In the incident, Selangor Umno Youth members tried to stop Karpal from entering Parliament, saying that the DAP chairman should apologise for calling Umno Youth "celaka" (damn) and for alleging that it had sent live bullets to him.
A scuffle broke out when fellow Pakatan Rakyat MPs -- Lim Lip Eng, Fong Kui Lun and Parti Keadilan Rakyat's N. Gobalakrishnan -- tried to protect Karpal.
They got Karpal into the house but claimed that they were roughed up.
In Shah Alam, Umno information chief Tan Sri Muhammad Muhammad Taib said Umno Youth had the right to object to Karpal's statements and that it had acted out of frustration after being provoked and unfairly accused.
"The word celaka is a grave insult in Malay culture.
(Yup as usual, the Melayu "leaders" get their spendars in a bunch over mere words, what great actors!...the graver insult is your raping and hijacking your fellow Melayus wealth...muka toye je depa ni...I guess muka tebal is a Malay leader specialty)
"We are sure that not only Malay youths in Umno, but also Malay youths in Pas and Parti Keadilan Rakyat would be upset by the label.
"I want to stress that Selangor Umno is behind Selangor Youth. We will foot the legal fees of Gombak Youth chief Megat Zulkarnain Omardin and Serdang Youth chief Ungku Md Salleh Ungku Abd Jamal and others who were involved if they are sued."
The rural and regional development minister said Karpal had displayed the behaviour of "an old man who refused to understand Malay culture and customs".
(Malay culture? Korang ni busukkan nama Melayu/Islam di seantaro without any help lah. Womanizing, groping asses, shirking duties to the people, corruption, selling nama "Allah" to the kafirs, murdering helpless women, botoxing faces beyond recognition etc2...den tak terdayo dah nak buek list...tau2 jer lah - all those vices are now synonymous with Melayus thanks to you guys!)
Bernama quotes Umno Youth executive committee member Datuk Reezal Merican Naina Merican as saying that Karpal had hurt Malays' feelings by uttering "celaka" in relation to Umno Youth.
(Hang Melayu ka Reezal...ka hang mamak cam pompuan Malabari kat Sri Damansara tu, pendatang haram tapi sebab nak hidup senang, mempergunakan orang lain?? If I say "stupid mamak tak tau buat teh tarik betul2", hang terasa tak Reezal Naina Merican?)
Joining Umno candidates in introducing themselves to Selangor Umno Youth delegates in Shah Alam on Thursday, he said Karpal had also incurred the wrath of Umno Youth members for pointing the finger at the wing over the "bullets and threatening letter" he had received in Penang.
Reezal Merican said Karpal should not hide behind the law and parliamentary immunity to accuse and denigrate Umno Youth.
Former Selangor menteri besar Datuk Seri Dr Mohd Khir Toyo said Umno Youth was disappointed with Karpal's outlandish remarks and show of a poor example despite being a veteran politician.
(hey, how's the tempe consumption nowadays? Any decrease with the economic downturn? not with the huge wealth of the UMNO looters ek? EH, WHY DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT HOW TO HELP THE POOR/LAID-OFF/SINGLE MUMS/DISABLED/SENIOR CITIZENS WHO ARE STRUGGLING TO MAKE ENDS MEET ON THE GOOD SINKING SHIP CALLED MALAYSIA INSTEAD OF TRYING TO BE A HERO MELAYU-JAWA WANNABE?)
I agree with Karpal...memang "celaka" depa nih...but then ah...that "celaka" is too mild a word lah...next time Karpal, use "PUKIMAK", it conveys the hatred for all the lakonan and sandiwara pemimpin2 UMNO penyangak much better, meh! BTW Karpal, how is my kampung Bukit Glugor ah? So long tak balik...rindu la my old house...jaga my place properly tau...
(sorry baby, you can wash out my mouth with clorox later, ek?)
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Celaka? No la...
Bilalah si tua2 bangka UMNO ni nak sedar? When are you going to grow up lah...I cannot believe that the UMNO Youth leaders (I dunno why the old farts like Toyo, Taib, balding Mukhriz are "youths" in the first place) are condoning such a juvenile act (oh, Khairy, yeah... now we know who is the juvenile delinquent/unemployable) on an old man (not that I am a Pakatan lover lest I be accused by the nauseating kaki bodeks who got poor Jed Yoong in trouble..she is an honest, outspoken girl, unafraid to say it like it is, and has more respect for Islam even if she doesn't agree with certain issues - than the Melayus in UMNO). And she also thinks Husam is burning hot! Now, I gotta take my hat off to this Chinadoll who can see berlian from kaca meh!
Friday, February 27, 2009
Lessons from the Wise
Umi,
Always do good things to people even though they do bad things to you.
Sakinah
Ok...thanks, darling. I will try to remember that.
(I found this note from my eldest (then nine) in my handbag as I was clearing it out since it already weighed like a ton, not of money, but rubbish, and lots of precious little notes from my kids I never throw away)
Always do good things to people even though they do bad things to you.
Sakinah
Ok...thanks, darling. I will try to remember that.
(I found this note from my eldest (then nine) in my handbag as I was clearing it out since it already weighed like a ton, not of money, but rubbish, and lots of precious little notes from my kids I never throw away)
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The (Ugly) Reality of Life in Afghanistan since the Fall of the Taliban
"The Western invasion of Afghanistan was and still is about strengthening US political and economic hegemony and control of the energy resources of the region."
"Islam has given rights to women. This is the only way to fight for women’s rights in Afghanistan, to show to women and men the positive side of Islam and Islamic culture, not from outside and not by insulting people’s culture and religion”.
"Afghanistan has massive natural resources (natural gas, petroleum, coal, copper, chromite, talc, barites, sulphur, lead, zinc, iron ore, salt, precious and semiprecious stones). The Americans co-operated with the warlords to defeat the Taliban and still they are co-operating with them, they have mutual interests in sharing the country’s resources”.
"George Bush and Tony Blair created the phenomenon of ‘humanitarian aid’ as part of the War on Terror. Provisional Reconstruction Teams (PRTs) are a mixture of soldiers and civilian aid workers. This means that soldiers shoot and kill people in the morning and the aid workers distribute aid in the evening. "
"People use opium to fight the unbearable amount of sickness and pain, caused by years of poor nutrition, sleeping in cold conditions and, for women, constant cycles of pregnancy. Opium consumption is relatively low among families with higher standards of living and is higher among the poorer households. They give opium to their children to curb their hunger, to keep them quiet and calm, and in times of sickness. Older children cannot go to school without a dose of opium."
“Women’s rights, human rights and democracy issues are cosmetically imposed from above. There are so many international organisations, some are trying their best, but they are miles away from understanding our cultural issues. Also when people are hungry and sick these issues are meaningless for them”.
"Afghan people are resentful of the fact that after four years they do not have access to electricity, gas and clean water, while foreigners in their country enjoy these facilities."
Read the full story here :The Reality of Life in Afghanistan
since the Fall of the Taliban
Meanwhile in Iraq, the American invaders have destroyed a once proud and modern nation and bestowed the gift of democracy pictured below:An Iraqi boy drinks from a broken pipe in Sadr City. A United Nations report found that 94% of boys in Iraq attend elementary school, but that number drops to 44% by high school. For girls, 81% start elementary school; 31% go on to attend high school.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
A Morbidly Funny Story
I came across my baby's scrap book...buku conteng, from when she was about 5 years old. I found this cute little story she wrote. Spelling mistakes and all...heheh.
(the end)
My, my...that WAS pretty abrupt and ummmm...morbid? Just like Umi. Hahaha...
Reminds me of another morbidly funny story that I heard around the same time from an adult. Adults can be REALLY morbid, I tell ya. It went like this:
One day, there was a man and a woman. The man loved the woman so much and begged her to marry him. Everyday, for almost 13 years, 365 days x 13 ie: 4745 days, he would send her smses (or call her with a regular phone, early in the marriage before the age of handy mobile phones) and tell her, "Baby, I love you, and I miss you and I cannot wait to come home and fu...(ooops...) be with you"...without fail, rain or shine, fights or not.
Suddenly one day, the smses suddenly stopped. And she asked, "Why? What happened?"
And he replied, "Oh, I found someone else to sms now lah".
"Oh, okay," she said.
It was like being hit by a truck (not a mere bus). A massive American Mack truck. (Americans like everything big...burgers, cupcakes, fries, shakes, cars, trucks, bombs, breasts, stars, debt, bailouts). Guts all over the place.
What a morbid joke he played on her, eh. So abrupt and out of the blue. Happy days, I love yous and suddenly, BAM! SPLAT! It's over, baby! What a joke!
Hahaha...I found it so funny!
That I laughed so hard,
until I cried.
Man...it's been almost 5 years when I first heard that adult's joke...still makes me laugh.
Back to that baby of mine, Maryam...She's really something. She asked me the other night..."Umi, when can I have a little sister or brother?"
I thought for a while...that's a tricky one, baby.
So I replied, "I don't think there will ever be another immaculate conception, darling..."
"What's immaculate conception, Umi?".
"It's a long story, now go to sleep, Maryam!"
And when I recall that conversation, I laugh so hard at my own joke,
until I cry.
A Stori
One day a good butterfly jest fly a way there, jest like aspashel (special) butterfly there. Jest a good butterfly. And there was a girl that people likes her, a beautiful girl. Then a bas jest hit her and by by.
(the end)
My, my...that WAS pretty abrupt and ummmm...morbid? Just like Umi. Hahaha...
Reminds me of another morbidly funny story that I heard around the same time from an adult. Adults can be REALLY morbid, I tell ya. It went like this:
One day, there was a man and a woman. The man loved the woman so much and begged her to marry him. Everyday, for almost 13 years, 365 days x 13 ie: 4745 days, he would send her smses (or call her with a regular phone, early in the marriage before the age of handy mobile phones) and tell her, "Baby, I love you, and I miss you and I cannot wait to come home and fu...(ooops...) be with you"...without fail, rain or shine, fights or not.
Suddenly one day, the smses suddenly stopped. And she asked, "Why? What happened?"
And he replied, "Oh, I found someone else to sms now lah".
"Oh, okay," she said.
It was like being hit by a truck (not a mere bus). A massive American Mack truck. (Americans like everything big...burgers, cupcakes, fries, shakes, cars, trucks, bombs, breasts, stars, debt, bailouts). Guts all over the place.
What a morbid joke he played on her, eh. So abrupt and out of the blue. Happy days, I love yous and suddenly, BAM! SPLAT! It's over, baby! What a joke!
Hahaha...I found it so funny!
That I laughed so hard,
until I cried.
Man...it's been almost 5 years when I first heard that adult's joke...still makes me laugh.
Back to that baby of mine, Maryam...She's really something. She asked me the other night..."Umi, when can I have a little sister or brother?"
I thought for a while...that's a tricky one, baby.
So I replied, "I don't think there will ever be another immaculate conception, darling..."
"What's immaculate conception, Umi?".
"It's a long story, now go to sleep, Maryam!"
And when I recall that conversation, I laugh so hard at my own joke,
until I cry.
Of Men and Half a Brain...
I couldn't resist posting this piece of news I read. I always knew that it was a no boner eh, no brainer this one, that men didn't actually use the full capacity of their brain matter when it came to women...I never realised that the brain was involved AT ALL...hahaha (oh wait...I thought this piece was about how men look at women...sorry, its about perception of beauty in general...must be my one-track brain)
"It is well known that there are differences between brain activity in women and men in cognitive tasks," said researcher Camilo J. Cela-Conde of the University of Baleares in Palma de Mallorca, Spain. "However, why should this kind of difference appear in the case of appreciation of beauty?"
The answer seems to be that when women consider a visual object they link it to language while men concentrate on the spatial aspects of the object, Cela-Conde said in an interview by e-mail.
He noted, however, that this doesn't explain why — and how — the human capacity to appreciate beauty evolved.
"The differences that we have found might relate to the different social roles that, hypothetically, men and women had during human evolution." he said.
The researchers tested 10 men and 10 women, showing them paintings and photos of urban scenes and landscapes, asking them to rate each scene as either "beautiful" or "not beautiful."
At the same time the scientists looked at images of the magnetic fields produced by electrical currents in the brains of the men and women.
For the first 300 milliseconds, there was no difference between male and female brains, and from 300 to 700 milliseconds activity was greater for objects that were rated as beautiful than for those that were not beautiful.
For both sexes the most active region was the parietal lobe that deals with visual perception, spatial orientation and information processing, but it was focused on the right side of the brain in men while both sides participated in women.
While there are differences between people as to what is beautiful and what isn't, Cela-Conde said they did not find identifiable differences related to sex.
"Any person can find beautiful a landscape, a building or a canvas that some others will find awful. But sex has little to do with those differences. Perhaps they relate with other variables, such as age or education." he said.
"It is curious that, using different neural networks, the final result is very similar in women and men. But this seems to be the case," Cela-Conde said.
He added: "Human nature is complex and difficult to study and understand. Nevertheless, thanks to scientific tools we are starting to know a bit more about some very important aspects of our nature."
Women use the whole brain to enjoy beauty, for men, only half of brain is involved
WASHINGTON (AP) — Beauty is in the brain of the beholder. Go to any museum and there will be men and women admiring paintings and sculpture. But it turns out they are thinking about the sight differently. Men process beauty on the right side of their brains, while women use their whole brain to do the job, researchers report in Tuesday's electronic edition of Proceedings of the National Academy of Science.
They even explain it differently.
They even explain it differently.
Novelist Margaret Wolfe Hungerford: "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."
Essayist David Hume: "Beauty in things exists merely in the mind which contemplates them."
Researchers were surprised by the finding.
Essayist David Hume: "Beauty in things exists merely in the mind which contemplates them."
Researchers were surprised by the finding.
The answer seems to be that when women consider a visual object they link it to language while men concentrate on the spatial aspects of the object, Cela-Conde said in an interview by e-mail.
He noted, however, that this doesn't explain why — and how — the human capacity to appreciate beauty evolved.
"The differences that we have found might relate to the different social roles that, hypothetically, men and women had during human evolution." he said.
The researchers tested 10 men and 10 women, showing them paintings and photos of urban scenes and landscapes, asking them to rate each scene as either "beautiful" or "not beautiful."
At the same time the scientists looked at images of the magnetic fields produced by electrical currents in the brains of the men and women.
For the first 300 milliseconds, there was no difference between male and female brains, and from 300 to 700 milliseconds activity was greater for objects that were rated as beautiful than for those that were not beautiful.
For both sexes the most active region was the parietal lobe that deals with visual perception, spatial orientation and information processing, but it was focused on the right side of the brain in men while both sides participated in women.
While there are differences between people as to what is beautiful and what isn't, Cela-Conde said they did not find identifiable differences related to sex.
"Any person can find beautiful a landscape, a building or a canvas that some others will find awful. But sex has little to do with those differences. Perhaps they relate with other variables, such as age or education." he said.
"It is curious that, using different neural networks, the final result is very similar in women and men. But this seems to be the case," Cela-Conde said.
He added: "Human nature is complex and difficult to study and understand. Nevertheless, thanks to scientific tools we are starting to know a bit more about some very important aspects of our nature."
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The Taliban Tea Connection
I would like to urgently appeal to all the MALAY restaurant/gerai/warung owners, to stick to serving teh-o or kopi-o. Please stop serving teh tarik. You have no idea AT ALL how to make a good glass of teh tarik. You keep sending me a tepid, watered-down, sugar laden, brackish sorry excuse of a teh tarik made out of yesterday's stale tea leaves. I send it back three times, five times, with detailed instructions and you still don't get it right. Teh tarik is beyond the Malay psyche.
I can't take it anymore.
Half the mamak restaurants have been condemned in the greater area of Wangsa Maju/Setiawangsa because of human fecal and rodent contamination problems due to the massive ineptitude of and sleeping-on-the-cushy-job by Zulhasnan Rafique and the KL Mayor, both redundantly irresponsible for the DBKL and I now cannot get a good glass of decent teh tarik anymore, unless I want to risk dying an early death. Which would sound like a dream to some people, but not to my kids. So I have to go to the Malay restaurants which claim to serve this teh tarik. I don't have a maid, I AM the maid...and some mornings, I want someone to make me breakfast. I also want to be manjakan sekali dua kala. And I pay for it.
That is my sole pleasure for the day.
Before I start my unpaid servant, driver, nurse, dishwasher etc job. And my other job too, which is supposed to pay, but the clients sometimes decide to learn from the husbands and get a freebie or ten.
You see, we Pakistanis/Punjabis/Pastuns...we carry a thermometer with us, in our purses, or selit the old way in the upper undergarment (together with an AK47 or two), ready to be whipped out at the critical moment. Tea has a special place in our hearts. We spend the day in pursuit of a good cup of tea. We look forward to tea each time we wake-up, after lunch, after dinner, and yes at tea-time, which is precisely at 5 pm and as a night cap.
The thermometer. Yes we stick that in our tea, to ensure that the optimum temperature is obtained upon serving. Piping hot, but not too hot lest it burns a hole in your tongue. The correct temperature releases the taste of the leaves and results in a warmth which suffuses throughout the veins and hits the spot. Know that feeling? Much like shooting up. Your pupils dilate and the world looks a much lovelier place.
Tepid, pathetic looking excuses of teh tarik, brings out the warlords in us. And we want to go to war.
With everybody.
And thus, another Taliban is born.
All for the lack of good tea.
I can't take it anymore.
Half the mamak restaurants have been condemned in the greater area of Wangsa Maju/Setiawangsa because of human fecal and rodent contamination problems due to the massive ineptitude of and sleeping-on-the-cushy-job by Zulhasnan Rafique and the KL Mayor, both redundantly irresponsible for the DBKL and I now cannot get a good glass of decent teh tarik anymore, unless I want to risk dying an early death. Which would sound like a dream to some people, but not to my kids. So I have to go to the Malay restaurants which claim to serve this teh tarik. I don't have a maid, I AM the maid...and some mornings, I want someone to make me breakfast. I also want to be manjakan sekali dua kala. And I pay for it.
That is my sole pleasure for the day.
Before I start my unpaid servant, driver, nurse, dishwasher etc job. And my other job too, which is supposed to pay, but the clients sometimes decide to learn from the husbands and get a freebie or ten.
You see, we Pakistanis/Punjabis/Pastuns...we carry a thermometer with us, in our purses, or selit the old way in the upper undergarment (together with an AK47 or two), ready to be whipped out at the critical moment. Tea has a special place in our hearts. We spend the day in pursuit of a good cup of tea. We look forward to tea each time we wake-up, after lunch, after dinner, and yes at tea-time, which is precisely at 5 pm and as a night cap.
The thermometer. Yes we stick that in our tea, to ensure that the optimum temperature is obtained upon serving. Piping hot, but not too hot lest it burns a hole in your tongue. The correct temperature releases the taste of the leaves and results in a warmth which suffuses throughout the veins and hits the spot. Know that feeling? Much like shooting up. Your pupils dilate and the world looks a much lovelier place.
Tepid, pathetic looking excuses of teh tarik, brings out the warlords in us. And we want to go to war.
With everybody.
And thus, another Taliban is born.
All for the lack of good tea.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Undying love is...
Dedicated to my decades old flame...Mr Aston Martin V8 Vantage Volante...a Feargal Sharkey blast from the 80s...ignore the corny 80s set-up...just listen to the songs lah...better still, play it AND CLOSE YOUR EYES....he SOUNDS better than his ermmmm showmanship...
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Ami's Special
WARGHHHHHHH!!!!!
Oh Tuhan!
I stumbled out of my Protong upon reaching home after a trip to Bangi, and immediately kissed the paved entrance to my house. Such relief! I couldn't bear another minute of Miley Cyrus twanging "I Got Nerve", "Fly on the Wall" and her other techno-pop repetitive junk anymore. I had two whole hours of her. Return ticket through hell, locked in an enclosed space called Claustrophobia on the highway, with that little....ermmm...pop teen-queen blasting from the dashboard speakers right into my pounding brain through my battered ears as my short, long and medium-sighted eyes desperately tried to make out the cars in front of me in the driving rain because the extremely clever drivers wanted to save on batteries and the environment, too and didn't turn on their lights. Malaysians are a very, very concerned lot, especially where it only concerns them.
Sakinah strode into the house in a huff, clearly peeved that I didn't find Miley's CD a brilliant piece of musical accomplishment and a gift to teenkind as she did.
That, my baby, is an understatement.
I would rather have Lou Reed sing about "Heroin" to me in that unique slightly off-key voice, over and over. Even the heroin-needled (riddled) Nico, singing in her ghostly foghorn of a heroin-addled voice, pupils dilated, in the creepy underground clubs, I can take.
But Miley, oh Tuhan...help me! She even butchered Cyndi Lauper's classic "Girls Wanna Have Fun"...
Rain. It's raining hard this evening, as I'm back in the comfort of my bedroom writing this piece (of another self revelation for the whole world). Ah...can't wait to snuggle up under the covers and watch "Blow" (no its not a porno flick) which I got from a Chinese pirate in Seri Kembangan who is singlehandedly responsible for Hollywood's dwindling fortunes (recommended by a Jerome Bixby fan), who happens to carry a whole range of foreign movies too, from Turkish to Kiwi (can't wait to get Black Sheep next, a Kiwi horror-comedy about, well... killer sheep in New Zealand)
We, the girls and I, started the day with breakfast at the swanky NZ mamak restaurant opposite KLCC. The same NZ chain which I used to go to in Wangsa Maju, before I found the guy who usually makes the teh tarik coming out of the toilet, zipping his fly and proceeding directly to make my order. Without washing anything. Even his hands.
This swanky branch has...ambience. But has retained the same old familiarity, ie the same bevy of "straight off the ship from India" workers...straight off the ship and into the kitchen. No crash course in hygiene, whatsoever...but I had no choice, coz I needed my rava tosei, and the one at NZ had cracked peppers in it. Maybe the peppers would kill the fecal bacteria, I surmised...perking up immediately, having learnt the power of mind over fecal matter from a hot rocket scientist aka hypnotherapist aka Professor Serbatau.
When it came, it was burnt - to a crisp. I said, "mamak, saya minta tosei, bukan arang..." and he smilingly proceeded to make another. I do hope his smile didn't turn into a devious grin as he picked his nose and added some extra condiments to my new order...I couldn't see. But like they say, what you don't see doesn't hurt you.
Alternatively, what you don't see could REALLY hurt you, as was evidenced by the Alam Flora lorry which came out of nowhere in front of me, right beside the Ampang cemetery, before I could turn into the NZ restaurant, causing me to swerve into oncoming traffic and the oncoming car to swerve elsewhere. Thank Tuhan, it was a relatively traffic-free morning. I could have been buried with my kids at that same Ampang cemetery, leaving me in my grave, kempunan for that dubious rava tosei. Adding to my various other kempunans...like for that Aston, going on umrah, the haj and, and...well, some things are better not said. I'll take that to the grave.
Anyways, back to the tosei, laughing and enjoying the morning with my kids, I was hit by that sudden feeling of melancholia. Something was missing from this picture. And the tears welled up unannounced (tears which I tried to fight, considering how inane and obscene the reason seemed, given the real sufferings of people elsewhere halfway across the world), which I quickly mopped up before they fell onto my now perfect rava tosei, thus rendering it soggy and forcing me to call for a new order. As I turned away to the side, to avoid the eyes of the hopeful mamak waiter (whom I had again tortured to reheat my already tepid tea...some of the mamak mistake my repeated calls to them to fix my orders as signals of a blossoming romance), Maryam looked at me and sighed...
"Awww...Umi, why are you crying again?" she looked at me with her usual resigned, lopsided smile.
"Tak lah..mamak tu letak banyak sangat pepper...ni mesti dia nak kenakan Umi balik, asyik complain jer...haha," I replied.
" Don't lie lah. Umi, can I tell you a secret?" she continued.
She beckoned me to come closer and whispered, "This hurts me very much, but because I love you....you can find someone else, ok?" smiling shyly in the inimitable way only she can.
Kids. Such wise, selfless, perceptive beings.
Adults. Foolish, selfish, clueless, self-absorbed.
I wish...it were that easy, Maryam. It isn't.
Someone else. Like you can dip into a bowl of potentials and choose the lucky (or unlucky) one.
Anyway. This piece was to be about Ami's (my mom) special. Sitting here back home, reminiscing about my visit with her, I thought about all her wonderful dishes she used to make when she was well. She had like three cupboards full of recipes, which she bought, cut out from magazines or the papers, or transcribed carefully from the old radio shows.
My favorite, and the family Eid favorite, amongst her other luscious spreads is the Chicken Beehoon Briyani.
Ami's Chicken Beehoon Briyani
(I never cook to precise measurements, unless its cakes or bread, so the amount of onions and etc are according to taste)
2 packets of beehoon broken to pieces, soaked in water with a pinch of tumeric powder (and/or saffron strands),
11/2 chicken cut into small pieces, marinated with a handful of ground green chillies, one cup of ground almonds and the juice of two limes for a couple of hours,
1 tablespoon each of kas-kas, ketumbar, jintan manis, jintan putih, white pepper, all ground together, (or more, depending on your taste)
a few cloves, cardamons, star anise and a piece of cinnamon
a can of evaporated milk
a bunch each of daun ketumbar and daun pudina, chopped finely
2 large onions, a few cloves of garlic, and some ginger, ground together
Fry the ground onions and spices till fragrant.
Add the marinated chicken and the remaining marinade. Fry till the chicken has absorbed the spices. Then pour in the milk and leave the chicken to cook thoroughly on a low fire. Make sure to keep stirring often lest the milk gets burnt. When nearly dry and the chicken cooked, add the drained, softened beehoon and chopped mint and coriander (pudina and ketumbar) and salt to taste.
Keep turning the beehoon over a low fire until it is well combined with the chicken and spices, and dry.
Takes a while. Smells absolutely divine.
When its done,
Just eatlah.
Tunggu apa lagi!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
"The great enemy of clear language is insincerity"
From Orwell's Politics and the English Language
Pretentious Diction
Words like phenomenon, element, individual (as noun), objective, categorical, effective, virtual, basic, primary, promote, constitute, exhibit, exploit, utilize, eliminate, liquidate, are used to dress up simple statements and give an air of scientific impartiality to biased judgments. Adjectives like epoch-making, epic, historic, unforgettable, triumphant, age-old, inevitable, inexorable, veritable, are used to dignify the sordid processes of international politics, while writing that aims at glorifying war usually takes on an archaic color, its characteristic words being: realm, throne, chariot, mailed fist, trident, sword, shield, buckler, banner, jackboot, clarion. Foreign words and expressions such as cul de sac, ancien regime, deus ex machina, mutatis mutandis, status quo, gleichschaltung, weltanschauung, are used to give an air of culture and elegance. Except for the useful abbreviations i.e., e.g., and etc., there is no real need for any of the hundreds of foreign phrases now current in English Bad writers, and especially scientific, political and sociological writers, are nearly always haunted by the notion that Latin or Greek words are grander than Saxon ones, and unnecessary words like expedite, ameliorate, predict, extraneous, deracinated, clandestine, subaqueous and hundreds of others constantly gain ground from their Anglo-Saxon opposite numbers 1. The jargon peculiar to Marxist writing (hyena, hangman, cannibal, petty bourgeois, these gentry, lackey, flunkey, mad dog, White Guard, etc.) consists largely of words and phrases translated from Russian, German or French; but the normal way of coining a new word is to use a Latin or Greek root with the appropriate affix and, where necessary, the -ize formation. It is often easier to make up words of this kind (deregionalize, impermissible, extramarital, non-fragmentatory and so forth) than to think up the English words that will cover one's meaning. The result, in general, is an increase in slovenliness and vagueness.
I'll Be Your Mirror
(Lou Reed)
I'll be your mirror,
Reflect what you are
In case you don't know.
I'll be the wind,
The rain and the sunset,
The light on your door
To show that you're home.
When you think the night has seen your mind,
That inside you're twisted and unkind,
Let me stand to show that you are blind.
Please put down your hands 'cause I see you.
I find it hard
To believe you don't know
The beauty you are,
But if you don't
Let me be your eyes,
A hand to your darkness
So you won't be afraid.
When you think the night has seen your mind,
That inside you're twisted and unkind,
Let me stand to show that you are blind.
Please put down your hands 'cause I see you.
Reflect what you are
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Jewish Holocaust Revisited
"The answer of the Zionist leaders was negative, with the following comments: a) ONLY Palestine would be considered as a destination for the deportees. b) The European Jews must accede to suffering and death greater in measure than the other nations, in order that the victorious allies agree to a "Jewish State" at the end of the war. c) No ransom will be paid. This response to the Gestapo's offer was made with the full knowledge that the alternative to this offer was the gas chamber."
Read about:
THE ROLE OF ZIONISM IN THE HOLOCAUST
Read about:
THE ROLE OF ZIONISM IN THE HOLOCAUST
Monday, February 16, 2009
Time of Death
If I could choose when to die...it would be at precisely 4 am.
When I am always stirred awake by some unknown force, greeted by total pin-drop silence and calm...nothing moves save for the gently heaving chests of my two babes, lost in sleep and beautiful dreams. Even the dastardly demons...they go home to roost in their evil abode, giving me that window of utter peace and serenity and freedom from their continuous harrasment and incitement and games.
The only sounds I hear are the softly twinkling stars and
His Voice, crystal clear - now that the din has subsided and illusions have slithered away into the darkness.
That is the time, I pull the small sleeping figures close to me...breathe in the excruciatingly sweet smell of heaven in their soft hair revealed only to a mother...and think...if ever I could choose...this would be the time.
A time of total clarity, of perfect understanding and realisation.
Of perfect intellection.
A time when He makes His presence felt,
inescapable,
undeniable.
And you just want to be with Him. Not anywhere else.
Not back to the world that daybreak brings.
When I am always stirred awake by some unknown force, greeted by total pin-drop silence and calm...nothing moves save for the gently heaving chests of my two babes, lost in sleep and beautiful dreams. Even the dastardly demons...they go home to roost in their evil abode, giving me that window of utter peace and serenity and freedom from their continuous harrasment and incitement and games.
The only sounds I hear are the softly twinkling stars and
His Voice, crystal clear - now that the din has subsided and illusions have slithered away into the darkness.
That is the time, I pull the small sleeping figures close to me...breathe in the excruciatingly sweet smell of heaven in their soft hair revealed only to a mother...and think...if ever I could choose...this would be the time.
A time of total clarity, of perfect understanding and realisation.
Of perfect intellection.
A time when He makes His presence felt,
inescapable,
undeniable.
And you just want to be with Him. Not anywhere else.
Not back to the world that daybreak brings.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Cruisin' With the Alfa and a Forgotten Ambition
Once upon a time, in 1985, the Ford Motor Company (which I was always writing to as I loved their Mustangs, Thunderbirds and other classics) encouraged me to apply to the Pasadena School of Design's car designing program and later possibly join their team...but I didn't and never became the car designer desperately wanted to be ever since I was 5 years old...(because I couldn't draw well enough...but I talked my way into impressing the guy in charge...hahaha)
1967-69 ALFA ROMEO TIPO 33/2 STADALE — Alfa’s second mid-engine auto, low-slung fiberglass body...
Art by Andrew Benica
Smokey Robinson-Cruisin (Live) -
On another note:
It's unfortunate that humans didn't realize this was a natural part of exotic car mating. In the past, it was assumed that the flames resulting from the heat was not a good thing. In an effort to preserve these sexy machines, humans would put out the flames just as the car was starting to get all hot and bothered.
After the exotic car has been in heat for several minutes, it will stop shooting flames and proceed to mount the other vehicle. The mount is usually a reverse mount in which the exotic car gets underneath its mate as seen in these photos:
The actual process of mounting has never been fully observed, but one photographer did manage to snap a close-up, hard-core photo:
In the photos above, readers will notice exotic cars are willing to mate with much less attractive vehicles. Some scientists believe this occurs due to an overdose of fuel resulting in "fuel goggles".
Although mating with much less attractive vehicles may be looked down upon, there is one thing that is taboo to pretty much all exotic cars, and that is mating with their own relative. The following rare photo shows two Lamborghinis, presumed to be first cousins, shortly after they finished mating. The incident attracted huge media coverage as can be seen from the photo. The Lamborghinis were obviously embarrassed over the situation.
Some other forms of mating include mating with multiple partners. Scientists believe this is mainly a result of ingesting illegal fuels like nitrous oxide (or nitro as it's called on the street) - the preferred drug of choice for most exotic cars. Group mating can be dangerous for exotic cars and many leave with permanent damage to their crumple zones.
One last form of mating observed by scientists is sadomasochism, where the exotic car seems to get pleasure from inflicting damage to the other vehicle. In this photo, the Ferrari ended up getting a little too rough. The Ford pickup subsequently had to call out the safety beep, letting the Ferrari know the session was over.
This concludes our documentary on exotic car mating. Stay tuned for the next episode when we document the birth process and the teenage years where many exotics get addicted to speed and live life in the fast lane.
1967-69 ALFA ROMEO TIPO 33/2 STADALE — Alfa’s second mid-engine auto, low-slung fiberglass body...
Art by Andrew BenicaSmokey Robinson-Cruisin (Live) -
On another note:
The Mating Rituals of Exotic Cars
Apr 3rd 2008 (Wrecked Exotics Blog)
Throughout history, humans have referred to exotic cars as "beasts" and "sexy machines". But for all the sexiness these cars possess, mating happens on very rare occasion. When it does they put on quite a show. Exotic cars held in captivity in museums and garages around the world have all failed to breed successfully. Scientists have long puzzled over how these vehicles mate in the wild. Now for the first time, they are beginning to get an idea. Thanks to amazing images captured by amateur photographers, scientists are getting their first glimpse of how these automobiles attract and mate with other vehicles.
Here we present photos documenting the mating rituals of exotic cars in the wild.
Viewer discretion is strongly advised.
It's unfortunate that humans didn't realize this was a natural part of exotic car mating. In the past, it was assumed that the flames resulting from the heat was not a good thing. In an effort to preserve these sexy machines, humans would put out the flames just as the car was starting to get all hot and bothered.
After the exotic car has been in heat for several minutes, it will stop shooting flames and proceed to mount the other vehicle. The mount is usually a reverse mount in which the exotic car gets underneath its mate as seen in these photos:
The actual process of mounting has never been fully observed, but one photographer did manage to snap a close-up, hard-core photo:
In the photos above, readers will notice exotic cars are willing to mate with much less attractive vehicles. Some scientists believe this occurs due to an overdose of fuel resulting in "fuel goggles".
Although mating with much less attractive vehicles may be looked down upon, there is one thing that is taboo to pretty much all exotic cars, and that is mating with their own relative. The following rare photo shows two Lamborghinis, presumed to be first cousins, shortly after they finished mating. The incident attracted huge media coverage as can be seen from the photo. The Lamborghinis were obviously embarrassed over the situation.
Some other forms of mating include mating with multiple partners. Scientists believe this is mainly a result of ingesting illegal fuels like nitrous oxide (or nitro as it's called on the street) - the preferred drug of choice for most exotic cars. Group mating can be dangerous for exotic cars and many leave with permanent damage to their crumple zones.
One last form of mating observed by scientists is sadomasochism, where the exotic car seems to get pleasure from inflicting damage to the other vehicle. In this photo, the Ferrari ended up getting a little too rough. The Ford pickup subsequently had to call out the safety beep, letting the Ferrari know the session was over.
This concludes our documentary on exotic car mating. Stay tuned for the next episode when we document the birth process and the teenage years where many exotics get addicted to speed and live life in the fast lane.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
illusions
Thank God
for the power of illusions
for without that
there is only
the inescapable ugly reality
but ultimately
illusions
too
like hot, bright, massive stars
die hard
in a blinding display of supernovae
collapsing
sucked
into massive black holes
of no return
but
there is always another one
being born
soon enough
from the scattered stardust
that we too are made of.
نمر
for the power of illusions
for without that
there is only
the inescapable ugly reality
but ultimately
illusions
too
like hot, bright, massive stars
die hard
in a blinding display of supernovae
collapsing
sucked
into massive black holes
of no return
but
there is always another one
being born
soon enough
from the scattered stardust
that we too are made of.
نمر
Pagliacci's Clown
Just like Pagliacci did
I try to keep my surface hid
Smiling in the crowd I try
But in a lonely room I cry
The tears of a clown
Smokey and the Miracles
Pagliacci (Players, or Clowns) is an opera consisting of a prologue and two acts written and composed by Ruggero Leoncavallo. It recounts the tragedy of a jealous husband in a commedia dell'arte troupe. (Its name is sometimes incorrectly rendered as I Pagliacci with a definite article.)
Pagliacci premiered at the Teatro Dal Verme in Milan on May 21, 1892, conducted by Arturo Toscanini with Adelina Stehle as Nedda, Fiorello Giraud as Canio, Victor Maurel as Tonio, and Mario Ancona as Silvio.
Since 1893, it has usually been performed in a double bill with Pietro Mascagni's Cavalleria rusticana, a pairing referred to in the operatic world colloquially as "Cav and Pag". It is the only one of Leoncavallo's operas that is still widely staged.
(Wikipedia)
Friday, February 13, 2009
DUKE CRAPWAY HIGHWAY TOLL ROBBERS STRIKE AGAIN
The DUKE hiway stretch from the Sri Rampai/Wangsa Maju junction all the way down to the Setiawangsa interchange IS A PIECE OF ENGINEERING NITEMARE!
WAS THE ENGINEER DRUNK OR STONED WHEN HE/SHE DESIGNED IT? WERE THE WORKERS ALL HI ON TODDY? COULDN'T THE ENGINEER DRAW A STRAIGHT LINE? DID ALL OF THEM COME DOWN WITH PARKINSON'S OR THE SHAKES?
IT'S WEAVING LIKE A DRUNKEN SNAKE, BUMPY AND PLAIN DANGEROUS ESPECIALLY WHERE THE CARS MERGE AT HIGH SPEED FROM THE LEFT BEFORE THE SETIAWANGSA MOSQUE, AND NO MALAYSIAN DRIVER CAN READ ROADS SIGNS AND GIVE WAY. THEY ARE ALL BLOODY ILLITERATE AND POSSESSED BY DEVILS EACH TIME THEY TAKE THE WHEEL. AND THE JAMS... ARE WORSE THAN EVER!
AND THE PERSONA. MY PROTON PERSONA IS DESIGNED FOR A BLIND MALAYSIAN. BECAUSE IT HAS BLIND SPOTS ALL AROUND IT. NO MATTER HOW YOU TURN OR CRANE YOUR NECK, YOU CAN'T SEE THE CAR THAT SUDDENLY APPEARS AND BLINDSIDES YOU BECAUSE THE OTHER DRIVER IS ALSO BLIND AND DRIVING ANOTHER PERSONA. THE BOOT IS SET SO HIGH UP THAT THE REAR VIEW IS OBSCURED. BUT SINCE NO ONE ELSE TEST DROVE IT EXCEPT ME (BASICALLY A "TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT" THINGY LA...) WHAT CAN I SAY...BUKAN ORANG LAIN BAWAK. HEY, MAYBE THAT'S THE (HER) IDEA...BUMP ME OFF??? BUT THERE ARE ALSO SOME KIDS IN THE CAR...DUH.
I WANT MY BEAUTIFUL NAZI-ERA 230CE MERCEDES BACK!!! NOW! I MISS THE NAZIS TOO! THEY DIDN'T FINISH THEIR JOB!
AND THEY BUILT DAMN GOOD CARS AND AUTOBAHNS TOO!
YES. I'M HAVING A CRAPPY DAY TODAY.
LOTS OF CRAPPY PEOPLE IN THE WORLD.
disclaimer: no offence to the good Jews and the truly blind by His design
WAS THE ENGINEER DRUNK OR STONED WHEN HE/SHE DESIGNED IT? WERE THE WORKERS ALL HI ON TODDY? COULDN'T THE ENGINEER DRAW A STRAIGHT LINE? DID ALL OF THEM COME DOWN WITH PARKINSON'S OR THE SHAKES?
IT'S WEAVING LIKE A DRUNKEN SNAKE, BUMPY AND PLAIN DANGEROUS ESPECIALLY WHERE THE CARS MERGE AT HIGH SPEED FROM THE LEFT BEFORE THE SETIAWANGSA MOSQUE, AND NO MALAYSIAN DRIVER CAN READ ROADS SIGNS AND GIVE WAY. THEY ARE ALL BLOODY ILLITERATE AND POSSESSED BY DEVILS EACH TIME THEY TAKE THE WHEEL. AND THE JAMS... ARE WORSE THAN EVER!
AND THE PERSONA. MY PROTON PERSONA IS DESIGNED FOR A BLIND MALAYSIAN. BECAUSE IT HAS BLIND SPOTS ALL AROUND IT. NO MATTER HOW YOU TURN OR CRANE YOUR NECK, YOU CAN'T SEE THE CAR THAT SUDDENLY APPEARS AND BLINDSIDES YOU BECAUSE THE OTHER DRIVER IS ALSO BLIND AND DRIVING ANOTHER PERSONA. THE BOOT IS SET SO HIGH UP THAT THE REAR VIEW IS OBSCURED. BUT SINCE NO ONE ELSE TEST DROVE IT EXCEPT ME (BASICALLY A "TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT" THINGY LA...) WHAT CAN I SAY...BUKAN ORANG LAIN BAWAK. HEY, MAYBE THAT'S THE (HER) IDEA...BUMP ME OFF??? BUT THERE ARE ALSO SOME KIDS IN THE CAR...DUH.
I WANT MY BEAUTIFUL NAZI-ERA 230CE MERCEDES BACK!!! NOW! I MISS THE NAZIS TOO! THEY DIDN'T FINISH THEIR JOB!
AND THEY BUILT DAMN GOOD CARS AND AUTOBAHNS TOO!
YES. I'M HAVING A CRAPPY DAY TODAY.
LOTS OF CRAPPY PEOPLE IN THE WORLD.
disclaimer: no offence to the good Jews and the truly blind by His design
Thursday, February 12, 2009
I was waiting for the lights to turn green yesterday morning, at the four way junction, on my way back home after sending my eldest to school, when I saw her car again. That familiar impassive face. The doctor. In her new Mercedes.
She turned right, in front of me, heading home. I know where she lives. Our paths cross often. She delivered my sister's kid on that day in Ramadhan, 13 years ago. I had my first pregnancy check-up with her...but continued with another doctor, a year later. Since then, we often bump into each other, but she keeps her distance, an invisible wall you don't dare penetrate with a casual hello.
Last week, I saw her, shopping for groceries at the local Giant. Always alone... And again, before that, at the local petrol station. That time, she was with a friend. On her way to Port Dickson. I knew because I was standing in line behind her at the cashier- and a man, another doctor I presumed, an acquaintance of hers, greeted her and asked about her family and husband. She introduced her girlfriend and told the man they were on the way to Port Dickson for the day. Her husband she said, was in New York. Busy as always...she said.
I wanted to blurt out something, and I quickly checked myself. I watched her go off with her friend, head held high, stylish as ever and striding confidently back to her car.
How I wanted to tell her. That her husband... was having an affair with this well-known dentist. A perky, vivacious divorcee. A sexy dentist. Does she know? Does she have a right to know?
Did she know that he brought the woman to her house, her private sanctuary with her husband, and that woman commented derisively about her taste and half the world knew?
Is her husband really in New York? Or is he with this other woman?
If it were you...would you want to hear all this?
I just can't bear it every time I cross paths with her.
Is she oblivious to the fact that her high-ranking, respected husband, the father of her lovely daughter... is just a common cheat?
What is she hiding beneath that impassive, perfectly made up face and confident persona?
Would her mask crack up in pain and tears if I told her?
Or does she already know?
Oblivion. Is a mercy.
For everyone.
She turned right, in front of me, heading home. I know where she lives. Our paths cross often. She delivered my sister's kid on that day in Ramadhan, 13 years ago. I had my first pregnancy check-up with her...but continued with another doctor, a year later. Since then, we often bump into each other, but she keeps her distance, an invisible wall you don't dare penetrate with a casual hello.
Last week, I saw her, shopping for groceries at the local Giant. Always alone... And again, before that, at the local petrol station. That time, she was with a friend. On her way to Port Dickson. I knew because I was standing in line behind her at the cashier- and a man, another doctor I presumed, an acquaintance of hers, greeted her and asked about her family and husband. She introduced her girlfriend and told the man they were on the way to Port Dickson for the day. Her husband she said, was in New York. Busy as always...she said.
I wanted to blurt out something, and I quickly checked myself. I watched her go off with her friend, head held high, stylish as ever and striding confidently back to her car.
How I wanted to tell her. That her husband... was having an affair with this well-known dentist. A perky, vivacious divorcee. A sexy dentist. Does she know? Does she have a right to know?
Did she know that he brought the woman to her house, her private sanctuary with her husband, and that woman commented derisively about her taste and half the world knew?
Is her husband really in New York? Or is he with this other woman?
If it were you...would you want to hear all this?
I just can't bear it every time I cross paths with her.
Is she oblivious to the fact that her high-ranking, respected husband, the father of her lovely daughter... is just a common cheat?
What is she hiding beneath that impassive, perfectly made up face and confident persona?
Would her mask crack up in pain and tears if I told her?
Or does she already know?
Oblivion. Is a mercy.
For everyone.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Court moves to study claims of Gaza crimes
By Marlise Simons Published: February 10, 2009
International Herald Tribune
THE HAGUE: The Palestinian Authority is pressing the International Criminal Court in The Hague to investigate potential war crimes committed by Israeli commanders during the recent war in Gaza. The Palestinian minister of justice, Ali Kashan, first raised the issue during a visit to the court's chief prosecutor late last month, and he and other officials are expected back again in The Hague this week, court officials said.
By Marlise Simons Published: February 10, 2009
International Herald Tribune
THE HAGUE: The Palestinian Authority is pressing the International Criminal Court in The Hague to investigate potential war crimes committed by Israeli commanders during the recent war in Gaza.
Luis Moreno Ocampo, the prosecutor, initially said he lacked the legal basis to examine the case. But since the Palestinian Authority signed a commitment Jan. 22 recognizing the court's authority, the prosecutor has appeared more open to studying the Palestinian claim.
"The prosecutor has agreed to explore if he could have jurisdiction in the case," said Béatrice Le Fraper, director of jurisdiction for the prosecution. She cautioned that accepting jurisdiction would not automatically set off a criminal investigation. "We are still very far from any decision. This is just the beginning of a long process," she said.
The prosecutor has received more than 200 requests to look into war crimes during the recent fighting between Israel and Hamas militants. They include accusations from individuals and organizations that Israel has violated the rules of war by targeting civilians and nonmilitary buildings, and by using weapons like white phosphorus illegally.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The Many Facets of Happiness
by Sheikh Salman al-Oadah
I went on an outing with my children. Our main intention was to swim and for the children to have their fair share of recreation and of my quality time. It was also a chance for me as a father, to have my rightful share of the joy of being with my children, for truly we need our children as much as they need us, if not more. I found myself busy on that day with all sorts of little tasks – like making sandwiches, setting the picnic table, and handing out sweets. It was a beautiful day to harvest some of the fruits of happiness just by enjoying ordinary activities in total relaxation and familiarity.
That day made me think about how much we, as people, speak about happiness. Hundreds of books are published every year to address the issue from a dry, philosophical standpoint. These works strive to define happiness and reveal its connection with factors like prosperity, pleasure, and our state of mind. There is considerable controversy about what brings about happiness and, more essentially, what it actually means to be happy. This leads to the more mundane questions of role that health, wealth, one's job, one's marriage, and being successful play in our chances for happiness.
We might fail to see that happiness is an inner state of our being, which comes into its being within ourselves, and is often connected with the most ordinary and seemingly insignificant events of our lives. It is the normal state of a person's mind when that person is enjoying an experience or an activity. Those of us who disdain engaging in some pleasant activities, or simply fail to admit our enjoyment of them – due to our preconceived notions of what is suitable for us as adults, or as elderly people, or as people of social prominence – need to rethink some of our ideas. We should not rob ourselves of life's small but significant pleasures.
Be like a small child and really enjoy that cup of tea you are drinking. Take time to taste it. The same goes for a piece of chocolate or your ordinary daily meal. Enjoy it. Enjoy eating alone and in the company of people you care about.
Allah says: "There is nothing wrong with you eating together or by yourselves." [Sûrah al-Nûr: 61]
Be like a child who looks forward excitedly to taking a ride. Look forward to pleasant things. Laugh at a funny joke without first examining it to deduce whether the humor of the joke holds up under close scrutiny. Look forward to your sleep. Recognize it as being Allah's blessing and a refreshment for your body and mind. Maybe you will dream about those you love.
Look forward to the activity that is ahead of you. Take pleasure in the accomplishment – however small – that completing your task provides you with. This can be said of reading a book, preparing a letter, a lesson that you attend, or a social event that you participate in.
Try to see the beauty of a flower in bloom, the fields of crops, a flowing stream, the sparrow's song, and a child in play. Do not block these things from your sight, thinking them to be unimportant. Indeed, our sense of importance and of what carries weight with us – this is one of the greatest obstacles to happiness. This is an affliction that we impose upon ourselves. We need no enemy to do this to us.
We are happiest when we are the least inhibited in acknowledging and expressing how we feel. This is the case whether we are in the company of those we know or those we do not know. Expressing our feelings should not carry with it a sense of dread as if we are disclosing the most sensitive of state secrets.
We are happiest when we shed our ostentation and inflated sense of self-importance, so we can really listen to ourselves and acknowledge our inner needs and aspirations.
We are happiest when we are not pining after unrealistic and overly idealistic dreams but look at our lives naturally, without shame, and without exaggerating things.
We are happiest when we focus keenly on the experience of the moment, taking note of the billions – nay trillions – of blessings that are right in front of us. Allah's generosity extends to each living cell of our bodies and to everything on the land, the air, and in the sea. His grace extends to all the intangibles as well, like those feelings and sensations that we cannot describe in physical terms. Faith is a good example, love, pleasure, the apprehension of language, longing, joy, hope…
We may be happiest of all when we realize that happiness is not a package we receive in the mail – either by design or fortune – nor is it a degree conferred upon us like a diploma. It is rather the felling of the moment, if we harvest well what that moment has to offer and resolve to make the best of it. It is when we shove aside despair, worry, fear, hatred, envy, and the other negative emotions that too often preoccupy our thoughts.
We are the happiest we can be when we choose to be happy.
by Sheikh Salman al-Oadah
I went on an outing with my children. Our main intention was to swim and for the children to have their fair share of recreation and of my quality time. It was also a chance for me as a father, to have my rightful share of the joy of being with my children, for truly we need our children as much as they need us, if not more. I found myself busy on that day with all sorts of little tasks – like making sandwiches, setting the picnic table, and handing out sweets. It was a beautiful day to harvest some of the fruits of happiness just by enjoying ordinary activities in total relaxation and familiarity.
That day made me think about how much we, as people, speak about happiness. Hundreds of books are published every year to address the issue from a dry, philosophical standpoint. These works strive to define happiness and reveal its connection with factors like prosperity, pleasure, and our state of mind. There is considerable controversy about what brings about happiness and, more essentially, what it actually means to be happy. This leads to the more mundane questions of role that health, wealth, one's job, one's marriage, and being successful play in our chances for happiness.
We might fail to see that happiness is an inner state of our being, which comes into its being within ourselves, and is often connected with the most ordinary and seemingly insignificant events of our lives. It is the normal state of a person's mind when that person is enjoying an experience or an activity. Those of us who disdain engaging in some pleasant activities, or simply fail to admit our enjoyment of them – due to our preconceived notions of what is suitable for us as adults, or as elderly people, or as people of social prominence – need to rethink some of our ideas. We should not rob ourselves of life's small but significant pleasures.
Be like a small child and really enjoy that cup of tea you are drinking. Take time to taste it. The same goes for a piece of chocolate or your ordinary daily meal. Enjoy it. Enjoy eating alone and in the company of people you care about.
Allah says: "There is nothing wrong with you eating together or by yourselves." [Sûrah al-Nûr: 61]
Be like a child who looks forward excitedly to taking a ride. Look forward to pleasant things. Laugh at a funny joke without first examining it to deduce whether the humor of the joke holds up under close scrutiny. Look forward to your sleep. Recognize it as being Allah's blessing and a refreshment for your body and mind. Maybe you will dream about those you love.
Look forward to the activity that is ahead of you. Take pleasure in the accomplishment – however small – that completing your task provides you with. This can be said of reading a book, preparing a letter, a lesson that you attend, or a social event that you participate in.
Try to see the beauty of a flower in bloom, the fields of crops, a flowing stream, the sparrow's song, and a child in play. Do not block these things from your sight, thinking them to be unimportant. Indeed, our sense of importance and of what carries weight with us – this is one of the greatest obstacles to happiness. This is an affliction that we impose upon ourselves. We need no enemy to do this to us.
We are happiest when we are the least inhibited in acknowledging and expressing how we feel. This is the case whether we are in the company of those we know or those we do not know. Expressing our feelings should not carry with it a sense of dread as if we are disclosing the most sensitive of state secrets.
We are happiest when we shed our ostentation and inflated sense of self-importance, so we can really listen to ourselves and acknowledge our inner needs and aspirations.
We are happiest when we are not pining after unrealistic and overly idealistic dreams but look at our lives naturally, without shame, and without exaggerating things.
We are happiest when we focus keenly on the experience of the moment, taking note of the billions – nay trillions – of blessings that are right in front of us. Allah's generosity extends to each living cell of our bodies and to everything on the land, the air, and in the sea. His grace extends to all the intangibles as well, like those feelings and sensations that we cannot describe in physical terms. Faith is a good example, love, pleasure, the apprehension of language, longing, joy, hope…
We may be happiest of all when we realize that happiness is not a package we receive in the mail – either by design or fortune – nor is it a degree conferred upon us like a diploma. It is rather the felling of the moment, if we harvest well what that moment has to offer and resolve to make the best of it. It is when we shove aside despair, worry, fear, hatred, envy, and the other negative emotions that too often preoccupy our thoughts.
We are the happiest we can be when we choose to be happy.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Mums get raw deal in US
"There is no paid maternity leave mandated in the United States, a situation shared by only three other countries: Papua New Guinea, Swaziland, and Liberia, according to a 2007 study by Harvard and McGill universities."
What?? And you wanna pontificate about women's rights in Afghanistan? Hehehe....Story here.
Sheikh Muhammad Abd al- Wahhab
Did Shaikh Muhammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhaab rebel against the Othman Caliphate and what was the reason for its fall?
The full piece here.
"Shaikh Muhammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhaab was simply another of these wronged scholars who were falsely accused by people, in an attempt to cause trouble (fitnah). People’s only motives for doing that were jealousy and hatred, along with the fact that bid’ah was so firmly entrenched in their hearts, or they were ignorant and were blindly imitating the people of whims and desires.
We will mention some of the false accusations that were made against the Shaikh, and will refute them."
We will mention some of the false accusations that were made against the Shaikh, and will refute them."
The full piece here.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Where is Hell on Earth
Tears drop on her hands, hands that he had once kissed passionately, on her engagement ring, that ring he chose for her, on her cheeks that oust the redness of burning coals within her. The funeral is over now; his body is away, but the memory of him is as vivid as his own being yesterday. Dreams of a wedding, now written in the history of numerous deaths, is beyond of what reality can bring.
Her name is Hanaa, what means felicity. But, Hanaa shall know no felicity for many years now, overcoming the killing of her lost love, Mohammed, who was killed by IOF whilst at the Abu Middeen police station on December 27th, 2009. Red roses are thrown over Mohammed's tomb as he is carried through the streets of his neighborhood. Hanaa, her head bent towards the ground, stroking the ring on her right hand, nods her head accepting a reality imposed, one of which she had no choice in determining.
This is the case of many here in Gaza, where love has been targeted, where intimacy has been destroyed, where sentiments are victims of slaughtering and massacres. "We are just numbers in the media," says Hanan, a student at the Aqsa University in Gaza. "But, behind the numbers are stories, are loves lost, are childhoods devastated, choked."
As I visited my friend's house in the eastern neighborhood of Jabalya Town, I saw beds being torn apart, as the holes in them mark the aiming of an Apache rocket in the middle during the twenty two day attack on Gaza.
Since we are living in a culture of a so-called ‘human rights' production, then perhaps those that declared those aforementioned rights can issue a declaration of a right to love.
"How can one express the broken dreams inside of him? How can one express himself?" asks the late Syrian poet Nizar Qabbani in "I have Married You, o Freedom!" a similar rhetoric now demanded on the streets of Gaza.
"There are no theatres, no cinemas, not even public libraries!" There is not even the right to go to the sea... to smell the ocean. Three years ago, the adolescent Huda Ghalyeh came out of the sea after she was swimming to find the eleven members of her family, slaughtered on the coast. The Israeli gunboat had missed shooting at her as she swam far from where her family was walking. Huda came out of the ocean as she heard the nearby sounds of the ambulance siren and people screaming to the images of killings. From three years of living within what is now described as the largest collective prison modern history has witnessed to what has become a largest concentration camp of killings and slaughtering, that many compare to the Warsaw and Auschwitz concentration camps, which still bring shivers to those who recall it during WWII.
In Gaza, where normality of habit and routine does not exist, in Gaza where the thought of a coming death is a consistent companion, amid a struggle to maintain a meaning to one's life. "After one's home is demolished, leveled down to ruins, one's love, one's family no longer existent... can you tell me what is worth living for?" asks twenty five year old Firas, who lost it all. He works at a local media agency, and manages to control the torn life that dwells bellow his childlike facial expressions.
"I missed eating fruits. We had no fruit. But, after the killings, they opened the crossings for a day or two to bring in fruit... I was nauseated by the fruit they [IOF] allowed to enter. I do not want to eat any fruit anymore after they killed 1500 of us" I hear from a young lady.
On the balcony of a friend, I observe the sun setting down on Gaza. My friend's eyes are now an ocean of sadness. His expressions changed since before the war; he now looks into empty space, losing everyone around him. When he jokes and we laugh, his smile returns back to the land of forlornness, and it leaves a façade of an expressionless existence. We speak about the numbers of the dead, but there are also those six thousands citizens who have lost a body part, who are now physically challenged. How will they live the rest of their lives? How will the rest of the million and a half broken hearts in Gaza go on living in a time where the human condition is too worthless to be a condition from the start?
When asked about hell on earth, my answer is not Gaza: Gaza's hell is... other people.
Natalie Abou Shakra
Friday, February 6, 2009
Laws of Attraction
Why is it...
that the waiter who is absentmindedly picking his nose or his zit, closely scrutinising the goo it unleashes, in one far corner of the mamak restaurant...
or the one who just came out of the toilet, hurriedly zipping his fly, without washing his hands,
is the only who ALWAYS catches your eye and quickly comes your way, smiling broadly, to take your order...
and outspoken as you are...you just can't seem to bring yourself to say something at that particularly moment...
and when he brings your order...you try desperately not to gag...
"kakak...tarak sedap ka...apa pasal tada makan..."
"pening plak kepala saya tiba2 bang...tolong kasi bil..."
We know we have rat droppings to supplement Ajinomoto in our dhall and sambals at the local restaurant...we know KL restaurants are breeding rats the size of overfed Persian cats in their efforts towards preservation of wildlife...but we just don't want to SEE it...know what I mean?
Yo, Dato' Zulhasan Rafique...you're doing a great job! At doing nothing! Keep it up!
Now KLites can supplement incomes by catching rats, especially the prime 20 pounder breeds in the greater Wangsamaju and Setiawangsa longkang areas and maybe sell them to...who ah? The pasar malam satay traders?
"zulhasnan and fuad combo roti canai rattus special"
MAMAKKK! ROTI CANAI SPECIAL SATUUU! YUMMMY!
that the waiter who is absentmindedly picking his nose or his zit, closely scrutinising the goo it unleashes, in one far corner of the mamak restaurant...
or the one who just came out of the toilet, hurriedly zipping his fly, without washing his hands,
is the only who ALWAYS catches your eye and quickly comes your way, smiling broadly, to take your order...
and outspoken as you are...you just can't seem to bring yourself to say something at that particularly moment...
and when he brings your order...you try desperately not to gag...
"kakak...tarak sedap ka...apa pasal tada makan..."
"pening plak kepala saya tiba2 bang...tolong kasi bil..."
We know we have rat droppings to supplement Ajinomoto in our dhall and sambals at the local restaurant...we know KL restaurants are breeding rats the size of overfed Persian cats in their efforts towards preservation of wildlife...but we just don't want to SEE it...know what I mean?
Yo, Dato' Zulhasan Rafique...you're doing a great job! At doing nothing! Keep it up!
Now KLites can supplement incomes by catching rats, especially the prime 20 pounder breeds in the greater Wangsamaju and Setiawangsa longkang areas and maybe sell them to...who ah? The pasar malam satay traders?
"zulhasnan and fuad combo roti canai rattus special"MAMAKKK! ROTI CANAI SPECIAL SATUUU! YUMMMY!
Thursday, February 5, 2009
I've learned
My lovely blogger friend Ahan, posted this wonderful piece on her blog Ahan in the Afternoon, and I would like to reproduce it below verbatim with her belated (I hope) permission...jangan mare...
Hope you've learnt something too from this post of mine, eh?
Yes Ahan, we sure did!
I've learned- that you cannot make someone love you.
All you can do is be someone who can be loved. The rest is up to them.
I've learned- that no matter how much I care, some people just don't care back.
I've learned- that it takes years to build up trust, and only seconds to destroy it.
I've learned- that no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.
I've learned- that it's not what you have in your life but who you have in your life that counts.
I've learned- that you should never ruin an apology with an excuse.
I've learned- that you can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes. After that, you'd better know something.
I've learned- that you shouldn't compare yourself to the best others can do.
I've learned- that you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.
I've learned- that it's taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.
I've learned- that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.
I've learned- that you can keep going long after you can't.
I've learned- that we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.
I've learned- that either you control your attitude or it controls you.
I've learned- that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades and there had better be something else to take its place.
I've learned- that heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.
I've learned- that money is a lousy way of keeping score.
I've learned- that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.
I've learned- that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down will be the ones to help you get back up.
I've learned- that sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.
I've learned- that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.
I've learned- that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
I've learned- that maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.
I've learned- that you should never tell a child their dreams are unlikely or outlandish. Few things are more humiliating, and what a tragedy it would be if they believed it.
I've learned- that your family won't always be there for you. It may seem funny, but people you aren't related to can take care of you and love you and teach you to trust people again. Families aren't biological.
I've learned- that it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you are to learn to forgive yourself.
I've learned- that no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.
I've learned- that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.
I've learned- that a rich person is not the one who has the most, but is one who needs the least.
I've learned- that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.
I've learned- that we don't have to change friends if we understand that friends change.
I've learned- that you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.
I've learned- that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.
I've learned- that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.
I've learned- that no matter how you try to protect your children, they will eventually get hurt and you will hurt in the process.
I've learned- that even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.
I've learned- that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.
I've learned- that the people you care about most in life are taken from you too soon.
I've learned- that it's hard to determine where to draw the line between being nice and not hurting people's feelings, and standing up for what you believe.
I've learned- that people will forget what you said, and people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.
Hope you've learnt something too from this post of mine, eh?
Yes Ahan, we sure did!
Latest 60-year Palestinian Holocaust Victims
Name of martyr: Bilal Isa Al-Batran. |
| Age: 8 years old. |
| Date of murder: Friday , sunset time; January 16, 2009. |
| Place of murder: Their house at Al-Burayj R.C., middle of Gaza Strip. |
| Weapon used: A (Fire 2) Rocket, weighing 45 kg., capable of penetrating 8 cm. iron objects, fired at people. |
| Details of the last hours: Through their window, Bilal and his younger brother were pointing at Israeli aircraft. Suddenly, the aircraft aimed at the window through which the kids were looking and bombed the house, killing the kids, shattering their bodies on the tree branches outside their house. It took their family three days to pick up the torn bodies of the two kids. The mother (Manal, 35 years), the eldest daughter (Islam, 14 years), and the twin (Ihsan and Iman, 11 years) fell martyrs when they were in a hurry packing their suitcases to go to the house of their grandpa, Hassan Al-Sha`rawi who lives in the same camp, for fear that they may be endangered under the Israeli offensive assault. In the meanwhile, baby `Abdel-Hady was in the reception hall, to the west south of the apartment, playing with his toys. When he saw his father starting to perform maghrib (sunset) prayer in Al-masjid Al-Kabir mosque, the baby crawled descending five stairs. The father had to carry the baby in order to take him to his mother. But before he took one step into the room, a missile bombarded the house killing all its inhabitants, save the father and his baby. The mother and the rest of her children were dead. |
| Hobbies: Playing football. |
| Dreams: Aspired to become a teacher. (the father, an UNRWA school teacher, is wandering and sleeping in the streets in his grief, unable to come home to his sole surviving baby son) More victims here |
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Click on image for larger picCredit & Copyright: Tim Thompson
Explanation: Are those UFOs near that mountain? No -- they are multilayered lenticular clouds. Moist air forced to flow upward around mountain tops can create lenticular clouds. Water droplets condense from moist air cooled below the dew point, and clouds are opaque groups of water droplets. Waves in the air that would normally be seen horizontally can then be seen vertically, by the different levels where clouds form. On some days the city of Seattle, Washington, USA, is treated to an unusual sky show when lenticular clouds form near Mt. Rainier, a large mountain that looms just under 100 kilometers southeast of the city. This image of a spectacular cluster of lenticular clouds was taken last December.
from: Astronomy picture of the day
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Tailgaters Beware
Everyday, I have some idiot or another tailgating me at over 80km/h...really pisses me off...I wish I had one of these Superliner Macks...so I can brake. HARD. And then reverse 10 times over the remains of my roadkill.
Monday, February 2, 2009
The Evil Eye
Many people suffer unexplained illnesses, break up of marriages, childbirth defects or stillbirths, breakup of communities, failed businesses etc. never understanding why. Many of us in the West are unaware of the harms of Hasad (Envy) or El 'Ayn (the Evil Eye). The 'ulamaa' (scholars) of the El-Lajnah El-Daa'imah (Standing Committee for Islaamic Research) were asked to define al-ayn. They responded with the following:
"The Arabic word El-'Ayn (the 'ayn) refers to when a person harms another with his eye. It starts when the person likes a thing, then his evil feelings affect it, by means of his repeated looking at the object of his jealousy. Allaah commanded His Prophet, Muhammad (Sallallaahu 'alaihi wa sallem) to seek refuge with Him from the haasid (envier), as He said:
"And from the evil of the envier when he envies" (El-Falaq 113:5)
Full article here....must read...
Full article here....must read...
Sunday, February 1, 2009
A Night in Al-Maghreb
Three cups of tea in Al-Maghreb...Last night, I went to Morocco...somewhere I always dreamt of...along 1 Lorong Damai 9, in Ampang, KL...the pictures say it all (albeit a bit blurry...shaky hands do not make great night shots)
Inside...
Outside dining... above and below...look at the gorgeous chairs...
1001 nights dining...
Wall decos...
Dream arches are made of these....
A slightly unkempt garden...maybe on purpose?
Upstairs is heavenly...sans cheesy lampu lip-lap outside the window...looks even better actually, but my camera phone didn't capture it well...you gotta see it...
L.O.V.E.L.Y lights...
Wall hanging upstairs...
Takes 5 men to carry this one table...worth RM4, 000 for this size...(I think Jawad Faisal, the Palestinian-Moroccan manager was trying to thwart my thoughts about carting it off...haha)
This huge mosaic beauty is worth RM12,000....lovely designs
I want this light and ceiling deco for my house...NOW!
Outside again...
The Moroccan tile fountain against the wall...great for my small courtyard (nama glamor for "airwell")...
Bye Morocco...till we meet again...
Take me home please...I need a loving, warm home... says the Black Little Nimr...
to this house in Morocco...
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