Guns in the Hands of Babes V

When will I stop harping about this? When my government grows more brains.

I hate how news reports are ever so slightly (oh why am I being diplomatic?) skewed in favour of gun training.

Just a question. Are we going to tighten gun laws now that 1 tenth of Malaysian 18 year olds will know how to fire an M16?

I am not a supporter of anti-gun societies. Give me a strong and valid reason for training our young ones to hold firearms and I'd support it, whole heartedly. Right now reason #1 "it will instill discipline and make them braver" and reason #2 "Singapore has implemented it" only makes me wonder WHY we bother to spend money educating Malaysians if they are going to take in such pure rubbish as valid substantiations. (I think I spelt that wrong... but I've been working over the weekend and I can't care to stare at my computer screen while I type).

A few weeks ago Lionel asked me if there was anything in our constitution regarding firearms. According to most war conventions, anyone who picks up a firearm is no longer considered a civillian, regardless of age, and is allowed to be shot during war because they are now considered soldiers. That's a rather interesting train of thought. Care to explain that to our youngsters who are so eager to hold guns?

In fact the naivety of their responses is worrying:

Trainee Sharifah Rabiatul said it was a privilege to learn to use an M16 because the opportunity was not given to everyone. “I think it will make me braver, tougher and stronger. I don’t think it will be dangerous at all,” said Sharifah, who was among the 350 trainees who left Bukit Jalil for Bandar Muadzam Shah, Pahang.

Yup, spending 2 days learning to fire a bullet will do that.

Of course it won't. The mental preparation for fire arm training does not start a day before holding your weapon. You want to know why they can do it in Singapore? It's because the mental preparation and discipline is instilled long before the first gun theory lesson. You want to make them tougher and stronger? Try waking up at 6am for a 2km jog every morning. You want to make them braver and independent? Try solo camping. I have a sneaky feeling that more teens would rather choose the cowardly option of firing a gun over setting up their own tent in the middle of the jungle and spending the night there. I dare say the jogging and camping would be far cheaper than spending more money on guns and ammunition. And a much healthier mental and physical exercise too.

All this talk about exercise and hx's comment on the odac blog about obese snails is reminding me of what a little pig i'm turning into. My mum has been reminding me over and over that walking cannot be my only form of exercise. After all the only reason I walk home from work is because I'm miserly trying to save on cab money. Everything has a hidden agenda. Even NS.

Guns in the Hands of Babes IV

Not sticking by their guns now are they? Well not completely.

What is the point of an exercise being implemented in a program meant to foster unity when you make it optional? You either train a reserve army or you encourage bonding amongst teenagers. You cannot do both.

As the ministry of defence tries to pull the wool over the nation's eyes... it's a rather feeble attempt.

“Using blanks at the shooting range is not appropriate. What is there to worry about if there is security?” says Najib.

There is everything to worry about.

Were the NS trainees given ample mental preparation? Were they given psychometric tests to weed out trainees with weak mental strength and not prepared for the repercussions of firing a gun? (You may think this is stupid when they're probably only going to fire one bullet, but it's a required procedure that army/policemen go through... and firing one bullet can shock you). Were they given full warning about the dangers of holding a gun that if loaded wrongly, not cleaned properly or misfired could results in deaths of not just the shooter but the people around?

Or as in the true Malaysian style, was nothing else but a short term goal to discipline our wayward Malaysian kids the only thing on the minds of the powers that be?

Dim Sum Girl

Only dim sum girls will be talking this summer.

Have a great one folks. Summer, not the dim sum girl!

One Guinness, please

We've got a new dog at home. My Malaysian home that is. In London we have a 'no pets' rule, after the disaster that was house training Yi Shan.

Anyway since I wasn't around, my brother decided to get the biggest, meanest (not to mention ugliest) dog he could find... and eventually settled for a German Shepherd Labrador mix. I wanted a jack russell, but when you're not on Malaysian ground you have no say, like all other things. At 3 months old he (the dog, not my brother) is bigger than Chelsea, my aging cocker spaniel, and is scaring the living daylights out of her. For the record though, Chelsea is scared of everything. Chelsea doesn't think she's a dog and I'm quite sure she isn't very happy having this young pup running circles around her. But she's growing too old to guard the house (or knock over pots which is her greater talent) so bring on Guinness - good dogs come to those who wait (and have dog treats)!

When my mother sms-ed to announce the arrival of the latest bundle of joy, I turned to Lionel and said "How much more tak halal can you make a dog in Malaysia?". My sister wants to change Chelsea's name to Carlsberg now, but my mother has stopped her from confusing the old girl even more.

I shall end abruptly here. I have to finish commenting code which seems to be taking longer than actually programming it.

The day they deported me from the UK

... was the day I didn't support England in the World Cup.


No, seriously... what is it with all of you and the fact that I don't support England? It'd make *some* sense to me if you accused me of not supporting a phenomenal team (sorry, but that's a term that only refers to Brazil). It'd make sense if you accused me of not supporting England's best players (Theo Walcott? Hello?? Has England no other strikers? Come on!! The kid's never even played in a first-team game for Arsenal before). It'd make even the slightest sense if you accused me of not supporting a team with a savvy manager (Sven-Goran isn't even British! And he's playing a team that's half unfit/injured... and one with a broken metatarsal, who claims the doctors don't really know anything because in reality he's just broken his foot! It's Swede swede revenge on the English... oh that was a bad pun, you know it!).

But no... what I get is a whole bunch of nonsense about "But you live in England, why aren't you supporting your home country's team??!!??" with a dollop of wide-eyed horror.

The world is full of idiots. I'm convinced!

Now if I did support my home country while I was living in Singapore, I doubt the sentiments would have been the same. No, they would have been far far different.

Oh the fights!

Newspaper headlines in Malaysia these days reek of a Korean soap drama. If we're not careful, we'll end up like the Taiwanese government (look out! *bitch slap*). I have great respect for Dr. Mahathir. After all as most commentaries put it, he's the only prime minister most Malaysians have known in their life time. But I'm also feeling really sympathetic towards Badawi. His wife just died and now the former premier is wagging his tongue towards the media and demanding answers - NOW!

But there's one thing preventing me from getting too obsessed over it.

Bring on the world cup! Hugo's trying very hard to prove his football knowledge (or lack of). I'm beating him at it. England and Paraguay start in a few hours. I've booked my seat in front of the TV

Guns in the Hands of Babes III

This is the scariest picture I've seen in awhile. 17/18 year olds learning to shoot M16s after 1 day's worth of theory, for what purpose? To instill discipline and make them more robust! (Click on picture for article). You know my stand on the use of firearms in Malaysian National Service (which mind you, is NOT in any way a reserve army in training ala Singapore). Sometimes my government does things which are so insane it makes me want to throw my passport away and cut up my MyKad into little tiny pieces.

They really ought to start listening to me.

Khidmat Negara = Serve thy country

Blessed are Daddy's girls

I've never been much of a daddy's girl. Instead I'm my mum's number one staunch supporter and blame her for everything I am. It's strange that way.

When I was 8, daddy taught me to draw still life orchids, ride a bike and wanted me to be a novelist. Mummy caned me for coming out 5th (out of 45!!!) in class. Draw your own conclusions.

Disjointed thoughts ahead.

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I live to impress my parents. But my dad isn't too concerned with the little things I deem successful. I took him for a tour around the top science college in the UK. He asked why the buildings were so modern and ugly. I wanted to show him our superb labs and plasma screen TVs in EEE. He spent more time carefully observing the ugly statue in the EEE foyer. I tried to persuade him to drive past all of London with the little time he had left. He just wanted to stroll down Bayswater Road so he could choose a painting for my room.

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The London my dad left 23 years ago hasn't changed at all for him. As we were walking down Bayswater Road, where the artists have displayed their wares in the sunshine...
"Daddy, don't we have that one at home?"
I whip around and find my dad saying to the artist, "Alex? How long have you been here! You remember my wife? She bought your paintings in the 70s. Yes, we still have 3 of yours hanging at home"

My dad has no trouble navigating through the little alleys of London town and very confidently navigated the Londoners to Katherine Docks and back again. My dad knows the entire stretch from St. John's Wood to Westminster like the back of his hand. I get lost walking from North End Road to Fulham Broadway.

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When you don't see your parents for really long spells, they always look older. Cancer added years to my dad. But 9 months away from home has deepened the wrinkles, and slowed his gait. Painful to watch? Almost heartbreaking to realise. My mother seems to be all skin and bones everytime I return home. But my parents are made of steel. How long more will I go on believing that?

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When you think 23 is much too old for you parents to embarass you...

... your dad walks right up to a convertible BMW with its young, lady driver still in it, and exclaims what a nice car it is to no one in particular...

... or while you're talking to a friend you've just bumped into, your dad is asking the folks enjoying the midday sun what shisha is and why they are smoking it. Is it the new pot?

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Totally unrelated:
I've finally got my bank to work and I just need to clean up some stuff and do some error checking. I've also got my satay chicken marinated and I just need to clean up some stuff and do some agar-agar checking.
Isn't life glorious when you have so many things to do?

and Charlotte does the bi-weekly update thing...

My daddy is in town. So apart from the two-hundred and fifty one things I have to get done, I also have to make sure daddy is spending enough quality time with daughter number one and not suffering too much from hayfever. AH-Choo!! So far, I've followed him to an official headquarters visit, taken him for lunch at Nonya (where Daddy pushed away my credit card) and brought him to my Godmother's for tea and noisy children. My Godma's granddaughters barely make up 5 years of age in total, so I had to excuse the barrage of stickers, whistles and tealeaves-cum-mud "potions" thrown at me the moment the door opened. The children of the world adore me. I wish the feeling was mutual.

I'm currently sitting in the attic, programming a bank. The bank isn't at all interesting, so don't ask. And you read that right. We have an attic. It just nicely fits Lionel's bed, half a tatami mat, a small bedside table, a chest of drawers and a tiny raised landing which Lionel uses as a desk. I'm currently taking up 30% of the space with my laptop. I can't use my room. It's cluttered with all my packing.

Anyway, I just wanted to make a tiny squeak in the blogosphere. It's back to work.