judge to me a few years back as I was trying to maneuver around his queries, “I can hear you talking but you’re not telling me anything”. Translated in the context of Mr. B’s article as, “I can see the writing but it’s not telling me anything!”… at least not anything that I’ve already known through Google-ing. Almost everything in the article as far as I can tell was probably nipped out of an Audi A6 brochure or Audi’s PR press kit.

When I read a review of a car, I expect an illustrious description of the car, how the car feels; how it drives; how it feels to be in the driver’s seat and maybe even details like how the luscious leather feels rested on the reviewers bottom (this may not be the best example though). These are all important information to us Malaysian as most of us will never have the pleasure of sitting in one let alone drive one. Had I only wanted to know how much bhp or nm torque the car makes or even the colour it is offered in or for that matter the price, I could have just Google-d and save myself a few ringgit. Well, to be fair the Mr. B did mention on how the steering weighted in three lines out of the entire two paged article. I felt deprived and plain dumb!

Which brings me to my point, buying a motoring magazine is like cliff diving. You should and must always check the depth of the water below before you decide to jump; otherwise you might end up resurfacing with half a brain missing if not all. In my case, I should had opened up the plastic and browsed a few pages before ever deciding to buy it.

So after reading Mr. B’s review, I’ve decided that I would never buy another "big" magazine nor would I ever read an article or writing of any sort written by a man whose name begins with the letter “B”.

Hence Top Gear remains my no.1 read! And as for that other magazine, suffice to say that after lunch that day I suddenly decided to ‘go green!’ and used it to line my toilet bowl instead of the usual toilet paper and flush it down with all the unwanted thereafter.