shaming a nation?

This is the video featured on the cover page on the Newpaper 31st October 2007:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KB_GoQ-h9Zg

If you haven't read the article, watch the video first, then read it. Anyhow its sad that my 100th post is on a bunch of fools. And since youtube only gives 500 characters and i don't like summarising, this is what i would've commented.

Lets not shoot the british, while these three jokers have only shamed their nation, we know its just them.

Though i'd like to say some things:

First and foremost, i'd be shocked if they seriously believed that these days trishaws are a form of transport. Obviously they were laughing at the fact the trishaw was moving at "about 2 miles an hour" but if they seriously BELIEVED it was supposed to be fast, i am deeply disappointed in their intellect.

Secondly, lets say, ok, perhaps that WAS funny for some reason or in some context applicable at that time, then lets consider you're taking the video for the satisfaction of your own nazi aryan humour and thats acceptable. Oh and also, lets accept the fact you didnt actually pay. Ultimately, ignoring all that, i dont see the need to post it on the net, to show your friends on facebook or whereever. What kind of reaction were you expecting? Street cred? Getting laid? "Oh wow bo you rebel, you took a free ride just cause you felt like it!" or "Oh hahaha thats really novel, an old man toiling away! my gosh these developing asian nations, haha look at him mumbling imcomprehensibly"

Interesting friends you have then, i'd say, or maybe the difference between our cultures is that large. Perhaps now you're gloating, "oh wow look at our trolling skill, we've got a whole NATION pissed off at us, hurrah we rock man"

I suppose you don't have the sensitivity in such cases, given how you're used to the welfare state where you don't see the frail and weak slogging. Where the only people you see toiling like that deserved to be laughed at, given how over there such people probably slacked they're lives away. Or perhaps you just didn't realise your own distorted sense of humour and should, to quote a comment, "be stabbed in the balls".

Either way, I hope you're happy with yourselves, I hope you're proud of yourselves. I'd like to see you hold your head up high the next time you're recognised by someone who knows of this. Good luck with the rest of your life, and good luck if you've pissed anti-whites somewhere. People have been killed for lesser offences.

forever and ever

I clench my feelings and shove them down my throat to the bottom of a bottomless pit. I hold them tight, and keep them safe behind a silvered mask. Behind the glaze of whitened eyes my churning emotions rage against their glassy prisons. The rawness of the rage, the cutting blade of hate, the ripping claws of frustration, their screaming intensity dulls the passage of life. Like a sleepwalker i watch the world drift past, the significances and occurences beat against the frosted windows of my mind and as i drag my hand out of hesitation to grasp them, they pass - the moment had passed. And i wait again in stereotypes and the comfort of conformity, the contentness of monotony, for a moment to come where i might make the same futile grasp.

I see whats happening to me, i hate it, but that hate is shoved down my throat to the bottom of a bottomless pit and i do nothing. I distrust my thoughts and i distrust my actions, i hesitate and i prod my persona. Yet prodding changes nothing, and the motive of greater action is denied for my lack of trust. My lack of trust of myself. I live within my stigmas and habits and obsessions and compulsions, i act upon them, upon what they whisper into my thoughts. Impulse and contemplation are not separate, and the purpose of deduction is lost within the current of unbridled imaginations. Rationale is washed and negligible within endless possibilities and to reach a tendril of my thoughts to that sea channels its massive waves to my miniscule mind, washing away the logic of my actions, the significance of my existence.

Thought progresses exponentially, but my mind is merely linear, i can grasp a river or two, but never the ocean, never all at once. I fail to see the greater picture, the sun behind the horizon, your needs and thoughts. I burn in regret at my failures, i cannot see the wrongs before they come, i cannot know the path to take before i'd taken it. Foresight is never reliable, while hindsight is always 20/20.

I know now my past mistakes and they burn me endlessly, yet i know not the mistakes i may make.

painful pulse

I close my eyes to escape the horrors of life. But in darkness infinite possibilities exist, the horrors are multiplied, if only in my imagination. The pain moves threefold up and twofold wide, whilst i yearn to open my eyes i know the reality shocks more than the mind and the truth stings more than thought. Like hibiscus i awake each morning after death the previous day, yet to die each day gets harder, and to be reborn each morning more tiresome. The time i spend dead to the world decreases each day in a downward spiral even as i want rest. I question why to the world, to reality, to imagination. Purpose is lost. My blood flows yet it does not hurt truly, physical pain is detached from my mind, the longer i drift forward the more it runs away, the more i remain unaffected. Stigmas in my mind prevent, stereotypes confuse my views whilst distrust of my own sanity and reliability give me hesitation to the point of suspension. Animated suspension where the world passes yet i stare blankly and watch it pass, screaming within my own shell of flesh and bone, screaming for myself to act. Yet even as i pick up the pen it falls from my grasp and my thoughts walk away, my consciousness withers and i die again.

And then i wake, to despair and panic, to my shell of flesh yet again. Let me die, or let me live, so long as i escape from this in-between land of torment and questions and curtains and locked doors. I see without eyes, i hear without ears, i speak yet noone hears, i feel but noone cares. I want but cannot get. Impossibility not due to lack of possibility, but lack of will. Lack of will but not of mine. Lack of myself but not of flesh.

I lack will, i lack the hope that is a ship for our soul, i lack peace, i need that light that tells me its worth it again, i need the glow of comfort, the twinkle of concern, that trickle of love that reaches into my chest to relight my heart, to set the flame of life upon my soul again such that i may burn on my boat of hope into the light of happiness.

Yet i die again tonight, to uncertainty and pain.

Kill me or let me live, just save me from torment.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wihY5jtgTQw

More eddie izzard, this guy put up the whole damn show in 10 parts =D

CAKE OR DEATH? haha
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAOLOGGftTY

ok as you can see I'm seriously hooked on comedy, and the flavour of this depression is Mr./Mrs Eddie Izzard.

OK study again.

Comedy destress

So i'm now doing motherfuckingsonofabitch hard chemistry other school prelim papers. Like, really they're freaking hard to me. I feel stressed all over again.

So i rely on youtube comedy and thank god for the multitude of bored comedians out there who let their acts be video-ed and (ok perhaps not this) put on youtube!

So we have Achmed the dead terrorist! (james put it up alr but what the heck i'll do it for the few ppl who actually come to this boring blog but not to james')

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1uwOL4rB-go

And then theres Eddie Izzard! Whos dressing irks me sometimes but whatthehell i don't care, he makes good ol' british humour.
Him on popeman and altar boy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSajE72Tpjs
And him on how we should have another kind of Olympics with drugs LOL:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5X-9brvoq0

Go and laugh.

blame

One of the few RnB Hip Hop songs i liike. Catchy and every one of us who'd ever wronged or been wronged can relate to and find meaning in,

Though i don't see what the big deal is. True that molest is an offence. True the girl might be traumatised. But so are the hundreds of sexual victims everyday. The media just eats this up because would we'd rather read about celebrities being imperfect, paying for their fame and fortune. Maybe to tell ourselves life is fair, maybe simply cause we believe celebrities are more interesting somehow.

But in the end its all the same crimes, given different levels of publicity. And the almost false outrage that media personalities give is all to humanize themselves in comparison when they call these people monsters and perverts and sickos.

Perhaps this is some plan by some government. "Let the world see the retribution and shame and cost you have to go through when you commit even the smallest crime, and then decide if you'd do the same". That the media wants to better the world and so it publishes reports on people that the public knows - famous people.

blah time for chem remedial.