Wednesday, June 30, 2010

what am i doing here....

UPDATE: remembered i took some pictures from last night.

Holy fuck, its midnight and I'm at Velvet for Mambo Jambo Night. I feel like a geriatric orc in a smurf kindergaten.

Don't know how I got here. I only started drinking at 6.

Some of these smurfs look mighty fine though...

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Top 5 Names of GROs

Names of various Guest Relations Officers I have encountered in the past. All in the course of work of course. I have left out Fanny and Apple as its just too common.

1. Scarlett - some expensive place in Hong Kong. Kept insisting she was Korean.

2. Fish - Named after that Hong Kong or Taiwanese singer. How come I don't see any Angelinas or Megans? Wait, do these girls watch ONLY Hong Kong and Korean dramas?

3. Twinkle - surprisingly a Malay girl with a very Chinese Hong Kong Style handle. In Delta Club a few years back.

4. Yoyo - Loves fat old white dudes. Patient and funny in a juvenile way. Would be great in nursing homes. My old fat white friend whom she was entertaining said that the name suits her as she likes going up and down -_- . To be found at Merseyside Bar near that Kelana lakeside area.

5. Pimple - Look I REALLY tried to tell her that naming herself after a zit is just not cool. Considering that my Cantonese is equivalent to that of a 3 year old raccoon it was no wonder she kept treating me like a retard, as i THINK she was trying to explain to me (very sincerely and patiently) that it sounded cute. Some place in KL - too long ago to remember where. The name just stuck.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Chow Ah Beng

I never knew the Chinese had a name to describe extreme Ah Beng mentality.

Chow Ah Beng's are louder, fouler, ruder then their normal Ah Beng brethren. They are more moronic and their hair is extra spiky and blonder than regular Ah Bengs. They also occasionally embrace the fashion palette of drunk monkeys and gay pirates of the Caribbean. They serve no real purpose besides reminding young children of the perils of shagging one's own cousin. Normal Ah Beng's at least are good mechanics, electricians and numero uno pirated DVD peddlers.

This scientific research conducted in Klang and Petaling Jaya and feedback sought from Chinese in these areas who have verified and actually given statements on the Chow Ah Beng culture.

Monday, June 21, 2010

The Day I Inadvertently Spent A Night In A Morgue...

No, not this weekend in Bera. 3 years ago in Sabah.

As usual, the FON is behind this. Probably another one of his 'jokes'. He made the plans and backed out last minute. Fuker...

Here goes.

The photographer I was traveling with to Tasik Bera is one of East Malaysia's most experienced photographers and outdoor enthusiast, Encik Rabani who hails from Sabah. He does work for National Geographic, Asian Geographic, Action Asia and of course Going Places among many international magazines.

It was a 3 hour drive to Bera and we were exchanging stories when I started talking about my trip to the Kinabalu Mountain about 3 years ago.

There was a small incident at Laban Rata, the final push off point to the peak, which I did not put down in a blog post on that little climb as I did not think much about it but it has always been one of those niggling questions that sat around smoking a joint impatiently in my mind waiting to be answered.

Here goes the conversation:

CHINDIANA starts " yeah i was lucky man Bani, I got the only room with the twin beds and the bathroom with hot water. But we had to book 6 months in advance. I tell you I was feeling awesome la when I noticed that the guest house had overbooked and people had to sleep in the cafeteria. I think my guide thought I was gay man. I invited him to stay at the extra bed but he was so serious about not staying with me. This is especially after I found out that the guides quarters are quite cramped and not really clean. I was literally begging him to come but he looked so worried and kept saying no. I think he thought I was gay man, and was going to jump him before the ascent!"

I give a sarcastic laugh.

Bani is quiet. There was a short uncomfortable silence in the car.

"Do you know where they put the dead bodies of climbers who have died on the mountain?" Bani asked me quietly.

"Wha............... . ...................... You got to be kidding me right?"

"No. Where else do they put bodies? There is no where else that is out of view of general public. Every where else are dormitories."

I am surprisingly relieved - relieved that I FINALLY know why my guide did not want to stay with me but quite blase about the realisation that I slept in the de facto morgue of Laban Rata.

"But that's weird la Bani, I slept really well in the room. It was quite comfortable." This was a fact, the simple room with two tiny beds was comfort to my tired body, especially after I had spent 8 hours climbing up to Laban Rata (no training and a just recovered torn ligament in my right knee).

I continued "But I tell you, their bath room was weird, it was larger than the bedroom. And it was sooooo cold in the bathroom man, I could not wait to get out of it as it was that freezing."

Bani looked at me "what do you mean weird?"

Well there is an unnecessary space between the sink and the shower. It's about about 15 feet. Like wasted space."

Bani is quiet.


I realize he's waiting for the right moment.

"The dead don't need beds Chindi."

Then the chill hits me. The memory of my first look into the bathroom - it is long. (here I am just going to state facts). It is made of harsh concentrate. The small sink and mirror are close to the door. Then you walk over the 15 feet to the one lone shower that stands at the corner of the bathroom on the other end. The concrete looks like it was paved over or extended. It just looks rough. The long middle part stands out. An unwanted space.

Now it all makes sense to me - why I just could not even shower in the hot water completely (i did not even soap up) . I was so uncomfortable when showering and I will say this now without shame as I kept looking over my shoulder as I showered, that feeling that that someone is standing behind you. Even taking a dump was no fun. I actually expressed crapped in the morning before getting out of the toilet. At that time I just put it down to one of those things. You know, when you travel and you get vibes from different environments. I put this down to the extra discomfort just because I was at 13,000 ft and I was hungry and tired.

I had shared the resting place of the dead before their earthly remains descended the mountain.

Some points:

1. So far 14 people have died on the mountain since it was opened to the public in the mid 1960's.

2. Many of the deaths of been heart related. Climbers who climb against doctor's orders or who are unaware of their poor conditioning.

3. Wandering off the marked path (along the rope) is potentially fatal. If you get lost and the tempretature drops that is where your body gets lethargic, and fall into a potentially fatal sleep among the granite rocks.

4. The body is normally carried down by guides normally after the last traveller has checked into Laban Rata.

5. If you are ever at Laban Rata and it is fully booked you now know you can still get a room. Just ask for the 'bilik mayat'.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Tasik Bera

The moon's twin reflects off the serene placid lake as we drift quietly on the dark waters in the wooden tiny dugout. Bani the photographer is waiting patiently for the money shot of some of the shy nocturnal wildlife to come forth in enigmatic glory. Far away a night bird calls, an eerie song that breaks the dark velvety night. I think its a loon. No wait, loons are not found in Malaysia. An owl? Nope, owls don't sound like Katie Perry on steroids. Woody Woodpecker? Maybe it's Tweety Bird? No? Donald Duck singing 'Lemon Tree'?

Fuk it. How the fuck would I know? It's what WISHED would happen.

Tomorrow I leave for Tasik Bera. Its an assignment V from Going Places pitched to me (originally it was Tasik Chini) and which I accepted.

HOWEVER, when I called the Park Operations Manager this afternoon just to confirm our arrival time i was told that no bookings were made, there was to be no food served for the 3 days. We were helpfully told that the nearest restaurant was 25 km from the lake. We were not booked into the resort but a 'quarters'. There was no internal transport - the 4 WDs were fully booked.

Basically there was a breakdown in comms between the Ministry of Natural Resources and the folks who manage the Lake Resort.

I am of course not in the best of moods. Malaysian 'eco tourism' when left to locals means (in my personal opinion) FUCKED UP. Village small town amateur facilities which mar natural beauty and give way to gaudy Lego bricked garishness (with those fucking used tire 'picket fences). I have to say I am not a fan of Malaysian tourist locations. Especially Malaysia's humid jungles and lakes. There is just really nothing much of scenic value unless you're one of those oversized hippie Smurfs from Avatar where you can ejaculate everytime a bee sucks nectar from some oversized plant amid dense vegetation.

I was polite to the guy from the park. It was not his fault. The lake looks shit from every picture I see on the web. Of course after a couple of stiff shots of whisky I should be OK. But for now I AM NOT IN THE BEST OF MOODS.

My plan is simple - write about the ecosystem and how it helps somehow to deliver clean water to the nation. Focus on the jungle natives (no choice as I dont think they do anything different from the other nomadic tribes in the country. Maybe they will dance the Macarena under the full moon light?), I want to show that there is wild life there. If they are going to boast wildlife they better not expect me to to accept "we cannot guarantee a tiger or wild mammal". Fuck you. I'm pushing for us to take a 3am circuit out to the salt lake to catch the animals enjoying happy hours. If I'm going to be feeding leeches and mosquitos then I'm going to at least get to see a tiger try to cock block a panther over a kancil deer during the night.

I haven't packed as I type this. Have not bought mosquite repellant. OR that bottle of whisky.

And this time if there is any mention about wrestling a bear before breakfast it probably means I may be a testicle short by lunch...

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Best Get This Out of The Way

So I figured I had to get around to this. Since I do work in sports after all...

The World Cup is here. The multi-millionaire players complain about everything, while taking theatrical dives after seemingly being feather touched by an opponents boot. They blame the balls, the officials, South African horns and delinquent blades of grass. This sport is not played by men anymore. The game lives on the embellishments from slick TV production coupled with media and sponsor generated sexing up. What are the chances that Asian bookies have already reached the World Cup? After all billions are spent by Asian punters on football games. 

When you know what goes on behind the scenes of sports, it has not been easy to embrace the romance of the game. This is where I look to others around me and  realize that sports unites, in spirit and in hope.

The other night when walking through the darkened mall with the Kuantan Rescue Rangers after a screening of Prince of Persia, we passed by an exhibition in the main concourse area. Someone had hooked up the TV to the satellite feed and the Nepali security guards, Bangladeshi cleaners and curious cinema goers all huddled in front of the TV watching 22 men chase a ball in the African sunshine. Yesterday at Time Out pub, cooks from China, a Myanmar waiter and a guard from Nepal stand anxiously outside the bar watching Switzerland embarrass the Spanish on the pub television set inside. Inside, Malaysia pilots, accountants, a banker and some other white collared drinkers cheer on the Swiss as the betting crowd had put money on the under dogs.

I have always maintained that sports unites. So does beer. And exotic dancers in a Thai disco.

Digression alert.....

Sports unites. Unfortunately money corrupts more. Players are spoilt and greedy. The bookie influence stands like a quiet shadow in the corridors of the football world. Ticket scams leave stadiums with empty seasts when on paper they have been sold out.

I'm banking on the romance of the game. Asian pride yo. I want the North Koreans to win one game. I want to believe that out there there will always one David who will slay a Goliath. I want Kim Jong Ill to let the Koreans watch their team on television and stop being an idiot who thinks majestic rallies are enough to unite a country. The North will fight to make a game of it all. I believe South Korea will fight to win one game at a time, quietly hoping to reach the Semis. The Japanese though seem to still live in the Koreans shadow in football.

I'm in for Brazil. Football is a better place if a Brazilian hand lifts the cup. No matter if Dunga wants to play defensive, you can never take the joy of play that comes from within a Brazilian player to enchant a ball from anywhere in the field. When you show magic to the world, the world hopes and dreams. 

We need that. More dreams. More reasons to stop us from barreling down a path to stoic conformity and mundane uniformity to what has been dictated to us by governments, self serving media and selfish agendas of people far and near.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Lego for Going Places Magazine

I haven't been writing for magazines AT ALL  this whole year. This weekend I head off to Tasik Bera to cover it for Going Places, the Malaysian Airlines inflight magazine.

V, the editor is the most patient editor I have and teaches me the value of structure after years of writing for the rock and roll editing style of Bart August and his various stints at FHM and New Man. Bart is still the only editor I know who allows me the occasional 'bastard', 'shit' and 'ass wipe' to be published material.

Below is a short piece I did for Going Places last year writing as 'Jim Brickman'. As you can see it's very controlled for the genteel patrons of one of the world's best airlines.

Here goes:

I’ve always had a love hate relationship with Lego building blocks as a child. I loved them because of the amazing amount of objects and worlds I could build but I simply hated them as well because for my parents, Legos were a clever substitute to not buying a never ending stream of new toys for their children. 

A standard request for a die-cast metal Star Wars X-wing fighter would be thrown back at me by my parents with a “Go make one with your Legos!”. Parent’s don’t get it do they? It’s not cool when a sleek X-wing looks like a mutated brick or that graceful World War 2 Corsair looked like a brick tooth paste tube with brick propellers. It also didn’t help that every tire and wind shield/cockpit hybrid was recycled from the Lego cement truck.

Age and the real world enveloped me with more mundane concerns than building entire universes from my secret lair under my bed. As the daily 9-5 grind took over my life, Lego blocks were only a distant memory, only to resurface occasionally when I would stumble on a chewed up brick in old cupboards during spring cleaning.

And then George Lucas and his Star Wars licensing juggernaut came ambling along trying to squeeze every penny from a new demographic, long the captured audience of Sesame Street and the Power Rangers - The 6-12 year olds. Funnily enough this describes the mind of most grown men. Hence my downfall…

So when on that fateful day I walked into a toy store in Bangsar and a collection of extremely cute Lego Darth Vader and Storm troopers caught my eye, the Lego bug had me at “Now Star Wars Reimagined!”

It started quietly enough with just that one set of little figurines, a purchase based on sentimentality but I had no idea that Lego blocks had come so far! There were more varieties to the building bricks. Where in the past Lego bricks came in the exciting shapes of square, rectangular and square, NOW they came with sculpted shapes for specific parts. Airplane cockpits were shaped, engines and turbines were included with swivels and pivots, the figures had their own little guns where in the past my Lego police man would try to fight crime with what looked like a cheer leader’s baton.

It didn’t end there! Lego now had evolved into a hobby and a sophisticated kit building medium. I could now build cranes and even a basic working robot! They came with micro processors, servo motors and touch sensors! Lego had grown up!

I wisely stuck to the basic Lego models of my favorite movies like Star Wars, Batman and Indiana Jones. But I always had an eye for the more sophisticated technical kits, seeking to satisfy my macho need to conquer the pinnacle of a children’s plaything.

I decided to take up the challenge of buying and assembling one of them. I picked out one of the Lego Mindstorms kit. I wanted to build my own working robot. Images of my little Lego man picking up my football socks made me smile with glee. I looked at the instructions again and again. It was taking a bit too long for my own mind to process. Then, a slow realization dawned on me. For all my guilt at indulging in a children’s plaything, it was the humble Lego brick that had grown up and moved on without me!

Now I stick to variations of Lego vehicles that that don’t exceed the complexity of my old Lego cement truck.

Friday, June 11, 2010

The Day A Stripper Saved My Ass

I may have brought this up in the past but I'm not sure so I'm just putting this down under PERSONAL label section. Back in those days every post I seemed to put up was labeled a RANT.

Its probably 8-9 years ago. I'm in Chicago visiting Jim, a very old friend. One of the very few Americans who came out to Asia and respected our cultures and embraced the life as his own.

It's not the first time I was in the states but as any Asian man will tell you, we must all at least check out an all American strip club at least once. C'mon these are scenes we see weekly on any TV show from the US of A. Also after all the gogo bars in Bangkok and nightclubs in KL, Manila and Jakarta one must make comparisons from half a world away. I mean it's all in the name of research you know.

The strip club is somewhere in the dodgier part of town about less than ten minutes from the old jazz clubs. Jim and I get past the cliched looking bouncer at the door (tall, bald, tattooed with a t-shirt borrowed from his pet chihuahua).

We are surrounded by 30 individual podiums each filled with a topless gyrating siliconed goddess. We take our seats in the middle of the seating area and order a beer each. It's USD10 a pop. I am not happy. In Malaysia that would buy me a jug. But it's OK. I put it down to an education budget. Pretty soon the mood is killed. Every stripper looks stoned or bored. Looking at the ceiling or at their watches as they go through the motions.

Then we realise that after every dance the girls do the rounds of the low tables and sofas asking the patrons for a lap dance. 10 bucks for a a song. No touching. Of course Jim and I pass. Compared to Asia this is a joke. What do you mean no touching? And 10 bucks is one cold Bud that I can ill afford except that I'm on holiday and I will spend on booze wherever I am. So we settle down and enjoy seeing 50 year old balding men get massively turned on by a jiggling ass inches away from their crotches, while we keep turning away every stripper that comes our way.

Aileen (not real name as i cant remember), a brunette with long curly hair approaches us. We decline and say we'll pass. She asks nicely if she can sit with us for a bit as she's tired. She looks cool and did not come on with a lap dance hard sell like the rest. We invite her to join us and buy her a coffee. She seems surprised at our offer and she spends about 15 minutes with us. We chat on what she does (every stripper seems to be a moonlighting nurse or kindergarten teacher) and is very amused when I say the next place I want to go is an all American diner which will serve me a greasy burger and some old waitress who will call me 'honey' and serve me shit coffee. She gives us directions to the diner behind the club where she recommends the best burger and mash.

Aileen moves away, its her turn at the podium. We order up another round of Buds. Its our fifth I believe when another stripper walks up to us. "Ten bucks for a lap dance boys?"

We politely decline and turn to check out Aileen. Stripper Girl gives it another shot. "C'mon boys, I'll make it worth your while, 10 buck is all."

I turn to her and say "No la its OK." (yes I use La every where i go)

She turns to me "If you're not here for lap dances why the fuck are you even sitting here?"

I don't like to be fucked with. Not when I'm already paying too much for my beer.

I look up, garish lights hit me from behind her silhouette, bad '80s porno like music in my ears and I say (maybe a little too loudly), "in my country 10 dollars you suck my cock."

I don't really remember much after that through the rush of things. She starts shouting at me. Jim is trying to calm her down. Suddenly the lights are blocked by the huge shadow of the bouncer from the door (how such a big motherfucker could move so fast is beyond me). I assume he grabbed me as I'm yanked to my feet. My mind is a blur. The bitch was rude to me. I was just merely informing her on the economic decisions on how to spend 10 US dollars in a global economy.

The snarling bald face is pulled away from me. Aileen, the lean brunette school teacher had hoped down the podium and is pulling the bouncer away. I only remember her low voice saying "they're cool (insert bouncer sounding name), they're cool."

It ends so fast I have no real memory. The next thing I know I'm back in my seat and Jim has ordered up another round of drinks.

We end up at that diner. Jim is shaking his head "saved by a stripper man, saved by a stripper..." The burger is a little greasy but the coffee is strong. The young waitress didn't call me 'honey' though...

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Passed My Medical I Have :)



I tell you if God gives all a second chance this is it. I have to be honest, I was a little nervous before the results came in. I needed to take this test to increase my insurance coverage so in a way it was a 'forced' test. If left to my own devices I probably would never have gotten around to it.

So first off I would like to thank God for keeping my liver and blood pressure in stable condition. My liver especially would like to thank God for this minor miracle.

With all the tensions over the past year, the heated tensioned filled arguments at work, the late nights, the sleepless nights, the drinking, the late nights and the drinking and did I say drinking?

Maybe the once a week futsal, the weekly hiking excursions and the twice daily sex with Japanese twins has helped a little in keeping my body just that tad bit healthier. Maybe its because I've never really ever NOT played sport in my life, having the need to work out in some form or another being the only good habit I've ever cultivated (besides wrestling bears).

I was worried the report would come back "You're FUCKED MORON". So i AM taking IN STABLE HEALTH as a sign that someone out there has bigger things for me. Keeping me so as maybe I have a more important task in the future - changing the face of the industry I work in, in the region, spending more time with and CARING for my long largely ignored family, saving the universe from drunken Sith unicorns....

So to commemorate this occassion I've booked myself to climb Mount Agong in Bali in mid July. I should hit the peak on July 17th. I will probably be spending the whole of the 18th lying on my back in excruciating pain. My knees are still fucked and I haven't road tested by busted back with carrying a trek load in years. I have zero cardio and strength in my legs for a 6 hour climb up a 13,000 ft volcano. Stupid, fool hardy and a sucker for pain. Just the way I like it.

The plan is to drag myself off the mountain by noon, shower somewhere nearby, drive to Ubud for a 2 hour spa session, reward myself with Crispy Duck and Bintang Beer at Bebek Bengil and then finish the day with a sunset dinner at the Rock Bar.

NOW. What would make this ABSOLUTELY PERFECT IS I am opening up ONE travel space in this exciting adventure to a female of an adventurous nature who will be in for an experience they will never forget. You will be staying in a 5 star hotel, dine on a cliff side restaurant overlooking the Indian Ocean at sunset and of course you will be in the company of 'moi who I am told gives excellent massages and has a wicked sense of humour. Also my momma loves me to bits.

Only criteria for a succesful application is :

1. An awesome bikini bod

2. A NON whiner in the face of any physical exertions (just climbing up and down the volcano)

3. An ability to drink a reasonable amount of alcohol.

Interested candidates please write in to

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Nice Evenings We're Having Eh?

7pm sunset from somewhere in Petaling Jaya.

So what if the rains bring floods and traffic snarls that would piss off the Dalai Lama? So what if some folks stay in the offices pretending to work while waiting out the heavy down pours. (we know you're on facebook cos I saw you there. Wait.. i HEARD you were there. fuk it)

Take some time out to look out the windows people. The World still moves to her own beat without our sorry asses casting weary disillusioned, self pitying grumbles out into the cool evening skies.

Friday, June 4, 2010

Timeout KL Comedy Night

Last night I shouted at a comedian on stage informing him helpfully that "YOU SUCK!".

"Well that's what you get for paying 15 bucks!" came the retort. He paused, and i braced for the impact of being put in my place by a man who makes his living on humor and lighting wit.

He kept pausing.

Scratched his head and said, "I have no comeback to that."

Yea I AM a grumpy fuck but I just can't put up with smug folks who crack when its time to represent. There is already too much bullshit in the world without finding out that that comedian on stage is nothing more than a Russel Peters regurgitating little wanker. Comedians are supposed to be cool and worldly. They make us laugh at our best and worst moments.

I never do this shit but Malaysian comedians think they are funny, with most resorting to racial jokes in attempts so elicit laughter from a crowd fueled up on happy hour beers.

Why did I say he sucked? Well the arse had the tough luck of following up after OTHER arseholes.

C'mon man, a Chinese dude TRYING to be a Russian, a fucking talking puppet called Ali and a Liverpool Supporter half attempting to dis MU fans.

The bottom line is these guys do not tell jokes from true experiences or even observation of real life. They have not LIVED their jokes. They just picked and copied shit from already old jokes from every mamak stall and Starbucks. I found it easier to shit out a bag full of bricks then to be able to understand most of their jokes which were essentially bending facts to suit their punchline. Velvet last night was Lame-O Central. There were a coupla of hot MILFs though which explained Tree Huggers happy smile during the entire show. ( ok i hv NO IDEA where THAT came from)

Comedians are supposed to be reflect our inner humour. They say things we normally say in our heads. Except they have a better punchline and a sense of timing. So when comedians drift away from reality and start pandering to their own egos then I think its OK for us to then verbalize what's in our minds even if it is informing them that they would suck the sweat off a baboon's balls to get a laugh.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Technology Will Retard Us

UPDATED: 9AM 2nd June 2010. Just wanted to add a link that I ironically just read. Also changed the Majukanlah Dunia Semulajadi Untuk Negara as Bella pointed out it sounded wrong. Hey my Bahasa sucks I'll be the first to admit...

Time: Some time last week

Place: Somewhere near Changi Airport, Singapore.

The cab driver was one of the rare species of Singaporean taxi driver, meaning he was just a step away from being the understudy to Rain Man if they ever put together a Broadway play on um... mentally challenged individuals.

"We are here", he declares smugly looking at his GPS. The very same GPS he had been staring at like free porn for the past 30 minutes.

"Where?" I asked a little confused.

"31 Alps Avenue", he says looking at me as if addressing a retarded mutant egg tart.

"Dude.... THIS says 81 Alps Avenue."

'Nnonono, see..." he points at his GPS. 31 Alps Avenue.

DUDE, look at the wall, it says 81! AND its not UPS."

"OOooh hahah sorry sorry its on the right."

I look right and its DHL. Number 79.

Now i realize the retarded mutant egg tart sits in the driver's seat.

"Can you drive down the road sir. I think its further down", I am polite. This is Singapore. There may be a fine for raising your voice at a cab driver.

Now he looks confused. Looking right and left and then at the GPS. Its as if the forces of the Universe were conspiring against him.

"BOSS I am going to be late. Can we PLEASE drive down further."

This jerks him out of his mental haze.

"OKOK". He drives down slowly looking at his GPS.

"DUDE can you get to the end of the ROAD PLEASE." I am surprised at my Jedi like sense of calm. Maybe its knowing that Singapore might have another fine about losing one's temper in the confines of public transportation.

I see the UPS building. "Dude its in front! SEE! That building is in front."

The moron is still glued to his GPS trying to figure out why the real world does not seem to want to work with his clever gadget.

I get out. Assault him and leave the cab a burning heap in the middle of the road.

Oh course I don't. It's Singapore. They just MIGHT fine me.

This just accentuates the world we live in now. In UK a year or so ago there was an article where GPS disciples were getting into accidents and even driving off a pier while trying to 'find' their way to their destinations instead of looking at the road in front.

Tech geeks and advocates embrace Tech as the Second Coming little realizing that tech is far from perfect. To think that tech will solve immediate complexities can only come from the mind of Homer Simpson proportions.

Just after I wrote this post I read an article about a woman who followed directions on Google Maps where she ended up walking on an expressway. And got hit by a car. AND is suing Google for USD100,000. Read HERE. Wonder if she was blonde...

We're humans. Machines will never EVER replace the most basic of our instincts. Look up once in a while, away from your I Phones, Blackberries, I Pads, GPS, MSN/Messager/Google Talk screens and just take in the world around you. Its' not that bad a place you know.



Majukanlah SUKAN Untuk Negara.