I was all over TV channels a couple of nights ago searching for a good programme when I paused at the channel that showed Datin Diaries. As you would expect, the show displayed plenty of yelling, pointing, harsh language, eye-rolling, smirking, and no respect none-so-ever with the elderly or the husband, before it ended with credit roll superimposed on scenes of the actors and actresses dressed in white as if they were as pure as angels.
So sick!
I was saying to myself, “What the hell is wrong with these people?” My wife, who heard me, said, “You haven’t seen “Natasha” and “Sembilu Kasih”. They are all the same". The sensation that movie makers seem to enjoy producing is that of broken family and love-overules-syariah. I wonder if the same sensation is enjoyed by the Malay viewers.
Are these shows fiction? Or portrayal of the reality of today’s Malay?
Either way they shouldn’t be shown. Millions of Malays, adults and children are watching. If they are fiction, viewers will absorb the scenes and subconsciously adapt the lifestyle. If they are the reality of today’s Malay, then we are in deep trouble. No wonder the country is getting hotter and hotter. Global warning is not just caused by greenhouse gas, it can also be caused by sins.
Wallahu’alam
p/s
Heard actor Jalalludin Hassan has been conferred Datukship. And for what? For touching another woman? His wife should’ve been given more honour as she’s been “enduring” the sickening movie scenes!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
Worry no more
It’s been raining all night and this morning. As I waited for the bus to work, I looked at the cars passing by. Old. New. Some were well used and abused. Some seemed well looked after. Shiny? None of them were. If the owner had washed and waxed over the weekend, it didn’t show as the rain just spoilt it all. And that made me feel glad for not owning a car. The worry is just not worth it.
For the past one week I have been peeping through my bedroom window to catch a last glimpse of my car before going to sleep, like I used to – to see how its gleaming paintwork reflects in the moonlight and also to check if it is safely tucked in. But all I saw was an empty porch. Do I miss my car? Yes I do, and all for the right reasons now. No more worrying if it’s going to be broken into. No more worrying if the droppings from the bats, the birds, the chickens, the cats and the lizards will damage its paintwork. No more worrying if the rain is going to defeat my weekend washing and waxing efforts.
Thunderstorms? So what! Lightning-struck trees? Doesn’t bother me now. Landslide? I’m cool. You see, when you have no car, you have no car to lose!
There are other things I am missing (or not missing) too – no more going circles at Megamall trying to find a parking space. No more waiting with my signal lights blinking for the nearest car to leave its parking lot. No more worrying about parking too far from security. No more worrying when my insurance and roadtax will expire. No more worrying about which item on my budget I should chuck aside to finance the expiring insurance and roadtax. I can do a long list on this, but I suppose you can tell me what you don’t like about motoring and that just about sums it up pretty well.
If you are driving any of my favorite or dream cars, I may admire your car. But I don’t envy you one bit. In fact, I feel sorry for you for owning it.
p/s 1
Yes I do get stuck in the jam while in the bus sometimes, but I can take a nap, a luxury I wouldn’t have had if I was driving!
p/s 2
Now I don’t have to worry about whether my children will quarrel over who will inherit my car when I die. Pure peace of mind.
For the past one week I have been peeping through my bedroom window to catch a last glimpse of my car before going to sleep, like I used to – to see how its gleaming paintwork reflects in the moonlight and also to check if it is safely tucked in. But all I saw was an empty porch. Do I miss my car? Yes I do, and all for the right reasons now. No more worrying if it’s going to be broken into. No more worrying if the droppings from the bats, the birds, the chickens, the cats and the lizards will damage its paintwork. No more worrying if the rain is going to defeat my weekend washing and waxing efforts.
Thunderstorms? So what! Lightning-struck trees? Doesn’t bother me now. Landslide? I’m cool. You see, when you have no car, you have no car to lose!
There are other things I am missing (or not missing) too – no more going circles at Megamall trying to find a parking space. No more waiting with my signal lights blinking for the nearest car to leave its parking lot. No more worrying about parking too far from security. No more worrying when my insurance and roadtax will expire. No more worrying about which item on my budget I should chuck aside to finance the expiring insurance and roadtax. I can do a long list on this, but I suppose you can tell me what you don’t like about motoring and that just about sums it up pretty well.
If you are driving any of my favorite or dream cars, I may admire your car. But I don’t envy you one bit. In fact, I feel sorry for you for owning it.
p/s 1
Yes I do get stuck in the jam while in the bus sometimes, but I can take a nap, a luxury I wouldn’t have had if I was driving!
p/s 2
Now I don’t have to worry about whether my children will quarrel over who will inherit my car when I die. Pure peace of mind.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Traditional and Complimentary
I had to attend the Traditional & Complimentary Medicine Exhibition at PWTC yesterday. I couldn’t bike that far, so without the car, I took public transportation - bus from home to Klang town, and the commuter train from Klang town to Putra station, which is a walking distance to PWTC.
The bus ride was nostalgic. I still remember the times when we used to see conductors who carried a sling bag for coins, held thick staple bound multi-coloured tickets while expertly secured ringgit bills between his fingers. We don’t see them anymore these days.
I also realized that there is no such thing as Chinese bus drivers. If there is, it’d be rare. You’d know your driver is Malay when he turns on RadioERA. And you can tell if it is an Indian driver as he will, to his own don’t-give-a-rat’s-ass satisfaction, turn on the Tamil radio station. All these, in sync sometimes with body odor and the occasional scent of sesame oil annoy you tremendously but drown your pride and arrogance. Bus rides humble you.
The bus is THE traditional and complimentary tool for relearning civic and strengthening your character. My children may have learned civic in school but never had real-life civic awareness of surrendering one’s seat for the disabled, elderly or moms with babies. Understanding is the most beautiful language. What is understood need not be said.
My children will ride their bicycles or take public transportation from now on. A tough Hijrah, but not an impossible one.
The bus ride was nostalgic. I still remember the times when we used to see conductors who carried a sling bag for coins, held thick staple bound multi-coloured tickets while expertly secured ringgit bills between his fingers. We don’t see them anymore these days.
I also realized that there is no such thing as Chinese bus drivers. If there is, it’d be rare. You’d know your driver is Malay when he turns on RadioERA. And you can tell if it is an Indian driver as he will, to his own don’t-give-a-rat’s-ass satisfaction, turn on the Tamil radio station. All these, in sync sometimes with body odor and the occasional scent of sesame oil annoy you tremendously but drown your pride and arrogance. Bus rides humble you.
The bus is THE traditional and complimentary tool for relearning civic and strengthening your character. My children may have learned civic in school but never had real-life civic awareness of surrendering one’s seat for the disabled, elderly or moms with babies. Understanding is the most beautiful language. What is understood need not be said.
My children will ride their bicycles or take public transportation from now on. A tough Hijrah, but not an impossible one.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Soul Sold
I took the plunge!
I sold my car and migrated to the unknown realm of car-less world. Big decision? You bet. Panic? Slightly.
It was sad looking at my car being driven away today. I didn’t get the RM7,000 cash I anticipated, though. After the wild goose-chase from KL-Kuantan-KL last Saturday where I broke all speed records, I blew the gasket, overcooked the brakes and burned the manifold. Drifting also punished the rear wheels, shredding them into pieces of bacon (beef – halal!). So with all the repairs, re-tweaking and re-tuning to be done, I was offered RM5,000 cash for the 23-year-old German junk that got me broke.
On the flipside, I didn’t just look at my car being driven away. I looked at this fake and temporary obsession that turned into my evil pride and passion. I was once the fastest, the quickest…but no more. This is a real Hijrah for me. I am now reduced to naught. I am nothing. I am nothing but a Caliph of the Creator of this planet that we are destroying by our own self-indulgence.
The automobile industry and its infratrusture is ruining the country, ecologically and socially. And I don't believe in blood for oil, which is the basis of USA's foreign policy. I am about to save my children, your children and the children of the world.
I shall cycle my bike around happy knowing I am not damaging to harmonious human development. I shall be wealthier (with the ability to give more to charity) and healthier (as cycling will improve my physique and will make me look good naked).
I sold my car and migrated to the unknown realm of car-less world. Big decision? You bet. Panic? Slightly.
It was sad looking at my car being driven away today. I didn’t get the RM7,000 cash I anticipated, though. After the wild goose-chase from KL-Kuantan-KL last Saturday where I broke all speed records, I blew the gasket, overcooked the brakes and burned the manifold. Drifting also punished the rear wheels, shredding them into pieces of bacon (beef – halal!). So with all the repairs, re-tweaking and re-tuning to be done, I was offered RM5,000 cash for the 23-year-old German junk that got me broke.
On the flipside, I didn’t just look at my car being driven away. I looked at this fake and temporary obsession that turned into my evil pride and passion. I was once the fastest, the quickest…but no more. This is a real Hijrah for me. I am now reduced to naught. I am nothing. I am nothing but a Caliph of the Creator of this planet that we are destroying by our own self-indulgence.
The automobile industry and its infratrusture is ruining the country, ecologically and socially. And I don't believe in blood for oil, which is the basis of USA's foreign policy. I am about to save my children, your children and the children of the world.
I shall cycle my bike around happy knowing I am not damaging to harmonious human development. I shall be wealthier (with the ability to give more to charity) and healthier (as cycling will improve my physique and will make me look good naked).
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
A poem for Blossom on her birthday
Hijrah
I'm wayfaring in my car
I'm sitting in some cafe
The sight of dirty black tar
supposed to lure love away
There's comfort in melancholy
When there's no need to explain
The weather may be gloomy
Not necessarily it is in pain
In our possessive coupling
So much could not be expressed
So now I'm returning to myself
These things that you and I suppressed
I see something of myself in everyone
Just at this moment of oblivion
As rain crushed down like diamond
I see everything in no one
You know it never has been easy
Whether you do or you do not resign
Whether you travel the breadth of extremities
Or stick to some straighter line
I'm porous with travel fever
But you know I'm so glad to be on my own
Still somehow the slightest touch of a stranger
Can set up trembling in my bones
I know no one's going to show me everything
We all come and go unknown
Each so deep and superficial
Between the forceps and the stone
I looked at the granite markers
Those tribute to finality to eternity
And then I looked at myself here
Chicken scratching for my immortality
In the dark I light the candles
And the wax rolls down like tears
There's the hope and the hopelessness
I've not cried for thirty years
We're only particles of change for one anew
Orbiting around the sun
But how can I have that point of view
When I'm always bound and tied to someone
Useless tiny bottles of shampoo
As Casuarina tree used for a broom
Sweeping away the dream and the reflection too
From the window of a hotel room
I'm traveling in some vehicle
I’m feeling the spinning wheel
A scene from this cubicle
Tells me the whole thing is unreal.
I'm wayfaring in my car
I'm sitting in some cafe
The sight of dirty black tar
supposed to lure love away
There's comfort in melancholy
When there's no need to explain
The weather may be gloomy
Not necessarily it is in pain
In our possessive coupling
So much could not be expressed
So now I'm returning to myself
These things that you and I suppressed
I see something of myself in everyone
Just at this moment of oblivion
As rain crushed down like diamond
I see everything in no one
You know it never has been easy
Whether you do or you do not resign
Whether you travel the breadth of extremities
Or stick to some straighter line
I'm porous with travel fever
But you know I'm so glad to be on my own
Still somehow the slightest touch of a stranger
Can set up trembling in my bones
I know no one's going to show me everything
We all come and go unknown
Each so deep and superficial
Between the forceps and the stone
I looked at the granite markers
Those tribute to finality to eternity
And then I looked at myself here
Chicken scratching for my immortality
In the dark I light the candles
And the wax rolls down like tears
There's the hope and the hopelessness
I've not cried for thirty years
We're only particles of change for one anew
Orbiting around the sun
But how can I have that point of view
When I'm always bound and tied to someone
Useless tiny bottles of shampoo
As Casuarina tree used for a broom
Sweeping away the dream and the reflection too
From the window of a hotel room
I'm traveling in some vehicle
I’m feeling the spinning wheel
A scene from this cubicle
Tells me the whole thing is unreal.
Beat my record. Otherwise, divorce right now!
I will walk the talk. So, I’m selling my car.
But before that, just for old time's sake, I drove to Kuantan on Saturday.
From Bangsar to Kuantan in 2 hours.
7.42 am as I passed NST office in Bangsar and 9.45 am as I reached Shahzan Inn Kuantan.
Beat that!
Otherwise, I will live a happy car-free life believing that I am holding the record for the quickest KL-Kuantan travel time.
But before that, just for old time's sake, I drove to Kuantan on Saturday.
From Bangsar to Kuantan in 2 hours.
7.42 am as I passed NST office in Bangsar and 9.45 am as I reached Shahzan Inn Kuantan.
Beat that!
Otherwise, I will live a happy car-free life believing that I am holding the record for the quickest KL-Kuantan travel time.
Choose wisely. Otherwise, divorce right now!
Even if you don’t care about saving money for retirement, preserving the environment for your children and future generation, educating yourself and your family on how to live a simple life and stopping the war in the Middle East (and the world, sooner or later), you should still divorce your car because:
If you own a Korean car, you have bad taste.
If you own an Italian car, you are broke.
If you own a German car, you are egoistic in that you believe your self-worth is tied to your car.
If you own a French car, you have weird sense of fashion.
If you own a car from China, you have a clear sense of humor, plus a tool to make people laugh.
If you own a Japanese car (passenger, not sports), you are womanly.
If you own a Swedish car (Volvo or worse, Saab), you are gay.
If you own a Korean car, you have bad taste.
If you own an Italian car, you are broke.
If you own a German car, you are egoistic in that you believe your self-worth is tied to your car.
If you own a French car, you have weird sense of fashion.
If you own a car from China, you have a clear sense of humor, plus a tool to make people laugh.
If you own a Japanese car (passenger, not sports), you are womanly.
If you own a Swedish car (Volvo or worse, Saab), you are gay.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Love. Otherwise, divorce right now!
Do you love your car? By that I mean, do you wash your car YOURSELF twice a week, clean the interior every other day, wax the paint every month and degrease every nook and cranny of whatever it is under the bonnet?
Do you read car magazines and books and watch car-related TV shows to enrich your knowledge on car maintenance so much so that it even occurred to you once to attempt an oil change?
If your answer is no, I am not surprised, because you, like most Malaysians fall into the category of people who have no love-affair with their cars. You don’t love your car. You just can’t live without the car only because you are addicted to it. Your brain simply cannot comprehend how a person can live successfully without owning a car. Your mindset is conditioned (by advertisements, extravagant lifestyle, peers, upbringing, society and sometimes even by your own parents) to the notion that life is impossible without the car, fooling you into believing that the car is a symbol of freedom, success and wealth. It’s all a lie. Worse, they put it top priority along other basic needs. Food, clothing and shelter are basic needs. The car is not.
It’s time to evaluate your affair with the car. Is it love? Or is it addiction? If it is addiction, like drugs and alcohol, then it can be cured. Divorce your car right now, and set yourself free.
Do you read car magazines and books and watch car-related TV shows to enrich your knowledge on car maintenance so much so that it even occurred to you once to attempt an oil change?
If your answer is no, I am not surprised, because you, like most Malaysians fall into the category of people who have no love-affair with their cars. You don’t love your car. You just can’t live without the car only because you are addicted to it. Your brain simply cannot comprehend how a person can live successfully without owning a car. Your mindset is conditioned (by advertisements, extravagant lifestyle, peers, upbringing, society and sometimes even by your own parents) to the notion that life is impossible without the car, fooling you into believing that the car is a symbol of freedom, success and wealth. It’s all a lie. Worse, they put it top priority along other basic needs. Food, clothing and shelter are basic needs. The car is not.
It’s time to evaluate your affair with the car. Is it love? Or is it addiction? If it is addiction, like drugs and alcohol, then it can be cured. Divorce your car right now, and set yourself free.
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