In The Name?

Ummm...Hello, my name is...and I'm an alcoholic. No, thats not true in my case. Although I am constantly reminded that the signs are there. But thats how it goes, isn't it? What is in a name? And what is in a label? We all know labels can be dangerous and misleading and should be used carefully and only when necessary - in the case of alcoholics, it's a very good use of the label, as it is necessary to come forward and confront your problem.

But what about the names? We introduce ourselves and we say our name and what does our name tell other people? Does it mean more than saying, for instance, I like to play chess? If I told you my name would you know me any better? There are thousands of men with the same first name such as mine. Some names indicate social status - or be completely misleading on that point, others are so original that they indicate something about the persons. I know of a boy who is called Cowchinskyz Labrado Anak Maximillian Anthonius Bana - this is his name and spelt exactly like that. And what about that person who has an exclamation mark in his name. But they rarely indicate anything real about you, except for nicknames - and are these real or simply wishful thinking?.

So why does it matter so much when you don't know somebody's name? I remember back in school, when I had my first crushes on the girls twice my age and I wanted to know their names, even if they didn't mean anything. And I simply couldn't find that out because I was a terribly shy little boy then , I'd make up names for them, so I could mention them properly chatting with my friends. When I grew a bit older I graduated to shouting out random names at them and see if they looked up and I'd guess the name.

Christine!...Jane!...Li Mei!...No?...Cindy!...Crawford!...Shit! Chombi then!...Chommmmbbbiiiii!!!

Yeahhhh...those were the days.

How To Have A Great Weekend

Kanid Kelvin and yours truly took two sisters from the Czech Republic with us to the village last weekend and it was good. To ensure a great weekend get away, kanid Kelvin swears by the pig head as an essential ingredient. 'Pig head' because it is still a head as you can see. But after it is skinned and boned, I like to call it 'pig face' instead.

Get the pig face and have it nicely burnt with wood fire at the longhouse ruai. If you're lucky as our entourage last weekend, the village hunter might have some other good meat to share. We had mouse deer and much to our surprise and delight, a Manis Javanica. I can't remember how long it has been since I had these meat.

We brought the necessary Langkau as usual. This is necessary as you might want to reward yourself afterwards after all the eating. We brought two bottles to be shared with the village folks and drinking together, as you may know is a form of bonding (some things are just universal). It is polite to drink with the hosts and that we did. We ended finishing six bottles of the good spirit which is always a good sign.

The food arrived served in the most simple of manner with rice wrapped in leaves to compliment. The old man here is educating our Czech friend on the finer points why the village dog should always be a welcome guest anytime.

There is nothing like having a hit at the smoking apparatus after a hefty meal of good meat. No, whatever is burning in the small perpendicular attachment on the bamboo is anything but illegal. But oooh, how I wished i had a teeny weeny bit of....nevermind. Shag Pohon Sagu Brand is the preferred choice of herb this part of the world. The flavour is strong and often leaves an after taste at the back of the throat. Best mixed with some other herbs, if you ask me.

Our host having a hit in the most traditional way. Wood fire as a light.

This old lady at the end of the longhouse was observed having a break after a long hard day weaving mats. What better way to relax then to take a hit or two. I observed she had three or four long drags before she placed the smoking apparatus away. I couldn't take two without coughing my very lungs out.

And after all the eating, drinking and smoking...we walked to the waterfall. This is another essential part of the trip. At least for me. After much drinking, I find dipping in cool mountain water as a sure way to achieve sobriety.

This one here has got to be one of the best I've been to. Mabi waterfall is about 20 minutes walk from Sadir.

One of the village boys in deep conversation with our guests.

And after all the swimming and dipping in cool mountain water, it was time to head back to the village for more merry making, singing and more Langkau.

We stayed on until just before midnight and you know it is time to leave when the head starts to spin...again.

Hunt

"Where is my blowpipe
My quiver for holding darts?

O Bale Salabet, spirit of speed

send good omen on my right.

Let it be simple to fulfill my wish,

that I get bezoar stones from inside the leaf monkey,

Let it be simple to fulfil my wish,

that I also get rhinoceros,

that I also get deer and get wild boar

Bale Salabet, spirit of speed

send good omen on my right

Let it be simple to fulfill my wish

Give me what I want so that I hold it in my hand.

There is where I am going, that way.

I want to meet there wild boar,

leaf monkey with bezoar stones,

porcupine with berzoar stones..."

(Penan "Prayer for hunting with blowpipe")

Missing Left Sandal

Yesterday was , in a nutshell, a fun filled Saturday. It was good. The fun and drinking was upped to a new level thanks to the combination of good company, two sisters from the Czech Republic and the usual suspects from the village. Updates on that later. I woke up at 8:00am but was too tired to get out of bed, read a bit, slept, woke up again and stayed there till about just now. I can't remember the last time I stayed this long in bed.

But it is now 3:57pm on Malaysia Day.

So far, everything is as quiet as I expected it to be. No fanfare whatsoever. I haven't watched TV nor have I turned on the radio so I don't know if Malaysia Day is being mentioned. I could be mistaken, but today is turning out to be just like any other day.

I read the local papers though. And splashed on the front page is a reminder of this day today 44 years ago. This is a good start. People are being informed. However, I don't hear any plans of the usual romp and celebration worthy of this day. No fireworks even. I noticed the state and nation flags are gone from most vehicles and private owned buildings save for government offices. A little too tired after the last Malaysia National Day celebration, perhaps?

I think this is a good way to spend this day. Quiet and uneventful. But this certainly feels like walking without my left sandal on.

Have a nice 44th Malaysia Day everyone.

Shitty Food I Had

I had a steak so big for dinner last night my neighbours dog could smell the meat that was oozing from my very pores. So much so he was whining and attempting to lick the meaty sweat from my arms and legs. I also had these strange looking meat patty rolls which were covered in some strange gooey looking sauce. Looked more like shit to me but I ate it anyway. Wasn't good but I had worse food.

However, it appears that the steak I ate, in assorted chunks last night, regenerated itself in my bowels and I have just completed an astonishing, if slightly agonizing, steak shaped poo. I had lots of green leafy stuff and fruits for lunch just now so that helped a lot.

Thankfully I did not the eat the t-bone last night. That would have been painful.

Oh, the office toilet now smells really, really bad.

Demokratia

I remember sitting at the bar talking to David the Alaskan grizzly (an American who voted for the Green Party because there is no better alternative and has no qualms about continuing to do so) not too long ago when our conversation went from something incredibly interesting and intelligent to something most profoundly absurd. American politics.

He said when American threatens other countries - and here I would like to pause for a moment to remember how he delicately used the word 'threatens' in a manner oh, so delicately amusing...PAUSE... - all they had to do was tell these rogue countries to behave or they'll bring democracy to them.

"Behave, bitch!!! Or we'll bring democracy to you!!!"

Like what they did in Eye-Rack and look at the mess that followed. Democracy, indeed.

Whip It Good

There is news in the local daily that corporal punishment is to make a come back and this proposal should be tabled in parliament very soon. Tabled in parliament??? And I'm like whiskey tango foxtrot...again. I didn't know canning was abolished and why didn't they just abolish capital punishment all together while they were at it. No wonder kids these days are all screwed up.

Teachers are great people. I was once upon a time one and I can only remember having a good time. Not all the time but most of the time. I'm proud to announce here that I come from a long line of family of teachers. My dad was once one way back when TV was in black and white. And ohhhhhh how he whipped those kids ass. Hell, he whacked those kids so hard they all talk about it even now. And everyone agreed that it was the right thing to do then. Canning was accepted. And almost all the kids he taught are now either working professionals or successful corporate capitalist pigs in their own right. Why? Because the kids respected the teachers.

I think you have to have a special vocation, or be a total masochist, to ever want to become a teacher. I mean, what in the name of God would make anyone want to spend most of their working day in a small room full of stinky, unruly children?

And it’s even worse now. Back in those days, there was a certain respect for teachers as they were your elders. You didn’t really dare do anything too bad but nowadays kids are cheeky, disrespectful little fucktards and long gone is the day when you could get a good battering if you behaved badly.

In my school if you did something wrong you had to stand at the front of the class, put your hands out and you’d get one right across them. Sometimes you were given a choice. Your ass or the palm of your hands. It hurt a lot. Sometimes you’d pull your hands away at the last second and the teacher would whack himself in the thigh or, if you got really lucky, in his oversized gonads. If it wasn’t a ruler it was a rattan cane. It really did make you think twice about making that smart comment or throwing that brick across the room at that kid you hated.

We had teachers who would pull you up by your sideburns or thump you in the arm if you got something wrong or forgot your homework.

But now where’s the deterrent to bad behaviour. If a kid does something wrong how are they being taught not to do it again? A good tongue-lashing? 100 lines - I MUST STOP BEING A LITTLE FUCKTARD? If they get a letter sent home and they get grounded then they just stay in their room with their DVD players, iPods, PCs and Playstations and such.

The only answer is to bring back coporal punishment. Kids today have to realise that if you do something wrong you’ve got to suffer the consequences. Shouting at them means nothing. It’s in one ear and out the other ear. But what if you stuck a roman period crucifixion nail in one ear and out the other ear? You know...the kind they did Jesus with. I think the child in question would think twice about his or her bad behaviour in the future.

Canes need to make a comeback and I’d encourage the use of nipple clamps for unruly bastards who constantly disrupt class. In boys schools if a kid is talking or messing in class then he should be made come up to the front of the class and then kicked, as hard as the teacher can, in between his legs. If he vomits he’s got to eat it up.

Playing with mobile phones in class should be punishable to inserting the mobile phone up the student’s hole. Singing in class equals three hours detention listening to that ‘Dancing Queen’ song by Abba over and over and over again. Passing notes to classmates? Well, then the teacher takes the note and reads it out loud to the whole class but makes up something completely different. “Azman’s note to Ah Meng says ‘You’re hot. I want your cock in me now.”

Teachers complain about stress and being overworked and all sorts and I don’t blame them. All the while the government and parents expect teachers to educate their children but will not allow them to teach them anything about discipline. If they learn to associate bad behaviour with physical and mental pain then maybe they won’t grow up to be the horrible little fucktards that we’re plagued with now.

I mean, all you have to do is go to that colourful building down at Temple Street on the weekends and find out for yourself the kind of retarded fucktards our education system produced. And what about those skinny skinhead wannabe's stomping around in their Doc Marten's and super tight cheap jeans? I met one the other day, a 16 year old sporting a swastika and all manners of skinheads subculture shitnitz and asked if the drunk fucktard knew who the skinheads were and what they actually represented. He smiled, spat, actually stomped his feet and said, "Sik tauk. Aku punk and I don't give a fuck. Kimak!" - in plain good English.

And so I'm now convinced that if there is at all any good that came out of our education system thus far, it would be the teaching of English.

Hooooo-fucking-raaaaaayyyyy!!!

Why?

WHY IS IT THE OLDER I GET,

THE EARLIER I WAKE UP WHEN I

GET DRUNK THE NIGHT

BEFORE???

And to use that sissy Justin Timberlake's song to describe this morning's stool, it would be 'Poo Me A River'....with a touch of nutty substance.