清's Mirror

HKKA Visit, 13 & 14 November

2010-11-20T13:25:00.003+08:00

Just a quick note here to remind me of the awesome that happened earlier.

During the weekend, a contingent of kendokas from the Hong Kong Kendo Association, accompanied by 8th dan Inoue sensei, came to visit for some joint keiko and friendly shiai. It was held in the Japanese School of Kuala Lumpur in Subang.

I managed to turn up for the Saturday session, from 10am to 4pm. Keiko was not as harsh as I'd expected. I remember the 1st ASEAN championship training* practically had me crawling, but this time round, the greater part of the morning was spent on bare bones basics, in the form of doing the bokuto kihon waza with shinais out and bogus on. This was a welcome relief, given that:

a) The Japanese School's halls are not air-conditioned, leaving us to the tender mercies of Malaysia's climate.
b) I'd been involved in a teacher training course for about a month, and had been slacking in my training. What precious little stamina I had was somewhat diminished.
c) Seriously, it was just too damn early on a Saturday morning... Bleargh.

But it was good stuff. It was nice to see the basic movements dissected in that fashion, then being able to cut loose, strike and be able to feel whether we were executing the techniques right. I for one relish any oppurtunity to practice tsuki attacks, seeing as how rarely we do it in our regular training.

Lunch came along quickly enough, with absurdly large bento filling most of us to bursting. As such, lunchtime was appropriately long (1.5 hours) because, believe me, you don't want to fight on an overly full stomach.

After lunch, shiai! Seeing as the Malaysians in attendance outnumbered the Hong Kong contingent by about 2 to 1, most of the Hong Kong kendokas had to fight twice. Didn't seem to be a problem for them, though, seeing as every one was at least a shodan. Long story short, Malaysia mostly got squished.

I got paired up to fight a 3rd dan myself, though I only found out after I got trounced by him. To my credit, I wasn't blatted in 15 seconds like at the HK Open. I had the chance to watch him fight earlier and thought out my opening moves. I'd anticipated he'd probe by first snapping out at my kote as fast as he could, so I was ready to cancel his point by catching his kote at the same time. I knew one of my weaknesses in shiai had always been a lack of aggression, so I did try to compensate for that, also trying out a very particular feint that I'd been working on, but to no avail. Over the course of the next 2 minutes or so, he caught my men (I was SO sure I cancelled it with aiuchi!), then my kote (ok, he totally deserved this point).

Frankly, my opponent was too fast for me. None of the cheeky tricks and feints that work so well for me in keiko had any effect here. So what grand lesson will I take with me from this shiai? Hehe... Nothing spectacular or profound, just this: Straight kendo. I need to work more on my straight kendo. Raw speed, getting from kamae to strike. I've decided this is what I'll be concentrating on in the time between now and my shodan grading in January.

After shiai, there was a little time for jikeiko, and I must confess, I was quite flattered to find myself invited to keiko with another of the HK members before I'd even got my helmet back on. However, what really sticks in my mind from the keiko after was a brief moment when I went for jigeiko against Inoue sensei.

Inoue sensei is in his 70s, but let me tell you, he has arms like tree trunks and if he so wished, I would be unable to touch him. I was quite knackered from the day's exertions, but since this was possibly the very last chance I'd get to jigeiko with him, I threw everything into it, paying attention to form and making sure I showed no signs of weakness. If there's anything I'd learnt about encounters with unfamiliar Japanese senseis it is this: Show any weakness in spirit, like an unsteady kamae, flinching, backing down or an overly rigid grip, and the sensei will show you no mercy. Before long, it was 4:05pm, time to go, and he lowered his sword, looking right at me. Every kendoka knows this gesture. It's the invitation to one final men cut. An unspoken command from sensei to student: Last cut. Give it everything. So I did. And it was perfect.

I'm not looking to blow my own trumpet or whatever, it's just that, for that split second, I forgot myself and my body lashed out, faster, smoother and sharper than I ever thought I was capable of. I couldn't see my own blade, but felt it whip out and bounce off the sensei's helmet, resounding with that very distinctive popping sound of a perfect cut. The sensei nodded his approval, and then the day caught up with me. Man, was I knackered...

And that's it really. A (tiring!) weekend of great fun and good fights and me coming out of it with something to think about as I make my way to shodan and, maybe one day... two swords...

*Note: I didn't actually participate in said championship, just the training.

Gotta get organized!

2010-11-16T15:57:00.004+08:00

MAY?! Has it really been that long since I blogged???

Ah, well, the timestamp tells no lies... It's been a busy few months, to be sure, with much drama and a drastic change of lifestyle which I won't go into in much detail. What I will say is that I'm presently the boyfriend to a lovely Japanese goddess, on my way to fulfilling an old dream of becoming a teacher and have finally fulfilled a significantly older childhood dream of actually playing a game of Warhammer 40k.

Oh, and I'm taking my grading for shodan in kendo in January. Shodan! The sexy rank! No moar kyu for me! Another step closer to my ambition of bearing 2 swords into battle! Well, if all goes well, at any rate.

Anyway, it's been way too long since I've blogged, and there is much to blog about. As such, I'm going to be splitting this blog from here onwards. This bit, Cheng's Mirror, will mostly be about me and my reflections on life, the universe and everything. Seeing how kendo has deeply affected my thinking and how I grow as a person, posts about kendo will be here, too.

In fact, this blog will mostly continue as it has since the start with only one major change: Anything to do with hobbygaming will go to a completely separate blog (will post the link on this blog shortly), seeing as it's a level of dorkiness that I feel a bit guilty about inflicting on my non-gamer readers, if there are indeed any of you left at this point. That having been said, I can't resist putting up this pic of the badass I painted up who leads my army into battle:

No, that's not an unfeasibly ornate shovel he's holding in his left hand, it's called a crozius. Bit of a long story, really...

And that's all I've got time for right now. More posts and a fresh new blog to follow shortly...

The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ

2010-05-12T11:16:00.001+08:00

It's not often these days that I could be bothered to pick up a book with the word "Jesus" in great big gold lettering plastered all over the cover but I found myself compelled to make an exception when I spied the name of the author, no less than one of my favourite heretics, Philip Pullman. Even more intriguing, perhaps, was the back of the book, on which was printed in large friendly letters:

THIS IS
a
STORY.

And nothing else. No summary, no praise for His Dark Materials, just those words and the little publisher's logo and UPC bar code modestly tucked away at the bottom. That pretty much said it all, really. A retelling of the life of Jesus in a manner that will most undoubtedly draw a deluge of stiff letters from pious, God-fearing people who'd never actually consider reading this book, and who'd need to be told repeatedly to at the very least pay attention to the four little words on the back.

It's written in a very simple style, similar to the NIV Bible itself, with short, unembellished sentences collected in a series of bite-size chapters. For the most part, it adheres to the story as told in the New Testament, with a very significant difference, being that here Mary gave birth to twins, named Jesus and Christ.

The stark simplicity of the text leaves much room for the reader to colour it with his own interpretation. Being as atheist as I am, I see in this book the story of Jesus as an outspoken, simple man of lofty principles and good intentions and his brother Christ, timid, scholarly and full of love for his brother, and how the story of their lives were raised far beyond the reality by a mixture of the hopes of the people around them, Chinese whispers and careful manipulation of history.

Having witnessed any number of silver-tongued individuals attain positions of power with little more than the gift of the gab and a sufficiently ignorant, unquestioning audience, this book tells quite a lot of how gods, prophets and messiahs are constructed out of a dash of good intentions, a truckload of false hope and a pinch of deception. I read it and I see an old story repeated, one of good intentions, born of the noblest part of the human spirit, twisted and corrupted into something far beyond the expectations of the initiator, both in the best and worst possible ways. It is much akin to planting a mysterious seed in a garden in the hope it will bear fruit or flowers, then finding the garden overrun with vicious, thorny creepers punctuated with stunningly beautiful blossoms.

That aside, there is much food for thought to be found in certain chapters, such as Christ posing the questions (usually attributed to Satan in the New Testament) to Jesus in the wilderness, and Jesus' confrontation (With God? Or his own faith?) in the Garden of Gethsemane. Here's an excerpt from Jesus' time in the garden:

'You're not listening,' he whispered. 'I've been speaking to you all my life and all I've heard back is silence. Where are you? Are you busy making another world, perhaps, because you're sick of this one? You've gone away, haven't you, you've abandoned us.

'You're making a liar out of me, you realise that. I don't want to tell lies. I try to tell the truth. But I tell them you're a loving father watching over them all, and you're not; you're blind as well as deaf, as far as I can tell. You can't see, or you just don't want to look? Which is it?'

And so on and so forth. Go on, guess who shows up after that... If the Dark Materials trilogy is any indication, Pullman also makes known his opinion of organized religion during the Gethsemane monologue.

Anyway, I won't spoil it for you. It is not a long book, easily wolfed down in a single sitting and it does what any good piece of writing should do, which is make the reader think. I sense it is as likely to offend as it is to enlighten, depending on the mind reading it, but whatever the case may be, perhaps the most important thing to bear in mind is what has been written on the back cover: This is a STORY.

HK Open revisited

2010-05-10T12:21:00.005+08:00

I neglected to mention previously that we managed to record our performance in HK and that I've gotten my grubby paws on the DVDs of said recording last week. Having viewed my fights a few times, I was quite chuffed to observe that there were brief moments, barely lasting a few seconds, when I relaxed enough and actually struck with the snake-like speed and precision of a real kendoka.

As I mentioned before, as a 2nd kyu, I fully expected to bumble about looking like a right muppet for the first few times in an international tourney. That I managed to actually pull off something looking like serious kendo, even if only for a few fractions of seconds at a time, in such a prestigious tournament was quite a bit beyond my expectations and so, verily, I am chuffed.
Perhaps of greater importance, though, was how the video showed me very clearly what I was doing wrong, i.e. the tenseness, the sluggish footwork and the excessive use of the right arm in what I call (translated) "Destroy the Old World" attacks, named for the resemblance to this poster:

Yep, my hammer technique is excellent. Pity it isn't worth a damn in kendo...

Anyway, that's it for now. Maybe one of these days I'll figure out how to clip out my fights from the DVD and post vids...

Hong Kong Open, part 2 of 2

2010-05-10T08:13:00.001+08:00

Day Two

Woke up this day with the aftermath of Day One etched in every muscle. Not good. Seeing as my one and only tournament legal shinai was ruined* I borrowed one from a teammate**. Poor devil broke a toenail rather painfully during goudo keiko...

Anyway, day two was dedicated completely to the men's 5-man team event. Now, the previous men's event was 3-dan and below. Today, no upper limit, so we'd be running with the big dogs. Well, eaten alive at any rate.

15 seconds. That is how long I lasted in my first fight of the day, against someone from the Beijing Japan Club. I think he may have been Japanese, because I couldn't make out his name on his zekken (name tag), which is quite normal for me when I'm wearing contacts, as Japanese names will often crowd the zekken just enough that I can't read it from across the shiaijou. One could argue that during the shiai, I'd be close enough to read it, but believe me, I hadn't a split second to waste staring at the other guy's groin. Anyway...

He took the first point within the first 5 seconds, from my right kote. From the moment we started, he quickly circled to my left. I'd never encountered such an opening before, so it took me completely by surprise when he darted forward, reach under my shinai and struck a perfect blow on my right kote with such precision it might have come out of a textbook. And he did this, from my left, from somewhere around my 11 o' clock.

The next point he took was also a kote, but for the life of me, I couldn't see how. You see, a kote strike targets only the area on the forearm closer to the wrist, a strike zone about 6 inches wide. When the arms are in the default stance, i.e. chuudan no kamae (middle stance), with the shinai pointed towards the opponent's throat (or eyes, depending on the sensei), the right kote is in front, and hence a valid target. The left kote is not. When the shinai is raised high to strike, say, in a large overhead cut, or jodan no kamae (high stance), the left kote will be in front of the right, and hence it becomes the valid target. Either way, on both kote one is meant to attack the wrists.

What happened in this case was he struck me but I had moved forward quickly enough that his shinai didn't contact my wrists, but clearly went across my knuckles. I was all set to continue trying to take a point back, but I saw the flags raised in his favour! Most vexing, but there was nothing I could do. For the life of me, I do not know why he was given that point. Still, that first point gave me something to think about.

My 2nd fight of the day, I must confess, I feel a little guilty about. While my helmet was off, I could clearly see my opponent was a significantly older man, definitely over 50 and smaller and lighter than me. I had little doubt he was also many years my senior in kendo, and so concluded that there was no reason for me to hold anything back and my best bet would be to use my own physical advantages, that is, my bulk and brute strength.

This fight was possibly my most aggressive of the tourney. I charged and knocked him back, I hammered down blows on his head again and again with all the strength I could muster, not to score, mind you, but it was a calculated attempt to wear him down and keep an eye out for the first sign of weakness. Twice I dealt smashing attacks onto his men (head), each time 2 strikes in rapid succession. Then it appeared! And I wasted it... Once again I aimed a crushing blow on his head, knowing he'd block, and he staggered under the force of it. There was the opening! But in my excitement, I'd simply attacked his head again, and it was easily, if shakily, blocked. It was a split second later that I realised that what I should have done was follow up with a hit to the do (body) while his shinai was still up protecting his head. Ah, well, the moment was lost. I'd knackered the both of us, and neither of us could take a point until time ran out. And thus passed my first fight in an international tournament which I... uh... didn't lose!

And thus ended Day Two. There was goudo keiko after that, of course, but I'd reached my limit by then and just really wanted to have a shower and lie down for a bit. Oh, and have some beer...

On a side note, the friend I borrowed the shinai from and myself were pleasantly surprised to find the shinai I'd used during this fight was in remarkably good condition, barely even a splinter! Not sure about the other guy's shinai, though... I have since gotten my grubby paws on 3 Beesangs.

Reflections

So what did I learn from all that? Well, apart from the vast gulf between 2nd kyu and 8th dan, of course...

My most glaring error in Day One was zanshin, or the sorry lack of it. Repeatedly I was able to set up clean killing blows, yet was denied ippon due to lack of zanshin. So what happened? Ideally, a blow with zanshin should strike the target clearly and sharply *then* follow through. Normally, this means hitting and running past the opponent, denying his chance to counterattack. Alternatively in a hikiwaza (an attack while pulling away from the opponent) one should back away quickly and smoothly after the strike.

I could not perceive it at the time but what I'd actually done was set up the blow (I'm quite chuffed that I had the presence of mind to do that), then hit and try to push my shinai as deep as possible into my opponent's skull. Now, while this would have made for quite a spectacular kill were I using a live blade, with a shinai it looks hopelessly ugly. It basically looks like I hit and then stop dead in my tracks. I essentially have the first half of ippon, but the remaining half is woefully absent. Suffice it to say, half an ippon is, for the purpose of shiai, as good as no ippon at all.

In Hong Kong, I witnessed a lot of solid kendokas applying many different approaches to taking ippon. I saw short little ones, bouncing around the shiaijou, darting in and striking before their opponent could react. I saw tall, strong ones stand still as statues, who'd quietly wait for their opponent to make the first move and counterattack in furious blur of motion. I even saw a few wielding 2 shinai, 1 long and 1 short, nito-ryu, quite a rare thing and fascinating to watch. I saw all these and realized how raw and unformed my own kendo is, and found myself looking on at these master swordsmen and wondering "Would that technique work in my hands?"

That having been said, apart from the 3-person Men's event, almost all the winners were Japanese. Many are in their 30s or 40s, and have been practising kendo 2 hours a day, 5 or 6 days a week since middle school or, at a rough guesstimate, at least 7,500 hours. Compare this with my own time in the dojo, averaging twice a week over the last 3 and a half years for a total of about 700 hours. There is only so far one can bridge the gap in experience with strength, spirit and guile.

As such, since Hong Kong, I've thrown myself into training with much more enthusiasm, constantly analyzing myself for what I'm missing, my weakness, my strengths and training accordingly. There's only so much time available for the dojo each week, so in between, I concentrate on simple strength exercises because, yes, I do want to hit harder and faster. Hard and fast enough that, even if I miss, it will be highly intimidating for my opponent. For the moment, though, this is all pie in the sky. 2nd kyu is nothing to shout about. Until I drag my raggedy ass to shodan, I'll be paying extra attention to basics and form. Cunning tricks and the like can take a back seat until then.

* The other two are these scruffy made-in-Taiwan things. Brand unknown. No markings other than a little "Made in Taiwan" sticker. Approx 540g (510g is tourney lower limit). Lousy balance. Dirt cheap. Great training fodder. Apparently they were too narrow at the tip for tournament use.

** Beesang, from Kendoshop. Wonderfully light (a little over 510g) and tuff enuff to endure a day of my heaviest blows practically unscathed.

Stray thought

2010-05-05T23:00:00.003+08:00

Today I found myself looking at stuff I found around the house and wondering how it would do as a target for practicing kendo strikes. My gaze lingered on my 2-year-old nephew perhaps a little longer than I'd care to admit.

Anyway, part 2 of the HK Open, coming soon, 'onest guv...

Hong Kong Open, part 1 of 2

2010-04-14T16:05:00.000+08:00

Oooh, this post is so overdue it's not funny... Ah, well, better late than never...

About the 10th Hong Kong Asian Open

This is an annual kendo tournament, organized by the currently 30 year old Hong Kong Kendo Association, with 3 main events, being:

Women's 3-person team - 27 teams competing
Men's 3-person team (3rd dan and below only) - 44 teams competing
Men's 5-person team - 51 teams competing

My dojo, the Japan Club of Kuala Lumpur, entered 1 team for the women's event, and 2 teams for each of the men's events.

The competition was held from 12th to 14th March in Tin Shui Wai Sports Centre, conveniently located 5 minutes walk away from Harbour Plaza Resort City, which housed, by my reckoning, about 300+ kendokas over that weekend.

While the purpose of this blog entry is primarily to cover my own performance to look back on and think about, it's worth noting that Malaysia's women's team performed exceedingly well, having won the women's event last year and this year coming 2nd only to these 3 tiny 18-year-old girls from Fukuoka, which just goes to show how seriously kendo is taken in Japan...

Quick intro to team shiai

Team shiai takes place between 2 teams of up to 5 members each. In order of who fights from first to last, their titles are:

- Senpo
- Jiho
- Chuken
- Fukusho
- Taishou

In the case of 3-man teams, the titles jiho and fukusho are dropped. The shiai-jou (court) is a square, about 10m a side, and each team member will fight once against his opposite in the opposing team, i.e. Senpo vs senpo, jiho vs jiho, etc.

There are 3 shinpan (judges) watching the combatants, and to take ippon, at least 2 out of 3 of them must raise their flags in your favour. If one raises a flag, but one or both of the other two wave their flags below their waists, some element of the cut must have been missing for the strike not to count. It is no exaggeration that judging a shiai is not a science, it's an art. In awarding ippon, the shinpan will consider a great many factors, for example:

- Was there sufficient seme (attacking spirit)?
- Does the kendoka display proper form and posture?
- Was the strike solid?
- Was there sufficient zanshin?

Between these questions and the blistering speed of competitive kendo, trusting a machine to award points as in fencing is impossible.

For this tournament, all rounds were 3 minutes long, with the winner decided by the best of 3 points, i.e. first to 2 points wins, with a point being ippon, as discussed in the previous post.

My performance - Day One

My first 2 fights were as taishou (team leader) of Malaysia's 3-man B team. Quite an honour, given that this is my first time in an international tourney. To be honest, I don't feel qualified to pass comment on the performance of my teammates, so I'll keep to discussing the experience from my own point of view.

My first fight was against a chap from Macao, slightly shorter than me, but stouter. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't quite relax. I couldn't perceive it from where I was, but I'm told by my seniors and teammates that I tend to tense up a lot when I'm nervous, slowing down and expending tremendous amounts of strength in huge, crushing blows which, while they look impressive, have absolutely no way of scoring ippon, even if they contacted a target.

I lost one point early on, getting struck on the right kote (the gauntlet, on the wrist), if I recall correctly. I would find out later that because of my height and build (6', broad shoulders), that would tend to be the target of choice for most of my opponents. Unfortunately, my ability to counter such attacks was, at the time, sorely wanting, as I found out the next day...

In any case, having lost the first point, I was galvanized to do whatever I could to equalize and, in a series of clashes quite akin to jousting, with charges and near-simultaneous attacks, I managed to come out on top and took my first ippon in an international tourney. Yay, me! I was so excited the rest of the fight was absolutely frenzied, but alas, in kendo, brute strength and sheer aggression aren't quite enough; my opponent patiently waited for the inevitable opening and bopped me again.

This first fight was hell of an experience, to say the least, and I can safely say nothing will quite compare to the sheer rush I experienced that day. My vision narrowed, my hearing dulled, my heart and lungs went into overdrive... Months of training crumbled and gave way to instinct. My teammates' shouts for me to relax sounded like distant whispers then, and I spent every ounce of strength in that fight. Quite literally, too. After we'd bowed to our opponents my fingers were still numb and my teammates had to help me remove my helmet (as taishou, I keep my helmet on during the last bow). The memories of this fight won't leave me in a hurry.

The upshot to wearing myself out so thoroughly in that first fight was I was significantly more relaxed for my next fight, and I was in fact able to my some of my training to good use. My second and last fight of the day was against a chap from one of Hong Kong's many teams, shorter and lighter than me, and noting this, I took care to defend my right kote. It was during this fight that I learnt most about what is possibly my biggest weakness in shiai, which I have endeavoured to correct ever since - no zanshin.

This being only my 2nd fight ever in such a big tourney, I was still nervous, and struck with brutality far better suited to baseball bats and sledgehammers than a shinai. Still, I had the presence of mind to create an opening and land a vicious blow to my opponent's head, but from the corner of my eye, I saw flags being waved; no ippon. Naturally, this was quite frustrating, but I continued, wondering what was missing. I surmised, rather stupidly, in retrospect, that I wasn't hitting hard enough*. So I hit harder. No ippon. So I hit even harder. Still no ippon. 3 monstrously hard blows to the guy's head and still nothing?! What was I not doing? I managed to land one more crushing blow to his head. I was too close for it to score, but it still raised some eyebrows because of the sheer brutality of it. In the end, I faltered, and lost a point in the final seconds.

I would find out later that night that this fight left such great big cracks in my shinai that another fight would most certainly break it, at which point I felt really, really guilty at what the poor devil must have endured. I'm told my strikes hurt in basic training when I'm concentrating on form and precision rather than force. One can only imagine what blows that would ruin my shinai felt like...

After the 3-person tournaments were over and prizes where given out (M'sia's women's team brought back lotsa shiny medals and trophies, congrats if you're reading), came goudo keiko. Basically, everyone gets to train together for a bit. There were 8th dan senseis present and, rare as they are, huge queues formed for a chance to train with them.

I waited about 40 minutes to train with Fukumoto sensei, an imposing hulk of a kendoka, standing as tall as me and easily broader. 8th dan is the highest rank attainable in kendo, and I quickly learnt why. In this sort of informal training, the student faces off against the sensei, and in the first few seconds, it starts off like a shiai, during which the sensei assesses the student's level of skill. He'll cast an expert eye over you, checking form, spirit, technique and then decide how best to spend your brief encounter with him. If he's particularly impressed, he will invite you to fight him for ippon.

I can tell you I tried my level best, spending the time waiting for him by watching him and thinking how I will get past his guard. By the time my turn came, I had nothing on him. I stood before him and found no gaps to exploit. Fine, I thought, that's simply characteristic of good kamae (stance), so I will poke around, probe a bit and attempt to make a gap. No such luck. There's nothing quite as humbling as fighting someone who knows what you're going to do before you do it. It was like being hopelessly outclassed in chess, I simply couldn't see as far into the future as he could. I go for his head, his shinai blurs, my shinai bounces harmlessly away, a sharp blow smacks into my do (body, about gut-level) and he's standing behind me. I feint for the head and go for his do and my shinai bounces off his, he stands, unmoved, shouting inches from my face, "What are you doing?! Go STRAIGHT!" I might as well have been a mosquito trying to bite a rhinoceros...

As such, I was deemed worthy for a short stretch of kakarigeiko, in which he would deliberately leave gaps for me to attack, and I was to strike the targets as quickly as possible. All the while enduring his deluge of verbal abuse and the occasional whack over the head if I didn't move fast enough. This is normal in kendo. Juliette, if you're reading this, don't worry, they're generally gentler with girls. Guys my size, however, get no mercy. After about a minute or so of this, we made our bows and I staggered off and called it a day...

Coming next, Day Two (mercifully short) and my reflections on what transpired that weekend.

* Those who have trained with me will know that hitting hard enough has never been an issue for me. Good form, however, is another matter entirely...

Big Pond...

2010-03-22T16:44:00.001+08:00

Note: This post was first drafted about 2 weeks ago, and since the events of the Hong Kong Open, my understanding of kendo has since been subtly altered. I'm putting this up on the blog anyway to track the progression of my understanding of kendo.

This blog has, of late, been woefully neglected. Apologies to those who've actually been waiting for a new post. There are any number of reasons for this, not least of them being training for a big kendo tournament in Hong Kong later this week. It's the first time I'll be participating in any sort of serious international tournament (the friendly tourney with Singapore last year doesn't count) so I'm feeling a bit like a wee minnow chucked in a big, big pond. So, I figured now's a good time to take stock of where it feels like I presently stand in kendo for future reference. Something to look back on and laugh over far in the future when the glorious day comes that I (successfully) bear two swords in tournament...

Fighting in the tournament arena (shiaijou, 試合場) is an extremely different experience from the brief, fleeting duels in a crowded dojo. Granted, the objective (i.e. take ippon) is the same, but the criterion are far, far more stringent. I know for a fact, I've taken ippon many times in the dojo, but every one of them would have been worthless in a tournament. So what does ippon in a tournament take?

Well, as I understand it, a valid strike in kendo, known as yuuko datotsu (有効打突), comprises three main elements:

1. Seme (攻め) - This literally translates as attack, but in the context of kendo, 'approach' is possibly a better word. Broadly speaking, this describes how one moves from outside of striking distance to within striking distance. There are any number of ways to achieve this, e.g. pushing into the centre line, slapping the opponent's sword aside, slipping under the opponent's sword, charging and knocking the opponent off balance, to name a few. Seme is also a spiritual assault, breaking your opponent's spirit with such things as kiai, the resoluteness of your stance, and the constant application of pressure.

2. Ki, ken, tai ichi (気剣体一) - This translates roughly as striking with your spirit, your sword and your body as one. Practically, by spirit we mean shouting out the name of your target (i.e. men (面) for head, kote (小手) for glove, and so on*.). The sword should strike the named target sharply with the top quarter or so of the "blade", being the side of the shinai on the opposite end of the string that holds it together. And at the same time as the shout and the strike, the right foot should stamp solidly on the floor. The foot-stamping might sound a bit odd, but when you think about it, to give a good, loud stomp, one needs to have a reasonably solid posture, and the whole body must be carefully coordinated with the strike of the shinai. If the timing of any of these elements is off, the strike simply does not count.

3. Zanshin (残心) - This could be translated literally as "remaining heart/mind", and truth be told, I consider this to be the hard bit. Zanshin, in the context of kendo, probably translates better as 'vigilance'. It begins immediately after the killing blow makes contact, from which point one's heart/mind remains firmly fixed on your opponent/victim, watchful for any further resistance or attempt to counterattack. So, even after you strike a blow where you think you've scored, you remain ready and alert for a few seconds, even if you know you've scored. On landing the cut, you most certainly do NOT make any celebratory gestures, no fistpumps, no jumping up and down, no hoots or hollers, you just level your blade against your opponent, quick as you can and be ready to strike again if the need arises. Innumerable points in kendo tournaments have been cancelled, regardless of how perfectly the cut was executed, simply because of a lack of zanshin.

Yesterday, I learnt that zanshin is where I fall short. The execution of zanshin, as I found out, demands that there isn't a shadow of doubt on the part of the kendoka. I now know that, though I am capable of landing a clean cut on my opponents, from the perspective of the judges, I'm not following through enough, i.e. not enough zanshin. I find it's not an easy thing to show zanshin, at least not to the exacting standards of kendo, not while the rush of executing a good cut is addling my mind, and especially when, from the corner of my eye, I see one judges hand go up, then another judge cancel the point.

Well, now I'm aware of the problem, there's only one thing for it: Fight MORE... There will definitely be a blog post reflecting on what happens in Hong Kong this weekend... Before then, I suppose it can't hurt to do a little studying on what passes for zanshin in Japan:

Holy hell, that speed...

* The actual name of your target doesn't count, i.e. You can't whack me over the head and shout at the top of your lungs: "CHEEEEEENG!"

I aten't dead

2010-03-19T09:46:00.002+08:00

No, really. I know I've been tres slow updating this blog of late, but I've some great big posts in the pipeline, mostly kendo-related, seeing as I just got back from a tournament in HK (in which I was thoroughly murdered. More on that later.) But yah, do bear with me a little longer, I'll see what I can throw together...

Blacklining ftw!

2010-02-19T19:18:00.007+08:00

Alrighty then, I'm making a good start on that Space Marine army. Thanks to the large-ish contingent of Blood Angel Terminators that came with Space Hulk, the rest of the army will be painted in Blood Angel colours to match, though played as standard Codex marines (at least until Codex: Blood Angels turns up). Apart from the Space Hulk marines, I have at my disposal:

1 Captain
2 full Tactical Squads*
1 full Devastator Squad*
1 full Assault Squad
2 Rhinos
1 Land Raider Crusader

Fans of 40k may notice from the above that if it ain't plastic, I'm not interested. Of the above, the LR Crusader and about 12 bolter-armed marines were hand-me-downs from nephews too young to even assemble a mini**. Hurray for Xmas and misinformed aunts, eh? So, easily a good 1000pts there, with room for tweaking, though I'd like to have a couple of Landspeeders. Up til today, I've been slipping in a little painting time mostly getting through the tedious bit: Coating the little devils with Blood Red. It takes about 5 coats of decently thinned Blood Red to get a nice finish to work with. And up til today, I've been using a hideously tedious method to shade. See previous posts on painting Space Hulk for details. Thing about that method is, owing to my current ineptness, it's a bit hit and miss. Sometimes I can get the wash to behave and slip happily where I want it to with minimal fuss, the rest of the time the surrounding area gets horribly stained and several more coats of very carefully applied Blood Red are needed to correct the error. For example:

This is after MUCH time and effort spent cleaning up, mind you...

So, today I tried blacklining for the first time. Joy, joy! I luv marines! Their shape lends itself so well to blackliney goodness! Citadel fine detail brush is now my very good friend...

Unfortunately, in my enthusiasm, the first marine I'd picked to experiment with (centre) didn't quite have enough coats of Blood Red on him yet. Silly me. The other two aren't quite done yet, but there's no denying how wonderfully sharply the shading makes the armour plates stand out. Only downside is I'm worried I won't quite be able to do this too soon after the morning coffee.

Having assembled the Captain, I couldn't resist going a little further painting him, and he's almost complete now. Thing is, those Space Hulk minis are a bit too nice. It ain't easy to look like a Captain when you're standing next to Sgt Lorenzo...

"Could I trouble you to, um, stand somewhere else, brother Sergeant?"

And that's all there is for now. Nothing completed yet, what with there being a total of about 40+ marines to cover in Blood Red. That comes to about ~200 coats. The next time I start a new army, I'm definitely getting me a spray gun...

* Heavy weapons yet to be decided, but among those minis there are 6 plasma pistols, 1 plasmagun and 2 plasmacannons. It's a horrible game-turning accident waiting to happen, I know... I love it! Gotta make me one of these one day...

** So they'll be with me for, uh, safekeeping until my nephews are old enough to figure out the rules of 40k and appreciate a good paintjob, which I estimate will be in 2018.

When I clean my shinai...

2010-02-03T23:23:00.000+08:00

... my mind wanders, and I think about any number of things. When I first started kendo and found out you have to dismantle a shinai completely every so often to check it for splinters and cracks, then repair and oil it as necessary, it felt like a chore. After a while it became routine, a part of kendo as much as kirikaeshi or suburi. Of late, it has become meditation.

My hands will move almost automatically, undoing the knots, pulling off the leather parts and spreading open the bamboo. Then running my fingers up and down the length of each bamboo stave, almost caressing it, feeling for the splinters that my eyes can't see. Each irregularity is sanded smooth, each stave given the same care and attention. Then they are rubbed down with oil, just enough to keep a thin film for each stave to absorb, keeping them a little moist to prevent them from getting dry and brittle. The staves are arranged together again, the leather hilt and tip slid on and the cord tightly bound, making the shinai whole again. A few practice swings later and the shinai is laid aside, waiting for the next trip to the dojo.

Lately, while doing this, I find myself thinking of the 'do' in 'kendo', that is, the '道' in '剣道'. Since I've started, kendo has been permeating every aspect of my life. The line dividing the dojo from the world beyond has blurred. One of the things common to every Japanese martial art is the very rigid, very specific etiquette. There is a right and proper way to do pretty much everything. There is a right way to enter the dojo, to leave the dojo, to bow to the dojo, to bow to an opponent, to bow to your teacher... There is a right way to sit, to stand, to walk, to face, to hold your sword when not in use, to don your armour, to put away your armour, to fold your uniform when not in use...

There are dozens, hundreds of little rituals that, over the course of months, become a part of every kendoka, all contributing in some small way to the ideal of the dojo as a place of learning and discipline. I'm not sure how it looks like anymore, from the outside looking in. These days the world seems more real when I'm in keikogi and hakama.

An interesting thought struck me the other day regarding the line between the dojo and the world beyond. In the dojo, when someone points out a flaw or weakness in your technique, you thank him. It does not matter if he is wrong or right, the fact remains that he has taken the effort to observe you and offer an opinion, and so you bow and thank him. And if you're smart, you do not take his critique at face value, but carefully reflect on its validity. This is a prudent, humble and sincere attitude to learning that I consider standard procedure in any dojo worthy of the name. And the thought that hit me was this: Would I behave in this manner outside the dojo?

I want to say 'yes'.

The realities of the world beyond the dojo do not lend themselves well to the ideals of the dojo. Take evolutionary biology. Between biologists, it's perfectly possible and normal for there to be disagreement. The empirical method and peer review are ideally the mechanisms by which scientific progress is made, with experts in their fields pushing forward their pet theories and, with honesty and humility, debating and refining the theories and helping the march of science as a whole. This can be said to be akin to master swordsmen dueling and bettering themselves in the process.

Now, scientists are human, too, and the history of science is replete with examples of backstabbing, oneupmanship, hubris and plain old narrow-mindedness impeding scientific progress. I liken such incidents to the ugly, awkward engagements between novice kendokas that have just begun to don armour and are as yet woefully lacking in technique. In time, hopefully, they will outgrow such silliness. Realistically, in science as in kendo, one will observe a spectrum between the two extremes.

And then there's creationists, who obnoxiously elbow their way into the scene, chock full of ignorance and dogma, proudly braying their "theories" with nary the slightest inkling of the utter absence of any intellectual merit to their position. Now this, this has no parallel in any normal dojo. This is the dojo getting invaded by a party of drunken yobbos, clad in gunny sacks, speaking in grunts and flinging excrement at any who approach. Hmm.

I don't think I'm all that far off the mark in making these comparisons, and this illustrates just one of many aspects of life in which good dojo etiquette alone doesn't quite cut it (ahahaha...). But looking at the creationist example, I can honestly say I'm not sure how to deal with it. Logic and reason do not work against such people, as many rational atheists would no doubt have experienced.

Every time I read the news I can't escape the feeling that the world is becoming a dumber place. On the one hand, on the wings of science and technology we reach higher and higher, yet on the other hand, the evidence suggests that a greater proportion than ever of the world's population is regressing into ignorance and superstition. Amid this maelstrom of conflicting memes, the dojo feels like the last bastion of all that is good about being human. To me, the dojo represents the highest ideals of the human condition; people gathered together with the sincere desire to learn, with the strength and resolve to earn knowledge with sweat, blood and tears.

I try to take the mentality of the dojo with me wherever I go, but, to be sure, it's hard sometimes. Well, not like that'll stop me from trying. Right, this post has gone on long enough. I'm a-gettin' offski.

Oh, in other news, since I started this post, a LOT has happened in my life, some good, others... well, the less said, the better. But on the upside, I done got triple promoted to 2nd kyu :-) And I'm on the Malaysian kendo team taking part in a big scrap in Hong Kong in March. W00t!

平成２２年が来たぞ！

2010-01-10T04:59:00.002+08:00

The 22nd year of Heisei is here!

And after a busy Xmas and New Year full of toddlers, snow, Avatar*, snow, okonomiyaki, one woefully inept circus, one singularly amazing circus, snow, Space Marines** and buggers knows how many thousand suburi with a beyootiful new shinai, here I sit, taking stock of the year that passed and pondering the year ahead.

So, first things first, how did I do with last year's resolutions?

1. Get back to kendo - Hell, yeah! 2 kyu up from the day that resolution was made and totally stoked for the next grading in a fornight! And then it goes downhill from there.

2. Go to Japan - Practically everyone I know has been there. After many months of study, here I sit, confident in the knowledge that I speak Japanese better than almost every non-Japanese person I know. And yet I haven't gone, coz I simply can't bear to leave my cats behind. I've been away for a little over 2 weeks and Haruka's gotten really, really clingy since then. She's sleeping in my lap as I type this.

3. Finish my 1st book - I won't sugar-coat this one. I suck, big time. Too much procrastination, too much self-doubt. Have I learnt nothing from kendo? This is ridiculous, and will be remedied.

4. Get back my Physics kung-fu - This one was a bit half-arsed, but I can honestly say that I'm more intellectually vigilant than before! Not that hard when you're an atheist. I probably should have set more concrete goals...

5. Learn a programming language - Didn't even make a start on this one and, given the current relevance of programming to my present activities, this one has been struck out.

6. Get my weight below 83kg - I'm 86kg now. All I need is a good dose of, say, cholera, and the last 3kg are history. Ahem.

7. Get good enough in Japanese so I don't need subtitles - I'm calling this one half accomplished. I can watch basic no-brain anime like Bleach and Naruto sans subtitles, but Bakemonogatari continues to mystify me. My efforts continue.

Well, apart from the kendo, that was lame. What the hell, something's better than nothing, so here's 2010's resolutions:

1. Finish 1st book!

2. Get back Physics kung fu. At least enough that I can fiddle about with 1st year Quantum Mechanics, Thermodynamics and Calculus with reasonable confidence. Bonus stage: Find out what the hell it was I was missing all those times I slept during Waves lectures...

3. Really, go to Japan. And while I'm at it, pick up a load of cheap little goodies to customize my swords and armour. Hell, maybe pick up a new breastplate.

4. Reclaim ALL my 3-club juggling tricks. Also, construct a nice, big firestaff. About 6 feet should do it.

5. Finish the reading list! Seriously, there's an obscene number of books in here demanding my attention and RM110 in book vouchers to boot...

6. Paint up 1000pts of Blood Angels. Expand to 1500pts. Because old habits die hard. On the upside, I don't need to waste any money on codices, coz the lovely Japanese Games Workshop site has the pdfs (in Japanese, of course) for free. We'll put it down as part of my Japanese studies, eh? ;-) Plus, it's something fun for my nephews to look forward to when they get old enough to learn to WH40k... sometime in 2016.　かの者ら、恐怖を知らざる者ゆえに。。。

Alrighty, then. Gotta read, gotta paint, gotta train, gotta write, gotta go, right now...

*Watched it 3 times, twice in 3d. Don't ask.

** Via a series of fortunate events, coupled with my own woeful inability to shake the Games Workshop addiction.

About those ducks....

2009-12-16T11:53:00.003+08:00

That thing I mentioned about Mandarin ducks being romantic? I totally take it back. Damn...

http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn11764-female-ducks-fight-back-against-raping-males.html

Life and Kendo

2009-12-14T17:24:00.001+08:00

I have been thinking of late of how well kendo lends itself to metaphor. Of course, there are any number of activities out there which make fine metaphors for life. One that springs particularly readily to mind is juggling, seeing as I've been down that road before*. Indeed, if one simply takes the trouble to connect the dots and make the right generalizations to any learning activity, one will find that the universe has many lessons, all around us, for those who will but open their eyes.

But I find myself drawn time and again to kendo. I think it lies in its austerity. In kendo, the efficacy of every technique is tried and tested in combat. Garbed in armour, behind the mask, secure in the knowledge that it's nigh impossible to cause any significant harm to one's opponent, one encounters in every training session a kind of tightly focused ferocity that is rarely seen in other martial arts, save in the most intense and dedicated dojos. It is a profoundly liberating experience. And there is a sense of sincerity in seeing your opponent release himself against you. And it is absolutely exhilarating to fight one's peers with all the strength you can muster.

In the crucible of combat, any useless movements are quickly weeded out, leaving behind a small set of techniques, tactics and strategies. They are deceptively simple, yet take years of dedication and training to master. It's a bit difficult to appreciate how simple with words alone, so here are a few samples of kata or forms from selected martial arts.

From Wudang, the real Wudang, not this lot, 8 Immortal Staff:

Cheng-style (no relation) Baguazhang:

Shinshinkan's Chatanyara no Sai, just too pretty not to include:

And finally, kendo:

Some straddle the interesting line between dance and martial art. Others function as a small library of basic techniques, teaching the way they flow into one another. All have their merits and share the same trait of being a form of moving meditation. Kendo's kata is a relatively slow, stately, tense affair. Ideally, the attacker should execute his cut like he really means it, forcing his partner to be very serious indeed about defending himself. This tension between the two kendokas adds a powerful dimension to the practice of kata, demanding a measure of concentration and alertness from both that is quite hard to appreciate until you're actually performing the kata yourself.

Which brings me back to my point of kendo as a metaphor for life. I have, from the very beginning, taken a very cerebral approach to kendo. Before even picking up my first shinai, I'd read books on the matter. Even now, having trained in armour for well over a year (it ain't much, I know), I still consume a steady stream of kendo books. In Japanese, of course, as the ones in English are prone to drift in the direction of mysticism and romanticise about the age of samurai and basically miss the whole point of kendo altogether. The memory of my first time crossing blades with a sensei in free sparring is still very fresh in my mind. For those of you with the JCKL dojo reading this, it was Toyoda sensei. Yes, I know. I'm grateful to be alive.

That engagement made it very, very clear to me what it meant to be completely, utterly defeated before even raising my sword to strike. Before that moment, I had committed dozens of techniques and tricks to memory, devised strategems to break past any guard, theorized how I could transfer the skills of deceit learnt in capoeira to the art of the sword. It all came to nothing when I stood against the sensei. In the sheer fury of his kiai and the resoluteness of his stance, my spirit broke. All my attacks, far, far too slow. My mind raged against the absurdity of it. This man is at least twice my age! I should be faster! But back then, for the life of me, I could not see his sword, and was hammered at least a dozen times, hard, on my head and hand before the sensei let me limp away. By then I was seeing stars, and my right hand was trembling so badly I could no longer grip my sword.

I took that as a harsh lesson that, just as metaphysics and theology could never compare to science, no amount of theorizing can hold a candle to learning by experience. I have since thrown myself into many more engagements and can say with great certainty that though I'm some way from the dearly coveted shodan, I've lot more steel in me than I did back then. It's very strange to think about it now. When I'm there, panting and sweating in my armour during free training, what pushes me to go a little further each time to take a point is not some high ideal to be a better kendoka or sheer pride making me refuse to acknowledge defeat, but just a very simple, humble, mantra mouthed under my breath when the going gets tough:

"Earn your beer, you bastard."

I once calculated that from the first time once picks up a shinai, one must do about 15,000** cuts before you have what it takes to wear armour and really start kendo. 15,000, give or take a couple thousand, depending on your motor skills. With every cut, your body learns a tiny bit more. Then when you get in armour, you start learning all over again. Every training session is an exercise in mindfulness. Every cut must be done to the best of one's ability. And in every engagement, regardless of the disparity in rank, there is something to be learnt. Vita sine litteris mors. Life without learning is death.

I believe there's nothing quite as beautifully human as learning. I've held that belief since I was very young and my dad cleverly left cartoon versions of the Confucian classics in my room. But it is kendo that constantly reminds me of the right attitude towards learning. Knowledge is the brightest of jewels to be treasured and sought. This is to be done with both earnest and vigilance, and at the end of the day, evidence, the crossing of swords in combat, decides all. On the path, there will be passions and urges pulling and pushing us in all sorts of directions. They are not to be fought, because they are a part of what you are. They are to be understood and harnessed. If you doubt, if you hesitate you will lose, not because your opponent is better than you, but because you defeated yourself. Is this not shameful? But it happens to the best of us, and so we learn.

In terms of kendo, I am still young, barely a pollywog in a big, big pond. The mystery of my future beyond shodan is well within the realm of fantasy and speculation. But I know that, as long as I throw myself into the next training session with vigour and really, really work myself to earn that beer, the future can be very bright indeed...

* Note to self: Haven't done torches in a long, long time. Must pick up some kerosene in January...

** Revised from a previous estimate of 10,000.

Wish I had a Pokeball...

2009-12-14T13:22:00.004+08:00

... so I could stick this guy in it:

... then send him to battle against, I dunno, something with lotsa spikes. Seriously, how utterly pathetic do you have to be to preach the immorality of Pikachu, based on your own code of morality derived from what is essentially the Bronze Age equivalent of Pokemon?

"Thor! I choose you!"

"Jesus! I choose you!"

"Thor! Hammer attack!"

"Oh, shi-..."
Hammer attack is super effective!

Dolphins =/= Romantic

2009-11-29T04:30:00.002+08:00

I was at a friend's wedding dinner earlier this weekend when someone at the same table brought up the subject of the invitation cards for another wedding he'd been to earlier this year. Apparently it had a picture of a pair of bottle-nosed dolphins swimming side by side, and he thought it kinda sweet and romantic, up until I was obliged to point out that the dolphin idea of sexual relationships largely involves kidnapping and gang rape. Oh, yes, indeedy, have a look see.

Word to the wise: You want romantic animals? Stick with Mandarin ducks.

Oh, FFS...

2009-11-26T21:34:00.002+08:00

This CAN'T be for real...

Hearts and minds revisited

2009-11-25T01:07:00.004+08:00

Hokay, finally got round to listening to that lecture by Prof Damasio. Long story short, a dead end. It was a lecture delivered to an audience mostly comprising liberal arts students introducing his work in studying emotion, in a charming accent I can't quite identify which makes it sound as though he's meticulously putting every word in place with a pair of tweezers. So no answers for me just yet. Oh, well.

On a vaguely related note, I was listening to the radio the other day, and heard that David Guetta & Akon "song", Sexy Chick. And I facepalmed and despaired for the slow death of romance. I mean, really, have you heard the lyrics to that rubbish?

"I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful..."

... and the best he could come up with is "sexy chick". "Sexy chick"?? Is this how far we have fallen? Is this how a man expresses his attraction for a woman in this day and age? Not 3 days ago I watched Gerard Depardieu playing Cyrano de Bergerac. Ah, that balcony scene... Now THAT's romance, not these crude grunts and babblings that pollute the airwaves*! Ah, the hell with it. No time to rant, there's books to omnomnomnomnom...

*For which many Malaysian DJs are also guilty...

Richard Dawkins is a meme

2009-11-20T18:09:00.000+08:00

So sad but so true...

2009-11-19T18:17:00.002+08:00

Hearts and minds

2009-11-10T12:28:00.006+08:00

This is just a quick note to remind myself on an interesting thought I had today:

Why do so many cultures associate the heart with emotional and mental character?

It seems to be a fairly universal thing. Solzhenitsyn once said:

The line between good and evil lies at the centre of every human heart.

I personally have a very Zen-influenced interpretation of that (which I'll be detailing in my book). Pascal said:

The heart has its reasons that reason knows not.

And I know Japanese and Chinese cultures both take the same view of the heart being associated with mental functions in their word for psychology: 心理学　(literally, heart study*). The only exception I can think of is Malay culture, which uses hati (liver) in much the same context where we'd usually use heart. This is known to lead to some hilarity in A-level biology in Malaysia when students sent to the butcher for a cow's heart to dissect translate the term wrongly and end up lugging several kilograms of liver back to an exasperated bio teacher.

I suppose the experience of heartache might shed some light on why this link has been made, but now I have to wonder, why does it feel like it does? Why should getting your heart broken result in that horrible, crushing feeling in your chest? I'm quite curious about the neurobiological reasons for this and so have decided to grab this lecture by Prof Antonio R Damasio and have a listen. Will try to remember to post a summary and my thoughts on the matter later...

* That's just off the top of my head, so I'd be much obliged if someone could tell me if it's a bit off.

繋がり

2009-11-09T12:29:00.001+08:00

Sorry, I just found out how to type in Japanese with Vista and just can't resist tapping out bits and pieces every so often. Anyway, 繋がり (tsunagari) means 'connection(s)', which is the topic of this lovely video here:

I don't know what it does for you, but I haven't had such goosebumps since the first time I contemplated the big bang, deep star nucleosynthesis and evolution. I was sitting in the library of the Physics department at uni at the time, mind wandering while I studied for an exam. All around me were aspiring scientists and tomes and journals by the metric tonne, the distilled sweat, blood and tears of hundreds and thousands of scientists who had come before us. And in a file before me, in the frenzied scribbling of a student trying to keep up with the professor's OHP slides, sat my notes, a miniscule sliver of knowledge of the Universe.

A huge piece of the puzzle clicked into place for me back then, and I got that feeling one gets when you're, say, building a complex model and you put that piece in place which just puts you past the border between "chaotic mess" and "it's taking shape". I'm pleased to say I've had a lot of those moments since then, and such is the complexity of the Universe (and so much of it of our own making!) that I know I can look forward to many more.

The model-making analogy works the other way as well. Consider the acquisition of knowledge without the aegis of the scientific method, i.e. no formulation of hypothesis, no experimentation, no peer review, no constant testing against the realities of the universe... Is this not akin to grabbing a model off the shelf, dragging it out of the box, ignoring the instructions, casting aside files, knives and glue and slapping together whatever you like with duct tape? Well, I suppose this is but one possible scenario, exemplified in the real world by that special breed of person who is so open-minded his brain has dropped out.

The point is, there is a balance to be maintained. It's all well and good, perusing Wikipedia, National Geographic, Youtube and the popular science section of the local bookstore for these clips, articles and books exalting science and its bounty, but one would do well to remember the discipline and effort that went into them.

And right now, if I had a hat, I'd take mine off to the late Carl Sagan and all of those very rare scientists with the ability to communicate the beauty of science to the general public. Hum. It's been too long since I've watched a Royal Institution Christmas Lecture...

When life gives you lemons...

2009-11-04T14:32:00.002+08:00

I remember once upon a time I'd post the odd question on Yahoo! Answers with the naive expectation that I might actually get a sensible response. You know, seeing as I did my level best to provide a decent reply and everything. Suffice it to say, I was disappointed many times, though never with such consistency as I had witnessed in the Malaysian section of Yahoo! Answers*. So sod it, when life gives you fail, the best thing to do is laugh at it. So, yah, I was well pleased to stumble across this:

http://www.yahooanswerfail.com/

The URL says it all. Seeing as I'm still on a high from the most ferocious scrap of my kendo career during the weekend, here's another site I found fairly uplifting:

http://www.fmylife.com/

Yes, laugh at their pain. And don't for a moment consider the possibility that, one day, you could be posting there, too...

* A special brand of fail indeed! It even fails to be the slightest bit funny...

Happiness is mandatory

2009-10-29T08:02:00.006+08:00

Are you happy, Citizen?

happiness hat from Lauren McCarthy on Vimeo.

Ugh. Reminds me of a creepy old animation I once saw....

On the side: I note my previous post has attracted attention of the paranoid delusional conspiracy theorist variety. I'd respond, but the more closely I read it, the more I realize the only response such a dire mess of trolling gobbledegook deserves is this:

Have a great day!

GAH, there's squalene on my fingers!

2009-10-28T10:28:00.007+08:00

There's been a message circulating round on Facebook from some bloke called George Mazoumellos re: the evils of swine flu vaccinations. I suppose maybe there are valid arguments against vaccination, especially given the ugly reputation of 'Big Pharma' in administering the occasional diabolical failure that was quickly hushed up, or indeed any number of crimes against humanity, as covered in Michael Moore's Sicko. As yet, however, I've seen no solid evidence to suggest the current swine flu vaccine doing the rounds has any adverse effects on humans to speak of.

Anyway, this Mazoumellos character has been spreading a message written in a style quite reminiscent of the ridiculous sensationalism often found in cheap tabloids, obviously looking to make the age-old sacrifice of integrity for fame. An excerpt:

"If the regular flu kills 40 000 plus per year, and the swine flu only killed 2/3 000 – then why are governments buying it in advance, giving it to us for free, and giving drug manufacturers immunity to legal cases against them? Does that make sense? No!

The swine flu vaccine contains 2 horribly dangerous compounds – one is called thimerosol. It is made 50% of mercury. It binds to receptors in your brain, and basically causes brain damage. Is it smart to be injected with thimerosol, and get brain damage, dropping 10 IQ points and going dumb, in order to avoid getting a flu that kills 95% less people than regular flu? No!

The other horrible ingredient is called squalene. Squalene accidentally tricks your immune system into killing your own cells, which creates auto-immune diseases like asthma, multiple sclerosis, diabetes, and a bunch of diseases that we don't have a name for yet (because squalene hasn't been used for that long, and we have little data on its effects) – is it smart to inject yourself with that stuff, in order to avoid a relatively mild flu, like the swine flu? No!"

Alrighty then, that's quite a lot of rubbish to fit in only 3 paragraphs, so let's get to work debunking... Note that the message cited NO sources whatsoever, which pretty much makes the entire message worthless, from the point of view of a scientist. But let's take this at face value and compare it with independent facts and see what happens, shall we?

First up, statistics. He compares 40,000 killed by "normal" flu a year against 3,000 H1N1 mortalities to date. WHO says 250,000 to 500,000 are killed a year by flu. Assuming he had a source for the 40,000 figure, when compared with the WHO figure it could only mean the 40,000 figure is for a single country, which is more than a bit dishonest to compare with the global figure for H1N1, which, by the way is just under 6,000 to date. But anyway, pointing this out reinforces his point that 6,000 H1N1 deaths don't sound like much compared to half a million. What the heck, I'm feeling generous.

Now, 6,000 killed may not sound like much, until you consider that it's a newly discovered strain, first reported in April. And the year isn't even over yet. And if you've studied epidimiology or even played a little Pandemic, you'd know that a relatively low death toll at the early stages doesn't mean it won't get monstrously virulent later. As it is, the swine flu is notably more brutal than the usual strains we're used to. It is only sensible to snuff it out NOW, while we're lucky enough to actually have a vaccine to hand that works. As for that remark about the government giving it out for free, Mr Mazoumellos betrays a woeful ignorance of one of life's inevitabilities, known to the civilized as taxes.

Second, thimerosol, aka thiomersal. Yes, it's true that it's nasty and toxic and what-have-you. So's oxygen, by the way. The fact of the matter is that there are a LOT of things we come into contact with that are hideously toxic (ever eaten an appleseed by mistake?) but we do not die from them. Why? Simply put, we're actually quite tuff and small quantities of toxic agents can often be expelled naturally. A study published online in Paediatrics laid out in great detail just how quickly thimerosol pops in and out again of the bodies of infants, with cumulative doses of up to ~160 micrograms of ethyl mercury. Now, if my maths is right, that translates to about 283 mcg of thiomersal in these babies with no ill effect. And the thiomersal content of the swine flu vaccine? 5 mcg, the last time I checked.

3rd, squalene. This one barely even deserves mention. Do you know where squalene is found? Here's a hint: ALL OVER YOU. What does the WHO have to say?

"The World Health Organization and the US Department of Defense have both published extensive reports that emphasize that squalene is a chemical naturally occurring in the human body, present even in oils of human fingerprints.

WHO goes further to explain that squalene has been present in over 22 million flu vaccines given to patients in Europe since 1997 and there have never been significant vaccine-related adverse events."

Ooh! Squalene, squalene! It's ALL OVER the place! Time to go live in a hamster ball! Pfft...

George's current address

George Mazoumellos, you fail. Big time. And you should be ashamed of yourself, but somehow, I doubt that's actually the case. Anyway, to the rest of you with access to the vaccine, go get jabbed. Needles aren't that scary, really. Here's a bit more from New Scientist on the matter.

Now, if you'd rather take your chances being on the unhappy end of the swine flu, that's your own lookout. If you're responsible about it and go find yourself a nice secluded corner to die in without infecting anyone, fine, go ahead. But a virus does what a virus does and if you get infected, you are a vector for passing it on to whoever who come into contact with. You are also a possible incubator for the virus to mutate, as viruses are wont to do, to a form that can infect all your vaccinated friends. Now that's just rude. Don't be a prick. Go get vaccinated.

You called your rocket what, now?

2009-10-27T18:02:00.002+08:00

On one hand, I'm pleased to see that NASA's got a lovely new rocket to replace the space shuttle. On the other hand, I'm a bit worried that it's named after a Greek god of war and slaughter...

Satifying my curiousity...

2009-10-26T05:48:00.005+08:00

I have French toast for breakfast fairly often, and a thought hit me today: Is it as French as the French fry? Which is to say, not even remotely so? So I peeped in Wikipedia, and here's what it had to say about some food that I'd suddenly become curious about.

French toast is not French. Surprise, surprise. According to the International House of Pancakes, French toast predates the 1st World War, and was called German toast in English speaking countries. Then the Kaiser did his thing and no-one liked Germans anymore and it "became" French. You know, because it happens to be next door. Or something like that. Wikipedia mentions that the French actually have their own version:

In France, Belgium, New Orleans, Acadiana, Newfoundland and the Congo a similar but distinctive food is called pain perdu, or "lost bread", since it is a way to reclaim stale, "lost", bread: hard bread is softened by dipping in a mixture of milk and eggs, then deep fried.

I think I like the sound of that. Hell, I like the look of it...

For the benefit of those reading who don't already know this, French fries are not French. Apparently they date back to 17th century Belgium, and were consumed by peasants living the Meuse Valley in place of wee little fishies. They became French following exposure of American troops to the Belgian troops during World War I. French was the official language of the Belgian army at the time, and the rest is history.

French dressing is not French. I was informed of this fact by a rightly indignant French chef. Apparently the term was invented in the late 19th century to keep American tongues from butchering the word vinaigrette.

And since I'm here, Welsh Rabbit is not rabbit. Wikipedia has a charming little story to go with that:

The first recorded use of the term Welsh rabbit was in 1725, but the origin of the term is unknown. It may be an ironic name coined in the days when the Welsh were notoriously poor: only better-off people could afford butcher's meat, and while in England rabbit was the poor man's meat, in Wales the poor man's meat was cheese.

You may be familiar with the term as 'rarebit' as opposed to 'rabbit'. Apparently this is the fault of Francis Grose, who coined the term erroneously in his 1785 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue* and, in the manner of certain memes, has managed to stick.

And now I'm off to do the litter. Oh, teh horror...

*Available for free on gutenberg.org!

So how left/right are you?

2009-10-22T18:48:00.006+08:00

Took this test. Wasn't all that surprised with the result:
To put that in perspective:
And a couple more famous names:

So I'm in the same boat as Gandhi, Mandela and the Dalai Lama. Nice. And the present Pope is, like Robert Mugabe, well on his way to becoming another Stalin. Ahem.

Intermission

2009-10-19T10:19:00.008+08:00

Regulars to this blog (both of you, at last count) may have noticed I've kind of drifted from topics pertaining to philosophy, science and politics and in the direction of more mundane, happy things. There's any number of reasons for this, and I suppose I should explain myself.

On the front of politics, frankly, I'm fed up. On the local (still Malaysian) side, I skim through the papers daily to check for any sign at all of real progress. I find none. Nothing more than empty platitudes, cheap propaganda and, with dismayingly increasing frequency, outright backsliding. And the thing is these wonderful specimens were in fact democratically elected, which does not speak well for the intellectual capacity of the Malaysian public at large. As such, I've nothing more to say about Malaysian politics, but will continue to keep a weather eye out for any sign that it might crawl out of the hole it's digging for itself.

As for politics elsewhere, I'm not really paying much attention, to be honest, though I do keep an eye on what the Yanks are up to. I think it's a worthwhile exercise, because I suspect that today's Republican party represents a stance that guarantees the destruction of the human race, or at the very least a profound decline in one's standard of living. They chant the praises of freedom and faith when in fact it is merely a mask to justify ruthless social Darwinism (thanks to their special brand of capitalism) within, and a foreign policy based on fear and loathing without, all against a background of unbridled consumption at great cost to the environment. It is difficult for any thinking man to look upon the antics of such figures as Glenn Beck, Sarah Palin, Dick Cheney and their ilk with anything other than revulsion. But the fact remains that these people have risen to their positions of influence. Why?

Because deep down we're all really selfish, and we all want as much as we can gain for ourselves and our kin.

Because anything different from us is obviously wrong and must be wiped off the face of the Earth.

Because Democrats have been too busy pussyfooting about while the Republican propaganda machine marches on.

Because we're monsters.

Because we're human and that means that, for all that we've created for ourselves over our history, we are animals inside. We have passions and urges that drive us, many of which most people don't really understand nor do they care to understand. I suspect it is this blind acceptance of certain ugly aspects of our psychological makeup which, to paraphrase Russell, makes the stupid so cocksure. Most of us understand that there is usually more to be gained from patience and discipline, yet we are, at some base level, inexorably drawn to instant gratification. A lack of self control in enjoying material goods leads to rapacious consumption. A lack of intellectual vigilance allows the mind to be tainted with all manner of useless myths concocted to comfort the weak.

I have little doubt that the next great step forward in human endeavour will be the spiritual conquest of the human animal*. It will not be easy, and, if the Republican party is any indication, there is still a great swathe of humanity who knows too little and is sure of too much. While I've great faith in humanity's resourcefulness in surviving, particularly in times of great adversity, I can't escape the feeling that we are blithely bumbling onward to a great adversity of our own making.

On philosophy, what can I say? I was educated a physicist, and as such, find myself sympathetic to logical empiricism. And that's that. I suppose at some point I'll write something about my views on A J Ayer's principle of verification, but for the most part, I'm totally with Ayer and Russell in writing off metaphysics and theology as a lot of pseudointellectual mucking about.

On the popular science side, I've been slacking a bit on that front to focus moar on my Jap skills. I've been more fascinated by language than ever these days, not least because for me, studying the Japanese language involves:

1) consuming large chunks of Japanese culture to make sense of the vocabulary. This in itself is a subject to cover many books...

2) thinking about the contrast between English and Japanese and how it affects one's thinking.

I consider myself to be reasonably well acquainted with the English language, i.e. I have almost no trouble expressing any thought that comes to mind. In the process of learning Japanese, I find myself quite enthralled by the process of new words and sentence structures clicking into place. A lot of the time, I try to think every sentence that pops into my head in English a second time in Japanese. Obviously not with this blog post, else I'd be here til November. As my skills with Japanese improve, it feels like a 2nd brain is growing in my head. Ultimately, I hope to reach the same level of skill with Japanese as with English, or at least be able to read this.

So, that aside, I'd say that I'm more satisfied than I've ever been about my understanding of the human animal. I'm not sure if I'll quite have the fire of some of my previous posts again, but I consider that a good thing. Precisely how much of this understanding I'll divulge on this blog is, as yet, unknown to me. My grasp is still a bit hazy, and the subject matter is immense. As I think more, and more becomes concrete to me, I'll lay it down here, I suppose, 'ere the ravages of old age claim my hard-gotten spoils.

Until then, I'll be puntuating this blog with random natterings on various things that happen to entertain me. I'm in total agreement with Russell on many, many points, not least being:

"The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time ."

I am led to wonder if Bertrand Russell would have revised this opinion on encountering Facebook. Anyway, until the next post, here's a cute little kitten to "Awwww!" at:

* More on this later, you can be sure of that!

Painting Space Hulk, Part 4

2009-10-13T21:46:00.021+08:00

Hokay, here's what I've managed to do with Squad Lorenzo:

Sergeant Lorenzo

Brother Deino

Brother Zael

Brother Goriel

Brother Valencio

Random trivia: The background they were photographed against is in fact the back of the Missions & Background book of the 1st edition Space Hulk. Squad Lorenzo is presently residing in the safety of a tough cardboard box, away from the tender mercies of Haruka and Souseki...
Found this under my chair. No, I don't like Dark Eldar, either. I'm really hoping I don't find the head in the litter box anytime soon.

So I'm rather chuffed. It's a long way from the dizzy heights of 'Eavy Metal standard, but whatever way you look at it, this...

... is way, way prettier to look at than this:

Genestealers
Now, the thing about the Stealers is that there's 22 of them. As it is, I'm doing the work of 5 'Eavy Metal artists taking on all these minis, so I decided from the outset that the Stealers were going to have to be kept simple. As such, I've decided to skip out on shading and just go straight to line highlights for the carapace and drybrushing the fleshy bits. And, as I mentioned earlier, bony claws, not black ones. The results so far:

Haha! Ultramarines suck! Waitaminute, where's my other arm?

I love the new Stealers. To be sure, the old ones were pretty decent, especially when contrasted against the epic fail of 1st ed plastic Terminators. Thing was, you got 20 something Stealers all with the same pose. That having been said, I do think they might have gone a bit over the top with some of the new Stealers bringing their own real estate. Observe...I get the impression that somewhere along the line, they simply stopped caring about the size of the squares on the Space Hulk board.

Anyway, that more or less concludes this series on painting Space Hulk. Pics will be put up of other minis, as and when they're completed. I'm hoping to at least match or surpass Squad Lorenzo's standard when I do Squad Gideon and Librarian Calistarius.

Who remembers what a 486 looks like?

2009-10-12T13:01:00.009+08:00

Here's a bunch of websites worth a peep:

I did stumble upon this site a couple weeks ago and memories of my wasted youth did come flooding back. Well, in retrospect, I'm not sure if wasted is the right word. These days it seems any schmuck with a pair of functional thumbs can escape into lavish, photorealistic world of mindless bloody FPS violence. But back in the day, when a 256 colour display was a luxury, there was a touch of class to gaming. There's just a certain charm to a game on four 3.5" floppies, with a 200+ page manual, 16 colours and almost no music. Do check it out. There's treasure to be found there. I for one am itching to try out the Krynn series...

In other news, I poked around a bit more on GW's site, and verily, I despaired somewhat, because the prices are simply prohibitive. A quick guesstimate puts the cost of assembling a respectable 1,500 point Imperial Guard army at about GBP400 to 500! Looks like the only way I'd ever get my hands on that is if I worked for GW again and used the luvly staff discount. But on the upside, Codices are no longer an issue, seeing as the Japanese GW site has all the major codices up as pdfs for free! In Japanese, of course. Nan da? Nihongo o wakaranai no ka?

Slightly more serious note, when I look back to my childhood in Malaysia, I have no doubt that with the exception of mathematics, I was taught more through computer games than I ever learnt through textbooks. Between games like UFO: Enemy Unknown, Civilization, SimCity, Chip's Challenge and TFX, I was introduced to logistics planning, world history, aeronautics engineering, the art of war and some good honest lateral thinking. You know, as opposed to the Malaysian education system standard of Omnomnomnom-BLEARGH!-Repeat. So my interest was piqued when I looked upon the Daedalus Project. If you're interesed in peeking at the computer game's impact on human psychology, have a read.

Here's something a bit random - ever wondered what the insides of a Lego man would be like?
Yep, someone actually did the anatomy of a Lego man. And a gummy bear and balloon dog. Go see.

Lastly, a damn good laugh. Have a peep.

Painting Space Hulk, Part 3

2009-10-07T01:29:00.015+08:00

The evolution of Squad Lorenzo, from sad little lumps of plastic to badass:

Click for a bigger version!

Right, I think I've gone about as far as I'm willing to go with Squad Lorenzo, with the exception of the text on Zael's crests:
Now, the text is going to be fiddly. The area is big enough for me to put some readable text there, so naturally, I'm obliged to, though not quite as swish as the 'Eavy Metal version:

Man, I'd forgotten how bloody demoralizing it is to compare one's own work to 'Eavy Metal... :-( In any case, I'll have to decide at some point whether to go with 'ZAEL' or 'ザエル'. Nice part about katakana is that comprises entirely of mostly straight lines that are quite easy to execute with a very small brush. And since it's a syllabic alphabet, that'll mean I almost always have less delicate painting to do :-)

Line highlighting
You know, before Squad Lorenzo, I've never done this before. The theory is simple enough. Take a colour significantly brighter than the base colour, then use it to draw lines along all the edges where you'd expect light to reflect. With Terminators, you won't go too far wrong with going for drawing lines on the edges of every patch of colour you can find. So around all that Blood Red armour, I took some Blazing Orange and got to work. Here's Brother Goriel showing off pre and post highlight:

Drybrushing
As usual, simple theory. Take a brush, drown it in the colour you want to use to highlight, wipe off as much paint as you can onto a tissue or something, then run the brush over the surface you want highlighted, allowing the little remaining on the brush to catch on the raised bits. There's a lot of variations of this theme, so I'll start by demonstrating the raw, ugly version on one of the door bases. Observe:

Fail! But 2 minutes with some Boltgun Metal, a Small Drybrush and a tissue later...

Tadah! Of course, most minis won't quite be so simple, in which case drybrushing is a much more delicate operation. The trick is to find the right angle to swish your brush.

Wee details
Eyes were done sorta following the GW precribed method for doing Marine eyes, over here. Because of my limited palette, I went over the whole eye once with Dark Angels Green, then highlighted the bottom half with Goblin Green, and because I'm getting too old for this and don't have access to a proper magnifying glass, I skipped out on the final highlight and the ickle dot of Skull White. So sue me. I mean, just LOOK at the size of a Fine Detail Brush* compared to Deino's head!

So if you think you can put the gleam in the eye of your Terminators, be my guest. I'm just too chicken to risk sending all that effort down the crapper with a misplaced drop of Skull White.

Gems
I was fairly pleased with how these turned out, and how well they contrasted against the armour. Once again, the GW website provided invaluable guidance, this time from the Eldar section. Mostly followed the instructions here. In this case, my colours of choice were Midnight Blue to start, Ultramarine Blue to base, leaving a dark spot in the implied direction of lighting, then a sliver of Ice Blue on the opposite end of the dark spot. Again, I skipped out on risking the blob of Skull White.

One cheeky way around this artificial gleam with Skull White jiggery pokery is to use the LAWS OF PHYSICS! Ahem. That is, put a real gleam in there instead, by making the object shiny. To do this, just coat it with Gloss Varnish. Physics = Win. Unfortunately for me, Lack of Gloss Varnish = Fail. Ah, well...

Wee wires
I suppose I should mention the CAT (Cyber Altered Task unit).

The Imperium of Man loves their skulls. Anyway, the CAT's here to help illustrate a small point on painting brightly coloured details. Most bright colours don't show up very well on black, even undiluted. I've no idea how many coats it would take to get Sunburst Yellow to look like that, so I used a cunning trick I picked up off a White Dwarf yonks ago: Go over the area once with Skull White, then do what thou will with whatever pretty colour you want.

Genestealers

On seeing the GW colour scheme, I disapproved of the claws. Black?? Being the business end of the Genestealer, I wanted the claws to stand out. The scheme used by GW does very well to give the look on the game board of horrible, sinuous monsters with sharp, pointy teeth lurking in the dark, a la Aliens.

ZOMG It's coming right for us!

However, I felt a lot of impact was lost in having black claws. No likey. So, I've deviated a bit:

My Genestealers have been based with Regal Blue for the carapace, and Liche Purple for the flesh. Highlighted by mixing in Ice Blue to the Regal Blue and Bleached Bone to the Liche Purple. Left has been highlighted, right is base coat only. Claws were done the same way I did pretty much anything boney. Basecoat of Snakebite Leather, washed in Chestnut Ink, highlighted with Bleached Bone. For claws, especially those nice big ones, I'll deliberately let the brush splay out a bit and let the paint go on slightly streaky.

Anyhoo, that's as far as I've gotten. I don't think I've missed out anything re: how to achieve the paintjob I've lavished on Squad Lorenzo. By the next post, they'll be complete pics will be posted in all their glory, with maybe a Genestealer or two. Beyond that, I'll post pics of the other marines as and when they're completed, and we'll see if there's any improvement by the time I'm done with them. I've already a couple of experiments in mind...

* Smallest brush size available, last time I checked.

Quick thoughts on thinking

2009-10-06T16:47:00.009+08:00

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the way we think. About things like how we learn, how we so easily delude ourselves, why we feel what we feel, about emotions and decision-making and the like. The material floating about on the intertoobs re: the brain is voluminous, to say the least, so I thought it best I make some effort to record some thoughts on the matter before a particularly vicious bout of kendo knocks something loose. As it is, I get the feeling that I'm horribly confused about certain aspects of the brain, but what the hell, getting myself organised means I can weed out the crappe easier.

So, the basics are:
1) The mechanism for neural plasticity is more or less summed up by the Bayesian brain. It's quite heavy reading and I'm not quite sure I get all of it, but from what I can understand, the long and short of it is, the way the brain learns is to function as a predicting engine, to minimize the amount of surprises we experience. For instance, we see a physical phenomenon as a baby, like a thrown ball rising and falling back to the ground, then bouncing away. Since everything is new at first, as a baby we'd be surprised by this. As we see more of the world, we build up an intuitive set of physical laws in our head. But the thing to remember here is that the brain will try to do this in the simplest, most economical manner possible. For instance, by the time we're, say, 5, we'd know it to be blindingly obvious a thrown ball will fall back to earth, but we've no idea how to express it as a mathematical law.

So, from the moment our sensory apparatus are activated, the brain is subject to a constant stream of sensory data which builds up our understanding of the world, not all of which we are consciously aware of. The thing to remember is that, in every way, the brain always looks a little bit ahead in time an quietly tells all of our senses what to expect. If anything deviates from this, say, the experience of misjudging how many steps there are on a staircase, we get a sharp "DANGER!" signal, in the form of surprise, a brief switch into fight-or-flight mode.

2) The brain will take shortcuts. This is probably most apparent when we consider vision. There's any number of optical illusions out there which have our brain trying to shoehorn what it sees into a framework built from what it has seen. In ambiguous illusions, like the diabolical Duckrabbit below, our brain is in a little conflict with itself, trying to tell your consciousness that it sees a left-facing duck on one hand and a right-facing rabbit on the other.

DUCK season! RABBIT season!

Funnily enough, with a little effort, we can actively choose what we want to see, which leads me to wonder what effect our desires have on our perception. Yes, I am most certainly looking in the direction of religiously inspired hallucinations.

3) The brain comes pre-packaged with some software. Most notably, the capacity for language, as detailed by Chomsky and his Universal Grammar. More recently, Marc D Hauser, author of Moral Minds, has pushed the notion that we all carry a certain sense of Universal Morality. I've a feeling it runs deeper, but for the life of me I know not how. For instance, take phobias. I have never been bitten by a spider. No spider has ever harmed me in any way whatsoever. I've heard any number of stories from people who keep pet tarantulas that they're absolutely lovely. But when I see this:

Look up at ceiling. See this. What do?

... a part of my brain is screaming: "HOLY FUCKING SHIT RUUUUNNNNN!!!" Happily enough, I'm sufficiently in control of myself to continue this blog entry, albeit with the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention.

Another example would be the revulsion many of us feel on encountering a cockroach. Perhaps you may recoil or grimace when I tell you that once, in a public toilet (in Malaysia, of course) while taking a leak, a whopping 2.5-inch-long roach did fly down from the ceiling, buzz around me for a bit and land next to my feet, drumming a tattoo on my left shoe with its feelers. To this day I marvel at how I managed to muster enough self-control to actually finish what I started, zip up my trousers and quietly leave the cubicle. But when you think about it, the revulsion has no real basis. I'm orders of magnitude bigger than said roach, and it is completely incapable of harming me. Even if I were to grab it and crush it in my fist (I really feel like washing my hands now) it's a mess that's easily sorted out with modern cleaning products. But even now I feel like I'd rather kill one from 2 miles away with an artillery barrage.

4) The brain has some leftover hardware. What I'm referring to here is the human's unique place in evolving on two different fronts at once, i.e. genetically and memetically. As such, urban dwellers, whose lives are more heavily influenced by memes than by genes, are sometimes led astray by hormonal urges better suited to aid in the survival of a savannah dwelling primate. And of course, some of this hardware may have something to do with the software mentioned earlier in 3).

5) Objective reality is not just an input. This is most clearly seen in the form of the placebo effect and its evil twin, the nocebo effect. In believing that an inert lump of sugar is a ground-breaking new treatment, the brain can actually convince the body that its condition is improving, a very strange case of delusion defining reality. Of course, it's a double edged sword. People convinced they're on the nasty end of a witchdoctor's curse can actually find their physical condition deteriorating.

Anyhow, that's briefly what I've got, off the top of my head (aha) re: the way the brain works. I'm-a just leave this here for now. May come back and edit this, when the mood takes me...

Oh, and before I forget, I came across a very interesting statement in Susan Blackmore Conversations on Consciousness which firmed up the way I look at the relationship between science and philosophy. I forgot who said it, and I may have put it on this blog before but I can't be arsed to check right now. What he said was something like:

Don't look to modern philosophy for answers. It has none. BUT, it has very, very good questions.

And somewhere later he mentioned that it's good old empirical science that provides the answers. It looked about right, to me.

Brother Noctis! Noooo!

2009-10-06T16:17:00.005+08:00

Knew I shouldn't have put him in the same box as the Broodlord mini - he's lost his pointy finger!
Well, sod it. I suppose now that device on his power glove is better justified. Brother Noctis, Squad Gideon's designated pointer. Anyways, since I'm here, here's a preview of the next post on painting Space Hulk, courtesy of Brother Deino:
Almost there! Done line highlights on the armour and cloth, filled in the gems and boney skulls and drybrushed the crux on the shoulder. Will explain all this in good time. All that's left is wee details, like text* on the parchments, touching up the metal bits to give 'em some more shine, perhaps some line highlights on the crux, clean up the base and, horror of horrors, the EYES. It takes some skills to do eyes that really stand out (for the right reasons). Thing about eyes on these minis is since they're human shaped, our own eyes will be instantly drawn towards the face, so the miniscule droplets of paint that adorn the eyes can massively enhance a mini or just make it look like a well-dressed lunatic. Where's some diazepam when you need it...

Zomg the Glorious Dawn!

2009-10-03T12:13:00.001+08:00

By Carl Sagan, featuring Prof Stephen Hawking:

Epic win is epic.

Painting Space Hulk, Part 2

2009-09-27T21:26:00.017+08:00

More on Shading
One of the nastiest pitfalls I encountered while learning to shade was the feeling of zomgwtf-have-I-done when applying a wash for the first time. The thing to remember is that you'll be going over the raised bits again with the base coat colour, so after that, the overall effect is of really sharp, dark shadows where you'd expect them. Observe:

Brothers Zael (left) and Goriel

Zael has just been washed. Goriel has been touched up again with Blood Red. Here's Sgt Lorenzo showing what the three stages look like:

L to R: Blood Red base coat, Scab Red + Chaos Black wash, Blood Red touchup

Patience is key here. At this stage, the quality of shading here far exceeds anything that could possibly be achieved with dip methods. Truth be told, a well shaded mini is already quite worthy of shop display standard, especially if the base colour is already quite bright, like Blood Red, Ultramarine Blue or Sunburst Yellow.

Another method of shading is blacklining. Again, this works better if the base colour is bright. Simply put, blacklining simply means taking Chaos Black and drawing in the shading yourself, putting black lines in all the recesses. This is a technique far, far beyond me, since it needs a steadier hand than I have, but the effect can be quite stunning.

After this, we'll be working with 2 highlighting techniques: line highlighting and drybrushing.

Order
I think it's worthwhile to insert a brief note on order here, i.e. the order in which you lay down the colours on your mini. Ordinarily one should base coat every part of the model, then wash every part and highlight and so on. However, as I mentioned, these marines have an insane amount of bling on them. Hence, as I mentioned earlier, I'll start with the most difficult colour to reach first, then work my way upwards. Take a peek at Brother Deino:

Deino's a little further along than the rest. Alas, I rather stupidly jumped the gun and painted the chains and bling adorning his nadgers, blocking my way to his loincloth. So, tough luck to Deino, he's going to have to make do with a black loincloth. It will be highlighted, of course. You know, to make it look blacker.

Current progress
Here's how Squad Lorenzo looks like at this point in time:

Note that until every part of the whole squad is base coated and shaded, I won't be moving on to highlighting. What I've done here:

Metal bits: Base coated with Boltgun Metal, then washed with Chaos Black.
Gold bits: Base coated with Burnished Gold, washed with Chestnut Ink.
Seals: Midnight Blue, and still thinking what I'm going to do with them. I've decided to deviate from the GW colour scheme and do the jewels and seals in blue, for sharper and more interesting contrast against the armour and the bling.
Crux (that thing on the left shoulder pad): Codex Grey, washed with Chaos Black.
Parchment: I figured the parchment in the GW scheme didn't look old enough, so I went with a basecoat of Snakebite Leather, washed with Chestnut Ink, touched up with Bleached Bone, then given a super thin coat of seriously watered down Snakebite Leather. Here's a closer look courtesy of Brother Zael, who appears to be the man to go to in case of unscheduled toilet breaks:

There's still a few bits on Zael that I haven't quite decided on yet, like the crests on the left... pauldron? I'm sure that's a pauldron... and right greave. And the lenses on that doohickey above his head, to the left, which for some odd reason is on the right on every other squad member.

Next update, Squad Lorenzo should be completely base coated and shaded and I'll be starting on highlights. Also, I'm going to have to get started on those Genestealers, otherwise Brother Goriel will look a right muppet:

Hum. A thought just occured to me. Many of the Genestealers have dismembered bits of marine as part of the bases. I shall paint those in the colours of another chapter. Ooh, I am cheeky...

As exciting as watching a mountain crumble...

2009-09-26T12:38:00.003+08:00

... which is probably the oddest premise for a game I've ever seen. From the description:

"In Erosion, uplift your mountain by eroding those of other players. At the end of each round, gain points for cards in your mountain and delta.

The basic rules introduce the four player actions: Weathering, Hillslope, Fluvial, and Draw Cards. The advanced rules add details: atmospheric change, ice ages, glaciers, flood volcanism, quakes, etc.

Mountains are far more dynamic than the limitations of human lifetimes would suggest. Their growth and death involve cycles that keep the planet habitable. The machinery of these cycles is called erosion: the weathering of rock and its transport to the sea. Once there, it is subducted into the mantle, where volcanoes return the silicates, sulfates, water, carbon dioxide, and oxygen to the surface.

Almost every step of the erosion process is catalyzed by water. For instance, in your turn you may weather rock using crystallization (busting rock by growing evaporated salt crystals), then transport the remains to the River using creep (movement propelled by wet/dry and freeze/thaw cycles). Once plunked in the River, the eroded material is moved as sediment to the sea. Braided rivers carry the maximum sediment load, but they are the least stable (and the trickiest to play)."

Far be it from me to judge this game before even playing it. Other titles by the same publisher include Origins: How we became Human, American Megafauna and Lords of the Spanish Main. Just looking at the titles gives me the impression I'd actually learn more from these games than I would from a Malaysian secondary school education...

Painting Space Hulk, Part 1

2009-09-24T14:28:00.014+08:00

I've decided to record my progress painting the lurvely Space Hulk minis here, partly as a guide to those who'd like to learn to paint the GW way, that is, the basic formula of:

1) Base coat
2) Shading (includes washing)
3) Highlights (includes drybrushing)
4) Details

This assumes an undercoat of black, of course. Be warned that the GW way is extremely meticulous. If you dig around on the net, you should be able to find any number of techniques which will give you minis that look pretty ok in a fairly short time, i.e. perhaps an afternoon to do 5 marines. This record won't cover that. I intend to come out of this with minis that you can look at and admire and, in my case, 5 years on wonder how the hell I managed to do that.

DISCLAIMER: I may have mentioned that I worked for Games Workshop once upon a time. I worked in GW RETAIL. As such, there are several different standards of painting. A rough guide, from best to worst:

1) Golden Demon - The pinnacle of the art of miniature painting. Truly, you are a god among men.
2) 'Eavy Metal - The people who do the miniatures that get photographed real nice in the magazines. Serious professional work here.
3) Shop display - Often the personal armies of particularly artistically inclined retail staff. Painted and modelled with some love, but just short of the technical expertise needed to make 'Eavy Metal standard. I'm around here.
4) Trial - Models painted to introduce newbies to GW gaming. Painted nice enough to look good on a tabletop, but not too nice, because we generally expect some arsehole to steal them at some point. The great bulk of GW hobbyist armies I've seen will fall into this category, as do dip method minis.
5) Basecoats only - Just basecoats, no shading, no highlights. Lazy bastards.
6) Fail - Monstrous parodies of the original miniatures, which can result from too much effort as easily as too little effort but nothing is as insulting to the tabletop as...
7) Unpainted - The only use you have for a paintbrush is to put a big red 'L' on your deserving forehead, you Loser.

There's any number of pitfalls for the novice painter, so out of the goodness of my heart, I'm putting up a few little tips that'll make your first attempts to painting GW-style hopefully not end in too much fail. Also, I thought it would be nice to have a photographic record of my progress. I think there's something a little magical about slowly bringing a wee lump of plastic to life with paint.

I'll be more or less following the guidelines laid out on GW's site, because a) the miniatures have all been festooned with Blood Angel iconography, so using a different colour scheme would look a little odd; and b) I lack the imagination to do so. Note, however, that the people who paint those as seen in the gallery are pros with ungodly amazing skills who will not only dot the eyes, but paint a gleam in the eye of miniatures barely the size of the top joint of your thumb. So, I'll deviate in one or two places in a manner commensurate with my own abilities and the limited number of colours I have currently at my disposal.

Tips on brush technique, assuming you are using a Citadel standard brush:
1) Protect that tip! The bristles will most certainly splay out when there's lotsa paint on it, but with small amounts of paint, the brush should be able to come to a point.
2) Don't let paint touch the metal bit. If it dries there it'll fray the brush.
3) On contact with the model, pull, never push, and definitely don't drag it sideways.
4) You may lick the brush. No, really. After giving the brush a good shake in water, I'll wipe it on a tissue, then use my tongue, curled in an 'O' to restore the brush to a sharp point. Just don't drink anything other than water when you're painting.
5) Pay attention to how you grip the brush and the mini. I find the steadiest way to grip is to place both elbows on the table, mini in left hand, brush in right and brace your wrists against each other. Also, I grip the brush the Chinese way, like so:
I find this grip gives me far better control than the usual pen grip, allows a greater range of movement and is especially well-suited to the way I hold the mini, that is, wrist-on-wrist. Also, since elbows are up on the table, you can keep sitting up straight with a decent posture, as opposed to crouching with wrists braced against the table, as some prefer. Make sure you've got a good, bright lamp, preferably one with a movable arm and you're good to go.

If, like me, this is the very first time you're painting Blood Angel Terminators, it helps to have a spare model to experiment with. This is my guinea pig of choice, Trooper Bob:

I forget where on Earth I got him, but as I continue painting the Space Hulk minis, I'll be testing colour mixes and techniques on various bits of him. I'm kinda curious how he'll turn out at the end of all this... .

Basecoating
So, first things first, basecoating. The dominant colour of the Blood Angels is, of course, Blood Red*. I distinctly remember this colour being an absolute bastard to work with as a kid. That's because back then, no one told me that:

a) You have to thin down the paint.
b) You have to use several coats.

Here's what the effect of each coat looks like, modeled by the exceedingly badass Squad Lorenzo**:

From left to right: Black undercoat, 1st coat of Blood Red, 2nd coat, 3rd coat, 4th coat + shading.

You may notice I've been a little sloppy with the brush at some places. This isn't really an issue. Since the paint is heavily thinned down (about 2:3 paint to water), when the paint dries, it won't obscure the detail. Since the Blood Red bits cover the most of each of the minis, I've opted to complete the base coat (i.e. 4 coats of Blood Red) and proceed straight to shading, then come back and base coat the other areas. Also, I went for Blood Red first because there's heaps of little trinkets and bits all over these guys. The Blood Red bits are underneath quite a few of these, so to minimize the impact of possible errors, I went for the colour that is most difficult to reach with the brush first.

Tips on basecoating:
1) These minis are absurdly detailed, so it really won't hurt to study the model for a bit before you start. Turn it over and over in your hand look at the way the light hits it and just get a feel for how you're going to shade and highlight it.
2) Be systematic about it. Start at one place, preferably the largest flat area you can find, then draw the paint as evenly as you can around the mini. It's a little counterintuitive at first, but ignore the fact that, the first time round, your Blood Red isn't quite Blood Red. Just remember, after 4 coats (maybe 5), it will be.
3) Make it as even as you can! Can't stress this enough! Don't let the paint pool in the crevasses, and smoosh away any bubbles you see. When these paints dry, they form a tough layer. If you let too much accumulate in the crevasses, you're making it much harder to shade later.
4) As mentioned before, don't stress too much about getting Blood Red on the wrong bits. Chaos Black is an extremely solid colour and even thinned down it will quite easily wipe away your sins at a stroke without squishing out the detail.
5) You can afford to be sloppy for basecoating the first colour. Beyond that, correcting mistakes is a LOT more troublesome. Be patient. Breathe steady. Have a tissue ready for a quick draw and wipe in the event of emergencies.

Shading
Seeing as I didn't have, as recommended by the guide, any Dark Flesh, I decided to improvise. I used Scab Red and a touch of Chaos Black to wash the Blood Red bits. Now, what 'washing' means here is to take a colour significantly darker than the base colour, thin it down to more or less the consistency of milk, then go over the base colour and deliberately let this darker colour pool in the crevasses. Sounds easy, but takes a little practice to get the hang of making surface tension work for you and letting the right amount pool in said crevasses. You may have noticed Trooper Bob's left leg has been shaded. After testing it out on Bob, I moved on to Brother Deinos below:

After washing, your mini will generally look like he's been playing in the mud. Fear not, just come back and touch up the raised areas with the base colour again.

Anyway, this is as far as I've gotten for the moment. I feel I should mention that, at this point, I've actually played the game twice; the first mission as both Marine and Genestealer. It is as they say: Painted minis roll more 6's. And red definitely makes 'em go fasta.

* All the colours I'm using are of course Citadel Colour standards.

** No, I didn't come up with these names. No imagination, remember? I'm using the names from the Space Hulk Mission and Background book. From left to right, those marines are: Brother Goriel, Brother Valencio, Brother Zael, Sergeant Lorenzo and Brother Deinos.

Me after a kendo session

2009-09-23T21:51:00.003+08:00

And I've nowhere near enough XP...

Hurr! Derp, derp! BOOMS!

2009-09-23T16:41:00.002+08:00

I was just looking at my painting after the previous post, and it struck me how RED and LOUD they'll be when they're done - which reminded me of this (0:36):

Ph34r mah OVERWATCH!

2009-09-23T12:58:00.009+08:00

Hokay, it's been a long, long while since I've actually put any decent amount of text in here. Been a bit distracted lately, coz I've just gotten my grubby paws on Space Hulk! THE 2009 edition of Space Hulk! Verily, I was pleased:

The original Space Hulk was released 20 years ago and was full of win. It was about 15 years ago that I did first lay eyes upon it and was for the first time exposed to the awesome of the Warhammer 40k universe. The long and short of what Space Hulk is, it's a 2 player game where 1 player takes a squad of marines (the Terminators*) stomping through a mess of narrow corridors infested with hordes of aliens (the Genestealers. Long story.) with sharp, pointy teeth and claws, controlled by the other player. It was, and still is one of Games Workshop's most popular products, having been worthy of 2 computer game adaptions (officially), 2 expansions, and another edition (which I've never seen) before going out of print and circulating around eBay. I played the hell out of this game, and youth's folly did let me overlook the fact that I was mildly bamboozled. How so? Well, back then, the rulebook had this to say about your marines:

ZOMG teh awesome!

But what you actually got was:

DERP

Forgive my 15 year old painting fail. I still don't know what the hell possessed me to put gold paint on the base. I've improved since then, 'onest guv, and have since had some of my works displayed in GW Bristol. They might still be there, if, as I suspect, no one could be bothered to put up a new Blackstone Fortress. Anyway, you got 10 of the monstrosities shown above with 1st ed Space Hulk, each being a single lump of plastic to be manhandled into those little round bases. I know not if they improved upon it in the 2nd edition. The 2009 edition is the 3rd and I daresay they've improved their moulding techniques since then. Observe:

I'm sorry, brother, but you're just too damn ugly to live...

Naturally, it simply wouldn't do to leave these works of art languishing in bare plastic! The very thought of actually playing a game of Space Hulk with these unpainted?! Barbaric! Well, the chap in red here is a work in progress. The paint has to be thinned down with water and several coats need to be applied before you can really get to work. I've no intention of cutting corners so I expect it'll be a week or so before my first marine can be said to be finished. But do click on the happy thumbnails here for a good look at the sheer detail they've put into these new models. They're awfully fragile, though. Took me ages to get them out of their sprues, which leads me to a little point about the appeal of Space Hulk and the greater bulk of GW games.

If you're looking for a game where you can just buy it, take it home, then be ready to play after, say 30 minutes of reading the rules and preparing the pieces for the first time, Space Hulk is NOT for you. It took me 1 pair of sidecutters, 2 files, a damn sharp hobby knife, a fair amount of glue and perhaps 3 hours to get everything out and actually ready for a game. That's the easy part. It took another hour to spray on a black undercoat on everything, after which I blew black snot for a couple hours afterwards. Serves me right for not wearing a mask, I suppose. I'm guesstimating it'll be 2 weeks before my first squad of 5 marines (out of 12 marines and 23 genestealers) will be painted to a standard which I would not consider embarassing. Over the course of the next few months, with a brush and a steady hand, the marine player will not be in command of 5 bits of plastic but the Blood Angels of Squad Lorenzo. And the thing is, it doesn't really matter of you've got mad painting skillz or not, it's a labour of love, so in your eyes you've gone way, way beyond just gaming - you've just immersed yourself in the elaborate universe of the 41st millenium. And I can tell you, fail marine up there felt pretty damn awesome back in 1994.

Well, it's now 15 years since fail marine. I haz better skillz, and I intend to use 'em! Pics will follow. Whoopsy! Gotta go, Souseki's trying to eat mah Genestealers...

* No, I don't know if a lawsuit was involved.

Something to think about for the PS/Xbox/Wii generation

2009-09-20T11:23:00.002+08:00

Click the pic for a bigger version.

Boom de ya da, boom de ya da...

2009-09-18T17:34:00.000+08:00

No, it doesn't get old.

Whoopsy!

2009-09-15T18:27:00.003+08:00

Missed a couple...

Know your -isms

2009-09-15T17:41:00.008+08:00

From the happy and edumacational intertoobs:

Another good thing about Malaysia...

2009-09-13T13:28:00.005+08:00

... because they're so damn hard to come by. Anyway, I just came across another nice thing about Malaysia, which is by no means unique to Malaysia, but is nonetheless one of the requirements for a civilized nation:

Now, from a bottle of this stuff to civilization in a little over a minute, instructions are as follows:

Man, that tickles the Beribazu...

Conversations in kendo

2009-09-11T07:52:00.003+08:00

Me, with a 2nd dan whom I've never trained with before, just after warming up:

Him: Anything else you wanna practice?

Me: Not really. You?

Him: Nope... Wanna fight?

Me: Yah, hokay!

Both: YAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!

Cheng proceeds to get his right kote hammered...

Far too true...

2009-09-09T09:50:00.005+08:00

Dredged from the diabolical depths of t3h intertoobs, I bring you heretical win:

Because if you can't laugh derisively at people who consider faith a virtue...

To hell with good intentions...

2009-09-08T05:50:00.005+08:00

"It's the thought that counts."

"He/she meant well."

"He/she only wanted what's best for you/us/him."

I can't quite recall how many times I've heard these words uttered after someone or other has caused someone else some terrible grievance of some sort. In the past before I turned nigh completely to ruthless empiricism, I'd nod sagely in agreement. Now these words spark a twinge of irritation, mostly because of certain questions that did spring forth from a more liberated mind than before. Questions like:

So what? Hitler had good intentions, that is, he really thought he was doing the "right thing"...

or

Oh, so that makes it better, then?

or

So you're saying her intentions make her a good person, a saint, in fact, despite her contributing directly to the unnecessary suffering of untold thousands of hardcore poor Indians?

If you haven't guessed, that last one has to do with "Blessed" Theresa of Calcutta. If you're not aware why Bill Gates does more good for the world than Mother Theresa, I strongly recommend reading that link before carrying on.

So why? Why do people take comfort in mouthing these utterly inane words? Are they in denial and trying to justify the great wrong that has been done? Are they trying to see good where there is none? Do they identify with the perpetrator and see an awful mistake which they could just as easily have made, and thus are trying to scooch a little further up to the moral high ground in their own little minds?

A great many people live in the naive delusion that people are, by nature, good. That they want to do good. That deep down inside is a good person, who is kind and gentle and wants everyone to be happy. That overrated wordsmith who was too dense to be atheist, C S Lewis, called it Universal Morality. The ancient Chinese immortalised it in the opening lines of the 三字经 thusly:

人之初 (rén zhī chū) People at birth,
性本善 (xìng běn shàn) Are naturally good.
性相近 (xìng xiāng jìn) Their natures are similar,
習相遠 (xí xiāng yuǎn) Their habits make them different.

Like any popular delusion, it is seductive. Of course we want to believe we're good people surrounded by other good people! The especially thick-skinned may just keep telling themselves that "maybe somewhere deep down he had a good soul" as the judge passes sentence on some acquaintance who made a hobby of fashioning household objects out of human body parts.

We are not very far off from animals. Animals in the wild live by rules imposed upon them by nature and the vagaries of Fate. We built upon the rules of Nature and call it culture, law, social mores and norms, whatever floats your boat. They are fictions that, for the most part, bind us together into cohesive communities and generally help us get things done without worrying too much about getting stabbed in the back*. But, as Heath Ledger's Joker pointed out, they are fictions and they are so very fragile.

My readings into human nature have told me many things I wish I never knew, not least of which is what can be achieved in Rwanda with a mixture of overpopulation, in-group mentality and a lot of machetes. 800,000 people in 100 days. To try to imagine the scale of what happened there, to put yourself in their shoes, it just ruins the mind. But it happened. As did any number of atrocities inflicted by humans on humans in history that were simply too ugly and too numerous to mention in history textbooks in school. Where was the good soul then? Who turned around and said "No, I will not kill these people, because it's wrong"? How many died needlessly as men in suits and plastic smiles prattled over the distinction between "ethnic cleansing" and "genocide"?

In the face of such horrors, those who would speak of an innate goodness in the hearts of men look ridiculous, like a traffic policeman trying to give out speeding tickets at the Indy 500. But this is not to say we are all monsters waiting to be given the oppurtunity to inflict great suffering. What we are is what circumstances make of us. Our every action is the product of the confluence of disposition and situation. In all of us resides the capacity to be monsters or heroes. Most of us will be bemused bystanders. Or victims.

It is unconstructive to comfort oneself with foolish and naive assumptions of human nature. And yet, it takes a measure of strength and courage to cast aside our hubris and gaze unflinchingly at the animal inside, acknowledge it and conquer it. It takes intellectual honesty to question oneself constantly, guarding against hypocrisy, to doubt one's own righteousness and to remain vigilant against the insidious spectre of dehumanization. This is may not necessarily be pleasant or easy, but it has become important.

Why?

I think I'll save that for a later post. A furry friend of mine is hinting that he needs feeding by attempting to devour my ankle...

* Unless, of course, you happen to work in a merchant bank.

You will wince

2009-09-03T12:44:00.001+08:00

Oh, and by the way...

2009-09-03T10:31:00.003+08:00

You may remember I once took the piss out of M'sia for having a flag that was a blatant rip-off of the Stars and Stripes. I just found out from Malaysia Today that the Malaysian national anthem, Negaraku, had it's melody nicked from an old Hawaiian song, Mamula Moon.

Here's Negaraku:

Here's Mamula Moon:

Originality fail...

And since I'm here anyway, here's a guy who got in a LOT of trouble for his parody of Negaraku:

Frankly, I think it's quite telling of a nation's inferiority if they don't have the strength of character to have a laugh at themselves from time to time.

Another year, another Merdeka day...

2009-08-31T09:08:00.003+08:00

That's 'independence' day to you foreign devils. 31 August 1957 is when M'sia gained its independence from the British. Others may remember 31 August as the date when Princess Diana expired in a car crash 12 years ago. And of course, others still may remember this date for any number of reasons, which may or may not be recorded in the Wikipedia article on this date.

I'm no patriot, and was very quick indeed to ignore the silly nationalist propaganda that they called history textbooks in my day. I'm already hearing from my younger friends (ooh, just typing that put another grey hair on my head) that the infamous May 13 incident has been omitted from the curriculum, such is the nature of the all-corrupting cancer that is Malaysian politics. Here's hoping Malaysia's youth spends more time on Wikipedia than on those so-called textbooks, eh?

But no, I'm not here to bitch about M'sia. Not this time, at any rate. I figured that now's as good a time as any to engage in the intellectual exercise of thinking positive about Malaysia. At this point in time, this is not easy, especially with this, this and this sitting in front of me. But there are about 27 million people in this country at the time of writing, not all of which, as the papers suggest, are a bunch ignorant, avaricious, shallow-minded degenerates. Society is not collapsing and I daresay we're still a long, long way from, say, hyperinflation and trading in bags of rice for guns and ammo.

So... what's good?

Well for a start, the Constitution still actually defines Malaysia as a secular nation. It's something that's worth being positive about, never mind the fact that the Malaysian Constitution has been amended more times than in most civilised nations. Or that even our own government and mass media seems to be confused regarding when Malaysia was actually established*. Or even that articles still remain which firmly entrench Malaysia's position as one of the last racist regimes on Earth. Despite all this, Malaysia is, in theory, secular. When people tell you that Malaysia is a Muslim country, what they're actually saying is that Malaysia is a secular nation, the majority of the population of which is Muslim, and that the whole portrayal of Malaysia as a Muslim nation is there to:

a) keep the conservative (read: anal retentive) religious right** happy; and

b) help with branding Malaysia as the go-to place for Islamic banking, which is quite possibly the most ridiculous piece of mass hypocrisy of our time. Usury by any other name is still bloody usury.

So, Malaysia is actually secular. Honestly. Never mind the opinion of the tyrannical, ignorant masses, it's right there on the Constitution at this point in time. I hope.

The other good thing I managed to think up regarding Malaysia is that it's a tremendously interesting social experiment in multiculturalism. This is not to say, as the present government would try to have you believe, that it's all hunky dory and we're all getting along fine. But Malaysia is young and still looking for it's equilibrium. Unfortunately, these days, I get the impression that, like many toddlers, Malaysia will have to fall down and do itself a mischief before it really learns to stand. I really do wonder sometimes what the government has planned for when Malaysia's glorious hydrocarbon riches run dry.

But anyways, Malaysia really is a melting pot of tremendously different cultures, and most of us do actually get along, and some even make an effort to understand each other. Here, everyone knows that the best languages to cuss in are Cantonese and Hokkien!And I think Malays and Indians show tremendous forbearance in enduring the Chinese penchant for murdering every language they come into contact with. And a very, very rare few, actually take the opportunity to take a good hard look at their own culture and understand just what it is that keeps people apart. So, yes, in this respect, Malaysia really is worth keeping an eye on, in the academic anthropological sense.

I suppose Malaysians reading this may find fault, and ask: What about the food? The malls? The food? The jungles and wildlife? Especially the food?

Let me tell you something about Malaysian food: It's nothing to be proud of. I mean it. It's cheap and tasty and there's loads of variety, yes, but does any Malaysian stop to consider the cost? No, not in MYR, I mean the cost in the more far-reaching sense? That is, the cost in hygiene standards, petroleum subsidies, nutritional value and especially quality? I suppose the upshot to this is it means most Malaysians have ruff and tuff stomachs. I recall that, during my first few weeks studying Mandarin in Beijing, many of the foreign students, particularly the Japanese, had weeks of indigestion before getting use to the horrors of Chinese university canteen food. So, yeah, thanks for that, Malaysia.

And that's all the positive things I can think up about Malaysia. Yay. When reading the local papers get me down, I will come back and read this post, and remember why I don't despair at the banality of it all. Happy birthday, Malaysia.

* 1963. No, really. 1957 was the Federation of Malaya, which only covered the Malay peninsula. Only in 1963 was the bit where I was born, i.e. Sarawak (and Singapore, too!), actually included in what is now Malaysia. A minor error quite likely born of typically Malaysian sloppiness in use of language.

** Honestly, I'm quite tired of the phrase "religious right", but you can't go around calling them the religious wrong, can you?

Armour in the right places

2009-08-30T02:29:00.004+08:00

One of my favourite things about kendo is that it's damn near impossible to get seriously hurt like so:
That having been said, shit can still happen:

Poor devil. I for one am not impressed by white's apparent lack of concern.

More on Trolleys

2009-08-26T23:36:00.002+08:00

I've beeen reading Marc D. Hauser's Moral Minds lately and came across the Trolley Problem again in there. I know I've an entry somewhere on this blog on it, but some new thoughts on it popped into my head which I thought were worth recording. Besides, this is the first blog post that I'm banging out on a recently liberated wee little Vaio, so I figured this piddly little machine deserved a proper baptism under my overly large, callused fingers.

Here are the 5 variations of the Trolley Problem I'll be looking at.

Case 1 - The Simple Switch
An out of control train trolley is hurtling down a track, on which are 5 hapless victims, tied there by a mad philosopher. You happen to be in the control room, and in front of you is a swtich. Flip the switch, and the trolley will be sent off to another track, on which is tied 1 victim. Do you flip the switch or not?

Case 2 - Push the Fat Guy
As before, trolley hurtling towards 5 people. This time, instead of the control room, you're at a platform between the trolley and the 5 victims. Standing next to you is a very large man. We assume that pushing him in front of said trolley will be quite sufficient to stop the trolley and save the 5. Do you push the the Fat Guy?

Case 3 - Loop and Fat Guy
Again, trolley and 5 victims. This time, you've got access to a switch, and flipping it will send it off to a loop of track where it comes back and squishes the 5 victims anyway. What's the bloody point of that, you ask? As the heading suggests, there's a fat guy on the loop, who is, of course, large enough to halt the trolley. Flip the switch?

Case 4 -Loop and Boulder
Same as case 3, but this time, instead of a conveniently placed fat guy, we have a boulder. BUT there happens to be some poor sap, not necessarily fat, standing in front of said boulder. Flip swtich, off goes the trolley, into the boulder and turning one hapless victim into jam in the process. Oh, well. Flip the switch?

Note: If, like myself, you are a truly cold-blooded utilitarian with a heart of igneous rock, you may not immediately the difference between cases 3 and 4. It was only on reading Moral Minds that the difference was made clear to me. Basically, in case 3, you are consciously using a Fat Guy as the means to save the 5 lives. In case 4, the guy in front of the boulder just happens to have the crap luck of being there. In 3 you are wilfully killing someone to save 5. In 4, he's collateral damage. Geddit?

Case 5 - Organ Donor
This time, the problem is set inside a hospital. You're a doctor and you've got 5 patients, each of whom are in dire need of various organ transplants. And who should walk in but a random hiker who just happens to have lovely, healthly organs ripe for the picking? Assume, of course, that harvesting the hiker's organs guarantees survival of the 5 patients. So... slice and dice?

The first 4 cases were covered in Moral Minds, the last is one I remembered from a Wikipedia article on the Trolley problem. More often than not, the usual answers to the above cases of the Trolley Problem are as follows:

Case 1 - Yes, flip the switch.
Case 2 - No, don't push Fat Guy
Case 3 - No, don't flip the switch. (About 60% of the time, so I hear)
Case 4 - Yes, flip the switch. (This can be alittle uncertain, depending on the answer to Case 3.)
Case 5 - Hell, no, don't dissect the hiker! It's icky!

Considering the similarities of the 5 cases, the divide in the distributions of the answers strikes me as interesting. Do nothing, 5 die. Do something, 1 dies. Case 1 is almost invariably answered 'Yes'* on the simple irrefutable grounds that, assuming no knowledge of the vicims identities, 5 is more than 1, so tough luck to the 1. They say this with such certainty, then funnily enough, they balk when faced with Case 5.

I suppose Case 5 as a certain element of grey about it. Faced with such a situation, our minds are drawn to the uncertainties of surgery. Are the diagnoses of the 5 patients really correct? Can the hiker's organs be extracted flawlessly? Can they implanted with no complications? What if someone finds out and the hospital gets in trouble for it, denying access to medical help for hundreds more? Even with all these doubts addressed by idealizing assumptions, rare indeed is the person who unflinchingly says, 'Well, tough luck for the hiker. 5 is more than 1.' In my experience, when I present the 5 Cases in person, whoever I'm asking will say 'No', and then comes an interesting display of mental gymnastics as they try to justify their position.

Anyway, I'm not here to natter on about my justifications for the answers that pop in my head. What I wanted to bring up were some subsequent questions to the above 5 cases. For instance, what if all the lives being weighed against each other were replaced, by animals, say? By chickens, cows, cats, penguins, whatever? I'm thinking that, in most minds, the 5 cases all simply become a case of 5 is more than 1, so bye-bye to the 1. In fact, if Case 5 becomes all about animals, anoter question arises on whether it's even worth expending such effort to save the lives of animals in such an elaborate fashion in the first place!

This led me to another iteration, much in the same vein as the Philosopher's Cyborg** - what if the lives in the 5 Cases were replaced with robots? Again, it becomes simple mathematics. 5 is more than 1. But what if those robots were androids, each with a unique accumulation of many years of memories sitting inside a processor so absurdly advanced that there is no way whatsoever of replicating said memories? Is it still simple math? What is the difference between these androids and the humans in the original 5 Cases? What if these androids are even older, each a perfect repository of hundreds of years of accumulated memories?

In my eyes, every variation of the 5 cases, assuming no knowledge of the identities of those whose lives are being weighed, is a simple case of 5 is more than 1. Apart from the practical considerations of Case 5, i.e. the possibility of some sort of failure at some stage of trying to save the 5, there doesn't seem to be any logical reason to value 1 over 5.

But then again, this is a philosopher's question. I find the single most important lesson I've learnt about philosophy is that while philosophy teaches us to ask very important questions, these days, it offers no answers. Answers come from science, and I'm still only halfway through Hauser's exceedingly interesting book.

* And to those I've encountered who answer 'No, I wan't nothing to do with making such a choice!', seriously, you are spineless below contempt.

**I think I wrote about it somewhere earlier, though I didn't call it that at the time. There will be a post on it shortly, 'onest, guv.

Connecting the wrong dots

2009-08-22T13:50:00.003+08:00

Saw a picture in the paper of a PETA activist in India dressed in a dog outfit giving a talk on spaying/neutering one's pets. On a blackboard was written in large letters:

Animal + Birth + Control = HAPPY DOGS
It's time to sterilize all dogs!

And so the following came unbidden to my mind:

Human + Birth + Control = HAPPY PEOPLE
It's time to sterilize all people!

This has nothing to do with the fact that my young nephews have come to visit for a few weeks, honest. Well, maybe just a little. Ahem.

Catharsis by kirikaeshi

2009-08-21T13:22:00.006+08:00

Right, to make up for the previous post's fail, here's a vid of the 55th All-Japan Kendo Championship showing the closest thing I've ever seen to a perfect strike in a kendo tourney:

I wouldn't bother past 0:30. After red (Hiromitsu Sato) got that singularly stunning point, he spent the rest of the match being cheeky and turtling and making sure white (RyoichinUchimura) didn't touch him.

As per this year's New Year Resolutions, I've been attending kendo with renewed vigour and especially relishing the Wednesday sessions, where I will come back almost invariably with bruises on my hip, forearm and sometimes head, a hoarse voice and the satisfaction of inching ever closer to Shodan. Beer tastes really, really good after kendo. It's what I tell myself, towards the last stages of a class, when we engage in freestyle training against the senseis. Not "Gotta be stronger, better, faster... Must defeat everyone!" or similar silliness out of some children's anime. Just "Earn your b33r, you bastard." Those are the words that push me past the previous week's limits, that hurl me headlong into crossing swords against sensei who move so fast and hit so hard they leave bruises on my wrist in the shape of my gauntlets.

I don't think I'd be exaggerating to say that I get a bigger rush out of kendo than anything I've ever, ever done. I've dabbled in Taekwondo, Wingchun, Taijiquan, Baguazhang and reached a reasonable standard in Capoeira. Yes, dabbled, never got a black belt or anything like that, just picked up a wee bit of the movements and theory. But I reached the rank of verde in Capoeira under the happy and cool guidance of Grupo Beribazu, which basically meant I was one rank away from being officially allowed to teach under the supervision of another mestre. But none of these ever gave the same sense of release as donning my armour.

Wearing that armour, we all have the same face, with little in the way of distinguishing features - a nicer sword, a slightyly shinier breastplate maybe. But not much beyond our name tags:

Haruka adding some personal touches to my zekken (name tag).

The point is, behind those duralumin bars, there is a sense of being allowed to be someone else, to drop your inhibitions and throw yourself into training with an insane ferocity you'd never dream of mustering outside the dojo.

Behind that armour, there is no fear of hurting or being hurt (bruises don't count), despite the knowledge that every solid strike of a shinai easily translates into a killing blow with a live blade. Another inhibition dropped. The devil inside revels in his moment of freedom. His exhilaration is every blast of your kiai, the twitch of your shinai, he drinks in the satisfaction of each precisely placed blow reverberating through your fingertips.

And when the class ends and helmets are taken off, everyone is a human with a face again, sweaty smiles and polite bows and rigid dojo etiquette. What goes on behind those smiling faces? If they're anything like me, you'd hear something like "W00t! I totally killed Kasahara-san today! Ok, he killed me 5 times before I caught him a good one on his hand, but w00t! Right, where's that b33r..."

In my readings, I've come to the conclusion that for all our big buildings, swish clothes and fancy gadgetry, we are still animals. By which I mean that in each of us is the capacity for great savagery and hate and cruelty and the like. You don't have to look very far to find it. As such, I'm all for taking this monster that lives inside us, then understanding it and, most importantly, controlling it. Not supressing it completely, mind you, that just leads to it leaking out in inconvenient moments, like an epic case of the runs. It should be let out to play. Of course, martial arts aren't the only way to achieve such release, but that having been said, I've yet to encounter any method for indulging one's inner demons as constructive as the martial arts. And among the martial arts I've sampled, I've yet to encounter a release so complete as in kendo.

Some may argue that the armour inhibits you somewhat, that it's a crutch. I think not. I think behind the anonymity of the helmet, we are free to unleash a side of ourselves that usually remains stifled for most of our lives. And in taking the monster inside and taming it, we understand that much more of ourselves, and the monsters inside everyone. This is why no matter how strong my opponent or no matter how hopelessly outclassed I am in a duel, I do not care. The physical part of the duel is not truly the point of kendo.

Before one puts on one's helmet, there's a cloth called a tenugui that you have to wrap round your head, to absorb the sweat and some of the shock of getting hit over the head with a shinai. On it is written a little slogan expressing some key concept of kendo, like 無心 (mushin - empty heart/mind), 不動心 (fudoushin - the unmoving heart/mind), the Heart Sutra or some such. One of the things that drew me to kendo was a popular phrase that turns up quite often on tenugui, and adorns my first one: 交剣知愛. Ko ken chi ai. Roughly translated, it comes out as "Cross swords, know love".

Well, these are the ramblings of a 5th kyu kendoka who thinks too much. It takes at least 10,000 strokes of the shinai to build up the technique necessary to be worthy of wearing armour. I cannot begin to guess how many thousands more I must give and recieve before I can say I'm shodan, let alone how many more before I bear 2 swords into kata practice. I expect when I do, I'll come back to these words after a class, beer in hand and have a good laugh.

Kung fu movie audition epic fails

2009-08-20T13:10:00.005+08:00

Yep... Continuing in the same vein, here's the Worst Fight Scene Ever as claimed on Youtube:

I never did like Captain Kirk. Anyway, what in blazes is the point of fighting something you can escape from by walking briskly?

Gotta blog, gotta blog, gotta blog!

2009-08-18T05:17:00.002+08:00

Right, it's been WAY too long since I've been here. No, I've no excuse. I've been banging away at my book, eating moar information, getting murdered by overenthusiastic Japanese swordsmen at kendo, butlering for my 2 kitties and playing far more Poxnora* than I'd care to admit, but really, I know I had time to blog, and I blatantly didn't. I am a bad person. For what it's worth, during this time, the short little posts that would usually be classified as 'fun stuff' have all ended up on my Facebook wall.

Anyway, I was thinking about a few things lately, and I'll bung a couple notes here to come back to later. Yes, I know, ardent followers of this blog (both of you) will know that when I say I'll come back to something later, "later" can mean any time between 3 days and the End of Time. But bear with me, there's lotsa stuff here, and I'll get back to some of it at some point.

Susan Blackmore's Conversations on Consciousness, pg 157, paragraph 4, Thomas Metzinger wonders: "Can science offer anything... to keep mass societies coherent after all these metaphysical ideas (in God or psychoanalysis or other substitute religions like that) have vanished, not only in professional philosophers and scientists, but in ordinary people as well?" On the front of fecundity, science, that is, the empirical mindset, has always been memetically weak seeing as it often flies in the face of instinct and takes a considerable amount of mental effort and discipline, not to mention honesty to wield. This level of intellectual prowess is not something that is accessible to the vast majority of humanity, hence the place that convenient myths (i.e. God) occupy in their minds. How can science realistically fill the gap? This leads me to my next horrible little demon haunting me...

The Malthusian nightmare is inevitable. Humans will eventually breed too much to the point that scarcity becomes enough of an issue for major global conflict to erupt. As things are, humans consume more than is sustainable. This wouldn't be so much of a problem, were it not for certain things that make the problem intractable, such as:-

Population:- Seriously, every other issue humans face is secondary to this one. If humans do not reach a stable equilibrium with our environment and our numbers, and hence consumption, continue to grow, we are fuct.

Capitalism:- This isn't so much a problem in and of itself, but what it does, is magnify the effects of everything we do. Between banks, fractional reserve systems and derivatives, insane amounts of money are created out of nothing, yet drive tremendous numbers of people to consume more.

Ignorance:- If I recall correctly, it was Marcus Aurelius who said "It is good to frequently consider the connectedness of all things" or words to that effect. Can't be arsed to look it up right now. The thing is, people don't. No really, they don't. Who the hell looks at an iPhone and considers for one moment what it really takes to manufacture such a device? The oil extracted to produce the polymers of its casing? The various mines dotting the globe digging up the rare metals forming the cunning alloys in the circuitry? The resources spent training the engineers who designed such a piece of technological wizardry? I confess, I never really thought much about it either, until I saw something on BBC News about this student who undertook a project to built a toaster from scratch, starting with going up to a British mine and asking for some iron ore. I'm not sure if he successfully built said toaster, but it made me think long and hard about just how far our desire for stylish and clever gadgetry reaches.

I was sitting in a traffic jam while it rained today. It had been hazy for some weeks (thanks a lot, Indonesia) and I was thinking how someone with a more poetic soul than mine might anthropomorophize the whole affair and say something about the rain washing away the dirt and grime of KL, cleansing, purifying, coming down ever so hard because the filth runs so very, very deep in Malaysia. Then somewhere in my head, a switch flicked on, and this world fell apart, replaced by one in which the rain simply was. It was the direct result of the confluence of temperature, humidity and air pressure, precipitation forming massive tropical raindrops from the vapour of some distant ocean or other, maybe some of it from the Straits of Malacca, probably beyond, gathered here in the rain shadow of the mountain range making up the spine of Peninsular Malaysia. It comes and falls without a will or intent, but simply because that is what it does. It is one of innumerable unwavering parts of the beautiful machine that is the universe, as am I, sitting in my car, watching the rain.

Anyway, there you have it, a wee handful of the stuff infesting my brain and scrawled in various languages on my notebooks. Pen and paper, mind you. I refer to the doohickey I type on as a laptop and the paper things I scribble on as notebooks. Tsk. I just read through this post again and now I don't know how to classify it. So I won't. More to come later, hopefully a bit more organized.

* But I still suck...

Remind me, why do Malaysians pay taxes?

2009-07-31T11:03:00.005+08:00

From a poll for the week ending 28 July 2009 on the news portal of M'sia's Ministry of the Interior, translated by yours truly*:

*Translation starts*
In Malaysia's current landscape, do you feel:
Safe? - 1%
Unsafe? - 97%
Not sure - 2%

Why?
News reports on criminal activity - 36%
You/Someone related to you has been a victim of crime - 63%
Not sure - 1%

What is the level of safety of the Malaysian people**?
Assured - 3%
Not assured - 95%
Not sure - 2%

The government has taken all measures necessary to ensure the safety of the Malaysian people.
Agree - 2%
Disagree - 94%
Not sure - 4%

Crime is a global phenomenon and not a serious issue unique to Malaysia.
Agree - 18%
Disagree - 78%
Not sure - 4%
*Translation ends*

Naturally, these abyssmally dire results will be roundly ignored by said Ministry, for reasons all too familiar to the jaded Malaysians who, like myself, have long since given up on local newspapers...

* And therefore would be very grateful to anyone who can help me pick out any errors in my translation.

** I'm not sure what's the point of this question, seeing that it's nigh identical to the first. Just translating what I see here.

Eat meat?

2009-07-29T09:35:00.010+08:00

Sometime last year, I posted a question on Yahoo! Answers, re: Would you kill for your own meat? The occasional (and with Yahoo! Answers, inevitable) drooling, slack-jawed idiot answer aside, quite a few answered no, mostly because they were too squeamish to deal the killing blow with a boltgun or whatever. I ask this question a lot (not to vegetarians, obviously) in person, too, and usually meet with a negative response.

Not to mince words about it, I think that's terribly hypocritical. That having been said, I also think it's a very easy trap to fall into, given how far removed the fresh, clean, happy little packets and cans of meat we see in the supermarket are from the bloody horror of the abbatoir. When you eat meat, you take life. There's no two ways about it. Life is a valuable thing (particularly to the entity from whom you are taking it), and I do think it's important for people to realize just what they're buying into when they bite into a ham sandwich or fried chicken or some such. Most will easily understand the price tag one puts on a brattwurst, but far too few really think to draw the connections between calf to cow to lowing, screaming, wide-eyed, twitching, dying beast drowning in its own blood to hamburger.

But, it's unrealistic to expect everyone to go up to an animal and kill it themselves. One of these days, I do hope to go to a farm and really understand with these two hands what it really means to kill to eat, but I'm not so sure how feasible it is to demand this of every meat-eating city-dweller. So I was quite pleased to stumble into Earthlings*. More details on Wikipedia. If you're not vegetarian, I very strongly recommend watching this. In fact, I insist. And don't avert your eyes - you don't have that right.

There were, I felt, a couple of blatantly cheap attempts at yanking on the heart strings. I suppose it would be kinder to say that it was a bit melodramatic at times, but appeals to emotion on matters of any importance strike me as annoying more than anything else. Still, the actual video footage was more than a bit harrowing, and a sharp reminder of how, in the name of profit, humans will sink to such depths. And though I disagreed and doubted (particularly on the veracity of the numbers and the reliability of their sources), the Earthlings experience did have me thinking.

Naturally, while watching Earthlings, I automatically looked at how I live my life in relation to how I impact animals. So here's my thoughts on Earthlings, subject-by-subject:

Pets- My 2 cats are adopted, spayed/neutered and from all outward appearances, have bamboozled me into being their butler, these very words being typed as Haruka slinks across the table, running her stubby little tail under my nose.

Truth be told, I do not consider strays to be an actual, looming, economic threat in and of itself, but a symptom of a deeper, more insidious malaise in modern urban society, namely how little each of us gives a shit about the world around us.

Food- I'm Malaysian Chinese and have therefore consumed an absurd amount of chicken and pork, though I generally loathe having steak of any kind. Nevertheless, I felt a bit guilty having always been aware about battery farms, though not quite so aware about the horrors of pig farming. Just knowing this, the movie Babe seems like a sick joke. As such, I shall endeavour to cut down on meat. And continue to discourage those I know from the consumption of shark's fin soup.

What I was left wondering, however, is this: What kind of person would I become if I was the one handling the boltgun/knife every day? It's very easy to look at these butchers and think ill of them, completely ignoring the situational forces that shape human personalities. So I think it's worth wondering what it would be like to be in their blood-soaked wellies, slitting throats, sidestepping fountains of blood, ears filled with the screams of the dying, nostrils clogged with the stench of death and fear, day in, day out...

My readings into the ideals of Bushido tell me, time and again, that to take life is a very serious matter indeed. Such high ideals seem to ring so very hollow in the face of the gory realities of the modern abbatoir. If animals are to die to feed us, I want it to happen with the least suffering possible. I want them to have a life of blithe contentment before death takes them, swiftly and without warning, with surgical precision. And as we see in Earthlings, what I want is very far removed from the realities forced upon the modern farm by simple economics. To produce more meat at the lowest prices, this is what it has come to. Would you be the one to buy meat at, say, triple the price, knowing it came from a happier cow? And even if you did, what stops corruption from setting in and having you pay higher prices for the same old meat with a different label? What a hole we have managed to dig for ourselves...

Clothing- I have 1 Fossil wallet, which has served me since December 1999. And some of the bits which hold my bamboo blades together are thick leather. Oh, and belt and shoes. Other than that, I've never considered wearing bits of animal about my person, other than woolly sweaters, which saved my hide in the bitter winters of China and Germany.

While the footing was quite shocking (particularly the Chinese fur farm) one is left wondering about the scale of the problem, that is, what I want to know is whether this activity is causing large-scale damage to ecosystems.

Entertainment- I totally consider bullfighting to be unnecessarily barbaric, and do confess to feeling a little glow of schadenfreude** on seeing the bull put one over the men in tights.

Research- Now on this part, I think Earthlings drifts into the realm of the naive. For instance, if, say, I wanted to test a facial soap for whether its irritating to the eye, is not the quickest way to determine whether this is so to squirt some into a living eye? Now, I really don't think all that many research labs have the benefit of enlisting the services of Johnny Knoxville or Steve O and gang, so when there's no way round testing on living tissue, what do you do? Make full use of criminals on death row? Are there not guidelines regarding the use of animals in research? Research grants are not provided to abuse animals on a whim!

In any case, I think the whole business of attacking animal testing is mixing up cause and effect. The long and short of it is, this section of the documentary did not have any impact on me whatsoever because it failed to cite any relevant numbers thus obfuscating the actual scale of the problem.

Now, the reason scale is particularly important with research is because use of animals in food, clothing and as pets is so ubiquitous that it's quite obvious that even small changes in attitudes will have tremendous effects on society in general. Entertainment isn't quite as common but reflective of base, ugly barbarity in the human animal, i.e. deep, dark desires to watch terrible violence inflicted on others or to lord our supremacy over others, whatever form it may take.

Research, on the other hand, is a cold, calculating affair. It is not carried out to satisfy any desires other than the desire for knowledge. Even if it was, rare indeed is the scientist who can afford to ask for grants to dismantle animals simply because he likes the noises they make when their heads explode. It seems to me that the focus would be better placed on the market forces driving the research, i.e. what is the research for? Cosmetics? Weapons? Genetics? Psychology? Neuroscience? Furthermore, to say that research on animals "tells us about animals, not humans" is a painfully ignorant statement worthy of that tiresome Word Salad-monger, Sarah Palin, who famously pooh-poohed research on fruit flies. Suffice to say, this knocked the credibility of this documentary down a few notches.

In sum, Earthlings struck me as a sharp and harsh and absolutely necessary reminder of one aspect of what it is we build the comforts of modern living on. I say one aspect, because, really, there are many, many other ways we exploit our environment or even other nations (human, of course) to feed the machine of capitalism. To what extent the issues raised in Earthlings are a problem to humanity is left fuzzy, thanks to a near total lack of numbers and statistics to bring things into perspective. However, even with the purely qualitative treament given by Earthlings, it is clear that humans as a species are trotting obliviously towards their own destruction. The manner in which we ravage the planet and the natives makes it blatantly obvious that we are a very, very long way indeed from achieving a stable equilibrium with Earth.

* 95 minutes long. I really don't recommend eating while watching this. Have a cup of tea.

** I fucking love that word. I shouldn't. But I do.

Epic classic comedy gold

2009-07-28T17:26:00.003+08:00

A while ago I put this video on my blog:

Little did I know this routine was lifted off a skit by Abbott and Costello in 1945:

Funnily enough, I was led to this video when I looked up Abbott and Costello after Youtube recommended this to me:

Ah, I love teh internets...

Who's to blame for the economic crisis? You fucking are!

2009-07-25T00:01:00.003+08:00

But it's okay, coz here's a girl with a plan:

Actually, to be honest, I had to stop about halfway through before my ears started to bleed.

Anyways, apologies to regular readers, I've been terribly slack with the blog. Not for lack of effort, mind you, I've about a dozen works in progress among the unpublished posts, and a book to write (slow and steady. Extracts will turn up here, sooner or later) and a Japanese diary, among other things. Will try and catch up later, 'onest guv'nor.

In other news, here's another childhood hero ruined by teh internets, courtesy of Gizmodo.

A worthwhile reminder

2009-07-15T13:26:00.002+08:00

For those who think they think...

Hmm...

2009-07-14T12:05:00.001+08:00

Considering I've had them both neutered/spayed, I'm not really surprised...

w00t! 5th kyu!

2009-07-13T10:00:00.002+08:00

I just had my kendo grading over the weekend and hauled my raggedy ass up from 7th kyu to 5th. If I keep this up, I may have a shot at the dearly coveted Shodan somewhere around the end of next year.

I like Shodan. I like the sound of the word. There's something about it that strikes me as tremendously cool and sexy. Like how with depictions of the military in pop culture, certain ranks have an image associated with them. Sergeants are ruff and tuff and gritty. Captains are daring, dashing and debonaire. Majors (or was it Colonels?) are gruff and stuffy. That kind of thing.

Or maybe I just like the sound of Shodan because I played System Shock 2:

A little about my taste in anime

2009-07-08T21:59:00.004+08:00

On the recommendation of my Jap classmates (who are mostly female) I was shoved in the general direction of Natsume Yuujinchou (lit: Natsume's List of Friends):

Happily watched the first season of 13 episodes, mainly because I love cats. But somewhere around the middle of the 2nd season, I noticed Natsume Yuujinchou was leaving a horrible taste in my mouth, like I'd been gorging on candy floss and another episode of Natsume Yuujinchou would be all it takes to induce projectile vomit in all the happy pastel colours of the rainbow. As such, I needed to balance this saccharine silliness out, and gravitated towards this:

Have started reading the manga, too. And now I know how to say cerebral thrombosis in Jap. Noukessenshou. I really wonder if I should take this as a sign to lighten up...

I've decided I love WoW

2009-07-03T20:53:00.003+08:00

Well, not that I actually play it or anything. I just derive a certain perverse pleasure from witnessing the fallout, collected here for your viewing pleasure. Watch, listen and be happy that you are not any of these people.

Warning: This one's sound is a bit loud.

This one looks a bit fake to me:

Saved the best for last. With over 4.6 million views, perhaps a dozen or so remixes, hundreds of responses and bugger knows how many parodies, this guy is definitely a meme.

No, I've no idea what's the deal with the remote at 1:10.

ARE YOU... THE BRAAAIIIN SPECIALIST???

2009-07-02T16:38:00.005+08:00

I'm currently reading Susan Blackmore's Conversations on Consciousness and I have to admit, it's pretty heavy for me, by which I mean I do have to concentrate a bit when reading it. The thing is, every so often, I suffer a wee lapse in my concentration (which is bloody unbecoming for a kendoka) and somewhere in me, my inner nutter bellows in the voice of D P Gumby: MY BRAIN HURTS!!!!

If there is a Heaven...

2009-07-01T02:20:00.000+08:00

... for book-hungry infidels like me, then these places would do nicely:

Do check out the rest of them here. I swear, I had goosebumps browsing through these...

A minor gripe about Transformers...

2009-06-30T17:27:00.004+08:00

Here's something that only just hit me after reading the Arcee result on somebody's Facebook quiz (I ended up as Jetfire on the same quiz.):

What in blazes is the point of a female Transformer?

If the only way to make new bots is that Allspark doohickey, then why do the Transformers even need sexes? Of course, they don't. At least not for any reason more compelling than that untouchable axiom of the entertainment world: Sex sells. And the prospect of nice hips, a sexy/cute/sultry/FEMALE voice and boobs makes the target market that tiny bit bigger, even if it's on a fictional robot.
I don't know. I haven't watched the 2nd movie yet, so maybe there's some cute explanation for Arcee's femininity that's halfway plausible. Given the nature of the movie, I doubt it. Having grown up on Transformers, I do wonder why this line of thought never occured to me sooner.

On a related note, based on what I'm seeing the Japs and the Koreans get up to, especially the Japs, I'd put money on commercially available robot prostitutes hitting the market in less than ten years. As it is, Sega's gonna start selling wee curvaceous bot s that kiss you later this year.Don't bother getting silly ideas. She's only about 38cm tall. ;-)

Where in blazes did I put that Joker?

2009-06-29T11:24:00.004+08:00

Regulars to this blog may remember I once put up a picture I found on Break (or was it Something Awful) of this absurdly detailed Etch-a-Sketch drawing of Heath Ledger's Joker. I haven't the damndest idea where I left it, but anyways, I found better. Check this out:

Found this and a few more here. Apparently, each takes about 70-80 hours and can command prices of up to USD10k. The artist's website is here. Go see!

Ever wondered what the inside of a baseball looks like?

2009-06-25T07:58:00.003+08:00

And now you know. I'm not sure if I've posted this guy on this blog before, and I can't be bothered to check, so here's an earlier video showing his ungodly amazing skillz on vegetables and a BB:

By the way, if you watched the 2nd vid all the way to the end, you might have caught them talking about the next challenge: Cutting through steel plate. If anyone could tell me where I can find that, I'd be much obliged.

Baby trouble?

2009-06-22T10:38:00.002+08:00

This may help:And on a completely unrelated note (coz it just happened to be in the same Break gallery), you know Earth is fuct when Captain Planet's been letting himself go:

Ew.

Ippon vs Life in Malaysia

2009-06-21T09:43:00.004+08:00

In case I hadn't mentioned it before, I love kendo. I haven't really been at it very long, and at the time of writing bear the grade 7th kyu, that is, the minimum required to wear armour. That will, hopefully, change soon, seeing as my next grading is on 11 July. I wouldn't say I'm qualified to speak with any authority on the technical points of kendo, but I'd like to record a little something I've noticed, as a Malaysian doing kendo.

The world seems more real from inside that armour.

A little background is needed here, I think. I am part of generation whose creativity and passion has been crippled forever by the hamfisted mucking about of Malaysia's Ministry of Education. For decades, the meaning of 'education' was utterly lost, reduced to nothing more than having children jump through meaningless hoops for decades of their lives. The subjects being taught became pale shadows of what they were really about, mere collections of bullet points to be swallowed, regurgitated and forgotten.

Today's Malaysia is the inevitable product of such wasted youth. A nation driven by nothing more than consumerism. Ideals have faded into saccharine platitudes. Culture is dictated by MTV, Channel [V] and the criminally insipid Hong Kong entertainment industry. Language on all fronts has decayed into the vulgar mash that is Manglish, the subject of much misplaced pride and yet another contributing factor to the miasma of anti-intellectualism that grips the nation. Am I exaggerating? Answer me this: When was the last time you saw someone reading on the train in KL? And then ask yourself: When was the last time you saw some Malaysian Chinese person dismiss something they couldn't understand (because it wasn't shoehorned into Manglish) with "Mm chee kui ngup mut"?

I'm a dyed in the wool empiricist. I'm the kind of person whom you'd say "Good morning" to, who'd look up at the overcast sky and retort, "Is it really?" I live every moment constantly making sure I'm doing my utmost to cut through bullshit and grasp the reality of the world I perceive. Being in Malaysia means I've a *lot* of bullshit to cut through.

Now contrast this with kendo. Specifically, duelling in kendo, i.e. shiai. I think there's a certain austere beauty to it, everything you've ever known in your life, shrinking down to the immediate reality of your situation, that every fibre of your being is now focused on the task of scoring the killing blow, ippon, on this one opponent in front of you. There is no conversation to be had, no words that need to be spoken except for the occassional ear-splitting kiai to break your opponent's spirit. There is no luck. Whoever scores is, for that brief moment, the superior swordsman, and that's that. Luck is merely a polite way to downplay the truth of the matter: "I was better than you."

But this is kendo. Bamboo blades and heavy armour make sure we survive each encounter practically unscathed, no matter how viciously we throw ourselves at each other. We bow, we reflect, we learn. Perhaps in the near future we will fight again and see who is worthy of ippon. Ippon is everything. It is the culmination of your countless hours of harsh training. It can only be bought with the one true currency of life - sweat, blood and tears. Who you were and who you will be fade into the distance in the face of ippon, because all that matters, there and then, is who you are and the answer to the question: Are you good enough to take ippon?

And there we have wee slice of my understanding of kendo. I expect in the future, when I've climbed up a few more ranks, I'll come back to this post and think on how I have or haven't changed. For now, I've a shinai that needs repairing before the next class, and maybe, the next ippon.

It's all relative...

2009-06-18T06:20:00.004+08:00

Britain's Daily Mail ran a story on this Belgian lass who, following a misunderstanding at a tattoo parlour, ended up with 56 wee stars on her face:

Apparently, she tried to tell the guy, a Romanian, she only wanted 3 little ones, under her left eye. She fell asleep during the procedure, the artist just kept going and when she woke up, shock, shock, horror, horror. Naturally, the words "scarred for life" popped up and she's trying to sue the guy. And I thought the constellation adorning half her face was pretty fearsome, too, up until I saw a pic of the tattoo artist himself:

Yep. Now 56 stars doesn't quite look all that bad, eh? I for one find it difficult to believe that one could possibly fall asleep when someone's etching designs into your face with a sharp, noisy object, but then again, I've never been tattoo'd before, so what would I know, eh? To his credit, the tattoo artist has offered to pay to have half those stars zapped away by lasers.

Links, links, links...

2009-06-17T01:19:00.006+08:00

Why have humans domesticated cats? Dogs do lotsa work and are easy enough to train (or so I'm told) but cats do nothing constructive whatsoever. Granted, they're great fun to play with, and waking up to find a purring cat leaning against you (hopefully not in your face) is a nice start to a day, but seriously, they've got our species duped, haven't they? Here's Scientific American on the issue.

One of my favourite books of all time is Guns, Germs and Steel, it being the most interesting summary of human history I've ever read, minus the fiddling about with dates, politics and nations, and just telling the story of the human race as just another interesting animal on our big, blue planet. Since reading that book, and a few others, Jared Diamond has been one of my favourite authors of all time. So I was a bit dismayed to find out about his article in the New Yorker being mostly fiction, and in breach of journalistic and anthropological standards. As such, he is presently in deep shit, and I'm not quite sure what to think of his books. :-(

On a related note, shortly after I'd read Guns, Germs and Steel, I despaired, because everything seemed to point towards a future in which humanity blithely bumbled into the Malthusian nightmare. I have since learned that though this may be true, there's no point in living in perpetual dread, because life's simply too short for that. Still, it's good to be reminded of what's coming every so often. Maybe the right people might actually do something about it.

I've suspected the existence of linguistic relativism to some small extent long before I'd read about the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis. As yet, I'm not convinced that any given language really determines cognition as much as reinforces the cultural norms in which said language developed. In any case, one thing that far too many Malaysians simply don't get is the sheer importance of achieving an adequate level of proficiency in a language, and the vulgarity of their command in any language they come into contact with shows in every aspect of their being. Here's an article from the Edge which gathers together much of what I've encountered in Kovecses' Language, Mind and Culture, and more.

Lastly, wanna know why Japan isn't taking a more active role in nipping North Korea's nuclear arsenal in the bud? Here's why:

That's right. When the going gets tough, the Gundam comes out to pop a can of whupass on you. More pics here.

Right, time to give those useless cats a bath. Seriously, sometimes I wonder just who owns who...

I would totally buy a wind-up walking stick...

2009-06-13T22:12:00.002+08:00

... IF and only if I could be absolutely sure that every penny went to Trevor Baylis:

And soon to DR Trevor Baylis! There just aren't enough charming old English gentlemen in this world...

Wanna be a Laird?

2009-06-09T23:56:00.004+08:00

Means Lord or Lady, apparently. I'm quite serious. For the paltry sum of GBP30, you, too, can be a Laird of Glencairn. By which they mean 1 square foot of dirt in the Scottish Highlands that no human eye would ever see were it not for Google Earth. Thanks to www.iwantoneofthose.com for that. Anyway, what really struck about this silly offer was this fantastic bit of feedback which was just too good not to share:

Dear Sirs, I recently purchased a Laird of Glencairn gift box for my husband and wish to complain. This gift came with no health warning, such as "This gift can seriously damage your mental health and if affected this does not mean you can drive a tractor. It may also impair your ability to maintain a healthy marriage" Since receiving his gift my husband has become seriously deranged, requiring myself and our sons to address him only as Laird and will respond only if spoken to in a scottish accent. He has also taken to wearing a kilt (in the traditional way) which is unfortunate as he is a window cleaner. We have been granted some respite as he is presently sectioned for an unfortunate accident where his sporran became entangled in a venetian blind. He is keeping himself occupied by building a miniature caravan out of scone crumbs to site on his plot of land. We are unsure when he will be released as he is refusing treatment unless he can be seen by DR. Finlay. The upside is, I am planning a convalescence trip for him to his country retreat for a bit of camping and fishing in the glorious scottish air and am presently trying to convince him that we will not be able to tow his caravan. On a thrifty note for our scottish brethren, the tin makes a lovely container for scones and I have used the tartan wrapping to line a drawer.

Denise Foreshaw, Liverpool

Akakkubi Ryu Kenjutsu*?! Is nothing sacred?!

2009-06-08T16:45:00.009+08:00

Rhetorical question, of course. I, and no doubt many other jaded infidels around the world, am perfectly aware that the very concept of 'sacred' is just another convenient human delusion. But I do love martial arts and am especially partial to anything to do with kendo, i.e. anything to do with the arts of Japanese swordsmanship.

I love the history and culture behind the sword, the atmosphere of the dojo, the practical wisdom bought in countless duels and battlefields, the rush of crossing swords with strong opponents... And I love the fact that a Japanese dojo is a bastion of quiet**, graceful, secular spirituality in an increasingly stupid world.

As such, I do sympathize with the Japanese masters when they lament the corruption of their fighting arts as they spread overseas. Those who have observed the tides of cultural evolution will shrug and say that this is an inevitability, like the spawning of well over 300 styles of kung fu (wushu? Never was too clear on that point...) in China, some of which, to be brutally honest, have as much practical use as a knife made out of yoghurt. The fighting arts, and the accompanying code of ethics, become warped into new forms as they are passed from one person to the next. Without the crucible of combat to separate the chaff from the wheat, even the most freakishly absurd mutations of the original forms are allowed to survive, when ordinarily they shouldn't.

The days of storming dojos and bellowing challenges to rival masters are long gone, but the Japanese obsession with doing things properly (aizuchi) ensures the general purity and integrity of their martial arts and the accompanying philosophy. However, it seems that outside of Japan, karate has turned into something else. Once upon a time, kata was an austere, physically demanding form of moving meditation, a way to polish up technique and concentration.

Seems to me that in certain quarters, the focus has shifted somewhat:

Frankly, I'm not sure if this is karate. Wearing the pyjamas and the belt does not make the karateka. I enjoy seeing good tricks and hats off to them for such displays of skill, strength and agility and all but, I'm not sure this is karate.

Call me naive, but I came to the conclusion years ago that the only reason of merit to learn how to fight is so one never has to fight. In the arduous journey of learning the rigours of combat, one should come to understand that fighting is not a real solution to this world's problems, and that the very worst adversary you will ever face, the one who will defeat you before you've even raised a fist or sword, the one who will hound you, mock you, poison your mind, cripple you with doubt, whither you with apathy, tear at you constantly until your dying day is yourself.

I find many Eastern martial arts take great pains to teach this harsh and valuable lesson, hence I do feel a wee twinge of irritation at the sight of a McDojo. Even more so when said McDojo doesn't even bother making any effort towards authenticity, as evidenced by some so-called "karateka" who cannot even pronounce 'katana' or 'bokken' presuming to teach how to use a katana, which for some odd reason is missing it's tsuba (hand guard).

This charming practitioner of the ancient art of posing with a sword not only tries to pass off his antics as a genuine martial art, but does so in the name of a certain Jewish zombie king. It's also more than a bit telling that he doesn't even know the difference between a bokken and a shinai. For those of you who don't already know this, observe. This is a shinai (lit: Bamboo blade):

And these are bokken*** (Lit: Wooden sword):

Apparently, his school is called 'Yeshuas Ryu Karate'. The age old theist pastime of lying for [insert messiah of choice here] opens a new front. I think I'd rather stick to my name for it - Akakkubi Ryu Karate. If nothing else, at least the name is honest and gives a true and fair indication of exactly what these people are about.

Oh, and as an added slap in the face for people like me, Redneck-san up there has a whole series of videos all on Expert Village. Suffice it to say, I no longer trust a damn word from Expert Village.

Tres Tew, ah facepalm at yew...

* Literally:- Redneck Style Sword Technique. No that's not what they call themselves, I just made that one up. I think it kinda fits.

** Not literally, of course...

*** I got the white one for my birthday. Isn't it pretty? ^-^

Fun questions to ask Wolfram Alpha

2009-06-07T23:43:00.008+08:00

If you haven't tried out Stephen Wolfram's delightfully clever answer engine yet, do so now. This cunning website tries to go one better than Google (!) by answering your questions, whatever they are, and laying it out systematically for you, with sources cited and/or calculations done step by step. Have a peep at the answers gallery to get an idea of what you can ask. As the name suggests, it's still something of a work in progress, so it still gets a bit lost sometimes. For instance, you can't ask it how to make a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, and it most certainly won't give you a recipe for Wow-Wow Sauce.

Fun questions with snappy answers:

- Are you Skynet?

- What is the meaning of life, the universe and everything?

- Open the pod bay doors.

- To be or not to be?

- Who are you?

- Who am I?

- Who made you?

- Are you self-aware?

And of course...

- What is your name?

- What is your quest?

- What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen African swallow?

Try it. Have fun. If this thing takes off, coursework's gonna get a lot easier...

Update [9/6/09] - Some more, from Gizmodo:

- I love you.

- How many roads must a man walk down?

- Hello?

- Hello. How are you?

- I hate you.

- Are you a computer?

- Where are you?

- Hello world.

- How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?

Cheng hates ties

2009-05-30T18:57:00.004+08:00

Warning: Rant follows.

I've been a salaryman (I suppose gweilos would be more familiar with the term 'white collar warrior') for 3 years, all of it in Malaysia, and every day of it, a little voice in the back of my head did speak to me. His name is Doubt. He is the best friend and worst enemy to every empiricist, and one of the first things he said to me when I started work in Cubicle Land was this:

Cheng, why the fuck are you wearing that tie?

Malaysia, in case you didn't know, is hot. Absurdly so. It is hot and humid, and even more so in Kuala Lumpur. By day, the temperature does not drop below 30C. By night, anything less than 20C is practically an Act of God*. It is a land of glass, steel, concrete, sweltering heat, torrential rain, rabid greenery, plague-bearing mosquitoes, diabolically unhygienic (but tasty!) food, monster cockroaches, the most tasteless Chinese diaspora on the planet**, and for some odd reason, the local white collar community seems to think that the necktie should be part of the "proper" dress code.

"But," the sane among us will protest, "It's really, really hot here!"

"No problem!" retort the fat cats, "We'll simply turn up the air conditioning until every indoor space is cool enough for ties and blazers to be worn!"

You. Fucking. Cunts.

Epic double facepalm fail does not begin to capture the idiocy of Malaysia's white collar class in wasting obscene amounts of electricity in cooling office buildings so that ludicrously overdressed cubicle jockeys and their feckless bosses can sit in comfort, admiring their silk ties.

Just what is the point of the necktie? And in asking this question, I ask it from the point of view of someone living in the boiling tropical hell that is Malaysia. Does it look good? Is it pleasurable to have something wrapped round your neck when it's hard enough to breathe KL air as it is? Is it some sort of phallic symbol? "My tie is more expensive than your tie, hahaha"? Is there a certain masochistic appeal to having to fish the wretched thing out of your coffee or your soup? Does it provide protection from the strangling fingers of disgruntled*** employees?

I will concede that, in more temperate climes, it does actually look pretty ok, and some people can pull it off pretty well:

But seriously, wearing a necktie in Malaysia is just stupid, and wasting energy cooling buildings so that shallow minded idiots can dress themselves up in the height of Western/East Asian fashion, made for climates at least 10-25C colder, is astronomically so. It's at least as stupid as people calling themselves "pro-life" and going to church to shoot a doctor. Maybe even more so, because that adds up to a LOT of energy that could be put to better use for reasons far more noble than mere vanity.

How much energy, exactly? Ooh, there's question I'd like to see answered. Not by the Malaysian community on Yahoo! Answers, obviously, coz damn, they're inept, inane, inarticulate, insipid and a complete fucking waste of time.

Hmm. Done ranting. Happy kitty sleeping on my mouse is stealin' mah rage...

* Ahahaha... Did I take someone's name in vain?

** Go ahead. Go to Sungei Wang Plaza and try to prove me wrong.

*** I love how the word 'disgruntled' has shifted in meaning from "slightly miffed" to "homicidal apeshit mad".

The Tottenham Ayatollah's daughter

2009-05-29T11:28:00.005+08:00

Those who have read any significant portion of this blog will know that I do love a good laugh at the expense of religion. Alas, for the most part, it is a bitter laughter, the kind that blurts forth when you see the cancerous tumour in your head has formed an amusing shape. This is because there is really no quick cure for religion at the level of society as a whole, such is the seductive power of mass, organized stupidity. So one laughs, and draws what little pleasure one can from the screeching, howling, gibbering abyss that religion has plunged so many otherwise sane people into.

Take this asshole. An embodiment of intolerance, an avatar of blind, foaming, raging hatred, one of the ugliest faces of modern Islam, it's hard to see how one can derive any form of laughter from his existence. Now take his daugher:

Hell, I just have to laugh at the fact that Omar Bakri Mohammed is the reason for the kinkiest picture ever to grace this blog. Apparently she's a pole dancer. And daddy paid for those kahunas. More details here, and never to be outdone in the publicization of the tasteless and sordid, New of the World has tales of her sex life.

Ah, sweet irony...

What's 'Samaritan' in Chinese?

2009-05-25T11:48:00.003+08:00

Babelfish churns out "撒马利亚人", which is possibly the ugliest translation I've seen since reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in Mandarin*. Anyway, the reason I bring this up is this wee article. In all honesty, I kinda side with Mr Lai.

* Word of advice: Don't. It's actually physically painful to read, and doubly so if you've read it in English before.

Ah, Wikipedia...

2009-05-23T22:19:00.004+08:00

Funnily enough, I didn't know what GOP stood for until recently, when, of course, I looked it up on Wikipedia. To me GOP had the look of an acronym that would stand for a lot of other things besides Grand Old Party, so I took a peek. And smirked...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Global_Orgasm_for_Peace

Ah, well, it's a good enough cause...

Not amused this time, Mr Clarkson...

2009-05-20T12:09:00.007+08:00

I was reading Jeremy Clarkson's thoughts on science and, as distasteful as I find them, I am forced to acknowledge that how he feels about science is not far off from the general public (mis)conception of science, which boils down to a woeful inability to answer these two questions:

What is science?

and

Why is science important?

I have devoted much of my readings in this life towards understanding the sciences, so the answers to such questions have been a part of me for a very long time. To be brutally honest, I cannot help but feel a twinge of anger at those with no understanding of such questions, and smugly blow them off with those most loathsome words: "Ignorance is bliss". I have vented most furiously on this blog at such people, and more. But then I have to remind myself that such thinking from those versed in the sciences is yet another reason why people get intimidated into the monstrous trap of anti-intellectualism in the first place. Anyway, it's good to reflect every so often on whether I myself have fallen into the trap of blindly adoring science.

So, my answers to the above questions, laid out in the simplest terms I can muster, are as follows:

What is science? - The most common error people (including Mr Clarkson) make regarding this question is mistaking science for technology. Handphones, digital watches, the Porsche Carrera GT and peach defuzzers are technology, though you are free to argue that the Porsche Carrera GT is art. Science, simply put, is the process of gaining knowledge through empirical* means. It is embodied in the scientific method, which is:

Query -Identify the phenomenon that needs explaining.
Hypothesis - Formulate a hypothesis explaining said phenomenon.
Experiment - Devise an experiment to test the hypothesis.
Theory - Based on experimental results, formulate a theory governing the behaviour of said phenomenon. (If you're lucky, clever, or both, your hypothesis at Step 2 won't be far off.)
Testing - Test the theory against the phenomenon.

The thing to bear in mind here is that Step 5 never stops. We keep our eyes and minds open, and if something should crop up proving the theory wrong, the theory must be revised, or even thrown out in it's entirety, making way for new theories to be devised, and perhaps edging a few steps closer to the truth.

Thus, science is a means by which our knowledge of the universe is gained and constantly refined, that is, evolves. Of course, the reality of it isn't quite so perfectly hunky dory, but, as any decent engineer knows, you learn more from your mistakes.

Why is science important? - The answer to this question is twofold.

The first part of the answer is very mundane, but nonetheless extremely important and it is simply that science works. Science, by virtue of it's self-correcting nature, is an unstoppable juggernaught, an ever growing snowball of knowledge. As mentioned above, errors are not an issue, they are a learning opportunity.

The second part of the answer is that science represents an ideal. One might as well ask: Why is truth important? It is the child of humanity's noblest intellectual passions. It is the unflinching, unwavering desire to learn and understand. It is fearlessness in the face of the unknown. It is tearing down the barriers of delusion and reaching out to grasp reality. It is the humility and courage required to admit and learn from your mistakes. It is a shield against the hypocrites, snake-oil salesmen and bullshit-mongers of this world.

Search for and protect truth. Question everything. Hold nothing sacred. And expose falsehood without remorse. It is a powerful, and sometimes harsh, ideal to live up to, and I would be terribly naive to think it to be the reality of the scientific community. Scientists are human, too! But then is that not the point of an ideal? To be a distant star for us to reach for, even though we know we may never attain it? In science we find an ideal with real benefits for humanity. Knowledge. Understanding. These are real. Not childish promises of a blessed afterlife, but let's not drift in that direction.

Anyway, there you have it. My answers to 2 questions which are close to my heart. I should state now that even I don't think science is the be-all and end-all to healthy living, but a small measure of understanding of science** most certainly helps.

Why does kitty always pick this point in my blog posts to forcefully remind me she wants to be stroked?

* The Japanese/Chinese version of this word is actually very descriptive: 経験主義 (Keiken shugi). A literal translation into English yields "experience ideology ".

** Of which, if the Angels & Demons movie is any indication, Dan Brown has none whatsoever.

Fred Flintstone must DIE...

2009-05-19T14:03:00.005+08:00

An interesting conversation popped up recently in which I was made painfully aware that far too many people on this Earth are under the odd impression that humans walked with dinosaurs, like in the Flinstones. This is unacceptable. As such, I have decided it worthwhile to construct a brief timeline of the glorious history of Earth for the benefit of those unclear on the matter.

Chinami ni, sessha wa kinou no kurasu no toukyuusei tachi ni sumimasen to hanashitai. Kinou no setsumei wa zenzen chigau! 'Man' toka, 'sen' toka ni touwaku sareta no de, ano setsumei o mushi shite kudasai*.

Note: In the course of this entry I will use terms like "turn up" or "appear" in relation to species within a stated geological period. In case this is isn't obvious, I state now that this does NOT mean angels/aliens/gods flew down and put them on Earth, like some sick game or some such. I use such terms as shorthand to say that fossil evidence for the stated species has been observed at such-and-such a time. This will make more sense if you have a rudimentary understanding of how evolution works, which was also covered in this blog, a long, long time ago...

The drastically abbreviated history of Earth is as follows:

~4.5 billion years ago - Earth forms. Somewhere between now and the Cambrian period life happens. The proper term for it is abiogenesis, and it's details are still hotly debated. Many theories have been put forth, some are quite plausible, but you can bet your life that it didn't happen in 7 days. In any case early life on Earth spent a long, long time figuring out how to form cells, then multicellular organisms and such.

~600 million years ago - Beginning of Cambrian period, during which life on Earth undergoes a huge increase in biological diversity. Those happy little trilobites turn up. Some time between now and the Triassic (see below), the earliest amphibians start appearing.

~235 million years ago - Beginning of Triassic period, Mesozoic era. Early (small) mammals and reptiles make their appearance.

~205 million years ago - Beginning of Jurassic period. Seriously large reptiles, i.e. dinosaurs claim the top spot on the food chain. Mammals are still small. Contrary to what that fanciful, if a bit misleading movie/book tells you, T Rex did not make his appearance until...

~65 to 68 million years ago - End of Cretaceous period, and hence the Mesozoic era. Sometime around here, there was a mass extinction event, wiping the Earth clean of the dinosaurs, and opening up new oppurtunities for whatever survived (including, obviously, our ancestors). Geological evidence suggests a cataclysmic meteor impact was to blame, and this is presently the most popular theory, though others, equally plausible, exist. Whatever the case may be, life goes on, and now it's the mammals that gain the upper hand, and we start seeing early horses, elephants and a freaky huge sloth. Things continue in this vein until the arrival of the most diabolical freak of nature of them all around...

~3 million years ago - Earliest known signs of the branch of interesting apes that would later become homo sapiens. Kindly note that the gap from here to the last known traces of dinosaurs is so huge that there is no way at all that anything even vaguely resembling a human had ever had any dealings with what we'd know in popular culture as dinosaurs. From there, some other interesting points in human history are...

~2.5 million years ago - Homo habilis, descendant of abovementioned clever monkeys, starts using stone tools.

~1.9 million years ago - Homo erectus, the upright man. Earliest known hunter-gatherer societies form.

~1.3 million years ago - A split occurs, with homo sapiens on one side, and Neanderthals on the other. On both sides we find the earliest known displays of burial rites. Homo sapiens display their proficiency in the art of genocide, wiping out the Neanderthals.

~450 thousand years ago - Humans figure out fire, and every other organism on Earth knows fear...

~13 thousand years ago - End of most recent Ice Age. From this point on, the history of the human race is best captured in Jared Diamond's singularly magnificent book, Guns, Germs and Steel. Or, if you can't be arsed to read it, you can peek at the light version, The Third Chimpanzee.

And that, in a nutshell is where humans are relative to dinosaurs, i.e. far, far away. As always, comments and criticisms are welcome. And this post now ends here, because there is a cat rubbing herself on my face...

* Oi, wakatteiru ka? Wakaranakereba A2 o hontou ni sanka dekiru ka? Nihongo o naraitakunai no ka??? Orokamono! Of course, if you actually did understand all that, I'm especially willing to hear out any corrections to my Japanese. Onegaishimasu!

I am vexed...

2009-05-09T01:15:00.002+08:00

Here I was happily tapping out a great big post about an article on open-mindedness I read in the March/April issue of Skeptical Inquirer, when teh stupid intertoobs decides to misbehave and keep Blogger from saving my post. Okay, no problem, I thought. I'll just keep going until the net's happy again and I'll save then. Well, what did you think would happen? Stupid Firefox done DIED on me is what! Dammit, I was really rather pleased with that post. No, there's NOTHING left. I am vexed.

So here's a video of Brian Cox, giving us an update on the status of the LHC:

Questions about Malay that just hit me...

2009-05-04T08:21:00.004+08:00

Most of my memories of learning the Malay language are not happy ones. Being a victim of the Malaysian education system, which consists almost entirely of rote learning of facts, all doomed to be forgotten not 5 minutes after the obligatory exam, I feel quite justified in saying that. As such, Malay was also another subject simply to be swallowed, held down and regurgitated, and since dragging my hide through one absurd test after another, I never really gave the language much thought*.

In my limited experience, learning a new language when you're older is one of the most interesting and rewarding intellectual exercises imaginable. When you're young, and your mother tongue is happily making a home for itself in your head, language is an instinct, like learning to walk. Through sheer exposure to a language, we, as children, bearing that wonderfully human power of mimicry, consume vast amounts of linguistic information without really having to think about it. During the early years, the formulation of rules of phonetics, phonology, syntax, semantics and pragmatics all quietly cobbled together in our subconscious mind, such that even before entering any kind of formal schooling (for all the bloody good that does) we are quite capable of simple communication, and the framework is set to consume far more information thanks to this language instinct**.

But, as some of us may have found, learning language is a completely different matter once you're older and have passed many years seeing the world through the lens of your mother tongue. There will be new words, grammar, maybe even a completely different system of writing to memorize. There will be any number of little phrases that may well make no sense whatsoever unless viewed in the context of the culture that language evolved in. If you're truly cursed, you'll be trying to learn English, that most monstrous chimera among languages, bastard child of damn near every European culture that ever laid eyes on the white cliffs of Dover.

Taking English as an example, on the face of it, it's a truly awful language to learn, riddled with more inconsistencies in grammar and spelling than you could shake a stick at. But dig past these blemishes and you'll find that to learn a language isn't merely an exercise in scarfing down new words and grammar, it is closely intertwined with the history and culture of the people(s) that spawned it. Every word has a tale to tell, and I for one cannot adequately express how much I've gained from learning Japanese these past few months***.

It's been well over a decade now since Malay was forced down my throat, and it occured to me that it might be worth a second look at, now that I'm old enough to know what it means to love knowledge for the sake of knowledge. So here's some questions about Malay that only recently struck me, in no particular order of importance, and mostly inspired by simple curiousity:

- I just learnt from Wikipe-tan that Malay is presently written in the Latin alphabet in a form known as Rumi. Where does this name come from? Does it have anything to do with the Persian poet of the same name? I'm pretty sure I didn't learn this in school. Why not?

- I hear that Old Malay, that is, the form that was in use about 1,500 years ago, is completely incomprehensible to a speaker of modern Malay or Indonesian. Wouldn't it be a good exercise to take a chunk of text in Old Malay and see the evolution of the language into it's modern form? You know, like seeing the King James Bible slowly degenerating into that Bible for Dummies version, the NIV...

- This question doesn't really have as much to do with Malay as it does with my relationship with Malay and cognitive linguistics. Having not used Malay for many, many years, I am now no longer capable of churning out Malay. Well, not completely, I can still rattle off short little set phrases and one or two commonly used words, but it takes me an absurdly long time to form sentences, to the point that if I were to try and hold a conversation in Malay, I really would appear mentally impaired. However, my ability to understand Malay, both written and spoken, remains almost perfectly intact since the day I last took exams in Malay. What's going on here? Do the bits corresponding to input and output for languages occupy completely different areas of the brain? Having encountered in this life many people who have the opposite inclination, i.e. talk too much, barely listen at all, I'm led to wonder about the link between input and output when it comes to languages.

And that's about all I can think up for now. Will update this list if and when more pertinent questions surface, maybe devote a post or two to answers, if I find them.

*Also, living in KL, one really can get by quite easily without knowing any Malay whatsoever.

** If you haven't already, you must read Steven Pinker's book, The Language Instinct. Your brain will thank you for it.

*** And not just to watch anime without subtitles, honest.

Kirikaeshi is good for you!

2009-05-02T22:15:00.005+08:00

There are times when, in my unrelenting quest to wolf down as much information on as many subjects as I can, I am struck dumb by the enormity of it all, confounded by the sheer complexity of the universe, despairing of ever understanding it and dismayed by the sheer pettiness of Malaysian society at large. During such times, I find myself somewhat daunted, and wonder what there is I could possibly do to stop the slow, relentless decay of society at the claws of the twin meme-viruses of religion and consumerism.

It's in these moments, when I'm paralyzed by doubt, that I find a cure in being hit very hard over the head with a stick. Repeatedly.

N.B:- Neither of these people are me, but I do practise this and more twice a week, and let me tell you, that helmet is not as tough as it looks...

Need a new tenugui...

2009-04-25T11:29:00.003+08:00

Hokay, updates been a little slow lately. Apologies to anyone who actually derives any entertainment from reading my wee corner of teh intertoobs. Been inundating myself in books, Jap studies and kendo* lately, and will continue to do so for a bit longer.

Kendo feels GOOD. Even for those brief instants where I get bopped on the head and the tip of the bamboo blade hits the soft bit of my helmet and makes me see stars. It's like a flash of enlightenment! But seriously, I've gotta keep my damn chin up - I've still got use for those brain cells.

Anyhoo, saw this and thought of Ben Goldacre. I mean, seriously, having the words 'miracle', 'diet' and 'pill' in the headline reeks of cheap sensationalism. Check this out:

"It works by absorbing about 25 per cent of the fat from food, thereby preventing it being turned into extra pounds by the body."

Made by GlaxoSmithKline, too. Big pharma + weight loss miracle pill? I don't like the look of it one bit, and eagerly await Goldacre's eventual unmasking of yet another big pharma attempt to grab quick profits off the gullible masses.

Speaking of Goldacre, do check out his site. One of the chapters of his brilliant book, Bad Science is up for grabs. Not available in the hardback edition, because he was being sued for said chapter at the time. Yep, it's that good. Go grabbit. And be careful what your multivitamin supplements claim...

In other news, here's how to get out of bed, get dressed, have breakfast and get your ass out the door in less than 5 minutes:

There's some damn good tricks there. I like his necktie kung fu. And I'm really going to have to try putting on trousers without using my hands at some point, preferably when no-one's looking.

That's it from me for now. Today's a kendo day, and in a couple of hours, I'll be off to go shout very loudly and hit people with sticks, hurrah!

* And broken my first sword for the year...

Here's 2,000 Euros. **** my wife, please.

2009-04-23T17:55:00.003+08:00

Read on...

Strangest lawsuit ever?

Tue Apr 21 01:28PM

I see a lot of strange news stories in this job and this one, which was featured recently in a German newspaper, is up there with the strangest.

A judge in Stuttgart, Germany, is currently trying to decide on a lawsuit in which a man hired his neighbour to impregnate his wife.

It gets weirder.

Demetrius Soupolos, 29, and his former beauty queen wife, Traute, were very keen to have a child together, but Demetrius was sterile so they began to seek out other possible options.

The option the couple eventually decided on was to hire their neighbour Frank Maus, 34, to impregnate Traute.

Maus, who was already married with two children agreed to do the job for the fee of €2,000. For three evenings a week for the next six months, a total of 72 different times, Maus tried to impregnate Traute.

When his own wife objected, Maus explained that he was "only doing it for the money."

After the unsuccessful six-month period Soupolos insisted that Maus take a medical examination. The doctor concluded that Maus was also sterile, which forced his wife into admitting that their two children did not belong to him.

Soupolos is now suing Maus in an effort to get his money back. Maus' argument is that he did not guarantee conception, only that he would try his hardest.

2,000 Euros, you say? Ex-beauty queen, you say??? Oi, tell you what, I'd like to "try my hardest", too! No charge!!

Just couldn't read this with a straight face...

2009-04-20T22:05:00.003+08:00

From BBC News' website:

Condoms 'too big' for Indian men - A survey of more than 1,000 men in India has concluded that condoms made according to international sizes are too large for a majority of Indian men.

Full story here.

In all fairness, I'm pretty confident that if China carried out a similar study and had the same findings, they wouldn't have the balls to make such findings public*. And, as was pointed out in the article, India's population is pretty clear evidence that size is not an issue in making more babies...

* Especially if there's any truth to what Ben Goldacre points out about Chinese medical journals...

On getting someone else to stare into the Abyss

2009-04-20T07:19:00.000+08:00

I've had a healthy respect and awe for science ever since I was able to utter the word 'science'. In nigh 3 decades on this Earth, I've come to know enough of it's history and methods to understand that the universe holds far more wonders than any human could possibly imagine, and that science is the only (reliable) way to uncovering these wonders.

Now, it took many years and no small amount of books in various fields to build up my present understanding. A MSci in Physics certainly didn't hurt, and, after a hell of a lot more reading after receiving my degree, I'm very much accustomed to living this life based on logic and evidence.

In every theist I've encountered, religion is truly a crutch. God is thanked for every good thing that happens in this life, and every bad thing (including, of course, conversations with people like me) is a test of faith. Prayers are made, regardless of known success rates or lack thereof. Life and death are accepted with a certain kind of shallow forebearance, as they continue to tell themselves that loved ones long since past their expiry date are "in a better place"*.

All these little lies they tell themselves, just to draw a pretty pink curtain between them and the abyss of existential angst. They want, with all their hearts, to believe that there's a point to it all, that beyond the cold touch of death, someone will love them. Anyone acquainted with a smidgeon of history or philosophy** (or the finances of the Vatican) is well aware how such desires can be twisted to suit the purposes of those who seek power over others. But that is not the focus of this entry.

What I'd like to call your attention to is the more down-to-earth breed of believer. I suppose we atheists would call them 'moderates' - you know, the quiet ones who just try hard to live well and do the right thing, and are generally either sensible enough or just brainwashed to ignore the more insane parts of whatever scripture they happen to be following. And what I think about whenever I meet such people is:

How does one remove the parasite without injuring the host?

A situation not unlike this comes to mind:

Assume for a moment that I've just had a long talk with one of these moderates and struck a killing blow to her faith and the whole system of self-supporting myths in her head comes tumbling down. What then? Many of the moderates I encounter are scientifically illiterate working professionals who, over the course of their lives, filled in pretty much all the gaps in their knowledge with God. I have likened religion to a crutch, and, in the cases of many adherents I meet, the crutch has been in use for so long, I really don't know anymore if they can do without it.

*Somewhere around here I had about 3 paragraphs of what I felt was rather good stuff. Then Windows decided to install some updates and restart and send what I thought were some fairly inspired words right down the crapper. What follows is my heartbroken and hamfisted attempt to recreate what was lost.*

How could I possibly impart my solution to my existential angst in it's entirety to a former adherent? It seems to me like trying to fill a dump truck with a teaspoon! I have no simple solution, and the answer that I am ultimately satisfied with is a large array of interconnected truths I have come to realize over many years. Like a sword forged with my own hands, my answer is mine alone, and I cannot quite share it in it's entirety with anyone else even if I wanted to, simply because I am me, and no one else is.

What I suppose I can try to do is lay out some of the basics. I could say something about the ways of empiricism, which are simple enough. I could state with great confidence that our minds are immensely powerful, yet so very limited, and try as we might, we may only ever take a small sip out of a boundless sea of information. I could try to point out that life is both utterly meaningless and singularly significant. Your mind makes it as important as you choose to make it. By the very same token, our very existence is both with and without purpose, miraculous, yet inevitable. Such attributes are simply constructs of the human mind, illusions that we choose to make real, like good, evil, justice, duty...

All these little truths I mention are woven together to form the core of the mental (spiritual?) machinery that keeps me running. None will stand alone by themselves. All have thus far held up under scrutiny to my satisfaction for nigh 30 years, where many other "truths" have since withered away.

So how can I go up to one of the innumerable vapid, consumerist believers that populate our planet, kill their god in front of their face, and fill the yawning void left behind? To break through wall after wall of denial, hubris and ignorance to tear down the delusion is one thing, but it seems to me to be insufficient to leave it at that. It seems to me that among the more insidious side effects of the theist delusion is a lingering scorn for intellectual pursuits. This is a problem which I sense has not quite been addressed adequately by the atheist camp, though not for lack of effort.

I can't claim to have a solution, but I write this now to lay out what I can of the problem as I percieve it. The modern atheist is stuck with either preaching to the crowd or, at best, winning over those who are already wavering in their faith. The die-hard faithful will forever hate us, and, by association, anything even vaguely related to science, but they are not an issue, being as they are the dim end of the bell curve. What I'm interested in is the bulk of believers, who just quietly get on with it, the ones you don't see in the papers, the ones who, ultimately, must be turned in order for religion to finally be put in its proper place.

* And, as George Carlin points out, not for an instant do they entertain the possibility that dead loved ones may well have been doing the wrong thing all their lives and hence ended up in, say, Niflheim or wading through serpents in the Sanzu River.

** And I mean philosophy, not metaphysical mucking about.

Religulous and the atheist's dilemma

2009-04-14T13:03:00.005+08:00

I just managed to get my grubby paws on Bill Maher's Religulous and to be honest, my opinion of it is... meh.

I have to state up front that (as anyone who's read my longer posts would know) I've been atheist for quite a while, so, really, there's nothing new in Religulous that I haven't seen stated before in far greater depth by the likes of Dawkins, Dennett, Krauss, Harris, Hitchens, Sagan, etc, etc, etc. Bill Maher tackles the problem as a stand-up comedian would, and this isn't a bad thing! Most of the more famous stand-up comedians are tremendously intelligent, articulate, witty people and, of course, they reach out to a far wider audience than the more intellectual breed of atheist, who tend to be demonized by insecure anti-intellectualists as stuffy, soulless old boffins with a tenuous grip on reality.

Religulous tackles the theistic delusion in a very Socratic manner, with Maher going up to various believers and simply asking them those fiddly little questions that would usually cause cognitive dissonance in sane people but draw a peculiar breed of blank stare from believers. e.g.:

- What was the Holocaust? Why was that good? (Re: God's Divine Plan)

- What do you think it says about religion and how serious it is if you can be a minister when you're 10? (Re: Teddy Pendergrass, in an interview with "Dr" Jeremiah Cummings)

- Why isn't the Virgin Birth mentioned in 2 out of the 4 gospels?

And of course the matter of evolution did turn up, together with a quick tour of Ken Ham's Creation Museum. With a model of Protoceratops, with a saddle and a diorama featuring Velociraptors and Brontosauri frolicking with Mowgli-esque children. Lovely. Keep an eye out for the anti-Zionist Orthodox Jew (wtf??). Crazy as a sack of rats...

I think I'm being fair in saying that Maher does not paint these people as fools but simply asks honest, important questions and then leaves these people to show us how profoundly stupid they are. One's a US senator, mind you. And of course, he's got to be funny, he's a comedian, it's what he does. So the whole movie is peppered with cute little clips here and there to grab a couple of laughs and drive a point home.

There was nothing new in Religulous for anyone who has read any works by the 4 Horsemen. No interesting new refutations, no rebuttals to the usual Creationist silliness, no serious dissection of theology or anything of the sort. What Religulous does is highlight the absurdity the religion leads to and the dangers of allowing it to permeate through so much of our* society. A US SENATOR, for crying out loud! And he's a Democrat!

Maher concludes the movie with a brief statement that could be summarized as follows: The only sensible position towards the big questions is militant agnosticism - I don't know, and you don't either**. Theism is simply delusional and dangerous. And though he doesn't explicitly say so, he does lean towards the empiricist stance, i.e. evidence first.

So, while Religulous didn't really have anything to directly offer grumpy atheists like me apart from a couple of good laughs, it did have me thinking about the atheist's struggle, that is, the matter of actually communicating the message. Our foundation is reason. The theist's foundation is faith. In my dealings with theists whom I know personally, there is a yawning void in their minds where reason goes in and... nothing happens. You'll get back blank stares and empty platitudes, sometimes anger, mostly denial. They are ignorant and they LOVE IT. They take tremendous pride in proclaiming their unwavering, whole-hearted belief in something for which there is no evidence whatsoever. In fact, the less evidence there is, the purer their faith.

How does one combat this? If you were to present evidence that undermined, say, Newton's Laws of Motion, and the evidence held up under scientific scrutiny, then GREAT! Bye-bye Newton, hello special relativity. Our perception of the world changes, and we're stronger for it.

But when you subject religion to the same kind of intellectual rigour required of any of the sciences, it all falls apart spectacularly. And the believer takes such pride in ignoring this. How does one have a rational conversation with such people? How does one help these people to free their minds? What works, exactly?

We know from bitter experience that Reason is spurned as heresy. Is Maher's approach any more efficacious? I would suspect that pointing out the absurdity of religion would simply make theists withdraw further into their shell. And, naturally, they love to portray themselves as victims. "Stop oppressing me for my beliefs!", they cry, to which the exasperated atheist throws up his hands and says "Why should I? Your beliefs are pretty fucking stupid and detrimental to the well-being of our species and look, here's why..." And here's the bit where the believer sticks his fingers in his ears and retorts, "Ican'thearyoulalalalalala!"

It just wears me down a bit, logging in to Facebook and seeing, oh, some couple I barely know (yes, I sometimes add people I don't know just for Mob Wars, too) all happy-happy joy-joy over baptising their baby, the poor little sot. Or some otherwise sensible, working adult, happily proclaiming she's just been inducted into the Catholic faith. *facepalm*

Sometimes, it really feels like building a sandcastle with a pair of tweezers and hearing the tide rolling in. It's a very ugly piece of math - the cancer of religion spreads quickly, and the cure is reason, but it is slow, and sometimes doesn't work at all. Ain't hard to see where this leads.

But, fuck it. If there's one irrationality I will allow myself to draw from the tenets of Bushido and watching way, way too many Akira Kurosawa movies, it is this: Though the battle appears to be lost, I will stand firm. I will speak and write and reason against the taint wherever I can, because in this instance, endeavour is its own reward. And sod knows, there's few enough of us as it is...

P.S. :- 10-q, daemun, for your feedback. Will try to get back to it at some point. And you're a bit wrong about Malaysia leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. It has, in fact, nigh killed my tastebuds outright, such is the horror of seeing past the bullshit and into the truth of the festering, pus-filled, gangrenous wound on this Earth that is Malaysia. But hey, it could be worse... *nods in direction of violent neighbours to the north* Come see the pretty beaches and jungles while they last!

* And by "our" I mean humans as a whole.

** An interesting take on militant agnosticism can be found in Buck Godot, where the Slag-Blah priests, rather than not believing in anything, opt to believe in everything, with each religion gaining absolute dominance for one day each year, meaning that a Slag-Blah year is 7,823 days long.

Borders Malaysia fail

2009-04-12T16:30:00.002+08:00

Snapped this pic in a newly opened Borders. Apparently, in Malaysia, Malay is a foreign language:

Oh, how rare it is to tag a blog entry with both "Malaysia" and "fun stuff"...

Quick thought on Capitalism

2009-04-10T18:35:00.003+08:00

Just recording a little something that just popped into my head so I can come back to it later:

Would capitalism work in a closed system (i.e. assume a nation with no external trade at all) with zero population growth and total abolition of interest? And by no interest I really mean NO interest whatsoever, none of that Islamic banking pussyfooting about the issue by calling interest something else, mind you.

I think about sustainability a lot, and it seems to me that the first serious step towards sustainability would be to halt population growth. If we're going to get everybody to achieve a reasonable standard of living, it would make things a hell of a lot easier if there weren't more mouths to feed with each passing day, no?

Anyway, I'm-a leave this here for now. Hope I remember to come back to this...

Just can't agree with RPK on this one...

2009-04-10T08:32:00.003+08:00

It's not often that I find myself in disagreement with RPK. It's even rarer that I find myself in total opposition to one of his articles. Today's the first time in a long, long time. My gripe? I wish he'd stop fucking about mixing religion into his political commentary.

It is nonsensical to judge a politician's conduct based on theology. The kind of people who seek to seize power for themselves most certainly do not have the same take on religion as the sheeple. In the subtle art of government, religion is merely a tool. If you want a populace of stupid, unquestioning sheep, nothing does the job like a good, heavy injection of religion. When you want to get the masses to do something and hide your true motives, play the religion card, and the faithful will do what they do best, believe and follow blindly. Deus vult and all that.

That article is like trying to fix a broken down car by painting it a different colour. It addresses none of the important issues, and in fact makes things worse by diverting attention away from them and getting the particularly verbose breed of idiot to stop and point and bray like donkeys in heat to offer their unbelievably inane commentary. Here's a sample:

"As humans we are all prone to sin. When humans are GOD fearing they will try not to sin or repent when a sin has been committed. GODless people sin & continue sinning because they don't believe there is a GOD or that anything will happen to them despite all the sinning. SATAN the antiGOD is very happy with this group of people because they all will belong to him."

Well done, indeed. Your pastor must be very proud of you. Moron. Here's another lovely product of the Malaysian education system:

"Being a christian does'nt mean being a wimp and got walk all over, it means doing the right thing according to God's teaching. Obtaining forgiveness for christians is conditional to repentance. This is possible because by God's grace we are saved, through Jesus deadth on the cross, which is a Gift, it has been given to us Free, but, the key word is repentance."

And another:

"It's not the God choose the caliph for Malaysian, it's devils with Double Keris choice! We should never expect any sweet from this representative of devil.

If Anwar Ibrahim be the PM, then I will say it's the God choice. Why? Have u heard Najib talk about Rakyat's difficult? He just ask the Rakyat don't talk about Altantuya and let him be the PM first!"

You'd think the kind of people who comment on a website offering political commentary would be familiar with the concept of proofreading. Anyway, I'm done venting for now.

Frankly, I think RPK can do a lot better than waste time and effort on such theistic silliness. I'm disappointed by this article, and nauseated by the quality of comments.

I luv teh Intertoobz

2009-03-31T21:10:00.004+08:00

Like you don't know that already. Right, here's a wee handful of fun bits and bobs I've encountered lately.

This personality test seems way off on enough counts for me not to take it seriously. However, I found the delivery most interesting. Check it out. 10-q to BOng for teh link.

If, like me, you found yourself somewhat affronted by the above test's horrendous misjudgement of your character, here's a better one - the OCEAN test. Facebook has one, too, and it used to diagnose you with the closest fitting psychological disorder based on your results. I was a schizoid. Alas, that feature is gone now, no doubt victim to some legal threat or other...

Understand Malay? Here's an annoying little something I kept finding in the ads on my Facebook:

Here's an essay by George Orwell that's just so full of win I had to share it. 10-q to Rench for bringing it to my attention.

Cats are fun.

And just to balance things out, here's the meanest frickin' cat. Ever.