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[ July 2009 ] | |
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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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- changelog - changelog v1.12f --------------- * Google Friend Connect box added. More hidden clutter. Somewhere along Michael Moorcock's King of the City, I had cause to reflect upon my writing style. Verily one may not equitably contrast a novel - that meticulously-edited bastion of professionals... well, at least those novels that are read are written by pros - with a rank amateur's blog. But here I am; flattery by mimicry, if not outright plagiarism, is present everywhere. Ranks of dutiful schoolchildren staining their hands to some long-dead calligrapher's script, Elvis undying, multiplying, chimpanzees prying ants out of antholes. The men in white coats would agree, they say we're all ninety-nine point nine percent identical. Virtually clones by many factories' QC standards. So how could I imitate? Good writers wear many coats, after all, shedding and donning them as they see fit. It does not seem a matter of the short sentence versus the long, or even the winnowing of logical conjunctions that inhabit my natural voice and hold a mirror to hidden character. Because, therefore, I must justify, bluntly. Mere description is seldom enough, I must stamp judgment even when promoting tolerance, as all my psychometric tests confirm. It is at least a good habit for wannabe academics to get into. But this is only the part of it. Great prose, the domain of Wilde, Poe, Narayan, of Shaw in particular, is easy to recognize, hard to replicate. As it should be, lest the streets be clogged with more wordsmiths than due could properly be paid to. I will still make humble effort here, and in the interests of versatility adopt an alien pen that summons headaches. Bicycle-riding on Thursday, as good a day as any to go two-wheeled. Hot too, the kind of day that mortgages sunburns. Throw in unconvincing gears that often fail to bite, and poor suspensions that irk butts and frame blameless seats, and it had all the makings of misery. Misery does love company, and having little better to do, our little band of riders went east, further than before, on the back of a one-hour extension that the bike shop could well afford. Past the airport, Changi beach, the ferry terminal to Tekong where I once stood guard for a day, all the way to Changi Village across a quaint narrow bridge. The hawker centre was overpopulated with drinks stalls, beyond what I thought could be supported by the average clientele, even if it's common wisdom that drinks are the money-spinners of coffeeshopdom. Iced milo is iced milo anywhere, not to speak of Coca-cola. The Zero version went down surprisingly well, and bar a minor mishap with a fly in an eye it was back to the Mac's easy as pie. Three hours of exercise only to enter Ronald's junkyard embrace. Saturday, a new pair of glasses, transitions, the frame sharing a name with one of the university's servers. A good sign? The shop had the misfortune not to inform my grandmother immediately as agreed upon. They could have ducked it with a little fib, as this was one honest deed that would not go unpunished. Still, admonitions are water off a businessman's back as long as they get paid, and the optician on duty had the advantage of a prominently displayed degree from Pennsylvania to deflect some of her wrath. A soft touch for handsomely embossed qualifications, my grandma, prone to slight exaggerations and frankly stupidly high standards, of which I have been an unwilling pacesetter. Tough break for my cousins and other relatives. The world is massively clearer through new, unscratched lenses, with the yellowing old pair plenty good enough for ball games. More sun, dehydration, and mislabeled vending machines with little recourse. The presence of cars threw open our options for dining, and we ended up at IMM where free parking was a definite draw. A plate of lemon chicken rice, a chocolate Flavour Burst at Mac's (butterscotch was all out), and three Menthos rolls at a dollar from some alluring two-to-five jackpot machine, and I was sated. Less about myself, and more about recent happenings. From the embattled head of Ren Ci, who has undoubtedly done some good, regrettably with questionable finances - is the time of true saints over? - he desired a racehorse as a pet. One understands, a hamster is tiny, some peoples' wishes run to the larger of Nature's beasts. The lifestyle section of the Sunday Times obligingly does a feature on horse owners, mostly women, in assent. Little girls do like ponies after all. For better or worse, gods and their men cut little ice with the real powers that be - a Singapore Armed Forces private, in civilian mode a Hindu priest, was shorn of his strength and crowning glory. Did he point to the brave Sikhs, who can boast of a whole head and a full turban? Would the authorities unearth 2002's primary school tudung affair? As ever with gods, some are the larger and some are the smaller, depending on place and time, and whatever deity the Sikhs adore, they were by all accounts good fighters and loyal; for such, accommodations can surely be made. If a god grant his priest the power to smite nuclear submarines, generals will hasten to clear his request to wear his underpants on the outside, in double-quick time; but gods do love humility, at least in others, so. Local property prices, despite a gloomy economy (but the worst is over, some say), hit a record high. Yes, we know of lags, as plump prices delay their agonizing diets. As we have seen, the monthly payment for a flat is indeed likely below 30% of income, and renting a nice place, for the family-inclined, will cost about that anyway. Not that anybody actually owns a flat either. One just rents it for a longer time. And from a fixed need to a mobile one, housing to transport; drinking plain water or sucking on a sweet now carries a fine. Again the slippery slope, from blatant messy packed-lunch munchers, to sippers, to saliva-swallowers, where is the handbrake pulled? A straw poll by the local news had 78% of respondents think the implementation "too strict", but one cannot rule by consensus. It's the Discarded Slurpee corollary to the Broken Window effect. Blending into academics, it appears that traffic rule-breaking, to an extent, is good for all. Before the drivers of Naples grow smug, the fine print after the headline taketh away. The simulation was, after all, on pedestrians in discrete squares, and improvements were only observed with up to four-tenths of them jaywalkers, not to speak of the actual mechanism by which they break the rules. It seems a Beamonesque leap to extrapolate these findings to highways, alternately the usual round of Chinese whispers by a mass media more ravenous than rectitudinous. In the prestigious Public Service Commission scholarship interviews, integrity and authenticity was held to be paramount, after the ability to ace exams being prerequisite. No conformists, no "yes-men", no sirree! Against corruption, there must be no wavering - as the pride of the proletariat called out their parents in Communist China for crimes against the state, integrity must be uncompromised. But what is corruption? Who is to say? Who can it be said to? Whose priest administers the confessional? A certain young officer of impeccable pedigree, flower of the nation, recepient of said scholarship, must have been an exemplar of this virtue. His convictions went all the way up to the Minister of Defence, they came back down to him. But is that not what we are looking for? Integrity. A medium-sized word of many faces. It smiles in bureaucracy, scowls in the military, is veiled in academia. Hush, ungrateful NTU Fine Arts valedictorian, the horn of the ship sounds for thee. A man may not hold a man's bare back, it is provocative, it will tempt good men into the abyss. Our shorn Hindu priest may nod at the immorality - all that uncovered, immodest man-flesh in National Service! The world turns into a dark and widening gyre. Local doctors, heed the call of integrity. Should we make exceptions for a profession of compassion? No, the rules are the rules. Tar and feather your rude colleagues, drive them from the healing road, for rudeness and abrasiveness are symptoms of an unworthy character. Who cares if they discharge their duties competently, if their mother has died, if their wife has left them? This is professionalism. This is integrity. Learnt through a semester's course, marks given for the correct answers, assigned a letter grade, recognized through a few hours' jaw-jaw, integrity! Postscript, an ex-civil servant whispers in the national news, delighted to hear from the Public Service Commission chairman that the public service needs people who are non-conformist, and that a few radicals will also be acceptable: "This sounds so alien to someone who has worked in the civil service for many years." Having contrary ideas is great, is progressive, leaders gush. Just not in my backyard, please. Some students have certainly been true to themselves. My statistics of the previous post were slightly off - one classmate, whom I thought had quit NUS medicine (too little integrity there?) after two years for business, had actually hopped over to NTU to study accountancy. Trumping that is a high school senior I knew mostly by reputation - a fellow Computer Science graduate, from CMU, he became a fellow NUS Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences graduate, in English Literature. I would not have dared, and can only salute. On the rise of automation, optimistic scientists, under the auspices of the A.A.A.I, have agreed. The robots are rising. Today's science fiction may well be tomorrow's dystopia realized. Asimov's Three Laws, or Herbert's Butlerian Jihad? "A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm..." "Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of a human mind..." I intuit that neither will come to pass. The Promethean's box once opened cannot be again closed. The human hand is seldom stayed indefinitely by the human mouth. Nor a hamster's mouth. My fingers hover over my little furry friend, lying contentedly as an opium-smoker may. I left a noodle-bit on its head, as a parting gift. Goodnight, little guy, go hence; to your sad, short and simple dreams. Until the time that you wake, and we shall feast again.
- outings -  (photo credit: law) Sunday Photo session with secondary school class, at the unholy hour of 8 a.m. It's amazing how much one can sweat, wearing those heavy graduation gowns. Didn't quite meet MM Lee, like some other group did, but we did get Mr Tan Kah Kee back at Hwa Chong Institution. Tips and tricks learnt: how to possibly get additional bottles of drinks from certain makes of vending machines (wholly academic interest/survival skills only). Best gown: By consensus, occ's Duke gown. Edchong: "the most outstanding, most stylo, most fashionable, jaw droppingly beautiful graduation gown i evah seen". Three things in its favour: One, it resembles a raincoat so much so that it should be handy in the rain. Two, it probably can pass as a priest's cassock, or even at a pinch a nun's habit, which could come in handy. Three, it's absolutely free of charge! Went over to TCHS very conveniently, since some of us have both drivers' licences and access to vehicles. Took yet more photos, ate at law's favourite Bukit Timah food centre, then given a ride back by alvin (thanks). So let's see how the class of 4O, year 2000, The Chinese High School, is doing...  Note: Data on major for one individual unavailable. Double degree majors (3 known) shown separately. All 34 students took the easy way out and went on to university, where Chemical Engineering was the most popular major by some distance (it does pay well). As it stands, there are (to-be) twelve engineers, four doctors, a sprinkling of scientists, accountants and businessmen, but no lawyers, which I suspect will prove troublesome in future. *Cough* None in the more arty majors either, which isn't quite unexpected.  Over two-thirds of the class had insufficient inclination/funds to venture overseas for undergraduate studies, congregating instead at the world's On graduate studies: Six of the seven who went overseas are/will be pursuing it, along with at least five from NUS. Of course, some may go down this road after gaining work experience. Not too shabby for now. Monday Met a prof, borrowed some books, and caught the newest Harry Potter movie at Iluma, where there was fantastic legroom. I was never a big Potter fanboy, having at most skimmed through the last few books (and probably not the last one), though I did know that Snape was the [spoiler] (come on, doesn't everybody). What can I say - copious amounts of snorgling, and a cringeworthy shoelace-tying scene which, I was assured, was not in the novel. Not too sure what the Vatican saw in it (see last post).  Hammy Putter is confused pre-snorgle (source: Cuteoverload) About other movies: Might make an effort to watch 2012 when it comes out. Mr. Ham's pick is, of course, G-Force (alternate poster), even if the heroes are [Mr. Ham: *mumble grumble*] mostly guinea pigs, instead of hamsters (there is actually one hamster) - to which he registered his displeasure with a token escape act. La-di-dah. The movie, for better or worse, will probably precipitate a mini-boom in guinea-pig/hamster sales, which has finally given Mr. Fish the opportunity to pull out this article:  Mr. Fish: "Puny?! You want to keep all your fingers??" (source: Today) Hopefully they won't be pressed into service after the novelty wears off. Talking about novelty, how about a ping-pong door? And oh, the Chinese have bought The Onion. Good sports coverage though.
- programming - One of the questions I've been asked sporadically is "what's a degree in Computer Science good for"? People do have short memories; before the dot-com crash, nobody asked that because they knew the answer (like Economics). I do get requests to troubleshoot computer issues, even though most of these are easily solvable with a liberal dose of Google, so that should be at least part of the answer. Ever wonder why one runs into trouble copying huge-ass home videos? Try TeraCopy, after converting the filesystem to NTFS. So let me introduce one of the possible uses of a CS degree. Let us say that a guy wishes to read manga. There are plenty of websites that allow browsing, but clearly being able to save the images on one's hard disk is far more convenient than having to wait for them to load on demand. One solution for the more determined is to simply right-click and save the image each time they load a new page, so that in the future they can just enjoy the comic at instant speed off their own hard disk. This is not that impractical, except in the case of certain sites, which go to quite some lengths to prevent that. Use this site as an example in point. The first thing that a "saver" might notice is that the right-click functionality has been disabled. If the reader is savvy, he may then look at the HTML source to discover the URL for the image, only to discover that the image is loaded by JavaScript. This is not too much of a problem, and a sufficiently motivated reader might dig through a JavaScript console (like Google Chrome's built-in one) and get the image URL. Yay! But this is just one image, and knowing the actual URL does not seemingly help to predict the URL of the next page. We might be satisfied with this and start clicking through the JavaScript console for every single page (or even resort to printscreen and stitching), but further analysis may well reveal that the site's developers have tried to obfuscate matters by splitting control variables and code throughout the page using multiple external .js files. Knowing that, it is not hard to load the control variables and replicate the logic in Perl (with LWP::Simple), for instance. Then, since the URLs of the individual images are now known, it should be a simple matter to loop through them and save them to appropriate folders on one's local drive. All in theory, of course. So now you know what a CS degree might be good for. Got my eyes checked out for the first time in five years yesterday. Result: Right eye, myopia -5.00 [+0.75] diopters/astigmatism -2.25 [+0.25] diopters (25 degrees) Left eye, myopia -6.25 [+0.25] diopters/astigmatism -2.75 [+0.25] diopters (180 degrees) A slight increase, but over such a long time I suppose it ain't too bad. Should be nice to return to crystal-clear sharpness with a new pair of lenses. Went to NUS for tennis in the evening, where we discovered that despite having nearly 20 courts, it's best to have a booking. A few loose ends to tie up: I forgot to mention the go-getting financial planner who called my handphone almost immediately after my commencement, trying to get me to commit to a face-to-face no-obligation meeting. Not particularly eager for an awkward sit-in where one might find it hard to take one's leave, I requested for an e-mail correspondence, and haven't heard from her since. Well, let it not be said that I don't leave opportunities open. On the commencement ceremonies: I noted that SoC students appear to be much more eager to burst balloons than FASS ones. Even accounting for the larger proportion of males, might there be other underlying reasons? Came across a two-page spread (pages 28 & 29) in yesterday's Today paper that had not one, not two, but three especially thought-provoking articles. One: The Vatican actually praised Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and this coming after they slammed Real Madrid's spending! Two: The Episcopal church voted to accept homosexuals in all roles in their ministry, thus pissing off more conservative Anglicans, who can't see why they can't just stick to multiple divorces à la ex-head King Henry VIII, or stop at allowing (usually-black) slaves into the ministry. Brownie point-scoring spree by the churches, and part of the long-term trend of the formerly unthinkable becoming mainstream, though of course staunch believers at different times - the anti-blacks-as-priests believer of a century ago, and the anti-gays-as-priests believer of today, must have been equally certain of their divinely-mandated stance... The third article: A British investigation into what would most likely prompt the return of a lost (and otherwise empty) wallet:
And *drum roll*... Cute baby wins by a knockout! 88% (nearly nine out of ten) such wallets were returned, which is nothing short of amazing. Cute puppy was next with 54%, then the family with 48%. Only 28% returned the wallet when the photo was of an old couple, which doesn't bode well for the seniors, but at least they were held in higher regard than givers to charity, which yielded just 20%. The control sample of empty wallets, in comparism, got 15%. Perhaps it was because charity cards probably don't have much sentimental value as compared to babies or puppies (and old people probably are sick and tired of each other already)? [Ham's Note (paid advertising): My photo would ensure a 100% return rate. Would any readers be interested in an anti-item-loss Mr. Ham Sticker™ business venture?] Video of the month, courtesy yiren:
Attended the Computing commencement ceremony, where I took the opportunity to observe how the balloons were released (from within a large net). Might have jumped the gun a bit when crossing the stage to get my empty scroll, but whatever. Sakae sushi after that, then football late at night where I had a pretty bad-touch day.  The badminton kaki graduation (photo credit: andy) Other notable news: Man Utd got Owen on a free transfer and plonked the hallowed Number Seven shirt on him. Also an unheralded Frenchman, Gabriel Obertan, who has already gotten the regulars over at RedCafe busy: Obertan, Obertan Scores a goal whenever he can He's got a kidney for a head We don't care now he's a red (he does look sorta like Mikael Silvestre, a.k.a. Mr. Potatohead) Geocities is dead. Long live Geocities. Not having attempted a thesis in Economics, it seems only right to summarise what I have (or was supposed to have) learnt for the B.A. in Econs. Modules taken (14): EC1301 Principles of Economics EC2101 Microeconomic Analysis I EC2102 Macroeconomic Analysis II EC3101 Microeconomic Analysis I EC3102 Macroeconomic Analysis II EC3303 Econometrics I EC3312 Game Theory & Applications to Economics EC3332 Money and Banking I EC3333 Financial Economics I EC3353 Health Economics I EC3361 Labour Economics I EC3371 Development Economics I EC3383 Environmental Economics EC4102 Macroeconomic Analysis III Off the bat, why study Economics? In a word, money. Consider interview-ese translated to plain speak:
It may be that some people study Economics (or Accountancy, or [Computational] Finance) where their main motivation in life is to get headaches from theoretical models (but can't stand the weirdos* over at the Math Department), balance rows after rows of columns while keeping to arcane tax laws, or sit and stare goggle-eyed at numbers on screens; to those, I unreservedly apologize in advance. * They're actually nice, normal people - I know some of them - but I invoke the right to be randomly mean once in a while, especially where higher math is concerned. For the rest of us acolytes of the Root of All Evil, I hasten to add that its poor reputation is undeserved. Open your textbooks (or visit Wikipedia), and revisit money's main functions: medium of exchange, unit of account, store of value. Imagine trying to buy a drink at the canteen without money - the uncle might ask what service I might offer in exchange. I might say, um, I can type blog entries. He might then think about it, regretfully inform me that he can blog on his own, thanks very much, but perhaps I could ask the dishwasher, whom might be open to some reciprocal arrangement? I suppose one could do without money in a tiny community, but how then would they arrange for more advanced services, such as specialized medical care, with the outside world? How many bushels of corn for a heart bypass? The community elders might refuse to debase the fruit of their labour with a single vulgar number, whereby the hospital might nod their heads and sigh, while having a grain trader act as an invisible intermediary. The elders may then be horrified at how little their life-giving food is valued, but that's how the free market works - just about anybody can get the hang of cultivating potatoes, but not everybody can kick a ball between two posts and a crossbar. Don't like it? Nobody's stopping you from kicking some balls, which must be a huge lure if farming is expected to bring only ten thousand thingys in an entire life, while Cristano Ronaldo can earn that in half a day on a two hundred thousand thingys a week contract. So money is a huge simplifier - you do things to get thingys, known as dollars in this part of the world, which can then be used to get everything one needs to survive, and more besides. Obviously one usually tries to pay as few dollars as possible, while getting as many dollars as possible for doing whatever it is that they do. More dollars seldom hurts, and after a few tens of millions it probably doesn't matter that much any longer for some. Having too few dollars can however be extremely inconvenient, thus the advice of many parents especially in Singapore, but certainly throughout the world: get an education, get a good job, get the dollars. Having established the prime objective - getting dollars - all else is commentary, within certain legal (and hopefully moral) restrictions. The lower one sells something, it follows that the more people will want to buy it. Same for the sellers. You might be surprised at how many higher-level modules revisit this point, and ask for the solution of the two equations representing these conflicting desires. One might also look at the particulars, of how quickly people flock to (or abandon) a product if its price changes. This is known as elasticity. We might then study the interactions and implications of demand and supplies of different elasticities, and the exceptions, such as luxury goods, where the basic theory does not hold. Some products - like left shoes and right shoes, or less lamely soccer balls and boots, go well with each other (i.e. are complements), while others such as chicken rice and chicken noodles don't (in terms of total sales, i.e. are substitutes). Common sense. People usually get more out of any product at first, and less thereafter (think of being forced to eat a fifth plate of chicken rice, i.e. diminishing marginal utility). Common sense. Firms produce stuff to make a profit, choose inputs to maximize profit, shut down in the short term if profits can't even cover running costs... all common sense. That's why I like microeconomics - it's just that straightforwardly easy. Simply think, what would I do to get as much money in this situation over the implied time period, and you're set. Then the math eventually barges in and it may no longer be that easy, but the driving force is always the same. Money. More of it. That about covers microeconomics, which at the higher levels involves more game theory (search this blog for past expositions... yeah right). Strictly speaking, one can cast even the basics of economics as game theory - consider for example consumer and producer decisions as a repeated game. I daresay most of the "big" decisions that an economist can make comes under it - if one buys stock in a company, what will the other major stakeholders do? What should I bid in a sealed bid auction for a project? What will the reactions be if I raise regulatory standards this year and actually enforce them? A warning: humans aren't always rational actors; even if they are, they may see different games in the same situation... The mathematical theory behind game theory can be challenging, and having not done especially well on Econometrics and Macroeconomics in comparism, I feel less equipped to speak on these subjects. In my own defense, plugging data into Excel is often enough to produce pretty regression charts. Also, when making real-life decisions, econometrics is a flexible tool, to be wielded as its user desires. Example:
As for macroeconomics, knowing the reasons for why governments act as they should is one thing, but each time I flip to the opinion pages and read about some Nobel laureate in Economics (e.g. Krugman) lambasting the Federal Reserve or some similar institution (perhaps staffed by another laureate, certainly by an economist of impeccable academic credentials), I wonder if the theories can ever be substantiated in reality. Take another famous case study, the Japanese liquidity trap. Doubtless the Japanese must have had a squadron of capable economists - what took them years to respond? Maybe they didn't have the political influence required to implement policies; or perhaps at this scale, national and international interests come into play, and no-one can really tame the beast, at least in any generalised way? This "I don't really know" position isn't quite popular, since highly-remunerated positions in ministries and think-tanks are available for those who claim they can affect or predict the economy's movements, even if they don't quite manage to do so, as long as they spout some accepted theory (with a dash of radical ideas to give the impression of daring cutting-edge thinking). That's economics as a profession for you. Health, labour, development and environmental economics are basically specialised microeconomics. Comparative health systems between the U.S. and Singapore? Incentives, (career) deferred payment, unions? Spreading the wealth to poorer countries (actually more of why it doesn't happen)? Carbon permits and compensation for pollution? Take the modules, learn the details, though as usual much is common sense - think of the money! Money, money, money! What modules remain? Ah, Money & Banking, and Financial Economics. The important side of economics *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge* Back to the story of thingys... sorry, Dollars/Euros/Pounds/Yen/money for a moment. How is it made? The bills and coins are produced by mints, but unfortunately one can't just buy a mint and print banknotes. Governments tend to take a dim view of such shenanigans. The next obvious question is that, since governments can print all that money, why should any government (such as that of the mighty United States) be worried about debt, when they could just crank out a few crates of the green stuff for the creditors? One common misconception is that this can't happen because money is legally required to be backed by stuff, usually precious metals like gold or silver (thus "gold standard"). This does have its supporters even today, but there's one catch. Literally nobody follows it today. All recognized currency these days is fiat, having its value just because a government says so. Yes, that's really all there is to it. So what determines its value? Scarcity, since the amount of currency is limited by the government. Theoretically, if the government decided to tack an extra zero on to all wages, eventually the price of all services would likewise increase tenfold. This is known as inflation, and occurs naturally (though far more slowly in a proper economy) to an extent. The flip side is that savings become relatively worthless, which is why simply printing more money while not increasing the quantity and/or quality of goods and services is not an answer. Yes, it could work when repaying fixed sums of huge debts in the domestic currency ("I owe you one trillion dollars? Alright, here's a one trillion dollar note."), but only works once and is a real reputation killer, all the while screwing up the domestic economy. It's probably simpler to just deny that one owes the capitalist imperialist exploiters anything (the "Hor?" doctrine). Another basic fact about money that many may not realise - take a look at banks. They keep your money safe, and even pay you for the privilege (though they don't pay much nowadays...)! Think about it - they pay good wages to employ fresh econs graduates, not to mention for all those beautifully furnished offices, smiling tellers behind counters, security guards and vaults, all to hold your cash for you. One might expect them to charge for the service, but no, they pay you! Same as with whenever money is concerned, there's an explanation. Banks actually don't hold much of one's money in their vaults at all, but instead seek to lend it to others who need cash. The banks charge handsomely for lending, keep a good portion of it, and distribute the rest of it as interest to depositors. Smoothly done. Note that this means that a dollar introduced into the system by the government usually creates a few times that amount through the money multiplier, but this need not concern most common citizens as it's out of their hands, with some economists somewhere doing the sums for them. The catch is when a lot of depositors suddenly want their money back; remember, the bank doesn't actually have most of their money on hand (uh oh). Ordinarily, this doesn't happen, but when it does (and unfortunately this behaviour is self-feeding), we have a bank run. So technically speaking, keeping cash in a biscuit tin under one's bed is slightly safer than plonking it in a bank (unless deposits are guaranteed by the government - until the government falls, anyway). For the truly paranoid, some precious metals and actual consumables (and even guns and ammunition in the U.S.) are a good hedge. Finally, we get to Financial Economics, one of the hot modules. The attraction is simple: if one can read the stock market, one doesn't need any other skill in life - just borrow the startup capital if need be, buy stocks, watch them go up, rinse and repeat, while doing whatever what wants to do after an hour or two of trading each morning/night. A dream life for many, and probably many have tried. The trouble is the first premise: reading the stock market. A fail-safe method doesn't quite exist, unless one works for the stock exchange and takes a cut of all transactions. In practice, some people probably succeed in making a living from stock trading. Knowledge, luck and deep pockets all help. The module did have a month's worth of practice trading with a pretend portfolio, and since it was during the still-bullish month of October 2007, I did manage a 3% return over the month (as compared to just over 1% for an STI index-based investment, and 0.13% for a typical fixed deposit). That's over 40%, if compounded over a year, or over 3300% over ten years. Not bad, eh? But wait. First off, the market happened to be nice - the index did rise by 1%. A year on, and the students taking the module would mostly be scrambling to find excuses. The fixed deposit would surely look tempting then. Secondly, is a 3% monthly return sustainable over the long term? Not in recent years at least. Take for example the famous Fidelity Magellan fund: its best single-year return for the past ten years was nearly 25% in 2003, and while that looks good, it's not quite even 3% a month (compounded, remember?). And the scary side: the fund lost nearly half its value last year, but then most funds tanked too. Those who had the foresight to buy China-based funds could have gotten annual returns of 20% over the past five years, but seriously, how many did so? Not that some didn't enrich themselves on China penny stocks a few years ago. Disregarding actual value or potential, the story behind earning this way is the same: Those who got in early are the big winners, while many hop on the bandwagon midway, even though they may suspect that the stock is already overvalued, because it doesn't matter so long as somebody else will take it off their hands (the "Greater Fool" theory). The losers are then those who bought at the peak, and to a lesser extent those who held out too long, before the inevitable price collapse. Worse, these stocks will probably not rise ever again, unlike blue chips, so even if one has the patience to wait it will be all for naught. Reminds one of something... Ponzi schemes, except that it's wholly legal (if the stock price is not driven up through explicitly fraudulent means) - buying and selling is how a market functions, after all. Having dismissed short-term trading, we are left with the traditional way of accumulating wealth through stocks: buying stock in a good company (in effect becoming a part-owner), holding it, holding it and holding it. This is less glamarous than the image of an active trader sitting before multiple computer screens and yelling out orders to brokers, but it works! Take an index fund that does nothing but buy stocks matching that of a market index - a typical return over 30 years would be a 30-fold increase! Even accounting for inflation over that period using U.S. Department Of Labor data that shows that prices have risen almost five-fold, it still means that waiting 30 years while staying invested in the stock market would multiply one's purchasing power six times: where one could have bought a house 30 years ago, one can now buy six comparable houses (that is, if real estate prices have risen the same as the general inflation rate). The picture is even rosier if one extends the wait to 40, 50 or even 80 years, as some investment guides hasten to illustrate. The trouble is, of course, waiting 30, 50 or 80 years. What use is a load of money, if one isn't physically capable of transforming it into enjoyment? The ideal situation would have been for one's great-grandparents to have set up a modest trust fund, but if that isn't the case, the best use of the stock market would be saving towards retirement - over a very long term, the risk is minimal, and the returns good. One danger is having to liquidate one's portfolio midway due to unforeseen emergencies, so it may not be a good option for those barely getting by. Here's what the situation may be like for an average university graduate (adjust upwards for high-flying scholar-types): The default values outline the situation for a fresh graduate at 25 years old with a starting salary of S$3000 a month, who retires at 65 years at a salary of S$11000 a month, assumed $200/year increment. Some fields such as accountancy enjoy greater increases, and certainly jobs with large variable components (e.g. sales, finance) can pay more, but on the whole I suppose that many would be satisfied with such a steady 40-year career (let's pretend that one is actually likely to have the same job at 65, lah). To put it in perspective, the case-study "average graduate" modelled here would be earning S$7000/month mid-career after 20 years, and that salary would be higher than 75% of Singaporean taxpayers. The final salary of S$11000 a month would be higher than 87% of taxpayers. Even taking into account that the average salary should rise over the years, it's not superb, but certainly respectable. This hypothetical "average graduate" saves 20% of his salary each month throughout his career for the long-term in the stock market, which averages a 7% annual return (the STI currently has a near-5% return over 22 years, but it would have been well over 7% had we looked two years ago when the index threatened to breach 4000, as compared to today's 2300; the Dow's historic return is over 10%, in comparism). I assume a 3% inflation rate (Singapore's average inflation rate since 1961 is about 2.73%, though it was a scary 6.5% last year). The result is an investment portfolio worth about S$1.6M at retirement at age 65, or S$770k in present value terms. Is saving 20% a month, or about S$600 per month to begin with, reasonable? Well, let's assume that the graduate wishes to have somewhere to live, and buys (or rather, leases for a long time) a 4 or 5-room flat. This would cost about $300k, and even with a 30-year repayment for his loan, it would come to about S$1k a month. With some skinting, it's quite possible. A car is another matter - one calculation gives the monthly cost of owning a car at some S$1.3k a month. Probably not a good idea for most fresh grads. It's another question whether "subsidized" HDB flats are really worth what the HDB says it is, but that's a question for another day. One of my profs had advice on buying a flat before one's family combined income breaks the S$8k monthly salary limit, but I'll leave astute readers to figure this out by themselves. The final part of this blog entry is separated from the preceding parts by a horizontal rule, because unlike what has been said so far, what will be said was not taught in university modules and/or financial help books. Link: edchong's valedictorian stand-in/up take. How to get (reasonably) rich, with minimal risk and money-management, has been described; Why one would want to get reasonably rich, or more commonly, unreasonably rich, is seldom if ever covered. If you are reading this blog, you are almost certainly one of the richer people on Earth. Do you earn over US$7000 a year, or US$583 a month (S$850/month at current exchange rates)? If so, congratulations. You are earning more than the global average. Yes, the actual figure is probably somewhat higher for the working population, since dependants were included in that average, and the local cost of living may dampen the impact of one's salary; but it's an accomplishment nevertheless. Another random fact: Tens of thousands die of hunger-related causes daily. It is a horrifying statistic, one I must have come across several times before at least, but done virtually nothing towards (playing FreeRice doesn't really count), and perhaps more shamefully, cannot summon sufficient empathy towards. Being hungry or voluntarily fasting is one thing, but the threat of actual starvation is difficult to comprehend. I could try to hammer out a piece against vanity purchases where people elsewhere are actually starving, but that would be so hypocritical that I wouldn't know where to put my face. The thing is, this starvation is completely preventable. The food exists, or can be sent. It is never a matter of not having the food. The problem is money. During the Irish famine of the 1840s, food was still exported to those who could afford it; in famines, it is the poorest who die.  (Source: The Big Picture) It is not that everybody should be entitled to the same - that was tried with communism, and failed with good reason - or even entitled to a "good" wage, or maybe, even a job. But it seems that everybody should be entitled to a bare minimum necessary for the sustenance of life; it just seems wrong that the price of a pair of shoes may be the difference between life and death for a family. Numerically, it is 150 U.S. dollars. Shoes. Lives. The life vs. luxury contrast may be most stark in the case of food vs. fuel. It is one thing to criticize super-picky welfare recipients, and another to leave those with no real choice or chances to their so-called fate. More on the distribution of wealth: it seems natural that wealth begets wealth, and poverty begets poverty. On the individual level, wealthy families can afford better nutrition (often overlooked), better education and the social connections to give their offspring a leg up. The poor are often pressed into accepting bad employment terms, at least partly because they cannot afford to hold out. On the national level, wealthy companies and countries hold most of the cards in dealing with poorer ones. Unfair? Well, this potential for power is what wealth gives. Personally, I foresee that continued advances in technology and automation will make the poorer and less-skilled increasingly redundant (yes, even despite recent setbacks, I'm talking a century or two). Automation causing unemployment is an old fear, which manifested centuries ago as "skilled" weavers suddenly found themselves replaced by looms. Of course, if one can be adequately replaced by a mere lifeless machine, it might be argued that one isn't really that "skilled" after all. Unhappy at this turn of fate, some of the weavers mobbed factories and destroyed the offending looms; but in the great sweep of history, they failed. The cloth produced by the looms was, to consumers, about as good as handwoven cloth, and the price far lower. The comfortable livelihood of the weavers, passed down through generations, thus could not be maintained any longer. This is a simple microeconomics problem concerning technology. Say that with the investment in a $50000 loom, an employer could hire one semi-skilled worker at $1000/month to work the controls and produce a unit of cloth. Otherwise, he could continue with five "skilled" weavers at $2000/month to produce the same unit, of the same quality. It does not take much mathematical nous to deduce that the loom would pay for itself very quickly (within half a year). Some employers might try to be kind-hearted and keep their old workers, but these will eventually be mercilessly outcompeted by those with fewer qualms, assuming no government controls. The weavers have a few methods of recourse: they could claim that such automation destroys the traditional social fabric (as they did in reality); but few will actually care - money, in this case savings on actual fabric, is paramount. The weavers could try to increase quality and create niches, and indeed some might successfully do so, but the market is unlikely to support all the newly-unemployed weavers; most people just want good, basic cloth at a low price, which is now the realm of the looms. So it is that the majority of the weavers suddenly become "unskilled" and poorer, while the owners of technology and capital - the patent holder and employers - get rather richer. Other than technology, which can only get better and cheaper, workers face another threat - cheaper workers. A case in point is the local IT industry, where a common gripe is that for general run-of-the-mill jobs, one can't get decent wages since there is always some programmer from India or China eager to snap the job up for say, S$1000 a month. Information technology is especially susceptible to external competition, since it doesn't quite matter where one's coder or website is based. Yes, it's always rosier at the top of the value chain, but how many can and do get up there? Low-skilled jobs are another sector in which foreign workers have driven down prices - take construction, in which a general worker may earn S$500 per month, a goodly sum perhaps in the less developed countries they hailed from, but next-to-impossible to survive on, much less raise a family on, for locals. The official stance is that dainty Singaporeans wouldn't do such menial backbreaking work anyway, and a common counterpoint is that sure they wouldn't - not at S$500 per month, but perhaps at S$2000 per month. Is it within the ability of the government to disallow foreign construction workers, in the interests of driving wages up for low-skilled locals? Certainly. But should they? Who are the winners and losers if such a policy is implemented? More locals should indeed be hired, but higher costs will likely result in higher construction prices, and whether the developers or property buyers/consumers lose depends on where these costs are shifted onto. But would there a sufficient supply of locals? Would multinational companies view these extra costs as unnecessary and abandon ship? As with the minimum wage debacle, there are numerous plausible arguments on both sides, and both empirical results and leading opinion appear split. It seems the only way to come to a conclusion on the effectiveness of such a policy would be to actually implement it (the bane and boon of the social sciences), which would surely make for a great research paper for a faculty-full of economists, but that won't happen anytime soon. Looking at foreign workers from another perspective, it might be asked: in a world of free markets, isn't this just part of the process towards inevitable global wage equality? Is that not desirable? However, it may be pointed out that many countries do protect their citizens to a larger extent than here, in that one can actually make a decent living as a construction worker or dustman. We can hardly blame the foreign workers from trying to better themselves; some have even staked their life savings (thousands of SG$), and more besides, on getting a job in Singapore. Indeed they might ask if locals could not do service work in the U.S. or Europe, and save up like them (answer: difficult, especially for the unskilled). A last word on money - it is often tied to self-worth, the ability to provide. And it could be that, as technology develops, the world will have increasingly little need of those with few skills, as production is shifted to ever-more automated assembly lines, and ever-more adaptive machines. People could find themselves quite unneeded, and able to contribute next to nothing, other than being human. Might it be that wealth and power become somehow even more concentrated at the top, with mostly useless make-work created to occupy the masses? Among the poor there must be many with pride; then would not such essentially-forced charity be painful to bear? What would happen to the elderly drink-can collectors, if we were actually conscientious enough to always dispose of them in recycling bins? Want and fear often lead to meanness, and economics and the sciences mostly focus upon finding ways to satisfy wants. There is, of course, the other side of the coin, sometimes advocated by religions, which is reducing wants. Do we actually need to "win" to be happy? Do we always need to better others to survive? Must earning S$5000 a month lead to S$10000 a month? And when that is achieved, does one's happiness evaporate at meeting a lottery multi-millionaire? Must one take to heart others' sniping about one "lacking ambition", and about others surpassing oneself? Frankly, after so long, there are many questions I have never found satisfactory answers to. This is partly why I do not particularly like public speaking, for all too often I am unsure of whether what I say is right, and other times I cannot be sincere about what I should say. Napoleon Hill's classic treatise on wealth, Think and Grow Rich, holds out desire as the first step. Randy Pausch said that brick walls are there to keep out those who don't want something badly enough. But, using that analogy, when we bulldoze the wall, will we crush anyone sitting behind it? Should be step on the heads of others to scale it? When I win, will others be happy? That may be too much to ask - I have felt the worm of envy on others' achievements, after all. Not that a small dose of envy is all bad, if it motivates improvement of the self, instead of destruction of the subject. One thing I've not done in a long, long time is to really, really try. Is it because I don't really mind having other win? Or because I fear coming to grips with my limits and defeat? Or because all of this doesn't really matter, because I know what I really want, and I'm not getting it? I feel age catching up. I am 25. In a short decade, I will be 35. Where and what will I be? Allow me to cast my thoughts back in time, to conclude this long and winding post: When I was in primary school, a classmate once asked me: which hero did I most admire in The Romance of the Three Kingdoms? I hadn't read too deeply into it, but replied without hesitation: Cao Cao. My classmate didn't seem too pleased. Of course, he was probably expecting one of the three sworn brothers, perhaps Zhao Yun, or Zhuge Liang, maybe even the likes of Huang Zhong. But Cao Cao, who would betray the world rather than let it betray him (comic interpretation)? After going through the story, I was aware that I wasn't supposed to like him; but darn, did I feel an affinity for the bastard. He won in the end, didn't he? And he was quite the able administrator in a time of chaos, too. Better some judicious ruthlessness than having one's poor subjects trek in the wilderness, even if willingly, no? Desire. A dangerous thing. But as it is, I continue as I have for long nights for long years to reserve the sum of love and hatred, for one thing only; and gaze in the mirror with disgust and sick yearning for the ugliness that may yet blossom, for that which swallows all my desire must also bear all my energies; which I suspect are far greater and far more insidious in utter hopelessness, than when damned with faint hope. And I will probably even enjoy it, because who am I trying to fool - I'm really not that kind of nice guy after all. I did sleep more soundly.
 Stand or hit? Commencement Week, also known as Here-Are-The-Papers-You-Spent-Four-Years-For-Thank-You Week. It's also the week where one's employability surges, despite being no more competent than the week before. And also the week where one gets to wear a funny hat and shapeless gown, and parents and grandparents alike somehow think it makes their offspring more photogenic. The story of how I got myself into two of the dang ceremonies began a few years ago, when I thought it was a nice idea to try the Special Programme in Computing modules, and the Undergraduate Research Opportunities Programme. On hindsight I should have asked whether I could have them overlap, but I overlooked that and instead assumed that I would need six extra semesters. Since I had been accelerating for my first three semesters, it meant that I could go it easy and perhaps take only three or four modules each semester for the final few semesters. That didn't appeal to me - six modules felt about right - and so I considered my options. Taking additional Unrestricted Electives for fun appeared dumb, and... what's that? Complete another degree? Let's see: It would take 4+3 = 7 years separately, and only 4.5 together, or from another perspective, the extra degree would take just half a year. Hard pressed to find better value, I was sold. Economics was the right choice, and I enjoyed the modules (really), but a minor gripe here: The university conferred me a "Bachelor of Arts with Merit" degree for that, with no indication whether I had studied Economics, Philosophy, Chinese Literature, Theatre Studies or Underwater Basket Weaving [for Computing it was at least "Bachelor of Computing (Computer Science)"]. Indeed, the Commencement booklet doesn't specify the subject for all non-Honours degrees, which is rather uncalled for. On the bright side, if I someday desire a job requiring expertise in say, Norse Mythology (thanks tpk), I suppose I could present the degree and grunt at opportune moments during the interview. Taking two degrees does have a side benefit, which is the four invitations in total (two each), saving a lot of grief between my grandma and my parents. My grandma and my sister ended up going to the Economics one, with my parents scheduled for the Computing repeat, which is more or less the same thing other than having a few more people whom I know, and a different coloured hood. So it was that my dad drove us to the University Cultural Centre by two, my grandma and sis sat around, helped me with the gown, took some photos, I entered, found my seat, sat through invited speaker/alumni Edmund Shern's (of Imaginary Friends Studio) speech (advice: be dumb and don't realise you could possibly fail), clapped for the first few going on the stage before I realised it wasn't sustainable, got ushered round the hall, shook hands, got empty degree scroll tube, got off the stage, exchanged tube for actual degrees, sat down, waited, waited, waited, clapped a bit, listened to the valedictorians, clapped, saw confetti and balloons released from the roof (do they do that at every single commencement ceremony? how do they clear up?), got out, got some food, went home.  Mum got me one of those stuffed souvenir lions, complete with appropriate hood colour. Mr. Ham was initially apprehensive about the newcomer, but softened considerably when (Gender Unconfirmed) Lion explained that no, it doesn't eat and is not a competitor for food.  There have been a few queries about Mr. Ham's job status (because of the Ham & Fish series), and sad to say, despite his Master of Biting qualification through distance learning, his criminal record works against him. Mr. Ham feels that it's a case of presentation, though, and I figured a dapper necktie couldn't do his prospects any harm. Hamsters' body proportions are not the same as humans, and moreover the scale differs alot, so normal techniques won't do much good. Instead, I just cut a very long strip (many times Mr. Ham's body length) with double-sided tape both as interlining and stitching. As for the previous days... tennis at the newly opened SAFRA Jurong (right by Jurong Point) with lwei in the rain. Not a particularly good condition to play in, but given our current development we won't be rallying much anyway - it seems far easier to hit good balls that become winners, than to retrieve them. Not a shade on the Federer-Roddick Wimbledon final that we had watched the previous night, that had the two trade service games, until Federer finally got the better of his opponent to win the fifth set 16-14. In doing so, he got a historic fifteenth Grand Slam title, surpassing Sampras. Ferguson - always on the lookout for talent - was watching too; a new United signing, perhaps? Not that I was wholly pleased, since Federer's one of the sporting champions I never could get behind, in contrast to Michael Schumacher, Michael Jordan, Efren Reyes and the like. Others such as Tiger Woods and Lance Armstrong I'm mostly neutral towards, but for Federer I usually root for the underdog against him (the only exception being maybe last year's Wimbledon marathon against Nadal, and then only for a little while). Don't ask me why, but it would be boring if everybody liked the same personalities, right? Big serves were again the order of the day, and it was noteworthy that Federer won only after he broke Roddick's serve for the first time in the entire match! Tennis serves seem almost like penalty kicks - if the taker gets it right, the guy on the other end can't do anything about it. Watched Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen with alvin, occ, tpk and special guest lewis before that. Giant robots, check. Big explosion in the background while characters leap towards the camera in dramatic slower-motion, check (it's a tradition now, no respectable action flick dares leave it out). Eye candy in Megan Fox and Isabel Lucas, check. Dogs humping, chec... wait, what? Good propaganda for the U.S. military as well, with the Decepticons looking just like bad guys would look (well, other than the fembot played by Lucas). They even obligingly knock down a U.S. flag to help stoke emotions. Would be easy if the world worked in such a straightforward way, all guns ablazin', problem solved, eh? Was shocked when the film's Wikipedia article mentioned that the playful pair of twin Autobots were seen as racist. Heck, if one wants to see monkey business, one sees monkey business everywhere. What's next, banning primates from documentaries, or whitewashing them beforehand? Also - tiny pet robots are cute. I'll have to see what I can do in this respect. Not so the prices at The Coffee Bean, though the Europe trip has mellowed me towards beverage prices somewhat.
 Mr. Ham: "Hmph. You are forgiven." More or less wasted a week, which can't go on much longer. Got acquainted with Civ 4 again, this time with slightly more appreciation for the World Wonders. Slacked about, then collected my graduation dress ASAP on Monday morning. Met a couple of old acquaintances, introduced kkok to Minimizer: Dang Dang Dang! after that. Came to appreciate the relative lack of pickpockets, and lack of cars coming at you on the pavement, in Singapore. Tuesday: Borrowed a couple of books from the library, then got down to Anchorpoint for leather shoes after the usual web research. The requisite parameters: Decently cheap, decently good - pointed to that or Far East Plaza, and given that Anchorpoint is right by Queensway, my (not-so) usual shoe haunt, I decided to give it a go. Picked up a pair of black Oxfords (a little too pointy actually, but with great NS-style polish potential) on discount from the Pedro factory outlet store there, and since it was much less than I budgeted for, I added a couple of neckties in the colours of my graduation hoods. G2000 originally had them at S$49 individually (now slashed to two for S$19), which only goes to show that it isn't what a good is worth, it's what the consumer can be persuaded to part with. Reading up on formal wear made me shudder a bit, though - Oxfords? Balmorals? Derbies/Blüchers? Brogues? Wingtips? Pointed or blunt? Heeled or flat? Toecapped? The same went for ties - Material? Colour? Patterns? Width? Matching shirt? I admit to never having much interest in necktie knots, mostly because I didn't even like neckties, but it was fascinating to discover that there are only 85 possible knots. The knot that my grandma teaches is the multipurpose half-Windsor (non self-releasing version), by the way; I feel it does look better than the simple (and asymmetric) four-in-hand, but in the end I would rather have the sort of unbounded self-confidence such that clothes don't even matter (though if it goes to that level, it's probably misplaced). Exchanged photos with the rest at Suntec on Thursday, where I rather wasted the buffet treat by csq. On the subject of food, I finally kept my promise to Mr. Ham by burying him in it (see top photo for proof). Mr. Ham showed no special urgency in emerging, and resisted being ejected since his cheeks hadn't yet exploded. He must have felt like Scrooge McDuck swimming in money... Otherwise, the week has been marked by a tale of two Michaels (other than Real Madrid's outlandish spending on Ronaldo, Kaka and Benzema - where do they get all that cash?). Firstly, Jackson, a black boy grown into a white woman, passed on. This is actually a compliment - few artistes have even been able to transcend boundaries as thoroughly as MJ, who despite his eccentricity (and derisive nicknames stemming from such) must be one of the premier entertainers of our time. And how does he do a moonwalk like that? RIP. The second Michael is Owen, yes, the ex-Liverpool, Real Madrid and Newcastle striker. Signed for United. Stranger things have come to pass, but being a free transfer, I feel it's a good punt. For the price of his wages, United get a willing third striker who won't throw too many fits at warming the bench, and still has the wherewithal to impact a game with goals. At least, that's what his marketing brochure says, but don't knock it - it worked on Sir Alex Ferguson.
- travel - + europe grad trip - Before I forget too much... 22 June  Naples. The day would be devoted to the Amalfi Coast, and after a train ride down to Sorrento, we took a bus along the coast (make that cliff) to Amalfi. It's about the equivalent of hiking in Cinque Terre, without going on foot. Can't knock the scenery [1], whatever else may be said. Dallied a bit in the coast's namesake town, where I mulled over buying seashells inscribed with astrological signs, but couldn't find the right one. Too bad, since the stores had nice doormats [2]. Passed by the local cathedral [3] (with striped theme), ate a pastry and pizza [4] for lunch, shared a cup of thick melted chocolate [5], and encountered a daring fountain [6]. Hugging the coastline by road didn't give a proper view of the coast, thus a boat ride was called for on the return trip. Passage was ten Euros, and the slow-moving ship [7] took an hour and fifty minutes to cover the distance. There were deckchairs on the top deck, but I took one of the white plastic chairs at the bow, all the better to adjust one's seat to face the coast. My sunglasses looked a better and better investment as the sun gradually came out, and some of the other passengers tried for a tan.  Sky, land, sea Glimpsed Capri and got used to the rolling motion of the ship eventually, but the ride was over all too soon. Stopped by a supermarket where I found comfy-looking pairs of translucent slip-on shoes, but they didn't come in my size. Too bad for both the store and me. Considered buying proper Bermudas too, but price was the factor this time round. Being our last night in the home of pizza, it was now or never to sample some from where pizza was born - we didn't count on there being not one, not two, but three shops bearing the same Sorbillo name and proudly displaying a magazine article to that effect [8] on the same street, however. On the other hand, there was only one with a queue outside their front door. There were dozens of choices, and I settled on the pizza with our newfound acquaintance's name - Gaetano [9]. The defining feature was gorgonzola cheese if I remember rightly. The wifi at the hostel was still out, and though their wired terminals still had a connection, there was no way to transfer any data onto them as the CPU was locked up. 23 June  Rome. Left La Controra, which was certainly one of the comfier hostels I've been in [1, see wooden bunk beds] [2, the room lights]. Self-service breakfast of cornflakes and juice at the bar area [3], and lunch after the train back to Termini was probably McDonalds. No need for further photos of hamburgers, right? Checked in back at Overseas B&B, where we had been nearly a month ago. Split into a 5-man [4] and 2-man room, with occ and alvin taking the latter while the rest of us went to Room 001, opposite our original room and where a group of Barca fans had stayed. There was no time to waste as we rushed to get our combo tickets for the Colosseum, Roman Forum and Palatine Hill, just as well since it was somehow early closing day (4 pm). Entered the Colosseum first, perused the exhibits (with abundant explanations in English) within, appreciated the warning signs on the steps, and stepped out to what must have been a magnificent sight [5] (if not for the condemned, or forced gladiators); think Madison Square Garden, with far higher stakes. The wooden arena floor has long since disappeared, allowing one to contemplate the foundations and underground passages at one's leisure. All in all, it was pretty well preserved for something nearly 2000 years old. If only the designers had made it large enough to contain a regulation football pitch (arena floor just over 87m at its longest, to a minimum of 90m needed) Nipped over to the Roman Forum, which was some standing structures [6] and a ton of ruins [7]. Swung by the Arch of Titus, and pondered once again at the enigmatic acronym SPQR (which turns out to refer to the Senate and People of Rome) *clears throat* One's first impression upon entry is the terrible symmetry - the temple is capped by a dome, not particularly large or high, but with its diameter exactly the same as the distance from the floor to its top; which, it must be stated, is open. The oculus [9] is dramatic in the sun and probably problematic in rain, which is resolved by the presence of discreet drainage holes. On all sides, the coffers run down, making the dome neither plain as unadorned ones, nor gaudy as painted ones, but strong both in function and form. Collected the yellow tickets for a general audience with his holiness the Pope tomorrow at the Church of Santa Susanna. We then took to the streets in search of dinner, but after not finding a suitable place (re: both cheap and good) for pasta, we reverted to 华侨饭店, where I had the same fried rice. Hey, it's fine for the price, if not completely filling. 24 June  Vatican City. Witnessed the aftermath of a pickpocketing attempt on the underground on the way to the tiny city-state. The would-be victim, a middle-aged lady, made quite a ruckus, while the accused denied before slipping out at the next stop. No wonder pickpocketing is rife, if the act is so low-risk and high-return. alvin, occ and I faced quite a queue to get into St. Peter's Square (more a circle), and we got a Swiss Guard into trouble by asking for a photo, which I believe they are not supposed to consent to. This particular guard, less rigid than his peers, nodded for a quick one. Those standing behind the barriers at the guard's back then passed us their cameras for their photos to be taken too, however, and there was now no hiding of his complicity. One of his suited superiors walked over to wag a finger and tut-tut him, making us guiltily realise that he might have gotten extra duties on our part.  Most militaries don't have this much dress sense (photo credit: occ) Still, that moment of human kindness was the apex of my visit to one of Christendom's (or Catholicism's, for the pedantic) holiest sites, followed by the sight of Pope Benedict XVI scooting by on his uncovered Popemobile. I certainly didn't expect him to do a second lap, but judging from the reactions of the crowd, it was a welcome encore. Got handed an anti-abortion pamphlet by an old lady showing line drawings of a foetus being torn apart in the process. On this particular topic, I do for once agree with the Church's stand - abortions of foetuses are extremely distasteful to me, despite the possible societal gains, and I feel that the "choice" in pro-choice should extend only to that of copulation and contraception (which the Catholic Church somehow still opposes), with adoption taking up the slack. The sacredness of human life should be self-evidently universal. Sat through the Pope's speech with the faithful (and at least a couple of the less-faithful), much of which I couldn't understand, being not in English. The heat and sunlight was problematic for the audience, not a few whom appeared drowsy (a common experience back in NS), and once again my sunglasses saved the day. Quite a large chunk of the time was taken up by acknowledgements of the various groups which had travelled all this way, which was often followed by clapping, cheers, hat-waving or even a song by the group mentioned. Quite an uplifting atmosphere, if not quite Champions League final standard. Spent some time finding each other after getting separated in the rush of bodies after the end of the audience, and walked some distance to find food at a decent price - even then, a palm-sized slice of pizza [2] cost two Euros. Next was the Vatican museum, where we headed to the Post Office for what must be some of the rarest everyday stamps on Earth. Came across the others (who had skipped the audience), who had completed the Vatican Museums. Well, it was now our turn. We were to see lots of statues before we were done, but the king of them all must be Michelangelo's Pietà [3]. The one in the photo is just a copy of the actual masterpiece in St. Peter's Basilica, though, as was Raphael's Transfiguration that I saw at the Prado in Madrid, and remembered when confronted with the original in the Pinacoteca Vaticana (there would be another mosiac copy in the Basilica). Note: Try Peter Watson's Crusade for a novel that weaves the Pietà seamlessly into a plot that involves an American Pope. It would make a good movie. I would likely not be able to tell the difference between them (nothing to be particularly ashamed of, since even art experts commissioned to evaluate paintings are sometimes taken in by fakes), but this led me to wonder - what is the essential nature of great art, given that the technical expertise to copy it is hardly rare? Raphael was feted as an equal to Nature, with Michelangelo not his lesser. In music the likes of Beethoven and Mozart still stand at the apex of regard after centuries, as does Shakespeare in literature. In all these long years, has there really been no one in their class? Frankly, I doubt it. Let me take football as an example. The teams of the past are often praised, especially the Brazil side of 1970, but also the Dutch Total Football team, the Magical Magyars and the the pre-World War II Italians, among others. Dare I suggest, however, that if transported in a time machine, none of those would be serious contenders for the coming World Cup? Ditto individual players - all respect to Pele, but if he were playing in a major European league today, at the same standard as he did in the Sixties, would he be a standout? I think not. If nothing else, the sustained breakneck pace that teams have to be prepared to cope with on defence, if not replicate in attack, contrasts with the slowness of the game historically, even taking into account heavier balls, etc. All the skill in the world isn't going to help if one is simply run ragged by opponents, and that's before suggesting that - gasp - players today may have technique equal to or better than the oldies. Once, players could drink before a match and expect to cut it at the top level. No longer. Of course, the legends of old may have adapted to modern training and dietary techniques, and there is no time machine to carry out my hypothesis. It may also be argued that they are legends precisely due to their achievements relative to their time. I can respect that. Objectively, though, in the sense of a better football team being the one that wins, I stick to my assertion that modern sides are, for all the complaints about cynicism and simulation, simply superior. This is even more apparent in sports without subjective elements. Take sprinting, which must be one of the purest expressions of sport, for instance. Imagine an old man who watched, say, Reggie Walker take the gold in the 1908 Olympics' century sprint by clocking 10.8 seconds. If the clock had not been invented, he might well have seen Usain Bolt blow the competition away a century on in 9.69, then nod sagely and remark that Walker would have given him a run for his money. In reality, however, Walker would have trailed the last-placed finisher by more than twice the distance that that guy trailed Bolt! Art cannot be measured as such, perhaps, but as I said to occ after he asked me for my impression on Raphael's The School of Athens, the Gallery of Maps [4] and the Sistine Chapel (we got hustled out for not realising photography was disallowed here in particular, but went right back in when it became apparent that no-one was following the rule anyway), I was both impressed and not impressed at all, the same as if I had gazed upon the first wheel made by prehistoric man. The art was good, but I have every confidence that it will be bettered, if it has not already been (see for instance a modern take on the all-star cast). I consider it a fault of the ancients that they considered Man's golden age to lie in the past, that Eden has been forever lost (yes, religion doesn't help). Is it not obvious that we will, we must, go faster, stronger and higher? I can only smile at those who accept an image of God cast in the image of all-too-human pettiness, who begrudges Man even his speck of glory in His supposed infinity. St. Peter's Basilica [5] was indeed vast, as it takes pains to demonstrate with star-shaped markers [6] along the nave to show where the next largest churches would be, if they were placed in the Basilica. It may, however, be only the second largest in the world, after the Basilica of Our Lady of Peace of Yamoussoukro in the Ivory Coast, which at least had the decency not to exceed St. Peter's in length, sidestepping the uncomfortable question of whether another marker need be placed outside St. Peter's to keep the collection complete. This is another example of the folly of worshiping the past too much - the far greater promises of the future cannot be properly realised. Once, cathedrals, pyramids and other religious buildings were giants of construction, but now they have been so overwhelmingly overtaken by the cathedrals of Man, that few ever think to dwell on the fact; If men were awed by cathedrals to God, which never stood much above 150m, what can they think of the Burj Dubai, over five times the height? I await a working space elevator in my lifetime. Wouldn't it be a hoot if its builders named it Babel? If some men agree that their conception of God saw fit to crush a tower a mere few kilometres tall, I want to see their faces when one of some 35000km goes up; but one may not blame ancient men - we cannot expect them to be blessed with enough imagination to invent stories of the sort that would stand up today. I mean, how could they have even guessed that men would one day soar above the heavens with impunity? I surely wouldn't have, had I lived then. Left the Basilica slightly early [7, view of the platform where the Pope sat earlier] to await the others in the middle of the square at six. For our last dinner in Europe, we sought out pasta [8], and despite it being tasty, I'm in no hurry to pay around S$15 for a plate of mushroom noodles again anytime soon. There was then a last walk about Rome, to the Spanish steps (where rose-selling entrepreneurs found little joy with courting couples) and the Trevi fountain [9], which takes in an astonishing 3000 Euros in coins each day, and even Italy's biggest McDonalds (got an ice-cream).  The heretic yet stands The crowning moment of the day was none of the above, though, but my sighting of Giodarno Bruno's statue (see previous tribute) at the Campo dei Fiori (Field of Flowers). Raised in the city of the successor to Saint Peter, at the spot where he was burnt for his beliefs. Unlike Raphael, he supplied his own epitaph, to men whom were somehow convinced they could speak for God: (Translation: "Perhaps you pronounce this sentence against me with greater fear than I receive it") Why this dislike, you may ask; what has this God done to you? Let me try a little parable:
That is the key reason, and the fundamental problem of the Abrahamic religions. Couched behind all the exhortations to virtue, which are recognized by almost all religions, and the non-religious alike, is the defining attribute: We practise the only true faith. Join or suffer the consequences. Some practitioners may try to downplay the significance of this declaration, but like the fine print in contracts, it is there, and it is official. While it exists and is believed in, the suffering it encourages, the ostracization or self-important pity towards decent people who happen not to have the same imaginary friend, can only continue. 25/26 June Flew from Rome to Hong Kong, then Singapore. The first flight was movie time, and now it's review time: 1. Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li Edmund Chen Zhicai making it as Chun Li's father lifted my eyebrows, but otherwise it was disappointing. Street Fighter is the arcade platform fighter franchise, and frankly speaking none of the magic rubbed off on the film. Reintepretation is okay, but when none of the main characters' backstories bear resemblance to the Capcom canon, the movie can't help but feel like a shoddy B-grade action flick with a crowd-pulling name tacked on - which, come to think of it, is exactly what The Legend of Chun-Li is. Where are all the signature moves, and why's Vega so laughably useless? One of the original babes of gaming (Chun Li, not Vega) deserves far more than this. Save your money and stream College Humor's Street Fighter: The Later Years series instead. It's far more entertaining, and probably has better production values. My rating: 2/5 2. There's Something About Mary Watched this mostly for the Cameron Diaz of 1998, but of course SilkAir had to censor all the interesting bits, which were the whole point of the movie. Lame. My rating: 2.5/5 (censored version) 3. Watchmen The best of the lot that I've watched in the air. Style, smarts and character come together in this comic-book world, with an opening sequence that rewards history buffs - spot the references to the famous V-J day in Times Square photograph and The Last Supper, among others. Watchmen, like many superhero-themed stories, has to confront the problem of having one of the heroes that much more super than the rest. In this case, the heroes are all at "peak human" physical ability, except Dr. Manhattan, who can control subatomic particles, is effectively invulnerable, can teleport through space, split into multiple copies and even see the future. It's almost as if the storywriter gave him all the team's powers to distribute, but he forgot to do so. The traditional answer is a manufactured canned weakness (e.g. Kryptonite for Superman), but in Dr. Manhattan's case, it is emotional: his affection for Silk Spectre. Not that he overshadows the others - The Comedian is a cynical jerk who still manages to come off as likeable, Rorschach is a morally absolute near-psychopath, and Veidt is a disdainful mastermind who does get the part about revealing one's secret plans only after they take effect, right. The "world's smartest man" seemingly can't choose a password that isn't an actual word closely related to himself, however. Nite Owl and Silk Spectre are the two more well-adjusted ones, and it isn't too unbelievable that they get together. Slick, dark, visually arresting - perhaps the director could turn his attention to Street Fighter next time. My rating: 4.5/5 4. Austin Powers in Goldmember Okay, I didn't realise that Myers was not only Austin Powers, but Dr. Evil, Goldmember and Fat Bastard before I read the Wikipedia entry. So sue me. I also quite like juvenile humour. So sue me again. Unless you're actually a lawyer, in which case I was just joking. Really. My rating: 4/5 5. Look for a Star (游龙戏凤) An Andy Lau and Shu Qi romantic comedy. Adequate, laced with a few touching moments. My rating: 3/5 6. Way of the Dragon (猛龍過江) Rome is revisited in this Bruce Lee classic. One can't help but notice how little the city has changed, with the beginning of the movie almost like a tour to the major attractions. Too bad the plane would land before the first real fight could get started. My rating: 3.5/5 (from memory)
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