Shoot and win

I’m sure we’ve all seen one of those warning signboard that says ‘Trespassers Will Be Shot’ noticeably hung on fences of a private property somewhere. Now I wish similar punishment could also be applied to those inconsiderate car owners who have no qualms at abusing disabled parking spots.

The problem has always been to catch these bastards red-handed.

Its never easy I tell you that, and it doesn’t help when you have kayu security guards sleeping on their job.

Last week however my break came and it was one those rare occasions I get to exercise my rights, telling the driver straight in the face.

Here’s the thing. The wheelchair-designated parking spots in this one hypermarket we usually frequent were never vacant. But regardless of whether the driver’s a cripple does not matter because I can’t simply be jumping the gun and started shitting on his car hood.

But as luck would have it that day, one of the parking spots was available only to be beaten to it by a car in front of us. And sure enough, not 1 but 3 able-bodied African dudes coolly alighted the car and walks away as if their Tok Wan owns the supermarket.

Then bang! it happened. I shot ‘em 3 goons with my trusted Tommy gun, hitting them right on the forehead and rejoiced the moment all 3 hit the ground...

...Ok seriously, here's what actually happened.

I got down and yelled out at the driver to remove his junk somewhere.

Oh oh...but get this- he had the cheek to believe he was innocent and had not violated any law even with a huge OKU signboard clearly erected in front of his vehicle.

I mean, duuuuude...if you really are visually impaired then by all means man, the fucking space is all yours.

But no, some people just had to argue even when they realise they don’t stand a chance. Hard as they try, the not-so-good will always triumph over evil.

The driver especially, stood there with two minds after I made it clear he can either go on shopping and risk getting his car clamped or does the right thing by vacating the parking space.

Maybe the thought of the yellow clamping thing made him do the right thing and spared any damages from being done.

Except for bruised ego. I mean, cool homeys don’t get no rap from no crip on wheels, know what I’m sayin’?

Hey, I was merely exercising my rights. What’s equally important is this episode should at least instil some sense of awareness to those involved and witnessed it.

Its about time society jacks their level of awareness a notch up.

And a harsher punishment similar to the trespassing law should effectively do the trick.

Impractical term

KEMAMAN, June 13 — People with a disability should not be referred to as “disabled” but rather “People with Special Ability” as that would best fit their description said Youth and Sports Minister Datuk Ahmad Shabery Cheek.

Thoughtful indeed, but I can help to think it’s purely sugar coating. If he was trying to score points with the disabled community, the minister is definitely shooting blanks.

What’s in a name you tell me. Unless a disabled person on wheelchair possesses a super special ability to overcome insurmountable environmental barriers or get to ride on a wheelchair-unfriendly public bus, a shit by any other name would smell as bad.

That’s the stinking reality. The struggle we have to put up with in order to lead a normal and meaningful life like our able-bodied counterparts IS the reality, and this is the area where the powers-that-be should put some extra effort into.

Everybody’s capable of coining with phrases. And in this case to come up with the most politically correct term usable will not provide us an inch of progress. If there’s a need to change, the word special should be replaced with beneficial instead.

Personally I don’t mind the rudest expression one could think of as long practical changes are made.

So until the government comes up with something beneficial, I’m sticking with the commonly-used term, the disabled person.

Or crips, or cacat...whatever.

Back and banging

Hey I’m back, back with a BANG.

It could have been sooner but when I was supposed to scout around for a new laptop, I splashed a chunk of the allocated budget on a gun instead.

Yes, a pistol, a Beretta 92 to be precise.

It was unnecessary and all the blabla, I know. Got that a lot and the flaks haven’t ceased since the day the gun was purchased.

But I’m going ahead and keep it. Its meant for protection after all. Just like a condom y’know, only safer.

I mean, you just never know. A cold-blooded murderer might just strike while you’re bumping uglies with your spouse.

So protect yourself and your loved one. The best form of safe sex is always...to carry a weapon.

Anyways, after two sans internet weeks, I thought I had loads to catch up on. So I scoured through all the news available online and read as much as I could.

Then I caught this one piece and then again I thought hey, I didn’t miss much after all. Apparently some things never change.

For being a menace to the Malaysian society, the Mat Rempits continue to enjoy special treatment from the authority. This time around a whopping RM4 mil will be spent to cater to this group’s need for speed by building a circuit, courtesy of public fund, via the clever Terengganu state government of course.

And those who excel get this; will get a sponsorship to race in the International circuit. So instead of getting the law to go down hard on them, they get to travel abroad and see the world.

It just doesn’t sound right at all. I mean, while we still hear cases where the OKUs are being oppressed and punished for enjoying little things we have in life, the Mat Rempits on the other hand gets to travel to places that most Malaysian could only dream of setting their foot in.

It makes one wonder why bother wasting their precious second passing the amended, stricter law in the first place if they’re not going to apply it.

Now, if only these road fiends were the reptilian kind, I’d take the law into my own hands and go on a shooting spree.

Gone begging

Komputer rosak. And it is beyond redemption.

After years of faithfully providing good service to its max, my 7 year old laptop has decided to call it quits. And the timing couldn’t get any worse possible. I’m broke, which of course is not a surprise but just as I thought of saving up (ehem, ehem...), this latest series of misfortune most likely means I have to break the bank instead.

Hopefully it wont be too long till I get a new replacement. A day without internet can be a real dread.

life’s been ugly enough since I lost my favourite brown Irish hat. And I wouldn’t want to pile up the misery by becoming a public outcast without an internet access for too long.

In the mean time I’ll be gone temporarily. For those with a big heart who wishes to chip in a coupla thousand bucks (Amal Jariah), you can reach me on my cell phone or landline; both numbers can be retrieved from most owners of the blogs listed on the sidebar. Thank you.

Till whenever dudes/dudettes, chai chien!

Flushing down a flattering myth

Heyy, finally I’m on Facebook. Add me or I’ll C4 you into pieces and eat your children.

Last night I received two emails. It was such a great deal to me because for a change, none of the two were the usual emails with work/porn materials attached to it.

The first one particularly was interesting. An old chum took the trouble to drop in a few lines to ask how I’ve been keeping up. That was a rarity as far as I’m concerned because I can’t even remember the last time someone emailed just to find out about my well-being. What's even more amazing is how the email was constructed- very formal, almost traditional letter-like that the email actually kicked off with the classic Ke hadapan saudaraku Ahmad blabla…

This chap’s a real dying breed I’m telling you.

The sender of the second one was more concerned on the lack of new postings in here. And get this- he went on to say that I should be able to update regularly now that I’ve become a "full-fledged journalist".

Somehow that didn’t come as a surprise. This was like the thousandth times I heard of such claim.

Maybe it was due to my stint as a columnist (and a terrible one at that) that suggested I was a journalist by profession.

So let’s debunk this myth once and for all.

First and foremost, a columnist may not necessarily go into journalism, and vice versa.

Secondly, mixing around with the press people does not make one a journalist. Just like if you fancied the 'Barcodes' to pull through doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a sad Geordie, right?

Right?

Ok that didn't really make sense so let's move on swiftly to the third point.

Most of them journalists -regardless from which angle one looks at it- are capable of writing good piece day in day out, and I don’t even come close to sharing the same league.

Of course I’m fully aware of that. I know where I ‘stand’ exactly and I don’t need a second reminder.

So please keep in mind- I'm a small-time blogger and definitely not a fucking journo-blogger.

As much I’d love to land a job with any one of the rags (reason solely being financial), I just don’t have what it takes to be one. Its never easy because for one thing, a good academic background is required. And all I have is shit. Tertiary education is alien to me.

Besides, an OKU needs to keep up to his billing as an unfortunate and stupid kind in order to live off YOUR money, via one of the government’s schemes.

Regular updates will only make me look intelligent and risk losing the privileges provided.

In the mean time, I’ll post as and when I feel like it. So it’d do me a huge favour to quit acting like a monkey and get your protruding hindquarters off my back.

Thank you.

Crazy over Power

1. The power tussle looks set to prolong.

2. Even if Mr Mahatma Mandela & Co. manages to recapture the legislative power through vote of no confidence, and the other side accepts the decision lying down, the former still have the Rakyat to face and convince.

3. The power grab already did enough damage to the power grabbing coalition that even if it was done within the constitution, it is generally perceived that whatever took place some three months back was done through undemocratic process.

4. Its going to be quite a task for Mahatma & Co. to convince the masses their party still believe in People’s Power, especially by the manner they took office back in February.

5. Unless fresh election is in the offing, the rakyat will have to live under weak government with thin majority until the next General Election.

6. Economic power is what the people are yearning for. Only a powerful government can provide and feed our cravings for a greater economic growth and productivity.

7. In a democratic country, the power should always belong to the people, and must not be in any power-crazy politician’s hand.

8. I am not a politician, but as part of the people, I consider myself as Power-crazy.

9. For the past months, I’ve been feeding my craze for Power on Fridays, every single week without miss.

10. Since today is Friday, its time for the weekly ritual. It has been a week since I last recharged my power that the feelings of weakness and hunger have kicked in.

11. Must…have…my…weekly…(two) plate(s)…of…

BAWAL POWER!!!

Set nasik, ulaman & sambal belacan bersama Ikan Bawal, Ikan Keli atau Ayam digoreng panas-panas…

Bawal Power is located at
Selera Central, Central Park, Sunway Damansara, Kota Damansara, Petaling Jaya.

12. That’s right, gormandisers! If you're hungry for Power, drive down to Kota Damansara for the real deal succulent Bawal. Memang Power!

Its over, no point living

My heart’s wrecked. I was too distraught this morning that I skipped my brunch.

Don’t tell me its not the end of the world and all that crazy bullshit, because according to my world, it is.

I think that’s where I’ll be for now; my own world. Nothing beats the comfort and warmth of your own room when you need to be all to yourself (like wanking for example), totally shut from the outside world.

Its crazy out there, I’m telling you. In this current state of mind, I feel as though everyone out there is insane. Its like they’re eager to get me, throwing jabs to where it hurts most and continue pounding till the old wound starts to bleed again.

So its best to just throw myself into an incarceration and treat this wounded heart with some Ubat Kuning.

Until its fully healed, I’ll be blowing bubbles in the land of make believe (e.g Hefner’s Mansion West)- my room.

For any urgent matter, you know where to reach me.

To those rich politician bastards who wish to do some charity and donate a huge chunk of their ill-gotten loose change, I can be reached via email. You can find it somewhere in the profile section.

Till whenever, happy whatever, guys/gals. Or whoever.