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Old New News Recap By great good fortune, I have made it to 2013, and I say "I" because there is no telling how many fell victim to the dreaded Mayan Apocalypse. I awaited the fateful night (or day, since they didn't specify it in Greenwich Mean Time or equivalent) with trepidation, having foraged a BLT burger with my survivalist skills, but neither flame nor ponding nor zombie blight descended, in an unsatisfactory anticlimax. I'll still be wearing my commemorative T-shirts with pride. Despairingly, from observation, the event seems to have been awaited with more than mock-seriousness by a section of the population that might be described as having nothing better to do, and the rascal Mr. Ham has reported a rise in takings for his Cult enterprise in the days leading up to the damp splutter. If there is just one thing one can be certain about people of this disposition, it is that they never learn. But it's a new year, let bygones be bygones, and have a new beginning. I do like people, especially in abstract and in general - just because I don't like to make small talk doesn't mean that I don't mean them well; I have no intention or expectation of knowing anybody to close to 100% anyway (which is, come to think of it, positively frightening, even if possible), and a level less than that can often be largely gleaned from observation, by repeated experience. This extends to the incumbent party, who for all of their indiscretions have still... waitamin, they're kicking off by threatening to sue a blogger. How refreshing. I really want to like y'all too, dunch lidat leh. It's hard to see how exactly this helps - while Mr. Au (who has gotten into similar straits often enough) was quick to apologize and remove the post deemed offensive (while keeping three similar ones up), this could be - and in fact is likely - seen more as a measure to protect himself from being sued until his pants drop, rather than a sincere admission of contrition (of course, this doesn't prevent the sentiment from "being expressed" in official correspondance), with it well-known that deep pockets (without other factors coming into play) are a major factor in toughing out this sort of lawsuit. Various online commentators have remarked that the Streisand is in effect, with the blog in question catapulted into the limelight with front-page national mouthpiece exposure, the sort of advertising that would have cost tens of thousands. In further testaments to the futility of this act, the removed post (with comments) are already immortalised at multiple locations (good luck trying to hunt all copies down), prominent and regular citizens have weighed in that the analysis was far from unreasonable, and the comments (opinions) were actually fairly tame compared to those that regularly appear at venues like Yahoo! News. But yes, whack the little guy. Despite belated attempts to duck the incident by hand-waving, and a rather unconvincing explanation by the coordinating chairman of incumbent town councils (example justification for awarding the contract to a S$2 company with no known track record, or even Internet presence: "...we were confident that AIM, backed by the PAP, would honour its commitments") [detailed picking-apart], one feels that this is hardly a satisfactory conclusion to the matter at hand. This is especially so with the new masters of Aljunied producing black-and-white proof that they were the ones being terminated on, barely a month and a half after winning the election - tellingly, given the incumbent coordinating chairman's assertion in passing that "assessing new software and actually developing a replacement system that would meet our new requirements would take time, maybe 18-24 months or even longer", it seems that Herr Ahm's reading of incumbent priorities was, again, on target. The biggest irony here, though, is that probably none of this would have happened had the incumbents not tried to make a meal of the town council rankings, which was itself timed suspiciously conveniently in the middle of the Honourable Affair fallout.  Used without express approval of His Holiness (Source: diylol.com) On to the sporting side, one of our national heroes has retired... and scooted off, which as mentioned is neither wholly unexpected nor indeed blameable. To make it completely clear, I have nothing at all against any nationality coaching, treating or otherwise supporting our athletes (and in fact several former table tennis champions are engaged in such roles), and possibly making good money doing so; what I am not in favour of is getting already international-quality stars over in a questionable attempt to "win glory". Interestingly, movement of sporting talent for development is apparently not as encouraged in the other direction, with the bid of two LionsXII players to ply their trade in Thailand being looked upon with disfavour (and has in fact fallen through). Well, we might pick up the Malaysia Cup (and piss off our northern neighbours), but I wonder when a local lad will make it in one of the major European leagues. And some loose ends: about half a year ago, we mentioned the age identification problem in the online vice ring case, and it has only recently been revealed that the lady used her (legal-aged) sister's IC! Those guys were completely pwned. Oh, and to avoid getting picked up by intrusive security cameras, Quora introduced me to a better solution than pasting paper on one's face (which would probably draw more attention than it's worth) - infrared LEDs will do the trick, while passing unnoticed by humans. Brah Talk Not having seen Mr. Ham for some time, I, together with the ghost of Mr. Robo, made an appointment, and was mildly thrown off by the location of the rendezvous being on the second storey of a run-down shophouse. At least The Ham Himself was there and waiting, lounging in a trenchcoat behind a heavy oaken desk. Mr. Ham: O hai! Long time no see. Me: *looking about* Not exactly your... usual digs. Mr. Ham: Oh, this dive! Don't mind it, I rented it for the... privacy. Those I help through my Be A Brah! program don't need snoops giving them more problems. Me: Be A Brah!? Mr. Ham: Yup. Not everybody is lucky enough to have a father, elder brother or other knowledgeable-male-role-model-with-head-screwed-on-tight to confer with and receive lad mags from, which puts the poor chaps at a severe disadvantage if they're bad at figuring stuff out on their own. No, they didn't make it up, he did say that. USA! USA! USA! See? One doesn't get to be Father of a Superpower by treading on eggshells, mumbling platitudes and scraping to the politically-correct rabble. Me: Even if I do not fully agree with his conclusions, the strength of applicability of his reasoning being ultimately personal in nature, I can't help but appreciate his rationality and candidness; for Truth, particularly if couched in amiability, is ever compelling.  You actually believe that? Please excuse me while I giggle good-naturedly. (Source: gifrific.com) Mr. Ham: I came up with the idea one day, after feeling extremely dirty and disgusted with myself in the middle of rolling in the ill-gotten gains from my personal Cult enterprise. As some chick said well in a movie, my ledger's filled with red, and I thought this was the least I could do to... balance things up a bit. Me: How about you just shut down the Cult and return the cash? Mr. Ham: I have expensive tastes. Now, as I was saying, this place is where I help lost souls sort themselves out - not by mollycoddling them, but solely through The Power of the Truth. We basically chat, and if they say stupid things, I slam the desk and shout "That's stupid!" - usually less politely than that, but that's the general idea. It's an absolute wonder how much one can get done, once divested of stupid thoughts. Mr. Robo: *doubtfully* Does this actually work? Mr. Ham: *shoots straight up and hammers desk with both paws, producing a deafening crash* THAT'S STUPID! See, wasn't that hard, was it? Me: Sounds awfully like your on-ice mr.ham show. Mr. Ham: Oh, this is not-for-profit. Mostly. And I'm not against helping the ladies too. For instance, there was this chick that came to me for advice. Well-bred, well-read, pretty sharp, very fat, spent half an hour basically asking me why she couldn't seem to snag a decent boyfriend. I listened patiently, sat back and looked at the ceiling thoughtfully for a full minute after she was done, then blew a smoke ring and slowly tapped the ashes from my pipe before turning back to her and saying: "My dear, you're fat." "But the good news is that there's absolutely nothing the matter with you other than being eighty pounds overweight, so if you eat less and exercise more according to the plan I will send you, you should be good to go in less than a year." Mr. Robo: Are you sure that was her main problem? Mr. Ham: *yells at full blast* THAT'S BLOODY STUPID! *sits down in a huff and drags paw through head fur* You know, this crap makes me very angry. Her "friends" would only say bullshit like "It's not you, it's them", "You just have to wait for a guy who will appreciate you", "There's somebody for everybody" et cetera ad infinitum for years. Not one of them cared enough to tell her the truth. Well, she saw the light - did I mention she was smart? - lost the weight in ten months, and within a week, following some more of my tips, attracted a veritable flock of suitors. Me: Happy ending, so it seems. Frankly, it's hard not to shake one's head at the unfulfilled potential of some of those... big lasses. It's like watching a boy dribble past defenders "like a cocker spaniel chasing a piece of silver paper in the wind" at the neighbourhood park, only to discover he has no intention of going professional and becoming the next Giggs. Mr. Ham: Indeed, she only picked the third biggest asshole of the lot, in the end. But last I checked, they're happy.  She did have sufficient sense to skip the top two (Source: thepolyman.com) Mr. Robo: But... um... she isn't supposed to, like, like assholes right, being a nice gal and all that... Mr. Ham: *sighs* Mr. Human, I see how you have a problem. Your top technical executive has a more tenuous grasp of reality than the average teenaged female. Next he'll be saying that a guy's status, finances and height has absolutely nothing to do with it. Mr. Robo: But doesn't... Mr. Ham: *roars* THAT'S-SO-FRICKING-STUPID-OHMYLAWDHOWTHEHECKDIDYOUSURVIVETOTHISDAY???! Me: *looks through open window* I think you've blown him at least three blocks down the street. Impressive. Mr. Ham: *head in hands* He's winding up to be my toughest reclamation job yet. Maybe ever. The Spear Points Back Mr. Ham: But enough of him. Since it's been a slow day... how about... you? Me: Me? And what about me? Mr. Ham: *eyes twinkling* Well, what you like, of course! We have the time. Me: Strange you should ask. Actually, some of the guys were curious about more or less the same thing when we were on vacation. I was reticent then, but thinking back, none of it is really secret-worthy, so here goes. I have only ever really wanted two girls - not simultaneously - and the first would probably be classed as a crush. This, unfortunately, took some eighteen years in total. Both are married now, so there's nothing too much to say about either. I suppose I could have gotten with a number of other girls, some of whom, so I have heard, might have been regarded as prettier. But as the well-worn cliche goes, beauty is ever in the eye of the beholder, and in this matter I do the choosing for myself only, and no one else.  My face! Ruined! I'm not cute at all! (Source: petoftheday.com) There's no point in settling for second place in this area, and not because I'm competitive, which I am - heck, I've collected my share of third-place finishes in all sorts of competitions, which I'm actually quite okay with; it's a placing, doesn't attract too much attention - 不用太起眼吧 - and gives some confidence that one can go all the way if need be. No, it simply wouldn't be fair. Since I knew what I wanted, there was no way I could pretend that I didn't. Mr. Ham: So, you're basically telling me that you're an idiot. Me: You could put it that way. Mr. Ham: But you're a free agent now. Me: I guess so. Mr. Ham: Well, seeing as The State's Times has just done a piece on "The Checklist Syndrome" - and not for the first time either - what's yours? Checking Off Me: It's very simple, really. The key points are but four:
Exhibit A.J. Hopefully these are not too much to ask for? Mr. Ham: Erm... know? Me: I mean it in the archaic sense, and it's non-negotiable - even in my most hapless loserish days, I was not that dense. Indeed, the two girls I wanted had their similarities - mostly physically, and in their mannerisms. As to the process of stork summoning, I admit I may have been somewhat negligent in this respect in my earlier life - but as Franklin pointed out, all knacks can by practise be acquired. 后天努力可以弥补先天不足, there's nothing new about this at all. I'll come to the things that I don't really care about shortly. Mr. Ham: Ah, I see. Then it makes perfect sense. Myself, I've seen too many personals that focus on garbage. "Supportive of career". "Helps about the house". "Willing to compromise" (heh). For these cases, I have prepared shrink-wrapped stacks of namecards of some of the top career counselors, home cleaners, professional negotiators, etc that I know, which should fulfil their every stated desire. *empties ash* Ha, I knew a fellow who thought he had it made, when he got a wife who was the full package - clever, charming, pretty... only to find out to his horror after the wedding that he missed the Most Important Point - she didn't really want to know him. These nights, he spends much of his time hunched over, wrapped up in a blanket and staring blankly at a corner.  I'm not saying it's like that... but it's like that (Source: memegenerator.net) Yes, maybe you can't expect some ladies to say it, out of modesty - but if so, you better be very, very, very sure that they do want it, or you're up shit creek without a paddle. Most guys do want their partners to enjoy it too, you know. Me: It might not be that important if, in the back of his head, the guy thinks that he can still get his jollies elsewhere... but I'm traditional this way. All the more reason to be careful, and not to do anything mindbogglingly stupid. Mr. Ham: I get you. *puffs on pipe* Some of the stuff they say they want, I don't think they actually want it. Like when they manage to grab the pants, they too often discover that this means their guy has to walk about with his balls swingin' in the wind; and if he allows this to happen, they're probably small, so it's not even something to be proud of - hard to pull off this look, even for the best of them. And then she gets angry and wonders what's wrong! Me: And the not-really-important crap, covering qualities that are at best nice-to-have, but pale when compared to what's actually important (i.e. no care, José):
 It had to be emphasized (Original source: knowyourmeme.com) The reasoning is incredibly simple: for almost all of these qualities, they can be obtained far more easily, and without recrimination, elsewhere. Look, if I wanted to discuss the intricacies of arcane data structures, I have hours each day to do so with my pick of very knowledgeable colleagues at work, and if that fails, there are any number of discussion outlets, frequented by some of the top experts, available online. The same goes for virtually any subject that I can conceive of, from seventeenth-century central European history to the long-term direction of the global economy to the current state of Manchester United, few of which it would be fair to expect any individual, even taking educational background into account, to have more than a surface knowledge of. Explaining the points, one by one: Educational qualifications - Sure, it does show some evidence of aptitude and willingness to work, but let's be honest - most people can probably get a recognized degree in some subject if they want to and can afford it nowadays, so it's no big deal. Now, of course, obtaining it from a world-class university is certainly a mark of distinction, but let's put it this way - I would not automatically expect an average Ph.D. to be good at, say, short-distance sprinting. Sure, some of them may be, but from observation any relation between the two is very weak at best. Now, replace "sprinting" with "being a wife". Family background - I expect to marry her, not her family. Wants to visit every week? Fine. Alright with dropping by twice a year? Great! Anything short of "wastrel sibling panhandling for thousands each month" will be wholeheartedly accepted. Profession - Doodles, sells fish, herds kids, lays bricks, leads countries, signs billion-dollar contracts? Totally no care as long as Key Points #1, #2, #3 & #4 are met, counts for next to nothing otherwise. It's not a case of insecurity, just priorities. Madame President of the Free World? Superb! Madame President has no time for babies? No mutually-beneficial arrangement can be envisaged. Social status - see Family background. Interests/hobbies/likes - Generally no issues unless she decides to make them one. "Personality" - Fine, I will admit that some people may widely be judged to have a "better personality" than others. But I will also assert that I have not met anybody whose "personality" was so incredible as to come anywhere close to overriding Key Point #1. In fact, I also note that "great personality" is often used to damn with faint praise, i.e. when somebody is nice but not exactly memorable for anything, "great personality" is a safe fallback. Who can say otherwise? Also, frankly, a lot works in terms of personality - moody, doesn't smile much? Could work. Bubbly, saccharine sweet? Maybe. Alternating between temperaments? Why not? It all goes back to Key Point #1. Religion - This is an interesting one. Personally, I'm fine with most beliefs that don't extend to animal sacrifice, as long as she doesn't expect me to join in or pretend to believe it. It is a conclusion, reached after long and careful observation, that the inanimate objects and collected papers that a person fancies have a pitifully tiny influence on how objectively "good" or "honourable" that person is. Once we get past "Don't kill or rob or bully others (unless we say so, then it's alright, and even obligatory)", there's frankly very little to pick between the various popular providers of faith. In this vein, whatever a guy says he believes in doesn't have all that much to do with whether he will stray either, all the more if he thinks he will be forgiven by procedure. Let's be honest. For most guys, they can get it if they make their mind up to, even if they have to pay for it; it's down to him and him alone, not anyone spying from up there, which didn't stop him from jacking off previously anyway. Of course, I recognize the common dilemma of "must continue, otherwise they'll kick me out and I'll lose all my friends and feel very bad", a phase I had expected most to grow out of after witnessing vicious primary school cliques, but is evidently not the case. Fair enough. I thoroughly despise the socially-enforced practice of demanding at least in-name conversion as a condition of marriage, however. Oh, I am completely okay with driving her to the place of worship of her choice, and allowing the erection of an altar of her design, if she so desires - customary rule for new additions applies: you want to keep Him, fine; you take care of Him. No less than what supposedly the wisest man to ever live did. Now, if He makes Himself useful by paying the bills and fixing the leaky faucet through direct agency, I might be willing to discuss the matter further. In summary, if she doesn't insist on harping about this matter, I won't have to hurt her by thoroughly demolishing her arguments. Quid pro quo, give and take, eh? Heck, I won't even keep her from pulling the kids in, only that I reserve the right, if asked, to honestly explain my non-conformance, and to conclude by staring into their eyes and sincerely saying "Dear, no matter who your favourite mythical action hero is, now or in the future, I will *always* love you." Alright, it isn't all bad - a small, sincere dose can be adorable, as with little girls awaiting Santas bearing gifts. It only gets severely irritating when they get mean and shun other kids for believing in the Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy/Kitchen Elves. Mr. Ham: A... fresh take. Me: Well, I'll end off with the qualities that are probably more desirable than the eight "don't really care" ones, but are still not mandatory as the four key points are:
*Mr. Robo staggers back in* Mr. Robo: *weakly* Did I... miss anything? Mr. Ham: *gently* Come, my brother. We have a lot to talk about. Just wait inside there. *directs Mr. Robo to adjacent room, and closes the door* I may have found my calling. This is true saving of souls. Me: *smiles* I fully understand, Mr. Ham. You're doing good work. *pats Mr. Ham on back* Next: Beep Beep
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