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[ January 2006 ] | |
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TCHS 4O 2000 [4o's nonsense] alvinny [2] - csq - edchong jenming - joseph - law meepok - mingqi - pea pengkian [2] - qwergopot - woof xinghao - zhengyu HCJC 01S60 [understated sixzero] andy - edwin - jack jiaqi - peter - rex serena SAF 21SA khenghui - jiaming - jinrui [2] ritchie - vicknesh - zhenhao Others Lwei [2] - shaowei - website links - Alien Loves Predator BloggerSG Cute Overload! Cyanide and Happiness Daily Bunny Hamleto Hattrick Magic: The Gathering The Onion The Order of the Stick Perry Bible Fellowship PvP Online Soccernet Sluggy Freelance The Students' Sketchpad Talk Rock Talking Cock.com Tom the Dancing Bug Wikipedia Wulffmorgenthaler       |
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bert's blog v1.21 Powered by glolg Programmed with Perl 5.6.1 on Apache/1.3.27 (Red Hat Linux) best viewed at 1024 x 768 resolution on Internet Explorer 6.0+ or Mozilla Firefox 1.5+ today's page views: 98 (12 mobile) all-time page views: 3741739 most viewed entry: 18739 views most commented entry: 14 comments number of entries: 1257 page created Thu Mar 12, 2026 03:39:49 |
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- tagcloud - academics [70] art [8] changelog [49] current events [36] cute stuff [12] gaming [11] music [8] outings [16] philosophy [10] poetry [4] programming [15] rants [5] reviews [8] sport [37] travel [19] work [3] miscellaneous [75] |
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- category tags - academics art changelog current events cute stuff gaming miscellaneous music outings philosophy poetry programming rants reviews sport travel work tags in total: 386 |
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- reviews - As a known Wikipedia addict, it was with great interest that I indirectly came upon Uncyclopedia. When a site has a jigsaw-bun as its logo, you know it's on to something. For now far less prolific than its parodispiration (17000+ articles compared to over 940000 English ones for the real deal), it has comedic value disproportionate to its size. "Upon first coming here, some people have the impression that this is not a "serious" website. Their brains then take them on a magical journey which leads them to think that anything goes here. This is simply not the case. We pride ourselves in humor that can be understood and appreciated by most people, or at least a very large number of people. Jokes that only you or your friends understand are not acceptable content for the Uncyclopedia. We do take this site seriously as a parody, if you can wrap your head around that." - Uncyclopedia Beginner's Guide Yes, it punches above its weight. Be forewarned that the humour is often sledgehammered straight in, however. "3000 BC - The Birthday is invented. Up until then, people were born, lived, and died at 0 years old. 2999 BC - Numbers are invented, allowing for people to live to be more than 1 year old." - Selected Anniversaries on January 31 Not extremely heavy stuff there. Certainly an acquired taste. More sophisticated articles do exist, such as the one revealing how the Manhattan Project was actually a cover for a secret program to grant superpowers to the American President. "This disguise was so well implemented that as part of the cover story, a nuclear weapon was actually developed... Both of these inventions were implemented when President Harry S. Truman personally flew across the Pacific carrying a uranium-based nuclear bomb, which he dropped on the city of Hiroshima, Japan." The Uncyclopedia does of course cover drier academic subjects, like Godel's Incompleteness Theorem. Singapore already has its own Uncyclopedia page! Whoopee! "1. A Malaysian form of karaoke, mainly featuring real cheap mass produced Bollywood dance flick title songs. 2.Country founded by IMF 1957 when Adidas corporation declared that they needed another tax free zone to be able to expand vigorousely in South Asia. Today, it is described as a boring country, mainly bacause it is illegal to spit on the sidewalks. " - Singapore It goes on... "Singapore is also famed for producing large numbers of whiny and vain bloggers. Singaporeans are reputed to make up more than 70% of all Asian blogger users. 80% of Singaporean bloggers are female. 90% want to marry William Hung. The other 5% want to marry Sia Suay, and the other 5% are not gay." Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. I can't say any of this is that outrageous, though. Not when I've friends who suggest "JIBAI" as an appropriate original greeting for this Lunar New Year. The logic is that the Year of the Rooster is leaving us, so we should bid farewell (BYE or BAI) to the chickens (JI). Legendary Uncyclopedia contributor in the making :P
- cute stuff - Lunar New Year. An annual opportunity to alternate between wolfing down massive amounts of bak kwa, and washing it down with glasses of chilled soft drinks. Obtained a bloaty belly in good time with all the gaseous buildup. Returned to Bedok as usual for the reunion dinner, and ran the nailbiting gauntlet of identifying relatives, due to being extremely bad with faces and terms of address - more accurately, making the link between the two. I've seen too many acquaintances I couldn't put a name to, like one particularly embarassing episode when a primary school classmate recognized me in BMT. I didn't, so asked for his name. On three occasions. And I can't remember it now. Appropriately enough, some of my relatives brought a pet doggie, and it was simply quite adorable. It was what I guess would be termed a toy dog, with white fur, almost silent, but pretty hyperactive. Its pointy teeth got me a bit worried about incidental puncture wounds when it tottered over, but I felt almost guilty for even suspecting a bite when it reared up to dispense a friendly lick on my hand. Aww. From overheard conversation, it's one intelligent doggie which is not only toilet trained but can also feed itself for several days. And run about in circles a lot too. And when it does bark, it sounds like a kid with a lungful of helium. Slightly creepy when first heard, but it gets endearing. Noticed too that all my cousins are growing up fast. Almost all on the younger end of the scale are girls for some reason, I recall most my age are guys. Well, you can't argue with a bumper crop of cuteness, running the gamut from extroveted to painfully (but oh so incredibly cutely) shy. Hmm, perhaps just indifferent. Digression here to the subject of pets... Never had too much luck with them. Was big on fishes when I was a kid, but they somehow all ended up flushed down the toilet bowl probably due to poor aeration. Same with the tadpoles from primary school, and even the imported Seamonkeys (brine shrimp). Well, I like to think it's a direct route to the Great Fishtank in the Sky. At least the tortoises lasted (not a huge achievement, considering how long-lived they are) long enough to be released. But if I ever get free choice of a pet, I think a bunny would win hands down. Yes, yes, it's not exactly a macho "guy" animal, but what power on earth can possibly resist this?  Fwah! Must... resist... manifesting... urge to... overtly go ga-ga. Ahem. Stiff upper lip, that's it. But as one wit on Cute Overload put it, "a little bit of you just melts inside". If there's one power that transcends boundaries, it must be that of cuteness. See, even Scott Adams agrees. Well, perhaps not if one is on the verge of starvation.  One that wasn't cute enough Otherwise, my opinion is that if you throw enough bunnies at a problem, soon people won't even bother about the problem because they will be too busy petting the little darlings. At the very least, there will be less bunnies to feed. Some religions are against dogs, pigs and the like, but who can hate a fluffy bunny? *Bunny rubs the dissenters* But back to dogs and men. The dog got led away, and then we left too, early enough to catch Cheltenham vs Newcastle, then Everton vs Chelski, and finally Bolton vs Arsenal. Totally missed the CNY countdown, but no great loss I suppose. Got a look into online soccer betting too, but somehow the odds don't seem to be particularly good. They do fluctuate a lot. Well, seated on the sofa surfing on a laptop watching quality soccer chomping yummy snacks browsing the TIME article compilation that my sister got from her magazine subscription is about as good as it gets. Happy Dog Year! Woof!
Happy Birthday to me :) And I thought 21 was old. Reaching this milestone of age while in the midst of attempting an Asymptotics tutorial wasn't the flashiest of ways to go about it, but I didn't mind too much. It does come with the realization that I am irrevocably an adult. Yes, I know, I'm slow on the uptake. A young adult, but nevertheless one. No, I didn't morph into an upright, conservative, solid-as-rock exemplar of grownupness upon that blink of the colon on the antique DIY LED clock mounted on the wall, but I got a distinct image of 23, 24 and 25 floating up with infinite patience in the recess of my consciousness. "Come," I hear them whisper, with the detached promise that only figments of the imagination can possess. "Come into the world of adulthood. Walk out from the realm of potential into utility, hold your head high as a full member of society! Graduate and get a job, outrun the other rats, draw bigger salaries and pay higher taxes; Cast aside those A's, pursue the C's. Engage in obligatory polite small talk, attend company meet..." And that was when I leg-tripped 23 and informed him nicely that he would have to wait his turn. 24 and 25, getting the hint, hurriedly pushed past the milling crowd of the thirties and forties and slunk away quietly. But I could not help but see their faces - my faces - as though from the grave, placid but self-possessed in the knowledge that their time would come. "You know, that was totally unnecessary," 23 whined as he staggered up. "It is inevitable. The years pass ever more quickly as they go by. When I - I mean you - were five, a year was fully a fifth of your life, and birthdays were rare and welcome. But this latest was a meagre 4.5%, the next will be even less. Soon you will dread them, as your hair whitens and the vitality of youth withers..." "Hold on," I interrupted. "When did I become so pessimistic about my future?" "Ever since you grew older." 23 smirked. "And if you think I'm sour, wait till you meet 24." Courteously, I reciprocated in kind, blasting him into smithereens with a natural 20 mental 7th Level Bolt of Pent-Up Negative Energy, before feeling really mean for doing that as the rest of my future selves wheeled in an immaterial cake. Boy, do I know how to make myself happy. Seriously, a birthday's nothing too special. There isn't some ceremonial bell, tolling at the exact instant that one drew one's first breath, hanging over one's head. But the half day off entitlement when in NS isn't bad. Interestingly, Robinho of Brazil and Real Madrid fame shares the same exact date of birth as me - 25 January 1984. It feels kind of good to be born on the same date as olden legends Eus�bio and Tost�o too. Not to mention the Scottish poet Robert Burns, Irish chemist Robert Boyle and Italian mathematician Joseph Louis Lagrange. "Let it not be said, however, that I am displeased with my life so far," one of my gathered future selves quipped. "Alexander had to weep for he had no more worlds to conquer. (Some nudges, and muttered commentary that in fact, he did, and should have employed better cartographers) I however, have them all before me." I was impressed, but also a bit miffed. "That's very nice, but I'm supposed to say that. Your turn is in five years." "Oops."
- sport - I always try to make time to watch Manchester United play, and it hurts to admit that, of late, it has sometimes been a painful experience. Perhaps the fault lies partly with the opposition. Soccer is best served with speed and skill, and against teams that seem to play nine defenders, that can be hard to achieve as the flow is often broken up. Truth be told, United have actually had a pretty decent season, one that could have seen them top of the table in another year, if not for Chelski's machine-like efficiency spoiling the market. United have fundamental squad problems, though, and are capable of long stretches of mediocrity before moments of magic. The most glaring hole, in central midfield, makes one tremble. Where once there was Keane and Scholes, ably backed up by Butt, P.Neville and Veron, now stand Darren Fletcher and John O'Shea. Scholes remains but is not getting any younger, and Alan Smith is really a striker. Personally I think Park Ji Sung is a valid option, but he doesn't often get picked. To be clear, Fletcher is not a bad player at all. It is just that, charitably put, he is not first-team material - perhaps in a few years, but definitely not now. And O'Shea, or Smith, or both of them for that matter, is obviously no Keane. So what we have here is a strong attack and a solid defence tacked onto a decidedly average engine room. Not that the other departments are perfect. On the wings, Cristano Ronaldo remains an enigma. Having largely ditched his patented 1,001 stepovers, he too often still tries to beat one man too many. Tellingly, a Giggs short of a yard of pace generally looks more dangerous on the dribble. Even Park plays more effectively. To Ronaldo's credit, he's always ready to run and penetrate deeply, something few of his teammates try to do. If there is one bright spark in the whole United team, it's Wayne Rooney. At twenty, he has carried United for too many matches already. Sadly, on his off days, he sometimes remains United's best performer. Unshakeable off the ball, he's a primal force when taking it forward. Spotted at leftback, right wing, indeed everywhere other than in goal, it's hard to imagine him getting much better. In contrast, Ruud van Nistelrooy pales. Certainly he is a prolific poacher, but I sometimes wonder if quite a few other forwards can replicate his results given United's overall quality. He refuses to shoot from outside the box (with one exception), and is no threat to explode past the last man a la Henry (or Rooney, for that matter). Too often isolated when playing with his back to goal, he must desire Beckham back so they can form their old package deal. Ah, the match itself. The first half had stalemate written all over it. Liverpool had the better attacking opportunities, but the United defence was comfortable. Which didn't say much for United's own chances, of course. I wasn't too concerned when Cisse blasted over from point blank range in the second half, as the linesman appeared to have his flag up. It was only when replays showed that Ferdinand was still on the line after his saving clearance that the enormity of the miss sank in. Pleasingly, United then upped the tempo in front of their home crowd. Had it stayed goalless, I would still have been satisfied with the attitude and confidence shown as United finally began looking like the home team. Rooney came frighteningly close from at least twenty metres, with a grounder that went just wide of the right post. Then came injury time, and new hotshot Ferdinand's fantastic headed goal that Reina got a hand to but could not stop. It's hard to maintain a courteous silence while leaping up and down waving your hands, but what could I do? It is for moments like this that I watch soccer. Soccer may be the king of sports, but it is not the easiest of games on the eye when played too tactically, too cynically. Basketball has its 24-second shot clock and halfcourt rule, in rugby and American football it makes no sense to retreat anything but the smallest of distances, and so on. Only in soccer can there be "Mexico" plays intended to run down the clock, where players not liking what they see in the penalty area can hoof the ball all the way back to their keeper. But it is also precisely because of this nature that the goals are treasured more than comparable achievements in any other ballgame. A team can win all the corners and hit all the bars they want, but there is no other currency in soccer. No fractions, no minor credit, no judges' decision. Just the goal. And what a game it was, what a game it is. It is at moments like this that I remember the Treble of 1999, and Oliver Holt's words. "In two astonishing, almost surreal, minutes at the end of the last European Cup final of the 20th Century, the gilded youth of the most famous of clubs left excellence behind them and found the greatness they have been searching for." If United fail to dominate the English game as they did for the nineties, if they retain that never-say-die spirit, they cannot have let anybody down.
Late on the wave, here's Yet Another Blog to join the countless millions residing on server hard drives around the world. Still, it's one more object in the blogosphere. Some eight years after I first registered my domain name (just about when Jorn Barger created the first weblog), I finally got around to piecing together a coherent system with which to chronicle my life. And indulge my ego as an afterthought. The epoch really began when my secondary school class shifted its traffic from our venerable email-based Yahoo Group to Blogspot. Actually, more importantly, I got bored. Sated on DotA, and not partial to mugging so early on in the semester (kind of unsporting... nah, just lazy), I decided to start a blog. I didn't even look at the mainstream blog hosts such as Blogger.com. My server wouldn't have been able to forgive me. I pretended to briefly contemplate using one of the many freeware and undoubtedly comprehensive blogging software available (Movable Type, WordPress, Nucleus CMS etc), and decided that it would be too much hassle to learn how to configure them. Therefore, I proceeded to create my own blog software, like any self-respecting Computer Science major. And glolg (the lol means Laughs Out Loud, not decided what the two G's represent) was born. Development from scratch took about five days, with the promise of many bugs to be discovered. And many features delayed. Damn, I'm already thinking like a professional software engineer. So have a look, try to crash the site, whatever. I'll be back soon.
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