Miami Vice

I could not believe how disappointed I am with Miami Vice. Somehow, Colin Farrell with blonde hair just doesn’t work. I get that Alexander The Gay vibe all over again. It’s so sad because I think he is a decent talent (Phone Booth, The Recruit). Just not with gold locks. As for the movie itself, it fell short of my expectations. I was expecting a gripping, non-stop action epic. Instead I get a patchy storyline, intermittent pace and an extremely cheesy love story as a side show. The only highlight I could think of is the F430 at the beginning of the movie and Gong Li’s butt. Even for the villains, I’d put Scar from Lion King as more terrifying than the ones in Miami Vice. Vice? Certainly doesn’t do justice to its title there, does it? But it does have a nice soundtrack. Actually, I’d recommend you to buy the soundtrack rather than the DVD of the movie when it gets released. And the mood is way too serious. You can be serious but you have to have a compelling dialogue to go with it as well, which sadly, this movie hadn’t had either. So, in the end, you don’t feel the drama. You want to, but you don’t. It doesn’t have that Bad Boys feel to it.

So, if any of you guys want to go through the trouble of catching this at the cinema, a word of advice, don’t expect too much. Wanna a cop movie? You’d have much more fun watching Rush Hour.

PS2

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s back! My PS2 is back! Well, it’s not really my PS2. It belongs to my brother. Mine will cost RM350 to get it fixed so fuggeddabout it (James Caan, Mickey Blue Eyes). He bought his during his time in Zurich. Purchased locally and brought there, of course. But ever since he got back, he left it, along with all his other Swiss stuff at my mother’s other house at Putrajaya. Multiple attempts had been made by me to my father (the only person who knows how to get there) to retrieve it but my approaches were continually delayed.

Alas, when the TV upstairs finally blew its tube, it was definitely time to pick up my brother’s TV at the Putrajaya house to replace it (and along with it, the prized PS2). It was either that or they have to contend with having me watching every football related show downstairs. As a Hallmark devotee, my mother found this very annoying.

So, last weekend my father and brother went to Putrajaya to finally bring back the almost forgotten treasures. When I came back from class that evening, I was delighted with glee. Finally my love for Winning Eleven on the PS2 was reunited once again. It wasn’t long before I got my hands on WE10.The glory days are back. Now I will definitely have no time to study.

Talking Movies (an off-beat edition)

A couple of days ago I was at Low Yat, browsing through some ‘original’ DVDs at this store called Movie World. There was this other guy beside me who I noticed was getting restless because, I assumed, he couldn’t find anything that he would fancy. At one point, he stretched his neck over the counter where he saw the taukeh sorting a few DVDs to be placed into the cabinet behind him and asked, ‘Wah, pirates ah?’ motioning his head to a low stack at the side of the counter.

‘Er…yeah’ the taukeh answered.

‘Part 1 or part 2?’ the guy asked again, eagerly.

‘It’s not Pirates of the Carribean. It’s Pirates,’ the taukeh now giving him the look that any 17-year-old boy would have immediately understood. And yet, this 30-something guy was puzzled. So he picked up a copy instead and examined the cover.

‘Oh…’ the guy said finally, grasping what the taukeh had meant. He slowly put back the Pirates copy to its low stack on the counter, realizing that he had done something embarrassing and returned to his previous spot and pretended to flip through the other booklets that he had exhaustively went through earlier on. Needless to say, he left soon after that.

I found this scene rather amusing because I have a copy of Pirates myself. I downloaded it a few weeks back and it’s quite good. Keira Knightley’s character is especially hot. And although the ship is definitely CGIed but it’s better looking than any our local movies could produce. There was even praise from Newsweek quoted on the cover. I don’t know how much truth went into that. I don’t know if this is worth mentioning but I also have a movie entitled ‘The Da Vinci Load’. It’s not as good as Pirates but as it’s by Larry Flynt, it is quite funny.

Speaking about movies, I was surfing the Net and I stumbled upon this.

Apparently the Over The Hedge movie is based on a comic strip. Ah another borrowed idea from Hollywood. But I think the comic strip is better because unlike the movie it doesn’t need to end. The lunacy can just keep going on and on. And who can’t get enough of RJ, Verne and Hammy?

Now here’s a question of the day.

How do you feel if your car is featured on Pimp My Ride. Of course, if you’re driving a Proton or a Perodua then this question wouldn’t apply to you. But those of you driving around in a Japanese or a European make, what’d you think?

Well, I had my car featured on the show yesterday. I drive a 1990 Toyota Celica. Pretty decent car I guess. Still looks good despite being 16 years old. If there was a baby born on the same day my car was made, he/she would be studying in Form 4 now.

Anyway, Ity brought the show to my attention last night because I was watching Horatio Cane and his gang at the time. She even called me all the way from Johor just to make me change channels. So I did. At first I was pretty excited. I thought it was kind of cool to watch your car on Pimp My Ride. But you know what? It wasn’t. Because it made me realize two things.

One: if your car is featured on the show, then it means that the model has been around long enough for someone to abuse it beyond fucking recognition. Two: once the West Coast people has the car pimped, it just goes to show how much potential your car has in terms of pimpinality and how inadequate the current state of your own car is. Sure Valerie is ain’t as bad as the one shown on the telly but there a few dents and scratches. My rims aren’t that bling and I don’t have an IPod Nano, a smart phone and a G4 iBook hooked on to my car that would able to supply me 4 years of music without having to hear the same song twice. But I’ll live.

Ah another whiny post. I should stop whining. It turns women off. Mainly because by doing it we are taking over one of their roles.

My highlight of the day, of course, is the upgrade of my office laptop. Now I’ve got style and wireless connectivity. I can finally be one of those snobby people at Starbucks checking their e-mails on their notebooks. Unlike the previous notebook which weighs like it’s made out of lead. And a battery life of about 30 seconds. Now it’s slimmer and has Bluetooth capabilities. Ooh geek-talk.

The fasting month is coming in a few days. By next week there’ll be no more chillin’ during lunchtime and no fag breaks at the office. If you have the eagerness to go karaoke-ing with some butterflies then I suggest you do it quick. Not that it’s less sinful in doing it now rather than later but I guess it does make you feel less guilty. Funny how the human conscious works.

Before I end this post, I’ll leave you with this joke from AskMen.com

Pinocchio has just turned 16 years old and Geppetto thinks to himself: "My son is going to take an interest in girls, I had better explain to him about the birds and the bees."
So he spends time telling Pinocchio about girls and sex and making love and all that. Pinocchio listens intently and then goes off to experiment.
Some time later, Geppetto sees his son and asks, "How's it going with the girls?"
Pinocchio replies, "Great! I'm doing fine, except that all the girls are complaining about splinters."
"Oh dear," says his father, "all I can suggest is that you smooth things over first with some sandpaper."
Some time later, he sees his son and asks, "How's it going with the girls?"
"Who needs girls when you've got sandpaper!"

Incompetence

Here’s a pop quiz for you:
What is more lembab than a woman trying to pay her parking ticket at an autopay machine?
The answer?
It’s 3 women trying to pay 2 parking tickets at an autopay machine.

This happened to me at Bangsar Village yesterday. You would not believe the unnecessary drama that unfolded before my eyes. First they can’t find their tickets, and then they tried to pay with the new RM5 note which the machine rejected. So they switch to the RM1 notes but found out they were short of them. Now the search was on for any coins that they have. When the fee was finally paid, the machine refused to spit out the ticket so one of them brilliantly pressed the ‘Cancel’ button and voila, the ticket did come out - along with their refund. So now they have start all over again.

At this point I was ready to shout out ‘You fuckin’ bitches!’ but held back when one of the parking attendants suddenly popped out told the rest of us queuing behind the three wannabe French poodles that we can pay our parking fees at the exit. Oh what a relief! I left the yelping scene without hesitation. But when I made my way past the parking attendant, who is a lady by the way, she made a whispering remark to me.
‘So slow,’
I just had to crack a smile and gave her an approving ‘Hmm’.

Can you imagine a woman calling another woman ‘slow’? How ironically funny is that? It’s like Victoria Beckham telling you that you can’t sing. And the parking lady was right. They were slow. I mean, how difficult is it to operate an autopay machine? I don’t care about your Gucci handbags and Fendi sunglasses. I have seen a monkey display a higher level of intelligence that all of you three combined.

As to confirm their lembab-ness, when I made my way with Valerie to the exit point, I came across them and they still haven’t reached their cars. Haih, what terrible children they will raise.

You wouldn’t believe how far people would go these days just to be an annoyance to the public. Just like the other day when I was at this petrol station. I was running a bit late to the office but my petrol was running low so I just had to stop for a fill up. All the pumps were full so I decided to pull up behind this motorcyclist, thinking he’d probably be the quickest to finish. And then can you imagine what this motorcyclist did next? He pulled out his wallet and took out his credit card. I couldn’t what I was seeing! It’s not like he was on a Harley. It was just a Honda EX5. He wanted to pay RM3 worth of fuel with a credit card? What the FUCK!? What is wrong with this person!? There is no valid reason why he should be doing this except by being exceptionally stupid. Could someone be that dense? Or does he just enjoy making the living hell out of strangers’ lives? He was lucky he was wearing his helmet. Otherwise I would’ve smacked him on the head with my car jack.

Haih, so please people, the next time you want to categorically divide your change in your compartmentalized purse, move to the side of the counter a bit to make room for the next paying customer. And please, do decide what movie you want to watch before you start lining up. And lastly, please oh please, learn how to operate an autopay machine. You’d do the world a whole lot of favor.

And they give us a hard time about not knowing where the clitoris is. And FYI, I know where it is.

In Memory of The Crocodile Hunter

Although I am beginning to accept it but the fact that The Crocodile Hunter is dead still hasn’t sunk in. It truly is an unbelievable piece of news. The man who made me watch Animal Planet in the first place and made the word ‘Crikey!’ sounds kinda cool is no longer with us. He made us see that crocs are really ain’t that bad. It really is such a shame, a tremendous loss.
He’s adored everywhere. He was on Jay Leno, made a cameo in an Eddie Murphy movie and as FlyFM put him, he’s like Superman to children all over. And maybe even adults too. He certainly gave me the impression that he’s invincible. He’s like the embodiment of fearless when it comes to approaching wild animals.
He’s to you Steve Irwin. Thank you for opening up my eyes to what wildlife really is and in the words of Ali G, respect, respect.

A Merdeka Post

As much as I’d like to put up a post commemorating our 49th Merdeka day celebrations, I’m afraid I’m not that good at writing patriotic articles. So, I found this captivating piece written by a brilliant columnist published in The Sun today and thought I’ll put this one up instead. It’s so good that I couldn’t have explained it better myself. Here’s a little sharing of thought, from Juana Jaafar.


A heart-felt freedom
Juana Jaafar

My thoughts are with my father this Merdeka. I can imagine us having a conversation about how superficially Malaysians celebrate the holiday, fussing over flags, fireworks and jingles.

I see us discussing the annual politics of Merdeka, where racial groups try to outdo each other's jingoism through boorish rhetoric. We would be watching television and appreciating some of the brilliant, heart-wrenching holiday advertisements that cost millions to produce.

We would then probably talk about the amount of money spent on this once-a-year corporate show of patriotism and how the funds can actually be used to send bright but underprivileged students for top-notch education. Ya, my father and I would definitely talk about that.

I can see our chat being disrupted by one of those offensive Filem Negara Merdeka clips. We would watch in disbelief at how the government, after all that back-to-the-future Super Corridor hoo-ha, would invade our private space with hazy power-point presentations that look like re-runs from the early 1980s.

Bad enough that they undermine our technological advancement, these productions are an insult to our intellectual maturity, using Cold War era propaganda techniques of associating the idea of freedom and harmony with marching tunes and military visuals.

I can imagine my father asking me: What does it really mean to be liberated, to be independent? He would ask this question, praying hard I would not regurgitate the dreadful answers I was taught in school.

You are right, Papa. Liberty and independence is not just about being free from foreign occupation. We may have negotiated our freedom with the British, but we are still heavily burdened by its racial and feudal divide-and-rule legacy.

It has shaped our social and political imagination in such a way that we are still by and large communal.

The public spaces we share seem limited to mamak stalls, shopping complexes and highways. The good folk of Klang Valley may beg to differ, but they only need to drive around town a little bit to see this reality.

Surely liberty and independence apply to more than just the material, the nation state. What about the colonisation of the mind? And ideological hegemony?

I am ever so grateful that my father raised us to be aware of the latent and the manifest. Since school my sisters and I were able to distinguish between news and propaganda.

As human beings we are of course gullible, but thanks to my father we are not so ignorant.

And what about conscience? My father always said that it is your conscience that will save you. It is the only thing that will force you to do what is right. If we were a nation with a conscience, we would not discriminate against race, religion or vocation.

We would not be flattening our precious forest reserves for slipshod housing developments, or be shooting barking dogs as we please. Nor would we have such crises as the "urban poor" or have corruption become part of our culture. Without conscience how can we have integrity? And without integrity, my father would say, one has no maruah.

My father died in peace last week after being ill for some time. I am still overwhelmed by the number of people who came to the house to pay their final respects to him.

He was a man who did not discriminate when choosing friends.

From Tan Sris and Datuks to former staff and drivers; Indians, Punjabis, Chinese, Malays and others; politicians from the left and right; scholars, writers and college students came to visit.

They were a pool of people perfect for one of those expensive corporate Merdeka advertisements, except that they were genuinely muhibbah.

My father was the quintessential Malaysian.

While I sincerely accept his death as God's will, my heart will be forever broken.

It is a good thing he married my mum 32 years ago on that very special Merdeka Day - a tough lady and a magnet who will keep the family together, looking out for each other.

In loving memory of my father, I dedicate this article to mum. Happy anniversary.

The writer is a regular Malaysian. Comments: feedback@thesundaily.com

A man, a woman and a discussion about Eskimos

‘Do you want to hear an interesting fact?’ said Jo. ‘Eskimos apparently have over fifty different words for snow. Snow’s really important to those guys – I suppose it’s because sometimes the difference between one type and another can mean the difference between life or death.’ She paused and laughed self-consciously. ‘You know they’ve got words for dry snow and wet snow, fluffy snow and compact snow. They’ve got words for that comes down fast and for snow that comes down slow – they’ve thought of everything.’
‘That’s a lot of snow,’ commented Rob as his eyes flicked to a scruffy-looking mongrel crossing the road in front of them, oblivious to the night bus hurtling towards it. It only narrowly missed being hit, but continued coolly on its journey to the bin outside the off-licence, which it sniffed studiously, then cocked a leg against.
‘So, what’s your point?’ asked Rob.
‘Well, it’s like this,’ replied Jo. ‘If Eskimos can come up with fifty words for snow because it’s a matter of life or death, why is it that we’ve only got one word for “love”?’

-Brand New Friend, Mike Gayle-