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    Don't forget the lyrics... Forget Gurmit.
    Bitched on: Thursday, November 27, 2008
    Time: 11/27/2008 08:52:00 PM

    Please give us all a break.

    No more Gurmit hosting TV game shows please.

    No more "Ladies and Gennelmen..."
    No more him trying to act young, saying "Jude..."

    He is not funny and he needs to annunciate his words correctly. The way he sounds is still so PCK-ish and his 'impromptu' jokes always fall flat.

    Yucks, as much as I hate the smug Daniel Ong, I would still prefer him to be the host to Gurmit.

    2 comments

    Singapore's Jokes. That JC and lightbulb one.
    Bitched on: Friday, November 21, 2008
    Time: 11/21/2008 01:49:00 PM

    Q: How many RJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: 4 whole faculties. One to design the new bulb, one to manufacture and test it out, one to write a proposal on it and one to market it.

    Q: How many HCJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: The whole school. To compete with RJC.

    Q: How many VJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: The whole school. One student to screw it in and the rest to cheer and wave flags and banners to give him/her support.

    Q: How many NJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: None. They can study without the lights on.

    Q: How many AJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: None. They're too busy trying to be one of the top 5 JCs.

    Q: How many ACJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: None. They'll rather use all their money to employ YJC to do it for them.

    Q: How many YJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: None. Only one teacher to tell them what a light bulb is in the first place and to demonstrate how to change the light bulb.

    Q: How many CJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: None. They prefer it to be darker.

    Q: How many JJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: None. Their physics is so bad that they made their macho male physics teacher cry.

    Q: How many TPJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: None. Would they even bother?

    Q: How many SAJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: None. They believe in praying for it.

    Q: How many NYJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: None. They are still using oil lamps.

    Q: How many SRJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: Huh, what litebarb?

    Q: How many PJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: Heck the light bulb lah, the principal would do something about the rightbarbs. Let's do 300 jumping jacks for not wearing the proper school attire.

    Q: How many MJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: None. They are too busy trying to get promoted.

    Q: How many IJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: None. They are Innovians. They'll find ways out of the dark.

    Q: Who wrote all this?
    A: A TJCian.

    Q: How many TJC students does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: None. They think they are already very bright.

    0 comments

    Mauled: Not attacked, not killed but handled roughly.
    Bitched on: Thursday, November 20, 2008
    Time: 11/20/2008 02:28:00 PM

    About time I blogged about that man who was mauled by the white tigers in Singapore Zoo.

    Notice I said 'mauled', not 'attacked'. Cause if it was 'attack' then it would have implied that the tigers were at fault.

    And yes, I feel that the tigers were entirely not at fault.

    Course if they had 'attacked' him, it would have meant there was no provocation involved.
    It would have meant the tigers escaped from where they were and pounced on him.
    It would have meant he was food for them. And that would have meant he was mauled beyond recognition.

    So it was the man who jumped into the enclosure and provoked the animals.
    It was him who waded to where the tigers were instead of swimming away. It was him who swiped the the first blow.

    The pictures are disturbing (probably not as much as seeing it happening before your very eyes); 3 large tigers looming over a
    cowering man. His last minutes captured frame by frame.

    Seeing the face of a man who is facing death.
    No one is to be blamed but him. What were his reasons for doing so? No one will ever know cause he brought it to his grave.

    I do feel intensely sorry for his family back in Sarawak but I am a firm believer in the idea that the man is responsible for his own life, for how he chooses to live it (or how he chooses to die).

    The white tiger exhibition should not be closed down; same logic as to why we cannot shut down the MRT system just because of the many suicides that had happened.

    And lets face it, these tigers are wild animals. Just because they live in the Singapore Zoo all their lives do not make them any less dangerous or any more domesticated.

    But the ironic thing is that the tigers reacted in a more predictable and rational way than the man himself. They reacted by 'toying' with the new 'discovery', by chewing and pawing instead of gnawing like they would with their feed.

    This is a national tragedy. Not only because someone had to die in a horrible meaningless way in our pride and joy that is our zoo but also because everyone now see the tigers as man-eaters instead of beautiful rare animals they really are. And this is all because someone chose to end his life in the worst bloodiest possible way.

    Whatever it is, I offer my deepest condolences to his family and hope that he may now find his peace and solace from what was troubling him in his life.

    PS: 23rd November is the anniversary of another national tragedy one year ago; the deaths of the five dragonboaters. RIP dudes.
    See more pictures of the man's last minutes here.

    0 comments

    MOE, you disgust me.
    Time: 11/20/2008 01:20:00 AM

    At first glance, it looks like a really sweet commercial.

    Ex-students thanking teachers who have touched their lives. Moulding them to become who they are.
    "The difference a teacher makes is long felt after the class is over..."

    Aww....

    BUT, someone who has a keen eye, will notice something else.

    The Chinese guy who has a problem writing legibly becomes a doctor.
    The Indian lady who was a shy student becomes a lawyer.
    The Chinese lady becomes a 'passionate' teacher.

    And the Malay guy who found the teacher too nag-gy?
    He probably dropped out of school, had a shotgun marriage and is now a stay-home dad baking cookies with his daughter.

    What the hell? Would it have been so unbelievable for the Malay guy to be portrayed as a doctor or lawyer?

    Disgusting.

    0 comments

    Heavy Love, My Heavy Love.
    Time: 11/20/2008 12:10:00 AM

    I haven't had a decent long sleep in a long time. Its always been quick naps here and there for me; an hour's nap in the afternoon, a couple more from 8pm to 10pm and then the 'sleep' from 3am to 10am.

    And coincindentally my afternoon and evening naps coincide with my niece's. Its really tiring looking after a growing baby... the attention needed, man, its really draining.

    So on one of my late nights I was watching Tyra Banks and man, it was really.. how do I put it in words... interesting.

    Squashing.
    Big women squashing men...
    Really really interesting.

    At first it was disturbing to me.
    I admit, I thought it was freakish.
    "They are freaks."

    One word, "Gross."

    But as the show went on, the big woman in that video spoke and something in me clicked. She said that she had always grown up with a low self esteem, felt unloved and different but now she has finally found someone who loves her for who she is. The guy in the video is her husband fyi.

    Why is it that skinny women (skinnier than average) be more 'acceptable' if they were to do the same thing (not necessary squashing but posing nude, providing other sexual favours, striping etc.)? Why then would a large woman posing in an underwear evoke a disgusted reaction?

    Why is skinny sexy?
    Why is fat not sexy?
    Why is fat not healthy?
    Is skinny healthy?
    Is anorexia?

    So the whole show went on with the big women defending themselves against skinnier models who were calling them unhealthy role models, exploited and FAT. Like hello? Isn't that the same for the case of skinny models? They are often too skinny and unhealthy themselves. They too are bad role models for many women, much more influence than the larger women can ever have.

    And being exploited? Come on, they too pose nude or in underwears for men to lust and drool after...

    So why are guys who love big women called freaks?
    Why are porn addicts more acceptable?
    Is a paedophile in the same category as a guy who likes big women?

    Of course paedophilia is wrong; because like rape, there is no consent. The paedophiles are worst than animals.

    Men who like big women are not freaks, so too are men who like skinny women and men who like men. There is mutual consent. And there has to be love somewhere in that equation (to make it more acceptable I suppose).

    Cause if there are no men who loves big women, what about the big women?

    0 comments

    Hebitch Down Under.
    Bitched on: Sunday, November 16, 2008
    Time: 11/16/2008 03:04:00 AM

    Hey all!
    Since its less than two weeks before I fly off to Australia (to meet the bestie), this hebitch is definitely going to have his own blog specially for the outback.

    Hebitch Down Under.

    Since its still empty for now, check out the other travelling blogs...

    0 comments

    Feeling like the least favourite child - from Straits Times , 10 Aug 2008
    Bitched on: Friday, November 14, 2008
    Time: 11/14/2008 01:05:00 AM

    Bloggers Note: Not written by me. But yeah, nice...
    Though I think I could have also written an equally straightforward 'observation', but till then, enjoy reading this:

    "As a Malay, I've always been told that I have to work twice as hard to prove my worth. When I was younger, I always thought of myself as the quintessential Singaporean. Of my four late grandparents, two were Malay, one was Chinese and one was Indian.This, I concluded, makes me a mix of all the main races in the country. But I later realised that it was not what goes into my blood that matters, but what my identity card says under 'Race'.

    Because my paternal grandfather was of Bugis origin, my IC says I'm Malay.

    I speak the language at home, learnt it in school, eat the food and practice a lesser Singaporean than those from other racial groups.

    I grew up clueless about the concept of national service because my father was never enlisted. He is Singaporean all right, born and bred here like the rest of the boys born in 1955. He is not handicapped in any way. He did well in school and participated in sports.

    Unlike the rest, however, he entered university immediately after his A levels. He often told me that his schoolmates said he was 'lucky' because he was not called up for national service.

    'What lucky?' he would tell them. 'Would you feel lucky if your country doesn't trust you?'

    So I learnt about the rigors of national service from my male cousins. They would describe in vivid detail their training regimes, the terrible food they were served and the torture inflicted upon them - most of which, I would later realise, were exaggerations.

    But one thing these stories had in common was that they all revolved around the Police Academy in Thomson. As I got older, it puzzled me why my Chinese friends constantly referred to NS as 'army'. In my family and among my Malay friends, being enlisted in the army was like hitting the jackpot. The majority served in the police force because, as is known, the Government was not comfortable with Malay Muslims serving in the army.
    But there are more of them now.

    Throughout my life, my father has always told me that as a Malay, I need to work twice as hard to prove my worth. He said people have the misconception that all Malays are inherently lazy. I was later to get the exact same advice from a Malay minister in office; who is a family friend.

    When I started work, I realised that the advice rang true, especially because I wear my religion on my head. My professionalism suddenly became an issue. One question I was asked at a job interview was whether I would be willing to enter a nightclub to chase a story. I answered: 'If it's part of the job, why not? And you can rest assured I won't be tempted to have fun.'

    When I attend media events, before I can introduce myself, people assume I write for the Malay daily
    Berita Harian. A male Malay colleague in The Straits Times has the same problem, too.

    This makes me wonder if people also assume that all Chinese reporters are from
    Lian he Zaobao and Indian reporters from Tamil Murasu.

    People also question if I can do stories which require stake-outs in the sleazy lanes of
    Geylang. They say because of my tudung I will stick out like a sore thumb. So I changed into a baseball cap and a men's sports jacket - all borrowed from my husband - when I covered Geylang.

    I do not want to be seen as different from the rest just because I dress differently. I want the same opportunities and the same job challenges. Beneath the
    tudung, I, too, have hair and a functioning brain. And if anything, I feel that my tudung has actually helped me secure some difficult interviews.

    Newsmakers - of all races - tend to trust me more because I look 'guai' (Hokkien for well-behaved) and thus, they feel, less likely to write critical stuff about them.

    Recently, I had a conversation with several colleagues about this essay. I told them I never thought of myself as being particularly patriotic. One Chinese colleague thought this was unfair. 'But you got to enjoy free education,' she said.

    Sure, for the entire 365 days I spent in Primary 1 in 1989. But my parents paid for my school and university fees for the next 15 years I was studying.

    It seems that many Singaporeans do not know that Malays have stopped getting free education since 1990. If I remember clearly, the news made front-page news at that time.

    We went on to talk about the Singapore Government's belief that Malays here would never point a missile at their fellow Muslim neighbours in a war.

    I said if not for family ties, I would have no qualms about leaving the country. Someone then remarked that this is why Malays like myself are not trusted. But I answered that this lack of patriotism on my part comes from not being trusted, and for being treated like a potential traitor.

    It is not just the NS issue. It is the frustration of explaining t non-Malays that I don't get special privileges from the Government. It is having to deal with those who question my professionalism because of my religion. It is having people assume, day after day, that you are lowly educated, lazy and poor. It is like being the least favourite child in a family. This child will try to win his parents' love only for so long.

    After a while, he will just be engulfed by disappointment and bitterness. I also believe that it is this 'least favourite child' mentality which makes most Malays defensive and protective of their own kind.

    Why do you think Malay families spent hundreds of dollars voting for two Malay boys in the Singapore Idol singing contest? And do you know that Malays who voted for other competitors were frowned upon by the community?

    The same happens to me at work. When I write stories which put Malays in a bad light, I am labelled a traitor. A Malay reader once wrote to me to say: 'I thought a Malay journalist would have more empathy for these unfortunate people than a non-Malay journalist.'

    But such is the case when you are a Malay Singaporean. Your life is not just about you, as much as you want it to be. You are made to feel responsible for the rest of the pack and your actions affect them as well.

    If you trip, the entire community falls with you. But if you triumph, it is considered
    everyone's success.

    When 12-year-old Natasha
    Nabila hit the headlines last year for her record PSLE aggregate of 294, I was among the thousands of Malays here who celebrated the news. I sent instant messages to my friends on Gmail and chatted excitedly with my Malay colleagues at work.

    Suddenly a 12-year-old has become the symbol of hope for the community and a message to the rest that Malays can do it too - and not just in singing competitions. And just like that, the 'least favourite child' in me feels a lot happier.

    Each year, come Aug 9, my father, who never had the opportunity to do national service, dutifully hangs two flags at home - one on the front gate and the other by the side gate.

    I wonder if putting up two flags is his way of making himself feel like a better-loved child of Singapore ."

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    Obama.
    Bitched on: Thursday, November 06, 2008
    Time: 11/06/2008 12:57:00 AM

    Tuesday, November 4th, 2008

    Chicago, Illinois


    "If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

    It’s the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.

    It’s the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled – Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.

    It’s the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.

    It’s been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America.

    I just received a very gracious call from Senator McCain. He fought long and hard in this campaign, and he’s fought even longer and harder for the country he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine, and we are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader. I congratulate him and Governor Palin for all they have achieved, and I look forward to working with them to renew this nation’s promise in the months ahead.

    I want to thank my partner in this journey, a man who campaigned from his heart and spoke for the men and women he grew up with on the streets of Scranton and rode with on that train home to Delaware, the Vice President-elect of the United States, Joe Biden.

    I would not be standing here tonight without the unyielding support of my best friend for the last sixteen years, the rock of our family and the love of my life, our nation’s next First Lady, Michelle Obama. Sasha and Malia, I love you both so much, and you have earned the new puppy that’s coming with us to the White House. And while she’s no longer with us, I know my grandmother is watching, along with the family that made me who I am. I miss them tonight, and know that my debt to them is beyond measure.

    To my campaign manager David Plouffe, my chief strategist David Axelrod, and the best campaign team ever assembled in the history of politics – you made this happen, and I am forever grateful for what you’ve sacrificed to get it done.

    But above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to – it belongs to you.

    I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn’t start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington – it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston.

    It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation’s apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.

    I know you didn’t do this just to win an election and I know you didn’t do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime – two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century. Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they’ll make the mortgage, or pay their doctor’s bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.

    The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America – I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you – we as a people will get there.

    There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won’t agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can’t solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it’s been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years – block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.

    What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek – it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you.

    So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, it’s that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers – in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.

    Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House – a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, “We are not enemies, but friends…though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection.” And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn – I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.

    And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world – our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down – we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security – we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America’s beacon still burns as bright – tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.

    For that is the true genius of America – that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

    This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that’s on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She’s a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing – Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.

    She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn’t vote for two reasons – because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.

    And tonight, I think about all that she’s seen throughout her century in America – the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can’t, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.

    At a time when women’s voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.

    When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.

    When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.

    She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that “We Shall Overcome.” Yes we can.

    A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.

    America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves – if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?

    This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time – to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth – that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:

    Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America."

    -Barack Obama, 44th President of the United States of America... the 1st President of the Free World.


    0 comments

    It's time for Change.
    Bitched on: Tuesday, November 04, 2008
    Time: 11/04/2008 12:49:00 AM


    0 comments

    What the Devil?
    Bitched on: Sunday, November 02, 2008
    Time: 11/02/2008 12:36:00 AM

    Anyone caught News on Channel 5 just now?

    Two Caucasian guys interviewed earlier had worn telekungs* stained with blood... and they finished their 'costumes' off with devil horns.


    A 'telekung' is the white cloth(s) used by Muslim women during Islamic prayers. Also known as the hijab or burqa.

    What the fuck?

    Seriously, what the fuck?

    0 comments