Chief Marine Scientist Expounds

I have to humbly apologize to the millions and millions of... well of germs, bacterium and virii who actually do keep tab on this page [big up to you dudes who actually survive on the algae caked screen of my laptop].

I must admit, I've been a bad father. There has been no love from me. I just upped and left like it was my god given right to. But then I always have something(one) to blame. Nothing's my fault. Ever. Really. Don't believe ask me.

I've been very preoccupied with this strange phenomenon they call work. It's not like I haven't been afflicted by this particular disease before. I've rode this bandwagon since 13. But never have I put in 81 solid hours and more [inadvertent overtime due to pure inertia] at an organization which professes a 42 or 45 hour work week massing over just 5 days. The common fool will exclaim "shiok what! 1 day work. 1 day off!". Yes, it is actually, if I actually left for home in time. There seem to be a lot of other distractions these days. The homework if you will.

This homework syndrome is so prevalent in this nation. Have you ever grown an ant nest for a science project or just saw an ant nest and decided not to smash it cos it was cool to see them scurry for safety [very un-Zen and un-Buddhist of me]? People actually grow ant nests in glass tanks so you can see how the ants cut cool tunnels and storage chambers for the food they beg off tables at their local S-11. Every few days, ant colony keepers [their choice of pet smacks of parental abuse and a troubled childhood] will shake the box its in to make the tunnels cave in. This is to prevent the ants from escaping as they are constantly rebuilding something or the other. Hark! Is this like how, LTA, PUB, M1, Starhub and Singapore Power dig the same stretch of road one after the other. I dig, I repair. You dig, you repair. And "this is the song that never ends".

I poured a jug of water on an ant nest once. Sand turns to mud. Tunnels become torrents of sludge. The ants are simply smothered. For a scientific perspective on why the ants below the surface can't escape, see: Pressure, Bernoulli's Principle, Viscosity, Animal Genocide.

This homework I alluded to earlier is simply this: Asphyxiation. See, you can be trained in a specialization. You can be damn fucking great at it. And the only thing you ever wish for is to go in day after day to do exactly what you're fucking good at. Your specialty. And then the homework piles up in bureaucratic tandem. How quaint. That people actually think there's a real need to write down what you need to do and then go do it and go write down some stuff summore on how you could have done it better and then send this stuff to another dude who writes his stuff and consolidates it and sends it to one dude who apparently has to approve all this [of course he too writes more stuff].

Some dudes actually love homework [cos they suck in their real jobs listed on their employment contracts]. I think it's cos gagging on a 7 inch boner is just the way they like it. These people can be stereotyped as 25 yr olds who plaster their entire workspace wall with teddy bear wallpaper.

Then again, I'm just bitching. You know me. I bitch a lot. Even if I love you, I'd bitch about you. It keeps me sane. Release. Emancipation. You don't hold on to shit much after you bitch. It dissipates. Dissolves into the atmosphere where it rises and one day clumps together and becomes space trash that's gonna crash the next expedition to Mars. I burn tobacco up in the kilos every day. I hope it increases my carbon footprint. My folks always hoped I'd make a big mark on this place before I get jailed for a major white collar crime.

Apart from sending out many many mass e-mails [some of my smarter colleagues have learnt how to use "rules" to divert all my mail to their spam folder] regarding the status updates of the existing Fish Tank Club [FTC] projects, I am proud to announce that the vehicle I utilize to heal me psychologically has evolved into the pride of the nation. 17 rainbow tetras, 1 albino cory, 5 discus, 1 Sri Lankan guppy, assorted planted greeny stuffs and the dreams, aspirations and souls of the dearly departed 14 guppies we managed to kill in over a few hours on a cold July night.

All photos HERE.

Your Chief Marine Scientist

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