Stats of the Day: Only Two Types

Stat of the Day:

There are only two types of people in the world:

1. There is you;
2. And there is the 5,999,999,999 plebs that is stealing all your oxygen.

Ray Comfort is a Hack (Guest RE-Posted AGAIN)

Good day and welcome to today's special edition of Ray-a-Day, written by me, Gordon, master and commander of this defunct blog. Much thanks and hugs should go to the wonderful Ziztur and Flimsy for hosting this book review party. Please grab a comfy seat, a stiff drink and try not to spill anything on their upholstery.

Today's "angry skeptic" is somewhat peeved at Ray Comfort over something:

I just wanted to let you know that you're an @$#!! You start out talking to people by questioning them on their bad behaviors, then you tell them they're gonna burn in hell. After scaring them with this method you turn around and start running your mouth about Jesus and how he died for them and how you don't want to see them go to hell, which then makes them sad. You think you're getting results when you do this? You think you're changing lives? Maybe for those couple of seconds when you twist people's emotions around and warp their mind into believing they are terrible people and they will die and go to hell. You talk to them like you're the @!#$& higher power! And you have the nerve to talk about self righteousness? You're a joke, take a good look in the mirror before you go out judging others. Who knows, that may be you burning in hell's eternal flames, and your little %$@!# buddy too...

Allow me to begin by confessing, I have no idea what this person is referring to when he/she is slagging off Comfort. My only exposure to Comfort prior to reading Ziztur's review of his book, is a clip of Comfort performing this comedy routine:

Seriously, to this day I still believe this was a silly attempt at Poe-rady, and I harbour half a hope that Ray and Kirk would pop up one day and say, Python-esque: "Sorry, ladies and gents, that was all for a lark. Wasn't it tip top stuff, eh?". That's the thing about Poe's Law, there's always a non-zero percentage chance that this would happen in the future.

But thanks to this book review assignment, I am forced to dig up Comfort's other works, better known as "The Way of the Master" ministry. A sample of what they... em... "do", is in videos like the ones below:

After witnessing these few videos I am even more convinced Comfort is a parody and, as the "angry skeptic" have pointed out, a joke. How anyone can attempt such a blatantly transparent three card trick in this age is certainly laughable. (Thunderf00t offers a simple refutation of this clumsy ploy, from 02:30-07:20, or what I like to call "The Heathen's Gambit")

Yet Comfort and his crew of evangelists seem to win many fans amongst their quarter, so for the moment I shall grant him the benefit of doubt and treat him as a serious preacher and not as some sly street-corner snake-oil salesman.

Comfort's reply to the "angry skeptic" is as thus:

It's true that I do ask people about their bad behavior, and I do tell them what the Bible says about hell. But how could I not? If I am fully persuaded that someone is in terrible danger, I have to at least warn them.

...

There is one thought that skeptics don't seem to take into account. What if hell does exist? What if the Bible is right? What if God is holy and just and will punish murderers and rapists in a terrible place called hell? What if every single person will get what's coming to them? If what we say is the gospel truth, then what we are saying is justified and most necessary.

Ahhh, the familiar yet severely vulture-pecked carcass that is Pascal.

Ever since I was a little kid, I often wondered what is the deal with the theological preoccupation with this Hellfire thing, and why is it at all frightening? Sure, eternity is a long time ;-) , but being roasted continuously... hmmm... on a pain scale of one to ten register no more than a mere six. And it doesn't score much on the imagination scale neither.

If I was to be scared of hell, it would a hell where 10,000 volts are jolted through every one of my appendages, whilst I am languishing in a sea of Sulphuric Acid, at the same time crushed on all sides by a tonne of radioactive fissionable Plutonium-239, where they easily achieve critical mass to cause a nuclear chain reaction around my material body... as well as within my immaterial soul... for all of eternity. Now that is a ten out of ten kinda hell!!

Now for argument sake, I am "fully persuaded" that:

1. The almighty Flying Spaghetti Monster exists, and he presides over this Electric, Acidic, Nuclear Hell^TM.


2. The noodly FSM considers anyone sporting any facial hair to be a abominable sinner.


3. The merciful FSM will send all such sinners straight into this special Hell^TM.

I am duty bound to warn Ray Comfort that his afterlife is in peril and he must repent to FSM, to shave off his moustache and do the chicken dance after downing 14 shots of vodka. If he doesn't, a grim radioactive annihilation awaits him.

So should Comfort follow the bidding of the lord FSM? I certainly hope not.

For fear not, young Ray Comfort, this Hell^TM have as much evidence for its existence as your standard garden-variety fiery hell. And if any fundamentalist FSM worshippers try to convert you with such a shallow sales pitch as "What if Hell^TM does exist? What if the FSM is holy and just and will punish the beardy and the moustachy in a terrible place called Hell^TM?", you are well within your rights to laugh vigourly at their faces, like any rationally thinking folks will do for you.

Ray continues by insisting he is able to critically examine himself when it comes to his own sins:

... I am as bad, if not worse than most of the people to whom I speak. I have broken all of the Ten Commandments, in spirit if not in letter. I have committed a multitude of sins, and that's why I need a Savior. Being a Christian means that all that sin is forgiven.

Sorry, come again?

Being a Christian means that all that sin is forgiven.

I just want this statement to sink in a little bit here.

Which brings us back to this point, there is something truly appalling about this whole enterprise which can arbitrarily set the definition of a sickness, a sin, and then arbitrarily prescribe a cure only they can administer. But for Comfort to parade around his contemptuous banner of "I am saved, but you will burn (if you don't do as I say)", is compounding the bile that rises in my throat.

Only now can I truly appreciate what this "angry skeptic" is railing against, the comedy act that is Ray Comfort is beyond a joke. A hypocrisy dressed up as a self-righteous pretension. You sure can lead an atheist to evidence, but so far all I can witness from Comfort is an argument of "neener-neener-neener, God likes me better than you".

And this makes his "Banana ergo Deus" argument positively cerebral.

Semi-interesting Trivia About the 2010 FIFA World Cup Qualifiers

Another set of the Football World Cup qualifying matches are over. To celebrate, here is a list of semi-interesting things I found out about the history of the qualification (from Wikipedia of course). Be prepared to be inundated by mundanity:

• A total of 204 countries attempted to battle their way to the World Cup, only 31 teams succeeded. South Africa, being the host, qualified directly.
  
• There are no debutants in this edition of the Football World Cup Finals, meaning all qualified countries have reached the pinnacle of football at least once. As far as I know this is a first, every World Cup Finals in the past have hosted at least one debutant.
  
• The six teams with the least experience in Cup Finals (i.e. two appearances only) are: North Korea (last appeared in 1966), Honduras & New Zealand (1982), Greece (1994), Slovenia (2002) and Ivory Coast (2006) .
  
• Technically, this should be Serbia (of former Yugoslavia) and Slovakia (of former Czechoslovakia) first Finals appearance. But they were represented in the past by various former names.
  
• The African continent have four debutants (out of five tickets) in 2006, the previous Finals. This time around, all of the their qualifiers should be seasoned campaigners. In my humble opinion, South Africa and Algeria would struggle, though Ivory Coast, Cameroon, Ghana and Nigeria are good chance of going through to the knockout rounds.
  
• North Korea and South Korea will appear in next year Finals together, the first time this has happened. Hopefully they won't meet in a quarter finals, and one side being beaten contentiously, thus sparking a nuclear war in the Korean peninsula.
  
• Since 1958, USSR have qualified for every Finals, except for 1974 and 1978. After the dissolution of the USSR, former soviet states Russia have qualified in 1994 and 2002, with Ukraine achieving it in 2006.
  
• In 2010 however, neither Russia, Ukraine nor any other former soviet states will join the big football party, a first since 1998.
  
• The former state of Yugoslavia will be represented in 2010 by two independent states : Serbia and Slovenia.
  
• Their cousin Bosnia-Herzegovina came close to qualifying but could not overcome Portugal at the last hurdle. With Croatia coming a narrow third in their group, imagine what they could have achieved together if they didn't split up their former country in the first place. Wishful thinking I know.
  
• Interestingly, all of the former champions: Brazil (5 times champ), Italy (4), Germany (3), Uruguay & Argentina (twice each) and England & France (once each) have all qualified for 2010 edition of the World Cup. All of them easily top their respective qualifying groups, except for France, Uruguay and Argentina.
  
• Argentina struggled late with their qualifying matches, only to qualify in the last gasp by beating Uruguay in the South America's final home-and-away league game. The Argentine ended on fourth of their group, the last automatic qualifying spots.
  
• Uruguay ended up fifth and need to playoff against the Central America's Costa Rica to get through. Similar to what they have to do in their 2002 and 2006 campaigns.
  
• France struggled early and managed to sneak in by beating Rep. of Ireland in the last dying minutes of their playoff game.
  
• Brazil have never failed to qualify for the FIFA World Cup Finals... Joga Bonito Brasil!

Obey the Laws!!!!!

Obey the Internet Laws!!!!! Or face the consequences from the Irony police.

Irony is made of these...

Catholism Faith Healing vs. Reiki Spiritual Healing...

Both seems impossible yet millions swear by it. So which one is more effective? The vatican believe they have the trump card, but somehow I would lean towards Reiki, because their claims are far less incredible.

Big Buns!!

True Story...

Reposted from Scott Adams' Blog:

"I have a funny story for you about the security people at (company name deleted). I was leaving on a Friday afternoon with my laptop in hand (not in the case) and was stopped by security and told that I cannot take the laptop with me and that it had to be inside a bag.

I asked why and they said that there had been a lot of computer thefts. They asked where the bag was. I told them that it was attached to my bicycle which I had to leave at another building because they (security) won't let me take it (the bike) in with me. After a momentary standoff, they said I could fill out a form to take the laptop with me and I said that I would.

They then said that I could not fill it out - my manager had to. I told them that my manager doesn't work in the building, nor does anyone in my management chain. This posed a problem for the crack security team. At last, they formulated a brilliant solution to the problem. They told me that if I had grocery bag in my office I could put the laptop in it and everything would be okay . Of course, I don't have grocery bags in my office. Who would? I did have a windbreaker, however. So I went up to my office, wrapped up the laptop in my windbreaker, and went back down.

I don't see how this prevents theft because now it really looks like I am stealing the laptop. Satisfied that they had performed in the line of duty, the crack security team
let me go on my way."

Fat Beget Fat

OK, for once, this post is NOT about religion... Woohooo!! ***Cue Trumpet, Fanfare, Confetti***

I just want to draw your attention to the latest scientific study by biological geeks in UK, that show that obese people tend to procreate with other obese people which leads to more obese people in the world:

http://uk.reuters.com/article/topNews/idUKL0766980720070808

To which I can only respond with a nonchalant: "No shit, Sherlock!"

Seriously, when was the last time you see a really fat person hooking up with a slim fit hot young thing, huh? (excluding situations where the fat lard have money flowing out of his/her ears to satisfy the whims of the slim trophy partner).

The result of the study is hardly surprising, but what compels me write this blog entry is this rather shocking thought:

Humankind is transcending the confines
of the Laws of Natural Selection
(AKA Survival of the Fittest)

That's right, just because you are stupid, ugly and fat, it does not preclude you from passing your dumb, fatty genes onwards to your offspring. No problem. Nothing a little cosmetic nose surgery, liposuction, laser eye surgery, breast augmentation, genetic engineering can't fix, eh?

Because of human ingenuity, environmental changes does not put any pressure upon our gene pool towards any one direction. If it gets too cold, we don't pick short fat people as our champions, we just harvest more fur from more furry critters. If it gets too hot, we don't get freaky with some tall skinny guy, we just invent air conditioners.

Our species may be the only one on Earth which could break free from the demands of Natural Selection. Our generation the last of which to succumb to the scythe of the Reaper.

And because Hitler and the Nazis, we know that the philosophy of eugenics is inherently wrong and against our better human nature. But if we can understand that it is wrong to selectively breed certain human traits, we should also acknowledge that human technology will eventually cause the diversity of our gene pool to produce people that is not entirely in harmony with mother nature.

Do we need to do anything about all the obese kids that are out there? I don't think so, I believe that in the future, drugs and nano-machines will be able solve all the ailments of our fat brethren. And with the looming human induced ice-age coming, we will need all the fat people we can get to carry our seeds to the next generation.

Welcome to the future, children.

More of the Same...

Here is some more religious bashing stuff, brought to you by George Carlin:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uBAPbOWLxc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9CitfTtMIx8

Found these at RichardDawkins.Net...

Really Really Horny

This is just too funny to ignore:

Man Masturbate Unabated...
After Being Stabbed with Kitchen Knife!!

I am not sure this is a clever marketing campaign by the Colombian drug cartel or the bloke was just having an extremely bad case of Blue Balls...

Unwanted Erection or Excellent PR?

OK, first read this article from Forbes (A business mag no less?!?) about:

Man Sues Over Long-Lasting Erection

So the story goes, that this dude drank this magical energy drink and he is now packing heat 24/7... Right?!?...

Now I am no marketing genius, but I am guessing that if I want to sell a generic product, any generic product, *very fast* I would probably want to claim that said product can help you:

• make your kids love you,
• make your neighbours envy you,
• lose weight,
• gain muscle,
• grow you more hair,
• lose you more hair,
• reduce wrinkles,
• fight aging,
• lift your butt,
• tone your abs,
• give you bigger cleavage,
• give you a longer lasting erection,
• give you ten mind-altering orgasms,
• in a row,
• over a five hours period,
• and for a limited time only, it comes with this *FREE* Snoopy collectible doll...
• HURRY!!! Don't miss out or your kids will hate YOU!!

Seriously, this product will sell like hot crack in prison.

If however, you can only claim any one of the above bullshit, the "longer lasting erection" one will do quite well as a marketing ploy. Case in point: Viagra + Oysters = Resonating Crescendo Hype...

So if I am marketing this herbal drinks "Boost Plus" and some bloke comes along saying: "Hey, I want to sue your company for giving me a never ending erection", I'll be saying: "Sir, please wait while we increase our factory manufacturing output, because I am sure as hell we won't be able to meet the flooding demands... By the way would you like us to pay your legal fees while we are at it?"

The Search for the Next Pussy... Part II

Following from my last post about the search for the next Pussy Cat Doll (or PCD as they like to objectified as), it seems a new group of sexy mamas have burst out of nowhere to claim the spot of the most likely to succeed the PCD as the next PCDs... (does that even make sense??)

This new musical group is curvaceous, bubbly and very flamboyant, and boy can they dance... Allow me to present:

The Tubbies-Cat-Dolls

Epilogue: What is Wrong With Me?

In the Stanley Kubrick's war classic "Full Metal Jacket", Gunnery Sergeant Hartman once kindly asked one his nice young trooper:

"What is your major malfunction, numbnuts?!?"

I have since often wondered "Yeah! What is my major malfunction?". Why is it that I cannot lead a normal functional life (namely in the facet of relationships)? Why are pretty women repelled by me? Why is it that I cannot converse fluently with women that I am attracted to? Why is it that I cannot raise their eyebrows, make them skip a heartbeat, sweep them off their feet?

I have written a series of blog entries that delve into the possible malfunctioning part of my attractiveness with regards to my hair, physique and face.

But truth be told, I know the major malfunction exist far more deeper than just the superficial stuff... You know, sometimes we all have the urge to conduct a conversation with our favourite imaginary friend, and my conversation with him will flow basically like: this...

And *THAT* is the problem with me. I don't give myself half a chance... with any women... at all... I shoot myself down before I even launch the good ship "Let's Be Friends".

I also think it might have something to do with my first failed venture with the young pretty Caucasian girl... but that shit is in the past. I gotta pick myself up, dust myself off and kick on. I gotta keep hacking at it, keep meeting those beautiful girls until I find one that is remotely attracted to my quirky humour and weird-arse personality.

However, I am not delusional: I know I am NOT that unattractive, BUT I know there is a damn-near-zero-percent-chance that Claudia and I will get freaky-wit-it anytime soon (unless I start learning a bucket load of magic tricks like that ugly bastard David Copperfield).

It is just a matter of knowing what my limits are and being friendly to all the people I meet along the way.

All I wish is that the rejections become easier to swallow...

Love is a Many-Splendored Thing

What is "Le Amour"? This thing we call "Love"? Please allow Chris Rock to educate you:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6OaRcsfnY4

**Warning: Contains very coarse language and milk-shooting-outta-your-nostrils jokes. Please do not drink milk while viewing.

Everybody Loves Farfour

Finally, after years of exhaustive search, authorities have been able to locate the illegitimate love-child of Adolf Hitler and Mickey Mouse. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you "Farfour", everybodies' favourite hate-spouting gun-toting rodent:

It seems that Farfour is trying to gain media attention by presenting a children program called "The Pioneers of Tommorow" shown on the Palestinian (Hamas) state-owned TV channel "Al-Aqsa".

"The Pioneers of Tommorow" is your usual "Wiggles" type of entertainment show, you know, stuff like singing, dancing, shooting, murdering and genocide-mongering:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s70KlZwb9RE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lv3dvYhFk_Y

Of course, there are some subtle differences between "The Wiggles" and Farfour, due to cultural (and dare I say, religious) gaps in the ideals of the programs.

• Instead of songs like "Hot Potatoes, Hot Potatoes" and "Go to Sleep Jeff", Farfour will be singing catchy tunes like "Hot Grenades, Hot Grenades" and "Die!! You Filthy Zionist Swine".
• Instead of "Captain FeatherSword" and "Dorothy the Dinosaur", there are other fun characters like "Captain FeatherSabre (Not a Disney Ripoff)" and "Abdulla the Incompetent Martyr".
• And instead of having nap time, they have "let's strap this stick of C4 on your chest and then have a really really long nap time".

I can't wait til the big mouse starts his touring schedule. Remember kids, watch out for Farfour in a busy marketplace near you. Your life will truly depend on it.

Q: Do You Think My Mug is Sexxxy, Baby?!?

A: Definitely NOT, you ugly freak!

I have sat upon this written blog entry for weeks, and I didn't want to publish it due to my swollen ego. But I must be truthful to myself or, at the very least, truthful to you, my dear readers... So...

It has finally come down to this! I have now concluded that my (lack of) hair and my chubby physique are not entirely responsible for my ugliness quality.

The last area I would like to examine about myself is of course: My face...

Over the course my short life, I am presented with ample opportunities to study my own face in mirrors, window reflections, bus stop shelters, puddles of rain on the sidewalk, etc... And with a certain ape-like curiosity, I have objectively assess the good and bad attributes of my face. Now I would like to share with you these gleaming truths about my mug:

1. I possess a striking set of cheek bones, well structured and well balanced relative to my face... Certainly I could be construed as having a beautiful bone structure.
2. The jawline is very strong and square, very gritty and chiseled.
3. The forehead above is expansive and distinctive, and the chin below is sharp and character-filled, framing my long face quite nicely.
4. The nose is big, round and slightly crooked, not sharp at all. But it is quite tall and therefore kinda passable as "not bad".
5. And sure, the eyes are hidden behind large folds of eyelids, giving me "chinky" eyes. But certain people finds it attractive. I certainly find Lucy very luscious indeed.
6. And of course I discovered that "...I'm so vain, I probably think this blog is about me... I'm so waaainn... I probably think this blog is about meeee, don't I, don't I?"

Seriously, I know I am ugly but not nearly as ugly as I like to imagine myself to be. Like most other vain person in the world, given the proper lighting and ample makeup, viewed from a good angle, wearing the right clothing, apply a good dosage of air-brushing... I can definitely be confused as being a half-decent looking man:

Half-decent... no?

BUT... there is something that is definitely not right about my face... Something that would cause women all over the globe to shun me as a completely unattractive man... Something I was not aware of until its existence was cruelly revealed to me a year ago by an Orthodontist... Something that has since prompted my sister to refer to me as "the man who have missed the last step of evolution"...

That's right: I have BIG ARSE TEETH!!

Like a fair proportion of other Asians descendants, I display symptoms of Maxillary Prognathism or commonly referred to as an overbite. My siblings has it. My dad has it. His siblings has it. It runs in the family...

So what this really mean is: I have massively huge teeth that poke out of my gob like mushrooms springing out of a pile of steaming cow turd.

Cow turd... no?

My bite line protrudes so prodigiously far from my face, I can truly say that my bite is worst than my bark... :-3

Strangely, this gaunt of mine doesn't make me look like a dog. Rather it gives me a strange duck-bill like face:

Duck-bill... no?

Suffice to say, I am not good looking... Even worst, I am shallow and I am not good looking, which compounds my self-loathing... Hmm...

But at least now I can be satisfied in proclaiming to the world... Aye, I am one ugly bastard... I can accept that women do not find me attractive at all... and I do not have to die wondering why most gay men score more chicks than I do.

Maybe I should turn gay instead... :-D

THE END

** This should be the last depressing blog entry I write that derides myself as an ugly pudding. I will try picking on other people for a change next time... I promise... Stay tuned!

Diamonds are Nobody's Best Friend

Diamonds: beside from enslaving children, funding civil wars, helping global terrorism and being used as the tool for defrauding millions of lovestruck couples, it seems diamonds have found a new way to antagonise mankind.

You see, diamonds can now tear you a new arsehole!... Literally!

The Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Tokyo have the brilliant idea to concoct up a new cocktail called the "Diamond-tini":

...a cocktail with a hint of lime and chilled Belvedere vodka over a 1.06-carat stone, is topping the Ritz-Carlton beverage menu at a cool 1.8 million yen (US$15,000).

That price includes drink preparations table side, a serenade of "Diamonds are Forever" as a cut stone slides to the martini glass bottom, and later a ring mounting by a local jeweller.

I know you ain't supposed to nibble on the damn rock like it is a stuffed olive. But imagine what if your special someone purchase this drink as an engagement present for you. In your excitement at this flagrant show of wealth (and wastefulness), forgotten about the stupid stone at the bottom of the glass and down the whole bloody drink straight.

So imagine the pain and suffering the next six hours will bring, as the sharp edged stone is travelling pass your stomach and dredging through to the small and big intestine. The jewel will be slicing and dicing up all the soft squishy tissues wall of your digestive system, poisoning your blood with fecal matter, before arriving at your rectum to tear you a new arsehole.

Happy Engagement, Baby!!

...

Remember kids, when in comes to diamonds, JUST SAY NO!!

I've got the Flu...

by Gordon "Sick Ol' Bastard" Wong

***Sung along to any 50's style blues riff.

Da-na-da-na-Naaa...
Da-na-da-na-Naaa...

Woke up inda mornin'
Can't get outta bed
I'm a coughin' n' splurtin'
Rotten melon for a head

Can somebody help me
Put my damn ~pants~ on?
Can't-do-it-by-my-self-I-gotta... SIIIING this song

I've got the flu-oo... I've got the blues...
I've got the flu-oo-oo... My face is blue...
I've got the "so sick I can't dress meself in the mornin" kinda flu

Drag myself to the doc
She wrote me for some meds
Pharmacist dun giv a fock
If I'm on my death bed

Took them an hour
To fish for me pills
If-I've-some-goddam-sense-I-oughta... Geddem killed

I've got the flu-oo... I can't stand still...
I've got the flu-oo-oo... Gotta go the kill...
I've got the "lack of antibiotics induced homicidal" kinda flu

Came home a chokin'
Brain drenchin' in pain
Like my laundry is soakin'
Outside in the rain

The dog gone poopy
All 'ver the damn place
There's-shit-up-n-down-every-where-I... Turn n' face

I've got the flu-oo... What am I to do...
I've got the flu-oo-oo... With all these poo...
I've got the "too sick to contemplate about doing any shit about the shit" kinda flu

...
I've got the flu-oo... I've got the flu...
I've got the flu-oo... I've got the flu...
...

Extra Extra Long Weekend

I have a headache... I have a headache and a flu... I have a headache and a flu and had a very eventful weekend to go with it... I don't think I can write proper sentences at teh moment but allow me to recount the weekend for your perverse reading pleasure:

Wednesday 18th April, Evening: As part of the Anime Exhibition at the NSW Art Gallery, they are showing the Studio Ghibli's movie of "The Cat Returns". Went with my friends Kaz and Zoe. Very cute fable-type tale with slick animation, along with a ridiculous premise of a story but highly entertaining.

I remember not wearing a jumper or jacket in the cold theatre and I felt a bit chilled to my core. I thought nothing of it really... Just the chills, you know.

Wednesday 18th April, Night: I had a Korean dinner with Kaz to discuss the Virginia Tech shooting by that American-Korean whack job. Quite an appropriate Korean dinner conversation really... NOT... :-)

Thursday 19th April, Morning: Wake up. New dawn, new day. All is beautiful. Wear a full suit to work knowing I will have a job interview later in the afternoon.

Thursday 19th April, Afternoon: Something is terribly wrong. My throat is dry and coarse. Head swells like a psychotic balloon. Nose runs like Maurice Greene on a Leer Jet. Something is terribly wrong.

Thursday 19th April, Evening: Head to the job interview, suit, shirt, tie, Congo drums beating in my head... Ramble on about stock indicators and DB schema and long term strength and C# and nonsensical crap like that... After the interview, went home and try to sleep it off.

Friday 20th April, Morning: Wake up, the sky had fallen through the ceiling on my head. Life is not rosy. Went back to my sorry slumber.

Friday 20th April, Afternoon: Wake up again, call in sick at work. Life positively sucked the marrow out of my bones.

Friday 20th April, Evening: Receives a call from the interviewers from Thursday to say I have won the interview process and they are offering me a role in their prodigious fund management company. "Excellent, thank you!" I said, while globs of snot is streaming down my face.

Friday 20th April, Night: Watch the ANZAC Test between Australia vs. New Zealand. Australia gallops home with a score of 30-6.

None of the flu tablet I am chowing down have any effect, my headache is progressively eating away at my brain (what's left of it). Decide to have an early night.

Saturday 21st April, 1am in the freakin morning: Wake up, find it hard to draw breath, cannot sleep, cannot live really...

Decide to turn on the radio to follow the Cricket World Cup match between Australia vs. New Zealand, hoping against all hope that might put me to sleep. Australia wallops 348 runs for 6 wickets. New Zealand succumbed to be all out for 133.

Saturday 21st April, 5am in the bleedin morning: Finally falls asleep. A great day to be an Aussie. A bad day to be a New Zealander. An unbelievably shitty day to be me.

Saturday 21st April, 9am in the morning: Woke up for the fourth or fifth time for the morning. Officially declare myself to be a zombie, roaming around randomly as an undead, scouring for brains to feast upon.

Saturday 21st April, 11am in the morning: Trot to the doctor with tail firmly tucked between my legs. Antibiotics is in the order for the day.

Saturday 21st April, 1pm in the afternoon: Finally received my medication from the pharmacy after an hour wait. Thanks heaps, "Roy Young Chemist". I'll be sure to mention that in the police report after I finish devouring all your staff's brain, if they have any.

Took my meds, try to sleep, try to gain some rest, try to lose my zombie tendency.

Saturday 21st April, Evening: Drag my sorry arse out. Suited up once more to go the Basement jazz club.

My friend Zoey's surprise birthday party, cannot miss that... Jazz virtuoso James Morrison is playing, cannot miss that... The club's a-la-carte meals are woeful beyond description, I just wish I could have missed that.

I believe the steaks are still moo-ing and grazing on the side-salad when they arrived at our table. Yummmmy!

Saturday 21st April, 10pm at Night: Mr. Morrison finally decided to show up, only half an hour late. How convenient. BUT...

The show was absolutely rocking (or jazzing if you prefer)!!!

Lead singer Emma Pask possesses a raspy, soulful voice. Her vocals are well polished but it didn't quite agree with me entirely. Still, her improv are super coooool to the max. The Saxaphonist/Flutist was f**king sublime, a true craftsman of his art.

Of course, the maestro that is James Morrison out-shone all others. An engaging and sharp wit. A high note that is larger than life. He stole his own show if that was at all possible...

I may be dying from my flu but at least I was in jazz heaven before I draw my last breath.

(For some photos from the evening, please visit Carra's web Album)

Sunday 22nd April, 4am in the morning: Finally arrive home in one piece and go straight to bed, after chatting to Gnaphos online for two hours first... that didn't help my health situation one bit.

Sunday 22nd April, later in the morning: Wake up to die or to do my laundry, little difference really. When I hang out my clothes to dry, it starts to rain... Heavily...

Somebody up there loves me...

Sunday 22nd April, Afternoon: Must rest, less stress... Tonight I have a date. Well 20 of them exactly. Twenty speed dates to test my will to live. Must... Survive... Tonight...

Sunday 22nd April, Evening: Suited up for one last time for this Extra Extra Long Weekend. Arrived at the Oscar bar at Pyrmont for the speed dates. Sweating profusely in my nice Senator suit jacket with a nice fever to go along with it. Verrry sexxxy...

Headache suddenly comes back with a vengeance. Frantically meeting and greeting all the lovely ladies, while shadowing any signs that I am on Death's door. Thanks to Kaz for the Panadol, but they did little to ease my ride down River Styx.

Every two minutes, a little bells rings and all the guys must get up and move to the next girl:

• "Hi Sarah."... DING!
• "What do you do in your spare time, Jia-Shen?"... DING!
• "Which uni did you attend, Vicki?"... DING!
• "Nice blouse, Lisa, you look lovely in them."... DING!
• "You are a very attractive lady, Laura."... DING!
• "Cute little doggy, Sharon."... DING!
• "What a beautiful name, Lillian."... DING!
• "What's your favourite movie, Jackie?"... DING! DING! DING!!!

On and on it goes. I feel like a roll of out of use-by-date sushi, flying around and around on life's eternal/infernal sushi train. A least I look good in my sweaty jacket...

A special thanks goes to Wyatt and his team, Eddie and Carmen, for their relentless effort in organising this event. It was an incredibly fun event, I just wish I could enjoy it to its full extent... But you guys are awesome.

Sunday 22nd April, Night: Driving home alone in the pouring rain. In my hazy feverish state, started to hallucinate Dr. Karl in my passenger seat, warning me about the "dangers of micro sleep". Thanks Dr. Karl, I love you too, mate.

Monday 23rd April: I'm still alive!! Partially... There's a lesson to be learnt from this weekend. I'm not sure what it is but you be sure to tell if you know what it all that means.

I am going to bed...

The Search for the Next Pussy...

I am not a guy that indulge in too much Reality TV. As a genre, it is not a particularly clever one. However with some of the longer running concepts I do find rather intriguing.

The ones where I do spend some time watching are some of the "Survivor" series where the application of game theory comes to life. "The Amazing Race" can be quite fun if you invest the time in it. Also the first series of "The Apprentice" was very educational and instructional. Subsequent series however tend not to live up to the billing of the original idea. The concept stagnate and falls fowl with me and the general rating public.

Recently, I have started to reengage with another reality TV series: The Search for the Next Doll. I'll be the first to admit it, I watch the show purely for its titillation value, as well as the bitch fight, the constant tantrums and all the tacky squealing faux "empowering" bullshit.

For those that are not familiar with the concept of the show, you can read about it here:

"Pussycat Dolls Present: The Search for The Next Doll," is a behind-the-scenes look at the process of selecting a beautiful and talented singer/dancer who has what it takes to join one of the world's most successful performing and recording acts. Out of the thousands of gifted hopefuls who audition, only one young woman will make it through the challenges and undergo a total transformation to win her place in the spotlight as the newest member of the Pussycat Dolls..."

So basically it is about the auditioning of a new singer/dancer for a "musical" group call the Pussycat Dolls. Well, "what on Earth is the Pussycat Dolls" you might ask?

For those that are not familiar with the concept of the Pussycat Dolls, imagine an evil genius looking fellow in a evil looking lab coat, hunching over a bunch of test tubes, beakers and scary experiment looking thingies in his evil looking laboratory... when suddenly he breaks into a evil sounding maniacal guffaw: "Bwaahahahahaha..." as the chill of his voice echoes through his bone-chillingly and dimly lit lab he cried out...

"I did it... I did it... I have invented the perfect weapon of mass destruction. It will enslave all men to do its bidding and enslave all women to follow its destructive evil ways. Mwuuhahahahah...

"And I shall name this evil creation... The Pussycat Dolls!!"

And to sample a small dosage of the destructive powers of these Pussycat Dolls just examine this! or this?! May heaven have mercy on our souls...

Meeeeeeow...

Sure the vocal skills (of the PCD and of the prospective dolls) are mostly rubbish, they wear clothes that would prompt a hooker to slap them silly and they cake on more make-up than Liberace, but that is utterly beside the point. The point is that they can gyrate their impossibly thin money-maker in pure harmonious synchronicity... And they will use it against all humanity, because they bloody well can...

All I can hope for now is that this show will run for one season... I don't think I can handle too much of this PCD stuff.