Followers

Mighty Jacksparrow is an Earth-based sub-intergalactic blogger who enjoys writing and in the same time entertaining his ever-amusing will-kill-to-read fans with sensationally hilarious and at times dramatic musings. This blog offers endless ideas and results; they might be charming most of the times but could be offending in some others. Therefore, it is always noble to remind that if you enjoy the pieces, carry on reading, but if they upset you, do quietly leave like the evening breeze and not like exploding diarrhea, which exactly what you will look like if you ever lose it on me. Enjoy! :D

Sunday, February 28, 2010

The Black Apron Exclusives



Many have been asking me since I first spoke about the Black Apron Exclusives coffee beans.


The Black Apron Exclusives™ offerings represent Starbucks expertise in coffee and dedication to the farmers who grow the finest beans.Launched in April 2004 this premium line features rare and intriguing coffees available in limited quantities.

Starbucks pays tribute to the farmers of each Black Apron Exclusives™ coffee with a cash award, helping fund projects that support their communities, the environment and coffee sustainability. Past awards have contributed to projects in all three coffee-growing regions.

This line of special coffee is usually a once-in-a-lifetime experience. There have been many types of beans that appeared under the Black Apron Exclusives label but once they are out of stock, that's it - no more reproduction of such. Therefore, the experience to taste the coffee made from any rare, exotic and cherished beans under this label can only be described with one word - extravagant.

The term Black Apron, I assume was derived from the black apron usually worn by the coffee masters; one level up after the usual baristas who wear green-color aprons. These are the people who masters the art of coffee making, hence the title they deserve to have.

To date, these are the beans that have been produced and marketed under the Black Apron Exclusive label:

  • 100% Kona.
  • Ethiopia Harrar.
  • El Salvador Estate Pacamara.
  • Aged Sumatra Lot 523, Crop Year 1998.
  • Kigabah Estate, Papua New Guinea.
  • Elephant Kinjia, Blackburn Estate, Tanzania.
  • La Candelilla Estate, Tarrazu, Costa Rica.
  • Shirkina Sun-Dried Sidamo.
  • Kenya Kirinyaga.
  • Rwanda Blue Bourbon.
  • Kopi Kampung Sulawesi, Indonesia.
  • Ethiopia Gemadro Estate.
  • Zambia Terranova Estate.
  • Sumatra Siborong-Borong.

The Black Apron Exclusives can only be found in selected stores. For instance, Bangsar Village outlet, Berjaya Times Square outlet, KLCC outlet and Mid Valley Megamall outlet. And the Black Apron Exclusives do not come with notices - they just suddenly appear on the shelves, so you might want to check for them from time to time.


Welcome, Buddies.

Welcoming some newcomers in this little space I call room, here in the campus, not a far-cry distance from, in fact only in the close proximity, in the vicinity, the little mining town of Tronoh.

Boss Guitar Effect - most coolest shit ever for the week.





* * *


Taylormade LCG irons - second most coolest shit for this week.



Friday, February 26, 2010

Mother Nature, You Bitch.


"Would you," she said.

"Would you teach me how to play guitar?"


* * *


He lighted a cigarette and took a puff.

The coffee outlet where he was at was rather empty. It was one cold Monday morning, slowly getting warmer from the heating ray of the mighty sun. There were less vehicles on the road, and there were even less people walking by, despite the fact that the day was a public holiday. There on the steel chair he sat, overlooking the road, all by himself with nothing else but a box of cigarette, his mobile phone, a somewhat worn-out old-fashioned lighter, and his car-keys; all arranged neatly on the coffee-brown colored table.

A waiter approached him with his tall glass of cold milk coffee.

He sipped it, and he swallowed it. They say that good coffee, combined with the bitter taste of a cigarette, makes one's day; and this was precisely what he was experiencing. He sipped it one more time, and he took another puff of his cigarette. He felt refreshed, energetic. He felt alive. He felt, for some strange reasons, happy, and though this was quite an interesting matter to ponder about, for he was quite an analyst, he could not be bothered at all.

For there was something else that at the time that had him completely bothered.


* * *

To him, she was just another lady.

Height, average. Weight, average. Shoe size, slightly above average. Though the first three sentences of this paragraph sounded as if they were describing the star lady from the motion film (500) Days of Summer, the lady this story is progressing to describe however was no Summer Finn. But she indeed, for still some strange reasons too, had him, although not completely but at least significantly, enchanted.

He first saw her in an art class; the only art class he ever attended his whole life, despite his charming language and heart-melting wit he possessed, as an all-time writer. He decided to take the chance to throw himself in a group of people from which he thought were more or less like him; generally misunderstood, bitter, sad, poetic, suicidal, and the such - the sort of feelings great artists usually be blessed, or rather cursed, with.

Now it is wise to note that in the class he was a complete stranger, or at least he thought so, for nobody had so far addressed him or talked to him, and he liked it this way. It's better to stay in the shadow he thought, one part because he was not someone who enjoys the limelight, and one part because he was having his own limelight on someone else who happened to be there too; someone whom he was having his interests in since the class began, someone whom had gotten his attention, and Mother Nature - as naturally and as mysteriously disturbing as she always was - just to screw with him, had him seated so close to this particular someone he was having interests in. In fact, she was sitting right next to him.

At this point the lessons taught in the class, regardless of how interesting they happened to become, had no longer be an interest of his.

He saw her fair-skinned face. He saw how she made her gestures to be so calm, so feminine, so charismatic, so alluring. Stunned he was, but he tried to remain as calm, to no avail he looked more or less like a monkey who has some minutes ago received some series of bitch-slapping from an agonizingly angry woman, for no particular reasons at all. In his mind played many things, but the only thing that was worth knowing, for every other was completely rubbish, was that he developed a feeling for this one particular lady, who at the time was smiling and laughing and all. He saw all these, and he slowly melted, like his readers did whenever they read the pieces he wrote in the past.

To cut this beginning-to-get-longer story short, he got her number by when the class ended.


* * *

Remember how annoyingly joyous you were when you first got you first bike?

To summarize, that was precisely what he felt.

And so days went by and they started contacting each other. It was dandy and natural, and both of them were happy about it. They started to exchange knowledge and information about each other to one another. They started to laugh with each other. He learned that she had a thing for guitar, and he being quite an enthusiast in guitar playing, offered his knowledge to teach her guitar-playing, to which she excitedly agreed to.

And just to screw with the man again, Mother Nature added more vibration to what he felt towards her, but being quite a clueless bastard he was, he didn't know what she felt for him, in fact he couldn't read her at all; one part because he was quite dumb when it comes to woman, and one part because...well that's about it - he was just dumb when it comes to woman.

Only to add to the effect of the relationship, this lady has somewhat a good friend. And to add another to the effect, this friend of her worked at the same place with him. And just to add more to the effect, this friend of her happened to have some bitter, bitter past experience with him.

One thing about woman is that; when another woman, who happens to be her good friend (female term: besties) is having some sort of attention towards a man (female term: jerk) she knows, she will do anything, anything at all to prevent her friend (female term: besties) from approaching that man in discussion (female term: jerk). This includes: blackmailing, warning, embarrassing, socially damaging, and/or criminally incriminating nature; resulting to the man (female term: jerk) to be downgraded to lesser celebrated being (female term: idiot, asshole, loser, blockhead, bonehead, cretin, dimwit, dork, dumbbell, dunce, fool, ignoramus, imbecile, jerk, kook, moron, muttonhead, nincompoop, ninny, nitwit, out to lunch, pinhead, simpleton, stupid, tomfool, twit et cetera).

This act, to a woman, is noble. To a man, it is an act of, well, you know.

It is now worthwhile to note that the man, regardless of how smart, intelligent, witty, charming et cetera kind of man he was, was also both a saint and a sinner. He in his past life, like every other person, both the lady and her friend included, have done mistakes that he regretted. But he learned from this mistakes and he moved on, quite a very wise thing to do. Very little he knew that this friend of the lady had in the mean time been doing some sort of subversive, irregular guerrilla attack at him, by telling the lady many of the stories in his pasts, mostly emotionally-derived and fully-exaggerated to a whole different scale, and by the time he knew this, it was already too late.

A few days after, the time that when it was too late, he realized that the lady he had his interests in had suddenly pulled back.

No, she didn't pull back - she disappeared.


* * *

Weeks gone by empty.

He was deeply in his own wreckage of, obviously enough, his own broken heart. Agony and despair added up to his misery, increasing the intensity of his sorrow, his remorse, his sadness, and his pangs, soon to resort to him being even more bitter than he was before; he was in rage, he was in pain, and worst, he became a monster.

He became a monster.

And he saw the friend of the lady, now uncloaked to his knowledge, as one tiny, tiny little particle that was stuck on the stomach lining of the smallest of ants; an ant he was ready to step on any time now, or maybe kill it with his acidic spit, because he knew, oh he knew this very well, that just by a snap of a finger, that lady could anytime be served on his table for dinner. In fact too, he wanted to kill Mother Nature too; slit that bitch in the throat and see how she dies slowly in front of him while he sits next to her drinking some orangey-bluey-greeny Slurpee he gets from the nearest 7-11 convenient store.

But he didn't do it.

In fact, he didn't do anything at all about it.


* * *

More weeks gone by.

As he was sitting on his chair at home alone at night and there was nothing else to do, he thought about her. He missed her a lot, but at least by then he no longer crave for her. Truth is, he just reminisced her, and that was all about it.

He thought about her smiles. Her laughters. Her charm, her wit, her sense of feminine, her jokes and her everything. And he just smiled to the thoughts. He didn't blame her friend no more, for he made peace with his heart. After all, maybe it was for good. Neither he blamed Mother Nature and Mother Earth too, despite at all evidence this pair of lesbians were clearly having something to do with his losses.

And then his phone rang from an incoming instant message. As most of us did, he took his phone and read the message.

"Would you teach me how to play guitar?"

And like most of us have gone through, this completely indescribable, mysterious and confusing event had turned him nuts.


* * *

He read the message that he received last week again for another time.

Once he was done with it, he smiled to it and pushed on the red button to send the phone into a stand-by mode before putting the phone back on the table. He took a cigarette out from the box and reached for his lighter. For some reasons, the lighter dropped to the floor.

When he bent his body to look for the lighter, at least where he expected the lighter was, he saw nothing that resembles a lighter but a pair of very, very familiar shoes, where in them was a pair of very, very familiar legs, in very,very familiar jeans. Next to them all is a guitar case.

Without bending his body back to the posture he before was in, he instead closed his eyes and smile to that surprise he just had, and he soon began to relate all the things that happened - from how his urge to smoke suddenly appeared, to when he took a cigarette out of the box, to when the lighter fell to the ground, and ended up to which the surprise appeared before his eyes - a very careful plan that was dramatically done in such a play, to which there was only one to blame, and to thinking about this, he felt relieved and sensationally solaced. He now had fully understood, witnessed, and believed.



"Mother Nature, you bitch."




Beruk


Went to Lumut Mangrove Sanctuary the other days, only to bump into some of this completely wonderful yet totally strange animal - macaques.

Or simply, Beruk.

Spent around an hour there to snap the pics of these guys. Later on took one of them, apparently a female and ate her up for supper.

Kidding. What's the matter with you people? Have some humor will ya?

Do browse around and find your most favorite 2 pictures, and leave your choices in the comment box below.

Thanks chuph muacks.


The Sanctuary




















Being Different


Many see themselves as completely unique.

Totally different from others, they say. They possess certain qualities that others do not, and they seem to be very proud and happy about it. Some may talk discreetly about these qualities they possess, and some might go entirely open about them, bragging at others of how different they are from the rest.

And by being different, they demand somewhat higher-in-value sorts of treatment. They demand many things - they demand to be treated better, served better; for they are different of others. And when they do not receive certain treatments they expect to receive from certain people, they run amok on it. They will lose their minds and start the social bombardment; the usual, expected response of course; and they will yell that out loud that for being different from others, they are better than everybody else, where this 'everybody else' are the group of people whom they refer to as 'commoners'.




Bullshit.


* * *


Picture yourself as a drop of liquid.

It could simply be water; the most abundant liquid on earth. It could also be oil; mineral oil, cooking oil, engine oil, Johnson & Johnson baby oil, et cetera. It could also be organic compound - either acidic: aqua fortis, spirits of salt, spirits of vitriol; or alkaline: caustic soda, caustic potash, free lime et cetera. And the list goes on.

Now picture yourself, now a drop of liquid of your own choice, being put in the middle of an ocean.

Well at this point some of you miserably-happy people are already imagining a major illusion - one of the major illusions, for there are several - one of the major illusion is picturing you being floating by yourselves away from other mean, mean people who oftenly drive you completely upside down every little day; floating by yourselves in the clear blue, warm water of the Pacific, being hushed by the sweet breeze of the equator, around many colorful corals and sea creatures, near what appears to be a small uninhabited island with fine white sand beaches and tropical trees along them, and for some reasons there is somewhat a beach chair located next to a patio bar that serves neverending supply of punch and whatnots, with the bartender being your dream spouse, among other things and so on; I strongly suggest you to slap yourself twice on each cheek as hard as possible, for you are still sitting on your old chair in that old room surrounded with people you have known for an awful long time while leading your pointless old life, trying to spend of what is left of your, well, life.

Nothing changes.

But what do changes today, this I assure you - especially all you 'different' people - that today your views on this one particularly depressing and confusing matter of being 'different', might somehow change, unless of course if you are as stubborn as an overly-fed bulldog that refuses to move whenever you are vacuuming the floor regardless of whatever that you do, then I suggest you to stop reading and go ahead with your fashion mags and entertainment channel instead, for what is written here is almost, but not quite, entirely unlike philosophy.

Moving on now.

Now you, being somewhat different from others as you tell to yourself and sometimes/most of the times to others, now a drop of liquid of your own choice, in the middle of an ocean - do slap yourselves again should the imaginations occur for one time around, and concentrate - please tell me this; tell me, do you now make a difference?

In a small community of ten people, you might be some big shot. But in a community of 6.2 billion people on earth - this similar to you, a drop of liquid, in one kick ass colossal, elephantine ocean - you are not at all significant generally. In the end of the day, you are just like any of us whom you call the commoners.

So stop bragging about how different you are, for I can simply point out fifty other yous with my eyes covered with fifteen layers of melted plastics poured onto my face, from inside an underground bunker with ten-foot thick wall all around it, in precisely twenty-three seconds.

You're just no different at all.

Unless of course, on certain fortunate events, you happen to make a difference, despite the fact that you are still as ordinary as everybody else. This is already a totally different occurrence, out of question, out of context at all.

But sometimes people are wrong to think that they could now forget that the big, hard, oily, dirty, rainbow-hung selves on which they are is just a microscopic dot on a microscopic dot lost in the unimaginable infinity of the Universe. You can be different, of course, but do be different, differently than other different people do. Be something of novelty, something atypical, something avant-garde; so that people notice that you are indeed different, and start talking about it, instead of you doing the whole talking, which of course, definitely boring.

But there is a price to it - by being different, being out of the group, completely being an uncommon being outside the ring of common beings, you are vulnerable to threats. We have already a lot of different people who have been murdered for being one, among any other related but slightly less terrible treatments other different people did receive in the past. This is of course, despite the beauty of it, a work of nature.

Therefore in order to be someone well-known for being different, you have to first choose what kind of drop of liquid you want to be.

And then go from there.


* * *


I want to be a drop of mercury.


Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Hasut


Or in English, instigate.

The word instigate is defined as to goad or to urge forward; to set on; to provoke; to plot; to incite; and commonly used with reference to evil actions; as, to instigate one to a crime. A person who intentionally starts something, especially one that starts trouble, is therefore known as an instigator.

There are many ways to perform such actions of instigating - by plotting to murder someone by using a significant third person (also known as the puppet); by urging someone in desperation to attempt treachery; by designing a method for one to commit treasons, et cetera. These things are almost daily, though not in the degree of seriousness as the earlier sentence suggested, but peculiarly these ungodly acts of evil could be uncomfortably witnessed every day.

And of course, I know that most of you here has at least once been instigated, or being the instigators themselves.

The easiest method to create an event where one is instigated is through blackmailing. Oh I am dead sure that many of you have committed such crime intentionally, though many claimed that the acts they did were deadly unintentional. And to no avail, there are many of you too, instigators included, have been instigated as well.

And it is always wise to note that instigators do instigate in order to induce fright and fear to the victim, to compromise his price and prejudice, to second his downfall and to see the victim being completely and entirely paralyzed, just by spreading lies, or facts that add to the disadvantage of the victim being in the community, to the people around him.

Today we're going to look at those who instigate, in the manner to destroy other's relationships.


* * *

Please allow me to light a cigarette.

(clicks of a lighter, cherry-scented smoke fills the air)

Instigators are evil.

In fact, they are useless, good-for-nothing piece of demeaning, futile, vain shits that sprung too far wide from nothing at all but an unfortunate, sorry-looking bucket-full worth of pukes of baboon nincompoops - the most unpleasant thing imaginable since the last massive terror previously derived from the all-known bubonic butt plague. These are the people who have to be the first to be killed with bayonets knocked through their thick skulls with a sledgehammer should one day a war came.

But of course, there are people who love to do this kind of job, commonly those who are single at the time and have nothing interesting to do except to sulk by themselves each time they look at lovebirds, towards particular lovebirds whom have gotten to their attentions.

Sounds familiar?

The only wrong thing about human, or at least an inconvenient truth about human, is that we can never be satisfied with things. We have always wanted more than others do. We always go for some sorts of competition with others to get that bloody attention; to soar among those we commonly refer to as the losers; to show some bits of power; to be the alpha dog, lest we know that alpha dogs don't compete (because what is there left to compete in when you are already an alpha dog?). Unless contentment is practiced, we will never get to satisfy with the rate we are currently going.

That is why many singles who posses dark, ill, tar-coated, turd-filled hearts tend to instigate his/her closest ally with numerous vague, evil, questionable, unreliable and provoking thoughts about the ally's other half - with an objective to separate them apart, so that both of them will get downgraded to the position the instigator is - being single - just to get even.

I have known a couple or more of these potential instigators, and as immediately, once I realize that they are one, I despise them completely. I despise them like I despise a rabid dog. And so should you, those of you who are in relationships, to be careful with these kinds of people, for they are ill-ridden, black-hearted and damnable bastards who have nothing in mind but the destructions of others.

But this does not mean that single people are evils. There are some single people I know who are in fact better than those in relationships. Some of them single people don't at all give a damn about others. Only certain portions of them who have in them dark motives and hidden agendas.

And these are the people you should avoid at all cost.

(kill the smoke.)
* * *


Advice of the Day: Do not befriend a gossip, for if he/she can gossip about other people to you, chances are that he/she gossips about you to other people.






Tuesday, February 23, 2010

How To Tell A Man's Character


This time around, I would want to share the way how to tell a guy's character just from the very first glance.

The very first glance here means that we assume you, the observer, has yet to establish any verbal or any type of communication with the one being observed. In fact, we assume that this is the first time you see him in your life, or at least not in a routinely manner.

Imagine that you are sitting on a bench under a huge tree at an end of a park one cold Sunday morning where you can see many people walk by. There are parents walking their toddlers or strolling their babies. There are children on bikes and skateboards. There are too cats and birds and dogs and, if so happens by chance, a loose very, very horny male gorilla chasing down female joggers. But I want you not to pay attention to all these.

I want you to only pay attention at men who are, at the time, alone by themselves.


* * *

Use 3-Second Rule if possible.

I want you to notice all these parameters:

  • The physique;
  • The doings;
  • The apparels; and,
  • The shoes.

Got that? Let's proceed to the analysis. But this one is very, very general, and you need to study more to tell your analysis at an even greater accuracy. For the time being, lets just focus on this one first.

Though there are not many things you can easily observe in 3 to 5 seconds, you still can catch a glimpse of some information.

And of course, this is just my way of telling.

1. The Physique

Many can be told from just one man's face. In fact, we can tell what type he is quite accordingly from just this feature alone.

Look at his face, and you can clearly tell his origin - an Asian, an African, an English or an American, or others, or the mix of any. You can tell his age right away, roughly.

Is he wearing accessories? A spectacle indicates that he either reads or spends too much time in front of the computer. A shade means he is either protecting his eyes or he is hiding something, indicating an inner, mysterious personality. Earrings or studs mean that he is outgoing and a free man, not binded by the community. A bangle indicates his youth essence. Look at his watch - is it digital or analog? Analog means he's sophisticated and orderly.

Look at his hair - is it shining? Is it waxed, oiled, or not at all? This tells you roughly about his level of hygiene, for shiny hair, though may not be oiled at all, indicates cleanliness. Look at his facial hair - is there any? Is it trimmed, or not at all? This tells you the same thing - hygiene, and also his level of putting his efforts into actions. Those who don't at least trim their facial hair are usually lazy nincompoops.

Look at his eyes and you can easily tell his current emotions. Look at his body - is he well built? Well built means he's either athletic or he cares much about health and public appearance, and of course the reverse if he thereof. Look at his posture - is he standing/sitting straight or at a bend? This indicates his confidence level. Look at how he sits - does he looks nervous or stiff, or he is sitting in the most relaxed manner? This tells you whether he is open and relax towards his environment or he is aware of something. Look at his skin - is it healthy or pale? This tells how much he is out in the sun or how long he stays inside. Look at his arms - is he crossing his arms on his torso, or open in the wide? This indicates his level of defensiveness.

2. The Doings.

Is he reading? What kind of reads? Is he just looking around? Is he looking far, or is he observing something? What is he looking at? What is his emotion shown on his face when he looks at the thing he is observing? Is he smoking? What kind of smoke, roughly, is it a cigarette, a cigar, a pipe? A bong maybe? Or is he on the phone? How is his expression when he talks in the phone? What is his reaction? Is he tapping his finger? Is he singing? Is he listening to something, an Ipod maybe? Or is he just sitting there like a bloody rock with no movement at all? Does he have anything that accompanies, say, a pet dog, a bike, a baseball bat, a monster truck, a big fat six-foot tall big bird?

You can relate this to everyday personality. I don't need to elaborate.

3. The Apparel

What is he wearing? Is it suitable with the weather? Is it old fashion, or fresh in the store? Is it formal, or casual? Is it eye-catching, or a pain in the eyes? Are his clothes new or have worn out? Do they look clean, or do they attract like a pail-full worth of flies? Is it suitable for his age, or too young/old for him? Are the clothes well suited, or too small/big for him? Is it branded?

You can tell his tolerance for neatliness, his attentiveness to attentions, his knowledge in fashion and tastes in apparels, his level of shyness and opennes, his level of awareness and his age of thinking.

Even his maturity.

4. The Shoes.

Good shoes indicate jolly good man. Enough said.


* * *

So from these initial information, there's a lot you can tell from the glimpse of a man. Had you enough information, you can therefore tell what kind of freak of nature he is, for every man at his best, is a danger to the society.

Well, believe it or not.

Should you have any question, feel free to drop them at the comment box. I'll entertain in my best of pleasure :D


Monday, February 22, 2010

Joke of The Year [updated]


I have a cousin.

A female cousin, she is the most lovely and appreciated between my many other female cousins. She has the charm, the intelligence, the attraction of beauty and the most delicate manner I have ever observed, quite the type of women I usually mingle with, and well, she's my cousin. My lovely, lovely cousin.

But there was something bad happened to her recently.

She was stalked by one psychotic ex-lover, whom she oft refers to as 'Kiddo', for his extremely childish and foolish behavior, and of course, the boy being 2 years younger than she is. This boy has yet to face the bitter fact that she has left him for good, for he was this completely unbelievably childish man whom has yet to reach his maturity, and, well, as expected she left due to this. Simple logic.

And what an unpleasant surprise to note that this guy put up like 30 photos of him and my cousin in his Facebook, in one particular album he called 'Me with the person I loved before'. The motive of this act was completely understood - one sad creepy kind of guy who finds world to be troubling enough for him to get his motivation. Worst, he works in the same department my cousin is now currently working.

Now this guy has certainly drove Le Famille to a certain point of alertness, where he continuously harassed the cousin and her family members with endless calls and texts that claimed his burning love for the lady still, in such demeaning, disgusting ways that drove not only the lady but the rest of the family members away.

Recently some of my family members came up to me, some of them are what I refer to, in jokingly manner, as the templars; the higher council members of the family tree, the people who came to exist as the direct descendants and who have the absolute power to control the family future. They paid me a visit and they gave me an offer I can't refuse - an order to initiate warfare, with just one final objective: an absolute end to the current conflict.

And of course, me being the young, energetic, extremely good in using perfectly chosen words in various situations and was at the time very, very bored for I have no adventures or quests to complete, I accepted the challenge. Having three complete days to study the prey out and wide and going all deep, I was ready to play the game, in the name to protect a family member.

Because Le Famille is all I've got left, and I shall protect them completely even when my soul is the trade.


* * *

February the 18th.

The siren was thundered by the templars. I was notified and I received the order to proceed.

Knowing that the prey is a hopeless idiot, the best way to show his foolishness is to drive his nonsensical jealousy out of his skin. The strategy plan was made into order and executed at once.

So I went to the lady's Facebook and all I said was, "Hey. I missed you." from which she replied as shown below, and as expected, this drove his jealousy over his limit of sanity.

Which of course, a very, very foolish thing to do.

The rest is shown in the image below. Please click for a better view. Well at least I covered up some names to, well, protect. See? I'm a good guy after all.

But that does not mean I am not mean.

Updated:

To date, he has:

1. 30-something photos of him and my cousin in his facebook.

2. Posted some pics of him and her on the wall to attract sympathy from the passing crowds.

3. Made some of the Le Famille members too distracted that a police report has to be designed to log, 'just in case'.

4. Acting psycho all along these while that drove my cousin very, very uncomfortable.

5. Declared a state of war with me. With me? Me.

6. At the hour still refused to note on his foolishness. Nice. Go on, make my day.




He did no more replied. Mission accomplished.


* * *


Yep. I'm just a mean, mean man. But at least I'm good at it.


The Order of Chaos


"You said you know me."

* * *

First time I saw you, you were the sort of beauty whom every man would not mind to kneel before you just for a bit of your attention.

But I know who you are.

You were the sort of person who hid your insecurities under your fair, baby skin; your sense of dissatisfactions, your growing defense against critic for your absolute love for attention. You dramatically plant seeds in people's minds by dropping elusive hints of attractions that take root days later, or so you thought, and you were very busy doing this little chore of yours while neglecting many things you happened to leave unnoticed.

Carpe diem, you said.

But you forgot to carpe noctum. You forgot that your possessions were not for only hours but for fatal days. And you let them slip uno por uno out from your pocket without you realizing while you danced your moves around, unplanned, slipping out more as you did. And no one knows better of these possessions, these handful worth of elusive, enigmatic yet way too alluring overpriced bunch of past glories.

One day you realized that your pocket was empty.

And upon seeing this you wonder about me; someone who was not entirely a significant being at all since the very first day we met - the sort of person whom you thought was perfectly harmful, the sort of playful, foolish acquaintance of yours whom the least he could do was to take your reign of power. You looked down on me because you learned that I was never an enemy, never to becoming one, the exact thing I wanted you to think every time you look at me. And to no avail you did, you did this unconsciously, unknowingly, successfully.

Later in the days you realized that you were in fear. You were afraid, you were terribly scared by just looking into your growing shadow. Who was there? Who wanted to pin you down? Too many questions from too many directions. Isolated, unhappy, from a reverse adverse circumstances.

How did this happen? Who is there to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you are looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror.

It was you all along.

And I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? Loneliness, lack of attention, guilt, pleasure; the sort of challenge people like you will most likely to endure, to run for. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reasons and rob you of your common sense. You were afraid. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic you turned to me, and I promised you order, I promised you peace, and all I demanded in return was your silence company.

But now it is all too late for an amendment, let alone a change - a change that you had hoped for silently deep in the hidden chamber of your heart for a time too long now. A contradictory, things did not happen the way you have always wanted, and this kills you by the seconds, consuming your ego and confidence rapidly, pulling you away from your little victory.

You are oft to blame, and this is too much proved, that with devotion's visage and pious action we do sugar on the devil himself. You spare the rod - the only mistake you did each time you looked at me, with the thoughts that I could never be the best of ever an enemy.

There were days when you neverendingly boasted about your persona; you bragged about that war you won against those lovers you suppressed, the battle you led against the love-stricken, of how alluring and how demanding you were against those men who wanted you as their prizes, their tokens of masculinity. You created lust, your seeded envy. You challenge them poor men to fight against each other for you, using merely nothing but your divine beauty, your superbly impressive talent in play and commands. And before your feet they begged for mercy, after all the efforts they attempted to win your heart, your love, your attention, but all you did was to turn around and to walk away, leaving these wounded men in their best misery. You made me fell for you, and then you turned to them your other cheek.

You forgot that I saw all these happening.

You have made many men cry for you, and as I expected you wanted me to become one of them, but very little did you know that I have learned and understand your moves; your dances, your touches and your perseverance - your only motive to make me worth your time by offering me endless affection in return for my own sufferings. And I let you to believe that that was happening without you at all realizing that the table was turned slowly over the time, and suddenly with just a snap of a finger.

You thought you could lure me into your web of traps and to you I will shed a tear, forgetting that I was no longer the man I was before, that I no longer shed not even a single tear for any woman. That one fact, just one fact, that you failed to realize all these while.

And now that you have found yourself lying naked in your own miseries, cornered at the end of your empty, dark grand ballroom, fallen to your knees before the golden arch gate, the gate to the end of your troubles. You found yourself alone, lonely, rage-ridden, disappointed, tiredly weatherbeaten. You have lost your soul, your beautiful speeches, your godly touch and your angelic smiles. All you have now is yourself of the complete reverse, drowning in your own pool of tears.

You are out of sources.

You see yourself on your knees before me; a man, just a man, that for once and all you thought was completely harmless, never you did see that in the end I could be your only arch enemy, and ever in the same time your only savior, with me looking down at your face with none other than my own cold expression, with none of pity, let alone at all any sympathy.

Imagine, a such superbly impressive woman like you who once have the charms, the attractions, the sort of things that draw bees to such a sunflower like you, the physique, the intelligent, the sort of trophy many men had fallen for, to be on your knees before me, someone you could never ever expect to become at all your enemy. No, never. But I did.

You wanted me to fall in love with you, and leave when I do, but what happened is now the reverse.

You need more than just a crowd of supporting characters right now. You need a savior, you need someone to lift you up again, you need a hero. You need someone to once again bring order to this chaotic moments in what is left of your life. You need hope.


And that hope is me.


* * *

"You said you know me,"

Smile.

"But I know better of who you really are."


Sunday, February 21, 2010

Three Things


I was once visited by a wise old man.

This old man was no peculiar old man like any other that I have so far encountered in my life. But it is worth to note that this old man, he had this one thing that stroke my curiosity as immediately as when my eyes saw him for the first time. My instinct told me that there was something extraordinary about this man; something from which I later on found out that I was totally right - he was indeed special.

He was a man of principles.

I was just a young man at the time, sitting at an empty table in Starbucks KLCC while waiting for the cup of hot latte on the table to cool down on a hot and humid afternoon typical to Malaysian tropical climate. It was full house and no other table was available for this old man I earlier noticed walking around with an umbrella, folded newspaper and a venti glass of hot frap in his hands while trying his best to find a place to sit from which, of course, I offered him to share the table with me.

He sat and thanked me at the same time. We shook hands and started to introduce each other, a common practice of Asian manner. Seeing when I started to light up a cigarette, he took something behind his jacket - a cigar - and we smoke our rolls of tobacco in our best showmanship.

After halfway doing the cigar, he bent towards me for a bit, and he said he would like to offer me an advice, and from the way he said it he really did mean it, as if it was an offer I could not refuse, as an act of thanking me for my courtesy of offering him a place to sit. I nodded, for I started to find this man as quite interesting - well mannered, noble, clean and seemed to be someone with power - and I looked forward to listen to what he called an advice.

And then I did.

He told me something I never forget in my life.


* * *


Three things.

"Three things," he said. "Three things that can drive a man up, and three same things that can draw a man down in the same effect."

I tapped the ash off my cigarette into the black ashtray while my eyes pinned on his hand with three fingers being raised up to signify the correct amount of things he earlier mentioned. Three.

"You can safely have one, two maximum, at one time, and you will go up all the way in your life. But remember, not all three, for all three will immediately bring you down to the ground to where you earlier came from, and you will lose all these three things you earlier possessed."

I listened still.

"Three things," he repeated. "Just three things."


* * *

Women, power and wealth.

The rule states that:

1. The maximum you can have safely is two out of the three.
2. By having all, you are in a dangerous position unless precaution measures are taken.
3. If you have all three but no precaution measures are taken, chances are you will face quite a cruel downhill right away.
4. You fall, you lose all.
5. All three are well connected to each other.
6. The challenge is to have all and lose none.

So lets us men take a look at these configurations, with some brief explanations attached to them:

Women + Power
When you have women and power, the last thing you need to complete yourself is wealth. But your women may have the tendency to consume your wealth, and this will make you lose your power. Or you might want to expand your power using your wealth, and this will cause your women to lose your attention. Either way, you lose.

Women + Wealth
When you have those, the next thing is power. You might wanna use your money for power, and same thing happens - you lose your attention for your women. And if you use women for you to obtain power, you need to provide them with financial backup too, no? Either way you lose.

Wealth + Power
This one is classic. A many people of these qualities have perished for their own greed in pursuing the last item - women. You give too much time in women, and you lose all. Women of course won't stay with someone who has no power, let alone wealth.


* * *


But there was only two ways to have them all and lose non. But I am so sorry, for the deal I made with that old man was that, I am never to reveal the secret but to only three persons from which I accept as brothers by oath, never by blood.

And I have yet to have any that is worth telling.

Another deal I made with the old man was that I am never to reveal about what he told me to anyone at all until he is gone. And he did go away - he passed away last January.

This means the deal is unsealed, hence the post.




So, anybody wants to be the lucky three guys? Hehe.


Saturday, February 20, 2010

Remembering Schmuckie


Remember Schmuckie?

Schmuckie, or Schmuck, is one of the two kittens I took care of since they were both, well, kittens. Their mom somehow being a complete ho and abandoned them for quite sometime until one day she came back to claim her rights towards the unfortunate two. So I looked into their eyes and waited if there's anything they wanted me to know.

They're saying, "Mama never loved her much"
And, "Daddy never keeps in touch".

And they stayed.

* * *


Sleeping spree on the ironing board (August 2009)

Schmuck is the one with white-grey mix fur color while Schmick is the one with whole dark and grain fur color. Took care of them both until they grew to be quite a pair of a lady and a gentleman, metaphorically speaking. When they grew to be quite significantly older, just like other young adults, they left to build their own lives.

And that was when I last saw both Schmick and Schmuck.

But today, ah, what a pleasant surprise it was to see Schmuck was sleeping outside at the compound where I usually bring them out during the evening when they were kids to play. She looked fine and well - her fur looked shiny and her earlobes looked clean. That means she has been taking of herself well. Her feet looked pinkish and soft, means she haven't been walking much.

But then there's another surprise.

She's pregnant.

Pew pew




Uh-oh. Now I know why she came back!


Darling Babygirl




Happy 12th birthday, sayang.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

The Tragedy of Lynette Lincoln and Joanna Ann: Between the Lines



I believe the name Lynette Lincoln and Joanna Ann still raise some eyebrows when mentioned today.

Frankly, I'd say that both Lynette Lincoln and Joanna Ann are just like other female teenagers typical to Malaysia; they eat nasi lemak like most of us do, they go shopping in malls most of us go, they go to morning classes that most of us hate, and they wander around the soil of our land, too, like most of us do everyday.

What distinguish them from being typical was what they did recently in the internet community that raised many attentions, both liberals and radicals, from the Muslims community nationwide. They happened to voice out their hearts, quite distinctively irrational and all-emotional, by entitling the Holy Prophet as a swine.

What a major mistake there.

But this post is not about the mistake they did and the impacts from it, but more to the post-event analysis of the chains of events that followed after the unfortunate wrongdoings which, of course, done by myself over cups of coffees and tobacco rolls from the time the event took place to date when this post is written. Therefore I would like you readers to firstly note that this is not a post of hate.

This is a post of love.


* * *


The lessons of life is always a mystery.

There are many ways to learn these lessons, and oftenly enough they are easy to understand. Sometimes you have the people around you telling about the dos and don'ts; sometimes you learn from the mistakes of the people that you happen to witness; and sometimes you learn all these off one million books just from reading them one after another. And as easy as they can be learned, as easy too for them to, after short time, be forgotten.

But this is not the case with Lynette Lincoln and Joanna Ann.

Lynette Lincoln and Joanna Ann happened to enroll themselves into the other technique of learning; the second method of earning the valuable lessons of life, the hard way. This hard way, as hard as it seems to be, is the hardest to forget, for it means to be forever remembered throughout one's life who have gone through the learning process. This second method will have you beaten down by life itself; it steps on your pride and dignity, it shoves your guts and courage away like blowing wind does to dandelions, and it will hurt you over and over by pushing you down to your knees continuously as you neverendingly beg for it to please, please show just a little bit of mercy. It will push you into the dry, rocky earth without showing not even a single sign of sympathy while poking millions metal thorns deep into you. From crying you now scream as you grow to becoming more and more frightened, devastated, desperate till you only come out with one single resolution to it - ending life itself.

And suddenly the torment stops. Just like that.

But for both Lynette Lincoln and Joanna Ann, this is only the beginning.


* * *

So what's in between the lines? The best thing that you can observe when this kind of things happen are the patterns of human interactions throughout the event.

Some will play heroes, either to bash or protect the two.

Some will design themselves as forever martyrs.

Some will out of a sudden come out with endless religious ideas as if they are very, very religious.

Some will play devils.

Some will even induce fears and death sentence to them two despite that the religion teaches otherwise, with stated laws and guidance.

Some will play the holier-than-thou card.

Some will play judges.

Not surprisingly, some will also play Gods.

Some will play barbarians who think their barbaric, uncivilized ways of discussing/settling problems really matter when they really don't.

Some will play the two-faces.

Some will send out extreme hatred messages around (these are the people that have to first be killed should one day war came).

And also the bandits who stir the situations and add fuels to the already gigantic burning fire.

Some will play diplomats by trying to calm the whole thing down in the hopes for peace.

(Some will even try to make money out of this. MLM everyone?)

Some will play observers.

While some will just play dumbs.


How many of the above is promoted to be practiced by religion?


* * *


I wouldn't want to comment anything about the incident. I mean, hey, I am no cop, I am no judge, I am not in anyway a position where I can say who is right and who is wrong. I don't even know these two ladies, Lynette Lincoln and Joanna Ann. All I can say is, I hope this matter will be brought to those who are in the positions to judge and sentence; those who have adequate knowledge, given power to, and wise in this field of law.

Just for insight, I think you can go to your respective Facebook account and start reading about the comments made by various people in the groups made for these two ladies, Lynette Lincoln and Joanna Ann - some of them will make you nod in agreement, while some others will make you turn another cheek in disgust. Some will impress you, while some really will make you question yourself - are these guys for real?

Hence this post's title, Between The Lines - the hidden yet interesting things to observe.

This is where we do the mentality check - are we really Muslims by heart, or Muslims by name only?



Think about it. Food for thoughts!



Tuesday, February 16, 2010

V-Day; Pre & Post Event


February 12th 2010, Friday.

Left UTP at around 5.30pm, only to notice that there was this long queue at the main entrance/exit checkpoint. Apparently these guys were giving off free coffee and goodbye wishes to those who were driving to leave the compound back to respective hometowns. Wise thing to do, very innovative and very creative. Salutes.

Whoa free caffeine in cups!

Made three stops - one at Simpang Pulai Rest Area to fuel up the car while Roomey went off for some food. Found that the chicken rice and coconut milk rice served over there were extremely delicious. Then another stop was made at Tapah Rest & Rescue for Dunkin Donuts, some coffees and fresh fruits shopping - some guavas, rose apples and sapodillas, dad's favorite. The last one was made at Ulu Bernam Rest & Rescue for the famous Pak Tam's located inside the Agro Bazaar next to the R&R main building. The food was great and the coffee was tasty as well. Bought some starch crackers for mom.

I smell food.

Reached home at around 10.30pm to meet these two rascals who have now gotten quite active. Mom named them as:


Coal, and...


Snow.


Was looking forward for the next day to meet someone.


* * *


13th February 2010, Saturday.

Went to the Pavilion and Suria KLCC for some shopping and food with mom and my brother. Had good meals in Dome, despite the heavily crowded place.


Yep that's my brother alright.


Fancy.

Supposed to go out with a certain somebody but she could not make it due to certain errands. Spend the night at Oldtown Kopitiam Taman Permata with some juniors over some cuppa coffees and toasts.


* * *

14th February 2010, Sunday

Had a meeting in the morning that lasted the whole day long. Didn't go out at all.


* * *

15th February 2010, Monday.

Went to KLCC Park with Hunny Dippz to teach her some basic guitar chords. Had a good time with her, despite that we saw some unfortunate motorists earlier, a couple to be exact, who died on the spot when the bike they were both on hit an incoming bus head-on. Pretty scary thing, the scene was.

Spent some more time with her for dinner and then sent her back home.

* * *

16th February 2010, Tuesday.

Came back to UTP with Roomey. Went for dinner at Clearwater Sanctuary Golf Resort and proceeded to feed the kois there.

The Kois. RM0.50 per pack of fish food.

The Pro Shop.


The main dining hall with CNY decorations.


That's my car.

Unpacked my stuffs and welcomed some new items in the collections:

A guitar amplifier for my electric guitar.


Some Lokams from mom.


The beans. Thanks Roomey.


More beans :D


Bought this from Starbucks.


And this one was a birthday gift. Thanks you! :D



And thats about it. That's my holiday like. How about yours?