Liverpool vs Singapore

VS

Liverpool vs Singapore. It was a good game of football I must admit. We watched it while our 2nd round of MJ started on a grainy CH 5 feed because the antenna must have been fried by El Nino lightning tendencies. Add to that, that I actually bought 5 goals at the Pools on a whim and made some dough.

But was it really a success for Singapore as a whole? True, that big ass teams [namely English clubs] like to tour Asia to cement their fan base. A fan base which buys jerseys, memorabilia and contributes viewership to the soccer channels so that Starhub has an excuse to raise the subscription for them.

There was a sizable crowd indeed. 45,000 was it? 45,000 of my countrymen turned up to see Liverpool's 11 square off with homegrown talent [some store bought from other countries of course. we call these blokes OTS (off the shelf)]. There were supporters of other English clubs there too. In the grandstand, there was a clear mix of Tottenham Hotspurs, Everton [arch nemesis across the Merseyside] and Manchester United jersey clad people littering the predominantly Liverpool oriented crowds.

Now step back. Who are Liverpool? They are a club. Just like Geylang United, Balestier Khalsa and SAFFC. Who is the Singapore national team? They are a bunch of naturalized Singaporeans who are donning our nation's colours attempting to garner some kinda pride amidst all the prejudice. Classic David vs Goliath. But miracles happen in the most unlikely of places. It wasn't our team's night anyhow.

You love your club. Understandable. Very understandable. But isn't it embarassing when you can put club before country? I am a Chelsea man. I've been since I was young and not only since the infusion of some tasty Russian caviar and ice cold vodka plus cold hard cash. Yet, if Chelsea FC were to come to Singapore for a pre-season exhibition game. I will not throng the banks of Boat Quay attempting to steal a glimpse. I will not go to the airport to welcome the blokes to our fair shores. I will not stalk their hotel attempting to steal even a piece of soiled undies for a collection. What I will do is attend the game. Because it is a rare event and that is my only consideration.

And if Chelsea were to thrash Singapore. It would be nothing more to me than a clash of 2 sporting teams with the better one garnering the better score line. Let me take you back to 2001. Manchester United visits Singapore and hands us a 8-1 clubbing. I was a fan of good football that night. But my proudest moment was still when Indra Sahdan sidestepped Jap Staam, and drilled the size 5 through the legs of a complacent Rai Van der Gouw. Talking about pulling on heartstrings, this was more than that. This is the stuff that nationalistic pride is made off.

Back to the present. If any of the Singapore team were to switch a move, talentedly wrongfoot or nutmeg a Chelsea player, I'd be one of the first outa my seat screaming "YEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! Take that EPL!". Because it is Singapore. Nuff said.

So, this is my suggestion for etiquette when all other teams big and small visit the little red dot for a footy match:

1. Wear the jersey of the club you support [this I think is universal], but don't forget who your club is attempting to embarass. IT's your fuckin countrymen.

2. If you are at the game and you are not a supporter of the EPL club, don't wear a jersey of some other EPL club. What are you trying to prove? Turn up in red. Or better still, go hunt down some Malaysia Cup/League vintage Lions jersey and turn up. Cheer your country on, because it is the logical choice between the 2 teams.

3. To all those fools who verbally abused, booed, jeered at and violently attacked people who were wearing a Manchester United jersey on that night, go fuck yourselves. You are hammering your own countrymen over some misplaced life and death allegiance to an English football club who couldn't care less actually who dies for their cause; as long their jerseys get sold in bulk volume.

The moral of the story: Stick up your hands for your country. Those with no pride are no better than carcasses out on the desert plain, doncha think?

Booyakasha!

And then there were some

And then there were some, who still in their little isolated sphere fail to realize the true intent and extent of this man-created invention called the Internet. At first it was just 4 computers on a local network and then now it has pervaded through even the remotest mangrove swamp in West Africa.


Cutting to the chase. Why join a social networking site? Do we really need to break it down into the social, economic and political aspects of it all, a la a GP essay technique long forgotten [when you quit school, anything to do with academics is quickly forgotten]. You want to be seen. You want to see. Then why get touchy on the privacy? Aren't there settings for these sorta stuff already? Have you not been reading the papers, or is this some sort of dumb arse "i am bigger than the world" delusion?


Basically, in my humble opinion [and I am not a proponent of humble pie either], the moment you even have/feign interest at a social networking site, the moment you start uploading photos, photoshopping your profile pictures to satisfy the inbuilt desire to be want to be attractive, the moment you are active; EXPECT the fuckin attention to be accorded. And if this logic still doesn't hit you like a dick slap, I bring you further into the immature networking zone.

In Friendster, there were "smiles" and then during the Valentine's period they experimented with "roses" and then fell back to smiling again. In FB, obviously, you poke the hell outa someone to get their attention. And so on and so forth. Every social networking site reserves a function for either the shy ones who can't work up the courage or intellect to pen out some crafty witty little 3 liner to bait the fish, or for those who couldn't be bothered with trying too hard [me].


How easy it is to just "poke" and move along? The work only starts when the "poked" start responding. Then the "poker" becomes the "poked" and we can all hum Gaga's Poker Face till kingdom come. And yet, maturity challenged individuals when faced with a passive gesture like a "poke" will still go out on all investigative mode. Perhaps following these steps [I wouldn't know, I don't do it]:

1. Look at photo of "poker" [proceed if not hairy backed balding Godzilla]

2. See who mutual friends are [proceed if mutual friends are fairly still friendly OR mutual]

3. Ask mutual friends who the fuck this person is [proceed due to innate desire to conquer the unknown]

4. Curl up further into the womb thinking no one should have a god given right to poke anyone they choose because you should only attempt to contact someone you actually know in a social networking site, thus making creators of social networking sites roll in their Armani bedspreads thinking how some have got it so wrong.

And then there were some........

Swift

I felt this need to write because well it dawned on me that no one actually needs a reason to write. We scribble to-do lists onto small scraps on paper, we doodle in classes where the teacher is clueless that we're doodling [cos a teacher who actually has a clue would be curve balling his duster in the old days towards our young young brains] and we just write whenever we feel like it.

There is no reason for the written word. There is no overwhelming guilt trip on needing to prove you're a wordsmith day in day out. The exception being when you're actually paid for writing what you write.

I need to write. To save my soul, I feel. I've begun on an ambitious endeavour. Just like numerous males, females, celebrities and paupers before me. I think someone needs to hear a story. Any story, as long as I am the one telling it.

Today is an ominous day. I am finally back where I was before. The tundra where I was wandering has met it's Palin. So, I need to kill some moose. I know you don't get it. You never should. Lest I be regarded as a lesser being for giving you even a miniscule percentage of hope that you are finally there; knowing who I am.

Like the greatest white rapper of black themes who is still living [as opposed to ever lived]: I am whatever I say I am.

Haiku time:

How swift,
My sword.

Biblical Ganja

• Genesis 1:11 "And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth: and it was so."
• Genesis 1:29 "And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb-bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat."
• Genesis 3:18 "... thou shalt eat the herb of the field."
• Proverbs 15:17 "Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith."[2]
• Psalms 104:14 "He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man."

And hence, all of us should be able to legally smoke the ganja. As legal as it is to read the Bible.

Booyakasha.

My Brown Badge dot com

Only a truly zany mind and loads of photoshop skills (i wish i had 'em) can come up with this new development. Reminiscing about Fight Club the whole of this week, it seems too coincidental to be true. A fanbase for the true Project Mayhem.

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