Help function

I think Nintendo DS (handheld) has a sketch-&-chat function. I don't know. I can't be bothered.

Funny comic though.

Demons

Nicknamed the Noonsday Demon, depression, is the monster that hugs our souls and infects our minds with its paralytic venom. It is called so, as Andrew Solomon says, because it manifests in our plain sight and refuses to go away. Other demons, like greed or lust, can be defeated if we can see them as the pits of our consciousness. But depression, the stubborn kid, manifests in the pride of the sunny weather, shape, size and all, and pokes at our pathetic self, making ridiculous remarks in the process.

Why can't we erase it from our minds, even after we see it as it is?

Scientists everywhere have been trying to solve it for years. But nothings avails yet. Personally, I feel depression is merely a disguise. A mutation of a deeper problem that we deny. Through running and hiding from the deeper problem, we give it strength and endurance. It becomes the Noonsday Demon.

Having looked inside, I have identified my real problem as rage. Uncontrollable anger that overtakes me and changes me into another person. Not unlike The Incredible Hulk, except I don't grow muscles and turn green.

My sister was the catalyst that got me thinking. Every Sunday, after a tutition session, I always fume at the edges of insanity. I am unhappy at her progress. How she keeps making the same basic mistakes that I've been correcting for the last 3 months. That irks me a lot. I've shouted at her. Howled at her. Scolded her. Though I've never physically hit her, I believe the damage I've done to her is the same, if not greater.

But that is wrong. So wrong. She's only 11. A kid. An age for mistakes. And I have no right to hurt her, no matter the circumstances.

Someone smart once said, "You are no bigger than the thing that angers you."

So I thought about it. Went deeper within my memories. And I discovered many, many cases of my rage in the past. They usurped my conscious and like a man possessed, I have done harm to many people. I don't know how the people affected feel. But I fear myself so much. I run. I hide. I repress. Hence, I'm depressed and I erase my memories. I refuse to recall.

Enough. I am not running anymore. I will confront this beast by its horns.

Natalie Goldberg wrote that demons exist within our hearts to guard the treasures. Rage is my demon, not depression. And I intend to get past it to behold the shining gems.

Evil

Screenshot from World of Warcraft. Yes. This is how the actual game looks like when you play. Pure evil.

Anger

Grant me the stubbornness to change what I can, the laziness to accept what I cannot, and enough beer to sit around and endlessly discuss the difference between the two.
Dick Dunn

Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you'll ever regret.
Laurence J. Peter

A man is measured by the size of things that anger him.
Geof Greenleaf

Hammurderer

This is McDonald's discontinued advertising mascot, "The Hammurderer," a mischievous, homicidal imp who kills McDonaldland characters and takes their sandwiches.

He has a long rap sheet of burger-related crimes and a signature cry of 'Stabble Stabble Stabble' and that justifies his place in the proud lineage of McDonaldland mischief-makers.

A few weeks ago, the Hammurderer decapitated Mayor McCheese and ate his head in a children's coloring book. Responding to widespread public outrage, McDonald's executives defended it as "not nearly as violent or socially irresponsible as it has been made out to be, given that the Mayor's head is, in fact, a giant and conceivably edible cheeseburger."

Hammurderer toys and promotional items, which include dolls, T-shirts, ski masks, and spiked bats, have been recalled and are expected to become prized collectibles.

There was an uproar over the latest commercial, in which Birdie The Early Bird is garroted by the Hammurderer and her body tossed in a Dumpster, was vociferous enough to prompt the fast-food giant to pull the plug.

Compare Hammurderer to the 1982 mascot, "Shakes McJunkie," an emaciated addict who robbed characters of their possessions, which he then sold to buy McDonald's shakes. He was later reworked as "The Machead," a homeless, wild-eyed Big Mac addict who turned to panhandling and gay prostitution as a means of supporting his severe burger habit.

I'm sure kids 12-years and below can tell the difference. If in doubt, they would ask their parents. Ain't it so, McDonald's?

Just so you know, this story is made up. Yes. Some people have way too much time.

Run!

There are 8 exit signs in The Agency and they all tell the truth.

On the road again

Staying too long in one place stagnates a person. After you grow accustomed to the ways to the place, the people and the culture, you take it for granted. The freshness dies and you don't feel the need to explore anymore. Your place grows too comfortable to move. And your butt grows roots.

Staying within the comfort zone is a deterrent to success. What will you challenge tomorrow? What rules will you break? Heck, why break the rules anyway when you can keep within safe distances and be well-fed at the same time? Where's the spirit of adventure? Gone.

Keep moving. That's the way to go. It's the only path to new ideas.

WTF

Someone has made a church of LEGO.

It took about a year and a half of planning, building and photographing, more than 75,000 pieces of LEGO to complete. Size-wise, it is about 2.2 m x 1.7 m x 0.76 m.

A true story

This is a true story of a junior creative in a London agency

when I first started, the creative director was fantastic and incredibly talented, but a very hard and brutal creative director. He brought me on board, and in the first year, I worked seven days a week for twelve months, and I didn’t produce a single ad in that time. I was mortified! And at Christmas, I was called into his office for my end of year appraisal, and I was convinced he was going to fire me. He called me in, shut the door, sat me down, and this is what he told me:

“I just wanted to say to you that we’ve failed you. If we could produce the work that you write, this agency would be ten times better. We cannot sell the quality of work that you write, and thus we have let you down. But I want you to know, keep writing what you write, and eventually one day we will sell that quality of work. And as a consequence I want to double your salary.�

The Agency

The first day I was in the agency, I spent a long time sitting in the reception, looking at the inscriptions on the wall. It was a farewell speech by it's founder, talking about his visions for the firm after he died. He requested his name to be taken off the agency's, should it no longer do creative work of the highest quality. He capped it off with a mild threat to return from his grave to undo his name, if we were to pursue big money, and not big ideas.

That was in the 60s. As of today, there are around 80 employees in this agency. I wonder how many knew of this speech he gave.

Mr X, your agency, I'm afraid, has already changed its name a long time ago. Hiding beneath your rusting initials, the mentality of the agency has corrupted, like apples put out to ruin.

The people here do not know it yet. Reality has not catched up with truth. But it will. One day, the engines of this ancient behemoth will cough, spit and breathe its last before lying in the wake of its lifeless mess.

And when the future folks look back at this fallen giant and examine the reasons, they will exclaim," The ghost was here, and we were too blind to see it."

Will this ever happen to us?

Barbie Horse

The Island

Got this from ST Life.

The Island, an entertaining flick about clones who don't know they are clones, features an idyllic island, advanced technology, people in white uniforms, obeying instructions, not trained to think independently, lining up eagerly for a lottery and generally kept in the dark about very important things.

I don't know why, I can't put my finger on it, but somehow I feel the story will strike a chord with many.

Pandora's Box

Have you heard of the story of Pandora's Box?

According to Greek mythology, Zeus, the ruler of the Gods, was mad at humans for possessing the gift of fire. So he crafted the first woman, named her Pandora and gave her a box. Zeus also instructed her not to open the box, no matter the circumstances.

Being the curious beings we are, Pandora ignored the advice. All manners of evil were released from it, like fear, jealousy, anger, etc. It seemed that Pandora has succeeded in dooming the whole of mankind, until the very last thing that floated out of the box. It was a small ray of light, called "hope".

Morale of the story: when darkness prevails, always hang on to hope.

But there's a little twist: Zeus had a name for that ray of light. It was called "false hope". Because to the Greeks, there was no bigger sin than fighting against destiny.

So, what are you hoping for? Real of false?

Make your own choice.

Do not run if you are sick

Too many incidents have been reported on healthy people dying from sudden heart seizures. Worse if you are sick, or just recovering. I still remember a professional footballer collapsing on the soccer field in the midst of a match. Even people in their physical prime do not escape this, so please don't fool around.

Take care, and go for medical check-up to see whether the veins around your heart are clogged up or not. You cannot tell your cholestrol levels from your body shape alone.

The Beng Blogs

This you gotta see. Warning, vulgarities ahead

They whack the NKF so hard is not for any charity reason, is only because the NKF stupid and dare to sue them first what. They toolan the NKF boss so they call their newspapers and reporters and lawyer all hoot him together, like those gang fight grab parang and run after one fella, except the newspaper company gang is not use parang, but is use words.

NKF mantra

Durai stunts

Had a chat with my friend about the CEO of NKF.

Here's a way to save his scalp. Make a public announcement on ST(!) to donate a huge part of his money to NKF (50% of $1.8 million). Apologize to the 2 he sued previously. Commit himself to earning the same wages that normal people do, like $1,500 a month. To top it off, personally perform the stunts on his charity shows to placate the public.

If you want to see Durai fed to the lions, call 1900 9111 588 now! You can make the difference to the lives of thousands of kidney patients!

Update!
If TT Durai can't part with his money, he can always donate his kidney.

TT Durai

Please remember this name.

He is the CEO of NKF. As you might know, NKF exists to subsidize the medical costs of patients with kidney problems.

In an on-going defamation suit, it was announced that Mr Durai was paid $25,000 a month. Last year, he received a 12 month bonus, which brings his annual income to $600,000 (give and take a few ten-thousands). Over the course of the last 3 years, he has made $1.8 million.

All by persuading normal folks to donate to NKF. Normal folks who earn less than 10% of his monthly salary.

As part of his job perks, Mr Durai also flies first-class. (NKF CEO fly around for what? International donation drive?) And he also has a gold-plated tap installed in his private washroom, which costs a measly $990, according to his personal standards.

I think the tap in the dialysis centre below my flat costs around $30 (only guessing).

A little fact you might want to know: NKF earns its revenue(?) from public donations only. No government subsidies of any sort. In other words my brothers, we paid for it.

And I thought all the money was going to the kidney disease sufferers.

Mr Durai, I'm really curious. How much you donate to NKF itself?

The Kohs

Have not been blogging for a while... Spent the evenings of the past week watching Wu Jiajing, a 16-year old Taiwanese winning the 2005 World Pool Championship. The youngest champion ever.

Last week, my Philippino colleague, Mike was chatting with me about names. His name was Mike de La Cuesta (sorry if I spelled wrongly), translated from Spanish, means Mike of the Hill. Following this logic, you could say I am part of the Koh family. Hmm... ?

I also happened to bump into an old classmate of mine. She was surprised to see me and after some small talk, she asked: So, how is Edmund? I said he's fine, happy in his job and a smooth love life.

It seems always when I meet old friends, the question most often asked is about Edmund. (It's not that I'm jealous. I've heard Edmund mention that friends who bump into him also ask the same thing about me.)

The thing that irked me is this. Outside the association of Edmund+me, there is nothing. She doesn't know me, doesn't know what I do, doesn't know what I'm proud of and what I dislike. Me, on my own, as a solitary figure, she has absolutely no idea. I have not walked out of the shadow of Edmund+me. If you see me, you must see Edmund.

And I wondered further. What can I tell her about me? What different things set me apart from that shadow of Edmund+me? Is it my job? My achievements? My personality? If I am Wu Jiajing, I could hold my head high to proclaim myself as the pool champion of the world. But I'm not. I am from the Koh family, and sadly, I know nothing about the history of the Kohs.

You lose your roots, you lose your identity.