ARE YOU... THE BRAAAIIIN SPECIALIST???

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!!!!

A minor gripe about Transformers...

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 bots that kiss you later this year.Don't bother getting silly ideas. She's only about 38cm tall. ;-)

Akakkubi Ryu Kenjutsu*?! Is nothing sacred?!

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? ^-^

Cheng hates ties

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".

I am vexed...

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:

Kirikaeshi is good for you!

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...

I used to like dinosaurs... *Used* to.

My niece is visiting, and when she's not harassing my poor cats, she can usually be found watching Barney dvds. Well, maybe not quite dvds in the plural. I'm quite sure I've been overhearing the same dvd over and over again for the past week. Were I not an infidel, I'd be fairly sure Barney is the AntiChrist.

Anyway, here I sit, with that wretched purple dinosaur's voice ringing in my ears and some odd thoughts popped into my head. For instance, how do children's shows come about? On what basis would the character design be settled upon? Do they target a particular demographic? And just how exactly do they aid a child's mental progression other than by grabbing attention with bright colours and writing information into young minds through sheer repetition of annoyingly catchy tunes and silly voices?

This led me to the odd little question: Given a culturally homogenous society, would it be possible to design the perfect (or close to perfect, at any rate) children's show? That is, if we decided to, say, isolate a group of munchiekins for the entirety of their childhood and run any number of diabolical experiments on them, gauging their responses to various cartoon characters, songs, information and whatnot, using the results to produce a children's show giving the best possible rate of information retention? Preferably with the minimum amount of painfully annoying, repetitive songs?

Well, its just a thought is all. Much like fantasizing about blowing Barney's brains out with a suitably large-caliber gun is just a thought. A happy, happy thought. Anyway, on a vaguely related note...

The Sep/Oct 2008 issue of Skeptical Inquirer pointed a little fact which I found at once unsettling and reassuring. Apparently, the human brain reaches it's maximum size around the age of 14. After that, it very slowly shrinks throughout the rest of one's life. By the time one is 70 years old, the brain is about the same size it used to be at the age of 3.

Now, this is unsettling to me because, at first glance, it appears that my poor, addled brain has been slowly, inexorably dying for more than half of my life. :-( I suppose this is one little fact of life I should keep from my dad (70 this year).

But, upon further consideration, this is quite uplifting! Why? Well, for a start, my dad, and many individuals I've met around the same age (bar one), clearly possess an intellectual capacity light years beyond that of any 3-year-old child I've witnessed. What I draw from this is that it illustrates the sheer magnitude of the human brain's powers of storage and cognition, that even with the capacity of a 3-year-old's brain , one can still function perfectly well (most of the time) with all of the software, that is, the accumulated memes we've managed to scrape together, from 70 years of living. Who knows the limits to our untapped potential?

Well, I look at this as a reason for optimism, a valuable thing indeed in these very interesting times we live in, this age of economic time bombs, of global terror, of culture war... and of goddamn purple dinosaurs.

"Mm chee kui ngup mut."

Ask me to point out a sentence encapsulating the very worst anti-intellectualism I've witnessed in my life and the title would probably be it. They've haunted me my whole life, and to this day, the very sound of them gets my blood boiling quicker than any other sentence.

It's Cantonese, and I must confess I don't quite know the proper romanization of those words (hoping a Canto speaker may see this and help me out here) but the sentence translates approximately as a fairly vulgar way of saying: "I don't know what he's on about."

By itself, it appears harmless enough, but as with any collection of words, the impact comes from the context. These words are almost always used derisively. They are blurted out, an anti-intellectualist dismissal of anything the speaker doesn't comprehend. Someone speaking in a foreign language? Mm chee kui ngup mut. Talking about evolution? Mm chee kui ngup mut. Putting forth logical arguments undermining faith in gods, ancestral spirits and feng shui? Mm chee kui ngup mut. Explaining why there's more to life than your bank account? Mm chee kui ngup mut.

This phrase belies an attitude of "Don't know, don't care to know." that has been deeply rooted in the hearts and minds of Cantonese speakers around the world. To be sure, this attitude isn't restricted simply to Cantonese speakers, but having been around them for most of my life, I'm especially infuriated to hear such talk spilling forth from the mouths of Chinese youth. I could throw a rock into Sungei Wang Plaza and reasonably expect to hit 5 dyed-blonde airheads who would look at any popular science book and not be able to come up with anything more than "Mm chee kui ngup mut.", then amble off again, looking for the latest from Samsung, Jay Chou or Ferragamo.

"Mm chee kui ngup mut. Bwahaha! Why bother with such silly things?" How many times have I watched a bright young mind's flame snuffed by derisive laughter from his peers and elders in this fashion? How many times have I seen inter-cultural understanding curtailed by those simple, insensitive words? Never heard about it before, so they're uncomfortable with it. Uncomfortable with it, so they reject it. And thus they reject it in the fashion that most reinforces the message: "I'm Chinese. Your way is different and I'll have nothing to do with it. Because I'm Chinese and that's that." Mm chee kui ngup mut.

So stand up, young Chinese around the world, and thirst for knowledge! Break the shackles of stagnant tradition, do the world a favour and SMACK the next son of a bitch who brushes you off with "Mm chee kui ngup mut." Gweilos, feel free to smack 'em, too. You have my moral support in this. And to everybody I've ever known who's ever uttered those loathesome words to me: Diu gau lei ah!

Fuller crap...

I'd read Steven Fuller's The Intellectual a couple of months ago (almost entirely while sitting in KL traffic jams, I might add) and was left with a bad taste in my mouth. After wading through a veritable quagmire of erudite gobbledegook, mostly directed towards glorifying the intellectual based on his own narrow definition of the word, I closed the book, and the lasting impression was as follows:

What a lot of sanctimonious, pseudo-philosophical masturbation!

I dug around a bit for more information on him, finding on his Wiki entry that he defines himself as a 'social epistemologist', which, in empiricist circles, I understand translates best into common parlance as 'poser'. I bunged the wretched book into the arse end of the shelf o' books I'd never read twice, though admittedly I felt kinda bad about putting that waste of paper next to Tolkien*.

So it was that this evening I found out on Panda's Thumb that the irksome goit had been debating for the cause of IDiots, going so far as to fill a book with irrelevant nonsense entertaining his infantile theistic fantasies. Happily enough, A C Grayling rose to the challenge of tearing down this silliness with a brutal book review, which Fuller duly responded to in the manner typical of theistic debaters everywhere: straw men, sidestepping and misdirection with a further deluge of irrelevant rubbish. Oh, and ad hominem attacks. Grayling replied with a vicious volley, his words dripping with the condescension infidels worldwide save for either theists or extremely stupid and wilful small children.

At first sight, I'm inclined to disapprove of adopting such a tone in matters of intellectual debate - why should good infidels sink to the level of arrogant, delusional theists? Then I realised after a while that, given the content of theistic silliness, it's actually impossible to tear down articles of faith without sounding condescending, which is something of a Catch 22 as this makes the more open-minded theist that much more repelled by the infidel's arguments. Quite vexing!

But long story short, I'm just bitchin' here. I'm grouchy that I've wasted precious hours of my life reading The Intellectual. I'm annoyed that Fuller continues to waste everyone's time with his epistemological wank. A word of caution to the wise: Don't waste your time with Steve Fuller.

* Tolkien's got skills and everything but really, I can't be arsed to wade through his descriptions of scenery twice in this life, however poetic.

Please... Make it stop...

I love Macross Frontier. I could die happily if I were given the chance to pilot the VF-25 for just a wee bit. And I'd be a bigger fan if not for her:



*sigh* If you've watched enough anime, you KNOW this girl's just too damned cute to get killed by the bad guys...

Hall of Shame: Catholics

Before I continue, I would like to state up front that I've nothing personal against Catholics in particular. I stand against religion and superstition in general, and in good time, I will level the appropriate criticism towards all denominations of all faiths purporting to express a belief in the omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent Yahweh. For now, I'd like to show you a little something about the incredible absurdity of Catholicism. Well, not me, really, but I'd like to show PZ Myers, a hero of science and reason, showing you a little something about a little white cracker.

This is more or less what it looks like:
Doesn't look like much, eh? I've heard they don't taste like much either. For the benefit of those who aren't familiar with Catholicism beyond the occasional newspaper article on some paedophile priest, let me tell you a little something about this little cracker.

It's the body of Christ. No, really, that's what Catholics believe. Not just symbolic of the body of Christ, it IS the body of Christ, the great Jewish zombie god himself. It might look like a cracker now, but put it in your mouth and POOF! Zombie flesh! Mmm, does a body good... Transubstantiation, they call it. Not bad, eh? What better way to prove your divine power than turn yourself into little white crackers so that all your followers can engage in wanton cannibalism? Oh, I know... Make more zombies!

Anyway, back to crackers. What got me started on this entry was a blog entry from PZ Myers. Here it is in all its glory. Long story short, Catholics worldwide are OUTRAGED that a university student TOOK A CRACKER HOSTAGE. Now, I don't visit Pharyngula as often as I'd like, but I can tell you that Myers isn't one to use profanity lightly. In fact, this is the first time I've ever seen him seriously cuss. Anyway, the emotional intensity of the response aside, he has a very, very valid point: It's just a fucking cracker.

In other news, I just read a very interesting article in Skeptical Inquirer about holy relics. You know, bits of Christ and whatnot, like finger bones, teeth, bits of the cross and similar junk to sell to pious and gullible tourists. Apparently, you could build a ship with all the "genuine" fragments of the cross in circulation. And get this: There are no less than 3 Holy Prepuces out there, all recognized by Catholic Disneyland, that is, the Vatican. Yes, indeed, you read that right, Jesus H Christ, the zombie lord, has at least THREE FORESKINS. Mary Magdalene must've had some fun, eh?

You should check out Ebay sometime. I just entered "holy relic christ" and the search turned this up. That's right! You, too, can own "THE HOLY NAIL OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST"! Note that only about halfway into the description do we see, in smaller print: "A replica of the Holy Nail of Our Lord Jesus Christ". The Skeptical Inquirer article mentioned that a grilled cheese sandwich with burnt crust forming the image of the Virgin Mary* sold for over USD10k. I wonder how much this cute little doggie would sell for:

Yea, the Lord moves in mysterious ways...

But to be fair, let's think, between paedophile priests, bogus relics, barbaric cannibal rituals and outright obstruction of science and reason, what's Catholicism got going for it? Well, as I recall, they're keeping Latin going pretty well, which strikes me as a fairly important cultural artefact. And it's left some pretty awesome architecture lying around. And my favourite part, their hymns aren't as painfully, facepalmingly lame as the garbage that certain Methodists I could name manage to regurgitate. But other than that, it shares the same curse as any other religion, meaningless worship of a Bronze Age invisible being who just isn't there and glorification of blind faith without question, a pitiful waste of human cognitive ability which, as it is, just isn't used enough.

In sum:


*That is, generic female face looking upwards.

A couple of Hiroshis

A friend of mine who was just at the Rainforest World Music Festival had the good fortune of seeing Motofuji Hiroshi* perform live and not 20 minutes ago recommended I watch him. I did a search for "Hiroshi" on that dear old friend, Youtube and was pleasantly surprised to find I had encountered Motofuji-san before, in this clip:



I generally prefer to listen to taiko in an ensemble, e.g. Kodo or Yamato, but Motofuji Hiroshi is one of very, very few drummers with the mad skillz to be an ensemble in his own right.

On top of that, the search also turned up this nice little talk by Tasaka Hiroshi:



I think he makes some very valid points, indeed. And I love the way he obviously doesn't believe in the letter "v". However, being Malaysian (here we go...) some thoughts crossed my mind as he stressed the "wisdom of the crowd". I will say this as succintly and as accurately as possible: Here in Malaysia, the "crowd" is pretty fucking stupid. I'd better elaborate. This is not so much a fault of the "crowd" as much as a hideous failure of government policy in achieving an adequate standard of education**. Yes, Malaysia can read, write and count, most of the time. But the "crowd" is, for the most part, a bunch of selfish consumerist zombies. Very useful for driving an economy in the short-term, but very, very costly in terms of sustainability. The long and short of it is, Malaysia has hell of a lot of problems to address at all levels of society before it can even begin to think of the word "knowledge-based".

But seriously, when you think about it, Malaysia is NOT a player in the game of world civilizations, which is no doubt what Tasaka-san had in mind when he spoke of knowledge-based societies. More like the annoying baby cousin which everybody else has to elbow away from the board.

* For those of you unfamiliar with Japanese names and language, a Japanese name is usually stated surname first. They do switch it round sometimes for the benefit of foreigners, so this may lead to some confusion if you can't tell a Japanese first name from a surname.

** I have been very, very fortunate in receiving 7 years of British education to cure me of the silliness that is the Malaysian education system.

Made in Malaysia

I'd heard about this clip a long time ago, but funnily enough I didn't get round to actually watching it until last night:



As someone who traverses the asphalt rivers of KL regularly, I totally sympathise with Clarkson on this. I cannot even begin to recall the sheer number of times some disgusting little wretch skipped about 100 yards worth of queue to squeeze that filthy little tin foil box of car 'twixt me and the car in front of me. Being a man of peace, I tend to keep my temper in check with liberal use of Hokkien, with a smidgeon of appropriate gesticulation for good measure.

Clarkson's got it easy, though. He only had to drive that monstrosity for a wee bit. There's hundreds of them here. The extremely low cost of production, total disregard for international safety and emissions standards and obscenely high import duties on foreign cars make the dressed-up go karts produced by Proton and Perodua the deathtraps of choice in Malaysia. You can catch Top Gear's coverage of the best of Malaysian manufacturing here and here. It ain't pretty.

But hey, at least here, on the great and vast and amazing internet, I can catch a glimpse of a Perodua Kelisa getting what it deserves. :-)

Bursting a bubble

This article turned up in the Star today, following another just like it yesterday. Now, ignoring the fact that repeating the same damn story twice in as many days suggests a painful intellectual bankruptcy in the Star's content, the whole story is pretty much summed up in the opening line:

"The recent call by the government for its departments and agencies to reduce the number of events at hotels has hit the hotel industry badly."

To which I have to say: GOOD.

It's a travesty for a nation's hotel industry's revenue to materially comprise of income from it's own government. And, really, the Malaysian ego is in dire need of a damn good kick in the teeth! Malaysia Boleh, indeed! Visit Malaysia, my eye! What does it say about the nation when taxpayer money is spent sending government officials to our own hotels in such numbers that said hotels are dependent on the government for their income? These hotels are parasites! Let them sink like stones, I say! What they need is a good righteous dose of social Darwinism to cull the herd and leave behind the ones that can actually attract real tourists.

On a similar note, another article a couple of days ago revealed the results of the National Brand Index by Anholt-Gfk. Apparently, out of 40 countries in the Index, Malaysia came 35th. Just ahead of the likes of Israel and Iran. So it's official. Even the rest of the world thinks Malaysia is a dump. Meanwhile, the local papers (which are ALL owned by the government) continue to spout meaningless platitudes and fill their pages with the incredible amounts of dicking around by the so-called people in power.

There's no other word for it! These people were elected to run the country and here they are, happily buttfucking whomever they please, accusing each other of buttfucking and when they're not busy literally buttfucking, they're anally raping the nation with their "affirmative action", nepotism, racism, religious dogmatism, sensationalism, coercion and plain old flat-out lies. So if that's not dicking around, I'm not sure what is.

This reminds me of that old "Chinese" curse: May you live in interesting times...

Is there something I'm missing?

I'd consider myself pretty phlegmatic* about most things, including environmentalism and human rights, that sort of thing. Not because I don't really give a shit, but because I consider these matters to be sufficiently important that in dealing with them, one's reasoning must not be tainted with emotion. And, in the greater scheme of things, I'm pretty sure those few who have the money and the power to make the decisions which will decide the fate of humanity won't be swayed by bleeding heart, Bambi-eyed, tree-hugging hippie crap.

Which is why I'm kind of in two minds about Greenpeace. On one hand, they raise valid concerns about the environment, and count many respected scientists and intellectuals among their number whose word counts for something when speaking of working towards a sustainable future, with humans as custodians, rather than parasites on our Pale Blue Dot.

And then they come along with something like this:



What kind of a statement is that, exactly? How on Earth do you expect a reasonable person to sympathize with 600 people lying buck nekkid on a glacier? 10/10 for good intentions, but seriously, how exactly are they addressing the problem?

This strikes me as kind of sad, because this is the kind of thing that undermines Greenpeace's credibility as an independent environment watchdog. The suits at the top? When they see these protests, they're NOT thinking "Ooh, I should start caring about the environment." They're thinking, "God, I hate hippies."

But far be it from me to offer criticism without at least offering something of a suggestion for improvement. Speaking as a former white-collar warrior, let me tell you something: In the 21st century, the greatest driver of human endeavour and both the source of all the opulence and all the misery in the world today comes to a little number. It's called the Profit After Tax margin.

Show the right people how present environmental policies affect this number, and show how sustainable practices can preserve this number in the long run, and the battle is good as won.

* No, I don't have a cough. Phlegmatic, choleric, sanguine and melancholic are kinda old words but I like 'em. Go see!

Do you have a flag?

I've always wondered a bit about Malaysia's flag. Here it is, as described by Wikipedia:

"A banner Gules, seven bars Argent; the canton Azure charged with decrescent and mullet of fourteen points Or."

What? Don't speak blazon? Oh, all right then:

And what I've been wondering about Malaysia's flag was this: Could the US sue us for this? And if not, I think they should!

28 million people in the country, fantastically rich cultural heritage and the best Malaysia could do for a flag was to nick one from someone else? A bit embarassing, no? Even the symbolism, one stripe for each state, a point on the star for each state, I mean, wtf? Almost everybody else has a cool flag that could be called symbolic of the country - Britain, Japan (very Zen!), China (needs more red), India, USA, not Indonesia, theirs is pretty rubbish, actually*, Brunei's puts Malaysia's to shame, and Singapore's is very fitting indeed for a pseudo-province of China.

Each of Malaysia's states have perfectly adequate flags. My home state of Sarawak was cursed for 15 years with a cheap copy of the Czech flag, but was replaced with something a little more swish in 1988. So why is it that the nation as a whole is lumped with a flag that looks like a blatant infringement of copyright law? I really wonder if Yanks look at the Malaysian flag and wonder if it's some sort of ex-colony or something.

So yeah, I'd really like to see Malaysia sort out a new flag. Sorry, I've no suggestions myself, 3 years working in an accounting firm has sapped my soul of all creativity, so someone else has to step up. Until then, the Malaysian flag can't inspire anything in me but a facepalm.

* And Monaco might have something to say to them about their flag...

I like pandas

I'm a fan of China, for any number of reasons, not least being its ability to drastically upset the balance of world power, as I witnessed in the murder of the US steel industry. So suffice it to say, I know who I want to lead in the medal tally this year. But it seems to me that there's something of an elephant in the room regarding the Beijing Olympics.



What's been bugging me about the Beijing Olympics is this: The mascots are kinda lame. I mean, really, Beibei, Jingjing, Huanhuan, Yingying and Nini? Gweilo friends should know by now that the names are taken from "北京欢迎你", pronounced "Beijing huan ying ni", meaning "Beijing welcomes you". Here's a detailed explanation, but what the hell are they supposed to be?? Just look at them!

Wikipedia tells us that, from L to R, they are a Chinese Sturgeon, Giant Panda, Olympic Flame, Tibetan antelope and a Swallow. Man, you tell me when's the last time you saw a green swallow... And I'm definitely not impressed by Beibei. Beibei and Nini are female, you know. You can tell, coz they're the only ones standing pigeon-toed. Don't believe me? Check the Wiki!

I mean, this is the first time the glorious People's Republic is hosting the games, whatever happened to those other cool hallmarks of Chinese culture? You know, the ones people recognise? Dragon, tiger and phoenix? Maybe that turtle thing from feng shui? I was really hoping for a dragon, myself. Who still remembers this:

古老的東方有一群人

他們全都是龍的傳人

Translated:

In the ancient East there's a bunch of people,

That bunch of people, they're descendants of the Dragon!

That's what I'm talking about. Not some damn fish. The panda I can live with, though having seen a few at the Beijing Zoo, I can't quite see them as being symbolic of athletic achievement. See for yourself:

Um.

Well...

I'm-a sign off here. Good luck to China! 中华人民共和国万岁! 世界人民大团结万岁!

Holy ****!

This article in IHT just caught my eye. I mean, not a week after that lovely article from Slovenian philosopher whose name I forget, something like this turns up and necros a completely worthless study. For those who hadn't followed the cellphone-brain cancer hoohah, here's the long story short:

- Cell phones emit non-ionizing radiation.
- Non-ionizing radiation is too weak to cause cell damage of the type that causes cancer.
- Cell phones have sodall to do with cancer.

And then this genius of a reporter (Tara Parker-Pope) comes up with:

"But researchers who have raised concerns say that just because science can't explain the mechanism doesn't mean one does not exist."

And what, pray tell, do those researchers suggest as a mechanism? Gnomes? If there's new evidence, just say so. Don't make up meaningless bullcrap to defile the name of science.

The Price of Freedom...

Is incredible stupidity. The URL says it all:

http://www.somethingawful.com/d/comedy-goldmine/more-failures-humanity.php

Irrational hatred 01

Was trawling the net as usual when I came across a reference to Katamari Damacy. Was curious, so peeped at a video or two. Now I can't get this wretched song out of my head:



... and I sincerely hope I've infected you, too >:-)