Badge of honor trout slap?

If I were to ever make an educated guess on anything at all which pertains to the image of self and that of the fleeting, capricious vanity, I suppose it rings somewhat true that I'll never understand the appeal of "slumming it".

I don't know why certain people grasp at the scarce straws of apparent hardship in the way they act around people, in the way they present themselves, their ideals and socio-political leanings, do they actually wake up thinking somehow that by making it all seem a little less effortless, therein (for lack of a better venue for introspection) lies some potent validation that counters this notion of a meaningless, gilded existence which they're cursed to be stuck in.

Buying thrift store generics? Doesn't bring one even remotely close to knowing what actual hardship is. While being thrifty speaks of financial prudence, its not anything to walk around feeling awfully proud about, sod it, you're not the only one scrounging dollars and cents. Given the economic climate and the flawed from the ground up "bigger is better", bailout hegemony of our financial institutions, you'd be hard fucking pressed like amphetamine capsules not to want and ingrain financial prudence.

Wearing tattered clothes and shoes with holes in them might be the joie de vivre for the obedient, cocaine addled New York fashionista whore. Yet in the real dog eat dog sense of the world however, no one's even going to come close to batting an eyelid or accord even a damn for your banal existence. So please do not even attempt to pass of your bored hipster routine as being synonymous with street wise enlightenment. It's going to earn you a stern rebuke. One not by the word of mouth but by flailing appendages. Your middle-to-upper class goodwill campaign of reaching out to slum it via Vogue, Harper's Baazar or NME doesn't impress anyone outside of your equally deluded cabbagepatch pals who make with the douchebaggery in outfits paid for by platinum credit cards. Yikes, hard times indeed.

But I have to qualify my seething, quasi-blind, half indifferent, partly indolent rage, if only momentarily; the thing that fishhooks me and guts me into submission is the simple utterance of the phrase "I'm starving". Sure they'll say oh don't take it seriously, its just rolls off the tongue, its habitual, damn Americana's influenced us all.

Memory in hindsight being sharper than that of a pike's blade, I can tell you easy that most of these people who nonchalantly drop the phrase wouldn't know hardship if it was a venereal disease slowly and excruciatingly eating away at their insides and makng their loins secrete gelatinous amounts of cheese. These are the same people who sort their garbage by material, start book clubs and organize mass starvation to shine a light on to poor war ravaged nations hoping that in some sordid way, by them not gorging their fat fucking faces with food, the other half would feel appreciative that they've lowered themselves off their pedestals to live like animals for a short while, say 30 hours tops.

Do spare a dime for the sort of low-rent, entry level, intellect that knocks around a hollowed out head, the very same type of minds that came up with bulimia. Oh, what's this? It's the core neurosis in the psyche of the artist to be in a constant state of flawed conflict? Yeah, let me clear that one niggling trail of doubt as well, since this being the convoluted, jam packed, swine-flu incubating germ farm which is planet earth know that the original idea is a theory dead on it's feet.

Just as there are no real conflicts to present a worthwhile burden for humanity to bear, there too isn't such a concept as the original idea. There is only the emasculate conniption as opposed to the immaculate conception. We're not beacons, we're not the great new hope. Nothing more than apes who took advantage of the ability to speak and having opposable thumbs. I used to get partially peevish at the sight of this rat maze extravaganza known as humanity.

Now I can say in no uncertain terms that this is the pluperfect definition of hell and the sole purpose of its creation is to hammer us into a pulpfuck variety, farm-ready coterie of lord fearing, brainzero cretins screaming blood curdling entrails tearing murder.

Beware humanity. Oh yeah, this came to me at a rather strange time, but what I meant to say in the last post in relation to the Man of Iron is that the armor is actually the Mark IV. Labour well from my admission of nomenclature mistake. Like sculpting furniture from beeswax and taxidermy of human skin, their rash haughty expressions xeroxed from lost generations before, it was a simpler time as the hazy opium den melted sullied and ashamed countenances.

Yet he smiled because he has a big knife.

So why the frothy kerfuffle?

Maybe its the lack of truffles because vicariously through each and everyone of you, he's sick of himself. Before you throw your arms up in the air and squeal defeat. Remember, hate steels a person. Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.

Bah...humbug...harumph...I lied.

I need a cigarette.

Masturbatory

Really excited about this one. Obviously they updated the Mark II, or maybe it's just a slight aesthetic change to the chest piece. War Machine looks amazing. I hope it turns out to be a good sequel. Can't wait to see Robert Downey Jr slip effortlessly into the domineering, self assured, snarky shoes of Tony Stark yet again.

Oh yeah, someone Googled the keywords "harem boys large thick penis" and somehow they were redirected and ended up here, at these hallowed yet dopey pages.

I don't know what the term for that is. But it is something. Misdirection? To quote one Agent Fox Mulder "I would never lie. I willfully participated in a campaign of misinformation". For what it's worth though, I don't see the correlation between that and the entered keywords. but I am feeling somewhat smug at being able to quote Fox Mulder. Yeah, guy draws cues of supposed mental superiority by dropping lines uttered by a fictional 90's television character, what a utter delight.

Old Pulteney is a single malt scotch whiskey. I have a tiny bottle right here on my desk, it fits in my palm, it's a gift, little novelty, rather telling that I should receive gifts of inebriating libations. Whoops did that come out wrong? I'm unsure as to what the portion's called, certainly isn't "bite sized", it being a beverage and all, right? Could it be termed as such? Unless of course, if it came already frozen. Anyways scribed on the back of the bottle is an invocation; "Old Pulteney encourages you to savor this fine single malt responsibly."

I have a problem with that because admittedly it's a tad vague. I don't mean that cogently as a blanket statement of course, its just that the actual drinking of it doesn't really bother me, its what I do AFTER the drinking which is wanting of more responsibility.While all that might have been somewhat poorly worded out the point here is that I've gotten used to zero accountability.

I get a kick out of people referring to Scotsmen as Scotch. Grossly ignorant but well...who gives a two-winged flying hoot? I personally like to pronounce Montreux as Montrooks. That's the way we do things down here in these parts, if you don't like it then get gone man, get real gone.

Err...what else, hmm panic...panic, right Malaysians haven't quite latched on to the concept of early morning greetings have they? Offer someone a hearty sincere good morning and in return, they'll give you this steely, stand-offish gaze as if you just whipped your schlong out and waved it in front of their face.

A sincere invitation to unfurl he velvet curtains and peer into the inner workings of this sordid, parody of a thing called my life, I answered an ad yesterday looking for customer consultants who speak fluent Thai and English. I was told that while they were looking for Thai speakers, they're not looking for foreign ones, even me, Prodigal Native Son and such. Let me clear something up, Thai, is a language and vernacular that is wholly unique to it's geographical diaspora, it's not an international tongue like say, Spanish. Alright maybe not Spanish, let's stick with French. Widely used language am I right?

Wanting to hire Malaysians who speak Thai? Well, that's mighty fucking laughable ladies and gents because when you pare up the statistics, the average Malaysian wouldn't know his thumb from his own dick, let alone have the initiative to pick up a language. Unless of course you're talking about the urban dwellers, that coterie of soul-dead, latte-foam sipping, Harper's Bazaar worshiping pundits who saunter around marbled flooring, exuding effortless douchebaggitude.

Even then, they're highly likely to choose to want to learn some European language. If it's white, it's without a shade of doubt, right.There, I said it. To which you reply, well go back to your country then border jumper.

In case you didn't know this, there are no actual walls that barricade Malaysia and Thailand. It's all a misconception that's perpetuated by portrayals of American-Mexican immigration ties ; shown to us on trash television. I know, it's a fantastical notion but it's the only one we have to go by.

So says the theologian with his back against the wall, surrounded by an army of frothy Bill Maher spewing twats. Yikes, like dykes on bikes.

Laters, poop makers.

Anchors on my shoulders.

You know who you lot are.

You're my Rock of Gibraltar.

I play the fleeting fool with an errant and unassuming ease yet for all that it's worth, your kind words and more importantly your sincerity, warmth and grace have kept the quicksand from engulfing me and pulling me under.

I have this fascination with the car-crash pace and as such I won't expedite the demise of the eternal adolescent whose soul's only purpose it is to perpetuate the disinclination of normalcy. I'm lucky to have been caught by every individual one of you at the right junctures, who would've known how this might've been in another lifetime?

Thank you.

Oh and to those who posed, do kindly assume the position so that I can fucking stick it in.



Guns N' Roses
Yesterdays
Use Your Illusion

Yesterday, there was so many things
I was never told
Now that I'm startin' to learn
I feel I'm growing old

'Cause yesterday's got nothin' for me
Old pictures that I'll always see
Time just fades the pages
In my book of memories
Prayers in my pocket
And no hand in destiny
I'll keep on movin' along
With no time to plant my feet

'Cause yesterday's got nothin' for me
Old pictures that I'll always see
Some things could be better
If we'd all just let them be

Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Got nothin' for me

Yesterday, there was so many things
I was never shown
Suddenly this time I found
I'm on the streets and I'm all alone

Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Old pictures that I'll always see
I ain't got time to reminisce old novelties

Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Yesterday

Secondary School Student Wins Appeal to Return to Primary School

A 15 year old boy today won the state's and probably the nation's first ever educational appeal to be allowed to return to Primary 6. At first, staff members, and commentators alike had pretty much collectively thought that Jerome Gan's decision was one that had an actual scholastic merit because they've considered that since he barely passed his rudimentary motor skills tests, he should be readily pigeonholed and accommodated for in the special needs class.

Initial findings proved this to be a suspect and rather dangerous assumption as the student's records were mistakenly mixed up with a mentally impaired child's. Moreover, what proved challenging was that Jerome was already nearing his state PMR examinations as well and withdrawals in these sort of cases are about as common as a male dog pulling out mid-hustle. Yet for the most part, Jerome is an intelligent if somewhat overly dull and boorish person. Faculty members, students and even the janitors have increasingly singled him out to be on the receiving end of viciously timed jeers and even called him names during his almost 3 year ordeal in the unnamed secondary school.

While most of the alleged perpetrators have remained mum in light of these allegations, further probes have revealed that upper management have in fact, repeatedly ignored impassioned pleas from the perpetually sweaty and bescpectacled Jerome. "We don't entertain it" says Jahan Adri Eusoff, discipline teacher and former prison warden, "his allegations are preposterous and disgusting. We need them to know that while we are here as the communal Big Brother, they too must understand that we are not their emotional wheelchairs."

However, the awkward, pimply and pockmarked teenager stated that his decision to demote himself 3 years back was because he missed being the "head honcho and Big Kahuna 'round these here parts" gesturing his hands with an almost religious reverence towards the sacred grounds of the primary side courtyard. He remembers "Oh three years ago was probably the best time of my life, I was the biggest kid in class, no questioning that and sure I was somewhat big boned and my zipper would always snap when I laughed, but I was way too large for any of the puny little shits to call out on me."

Secondary school hasn't exactly been a dream ride for Jerome, when he entered as a freshman, he found that his hitherto unchallenged authority had waned and gone soft, as he puts it "bent like the crooked back of a politician, or Hugh Hefner's cock" His first few months consisted of daily beatings from the smaller students who had experienced extreme growth spurts over the holidays. "It was horrific," exclaimed a bemused Jerome, "It was almost as if Satan squatted over me and let the excess recesses of his rectum fly free right in my general direction, and some of that entered my mouth". To date he has been tormented and bulled on an almost daily basis and even the usual suspects have turned to the aggravation. It's a simple case of the hunted turning into the hunters.

The appeal process was further compounded by the fact that the child's parents are absentee authority figures in his life who would occasionally tag team as "Thunder & Lightning" and beat the child senseless in Morse code, as they put it, "for the sake of discipline and you know, just in case." However, when Jerome related to us the sequence of his parent's methodical beatdown, it spelt "We love you very much" and that immediately put them in good stead with welfare child services who considered their conduct to be fit, appropriate and becoming of concerned parents.

On his first day as a Primary 6 pupil after a 3 year absence, the student appeared calm if somewhat uncomfortable as he managed to squeeze himself back into his primary school uniform. By the time he ascended the staircase, his shirt was already saturated with the stink of a child unused to menial labour. As lunch time came about, Jerome was causing a fair bit of disturbance at the canteen by flipping an entire tray of lunchables at some year 4 pupils who failed to bow at him. Prefects and teachers alike are very worried as Jerome has already worked up an impressive list of 14 distinct breaches and infractions of the school's rules. When questioned about this the smug, mouthy teenager said "This is my homecoming, and these crop of new students aren't unlike adoring subjects to me, I shall stamp out dissent and lord over them, for I care about their situation. They can think of me as an unofficial big brother and that all this is merely a mentor system. What's that? Breach of school rules? Well, I don't know about a breach but school, for the first time in 3 years, thus indeed rule."

Complaints have gone unnoticed as the state's education authorities have deemed that it's only a manner of time that Jerome finishes primary 6 so until then, their hands are tied. But they have conceded that if the student fails to pass his year end examinations, he can stay. At the interim meeting, Asokamaniam Punamoorthy of the education board was seen burying his head in his hands and muttering "Dear God...we've created a monster, Malaysia's very own Billy Madison".

Disclaimer.

I'm hoping that this is the last "personal" blog post which I'll write about in a long while. I'll be frank, I'm neither too inclined to spill the beans nor am I all that crazy when it comes to divulging private matters on the fucking internet. Even to the sparse number of friends who I keep; I have been extremely, almost deathly judicious about the details. I don't think I am any special, I just don't like the idea of a having person know too much about me.

Now I don't think my travails are any more enduring than what a lot of other people have to go through but shit happens yet if you keep at it, life will inevitably, go on. Twat's twat and that's that. I've probably mentioned this before but I have something of an antisocial streak in me. I'd like to say that its a seasonal occurrence but for the most part, I know that statement is about as real as pro wrestling.

I don't like people to begin with, I've gotten fairly good when it comes to playing the social game but as a rule; I'm being very generous here yet I think that a high number of people are nothing better than walking wastes of oxygen and skin meandering through this absurd state of bodily being.

I remember when I was 19, I was approached by a friend of a friend who pretty much cornered me and spilled a truckload of her worries and woes onto me. I may be tooting my own flute here but I'm very good at listening to people converse, I know that much, the skill is in being able to sift through what is purely melodramatic dreck and what is the perceived sense of injustice towards oneself. In short, it's just in one ear and out the other.

Something that has been occurring with an increased frequency lately is the invitations to go out. I'll admit this, I hate leaving the house. I'd much rather be crushingly bored and alone at home than have to go out and force apparently jovial reciprocation with a tragic wasteland of subservient corporate drones who value the annual gross, the banal gloss and the price tags. I'm not peddling some bullshit mystique here that I am all that and then some. Knowingly, I don't think too that I am exalted company. Rather, I just much prefer the idea of a friend who knows when to rarely play and continually stray. If I feel that I have to stretch myself thin, then well, as Satre aptly said, hell is truly other people.

It's like a fancy meal, if you imbibe it too often you'll find that sooner rather than later, it too can become overwrought and stale.

See you in the future, man.

Incubus
Soft Sculpture
Look Alive

Area People Fete Brooding Avid Reader

A resident living in the enclave of Subang Jaya has caused quite a stir among local female residents because of his incessant reading. The idealistic, strong headed man, 27 year old claims adjustment coordinator for KLT Assurance Jeff Wong has been sighted in various places holding on to books and poring over them with the curio and intensity of a dervish.

Eyewitnesses accounts claim that the man has a steely demeanor and that sort of wily, quiet intensity that leaves them feeling threatened, intrigued and weak at the knees all in one fell swoop, some even going as far as to say that they wouldn't mind jumping his bones. To date, Jeff has been spotted on the bus, at the train station, in a delicatessen and at the post office, not once tearing his eyes away from his copious collection of musky smelling, leather bound tomes.

When questioned about this, 21 year old student and part time designer of pet products Abby Fong had this to say, " Yes I've seen him around often, he actually came into the store where I worked once, at that time I just started here. He was looking for cat food and when I directed him to our stock pile, he proceeded to read through the ingredients of each can with the ravenous gait of a scholar. He obviously is very intelligent and his "here but elsewhere" ways just makes him that much more desirable. Can I just go on record to say that the whole time he was in my store, my clitoris exploded a few times over!"

Locals young and old alike say that while the mysterious, dapper gent everyone calls Jeff seems friendly enough, they are quite apprehensive of him because he seems to carry himself around with the temperament of a skin-covered sledgehammer yet his anti-hero ways has definitely won them over .

Retired postman Awang Bin Mokhtar offers "I'd like to think that in all my years of letter-delivering, in some way I've reached out and touched a soul by bringing to him or her letters-laden with literary qualities and moral lessons, it was one morning where I saw Jeff and I knew that my purpose in life was met a long while ago. Most people seem unable to look past the smoldering gaze and the nonchalant way he ignores everyone yet I know there's a warmhearted wily do-gooder in there somewhere."

Cheerleading captain Cadence Chen recalls a day when she and her squad were practicing in the park, and Jeff was a mere 10 feet away from them. He was sitting on a rustic bench, blissfully unaware of all the potentially criminal, barely legal teenage twats he could've tricked into climbing in a soapy hot tub with him. When asked of that fateful day, the vampish teen said "It was like so totally strange you know? We were forming the cheer-pyramid and all of a sudden I see this like totally vintage, burnout guy who is like just totally Twilight sitting there on the bench. We totally tried uber-hard to get his attention because he's pretty hot but he was reading like some book called Crime & Punishment so we were like ew, freak but that's okay. I went home feeling fat and ugly and I'm like the hottest girl in school, mmmkay?"

Others however aren't all that swayed by this alleged happenstance of smarts, one of them being the captain of the local chapter of foosball players. Dexter Lee of Metropolitan college claims to have had a run in with Jeff once, "It was whacked dude, we were playing foosball, having a real awesome, bitchin' time socializing and meething chicks and this like satan dude comes in and sucks the cool like outta the room. The guy's obviously mildly retarded from what I can tell because he's always reading books and stuff, why? Because he forgets the lessons we were taught in school, see, moronic right? I'm right, right? Anyways, I play foosball and its a great way to socialize and meet chicks. If anyone should know how to read a person, its me. People aren't all that different from the foosball men I control in the table, you just have to skewer them like chickens for the roast and that's why I play foosball because its a great way to socialize and meet chicks."

Although a vast majority of people are too willing to feel put off by his gruff demeanor, a coterie of dissenting voices were heard in stating that Jeff should be afforded some mental help. Just because he seems infinitely impassioned in his own world, it's obvious that he is very judicious with his emotions.

At press time we spotted Jeff entering an eatery in USJ 10, looking rather nonplussed by the increasing amount of women who gawk at him in silence. His inherent propensity to mope and read has thus far left him relatively sheltered in a perpetual loop of aloofness and that, is exactly what the makes the women fall hard for him.

Asean Leaders Unite To Respond To Hula Gate

This past week and a half, the world's media has literally devoted copious amounts of air time towards covering and dissecting Michelle Obama's hula-hoop demonstration or as President Obama calls it, Holla-hoop. On a sunny afternoon, whilst promoting fitness for children and tots alike, America's First Lady giddily defied behavioral standards and protocols of her office by throwing all caution in the wind by showing off her ill skills nearby Capitol Hill.

Currently being one of the most recognizable women in the world, naturally news agencies on both sides of the Pacific gave the incident so much coverage that the gathered Asean leaders could not help but collectively feel a tad slighted.

This year's Asean Summit, being held in Thailand had to fend off strong rating hits from Mrs Obama's story. In an issued statement, Thai Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva said on behalf of the leaders in attendance, "When she wore shorts to an official White House visit and it garnered intense media coverage, I personally shrugged it off as purely sensationalist drivel yet again she has usurped our time in the spotlight and well...to cut it short, it's on girl, on like donkey kong, it's time to throw down.”

The charming Thai leader then declared the fourth day of the Asean summit to be one not of round table discussions on bilateral trade and co-operation between nations but as a day of "playful physical retaliation for what are we if not compassionate liberals who know how to let our hair down as well. "He went on to outline an itinerary for all Asean leaders in attendance and said that failure to attend could possibly spell economic sanctions and deletion and blocking of Facebook accounts from the Asean page.

At 7:30 am, on the shores of Cha-am in the Hua Hin province of Thailand, PM Abhisit divided the leaders into groups of two for what he called Survivor:Thailand. Internationally beloved comedians; Malaysia's Najib Tun Razak and Cambodia's premiere Hun Sen were paired together as they were the only ones who had difficulty finding a partner. The rest of the leaders naturally gravitated towards one another because of long standing peace and fruitful economic relationships. One incident of note was that PM Abhisit and the Phillipines' Gloria Arroyo have been virtually inseparable since the two leaders met at the beginning of the summit.

Sometime around noon, the winning team was predictably that of Brunei's HRH Sultan Bolkiah Hassanah and Singapore's Lee Hsien Loong, both having a potent interest in athletic pursuits since their youth. Japan and Laos were disqualified and given a walk of shame for having cheated in the race by burning the instructional envelopes handed out to all attending nations. Unfortunately, Mr. Hun Sen deserted Najib Tun Razak by joining the leaders of Myanmar and Vietnam and to add insult to injury, Najib suffered a harrowing case of gastrointestinal infection because of his self imposed 1Leader concept.

In what has become almost legend in the diasporas of Malaysian protocol, Mr Najib had his entire retinue of assistants dismissed and stated that he would be attending the Asean Summit by himself, being the solitary wolf that he is. This duly included his demure consort Rosmah Mansor, who by most accounts, didn't seem to mind much having to miss the meeting of regional leaders and their spouses.

When he arrived at the hotel in a self driven car, the accomplished urologist sported a blond wig, aristocratic French clothes with embroideries, ruffled sleeves, a cape and Jackie O shades; looking almost incognito by his subtle standards. Unfortunately the second he alighted his car, he was immediately indentified yet this was wholly avoidable had he not walked around telling passers-by "What? I am not Najib Tun Razak, I am merely a mortal. Nothing to see here folks" He then left morbidly stern instructions with the concierge desk that he be given the most Spartan room available and only be allowed one morsel of a meal per day.

On the first day itself he caused veritable controversy as he sat at his own table; grim looking and carrying aloft a banner stating 1Man 1Table. At the insistent jeers of his counterparts, Mr Najib started roaring in consternation across the room of the august house; "This is my table! There are many tables like it but this one is mine! Without my table I am nothing, without me, my table is nothing!" HRH Sultan Bolkiah of Brunei, a known military man, ceremonially rapped his walking cane on the carpeted floor, apparently signaling approval before bursting out into uncontrollable guffaws, prompting all leaders to do the same.

At this time Hun Sen came over and sat with Mr. Najib while the two doodled the day away with crayons and Play Doh; listening to Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers while the other leaders mapped out the road to economic recovery.

The gathered leaders feted the winning team of the treasure hunt with congratulatory slaps on the back and giving of props. Miss Arroyo then broke out into an impromptu showing of her Double Dutch skills and she continually beckoned at PM Abhisit who, egged on by his fellows, blushed like a bashful teen and joined her in creating one of the most memorable moments of the Asean Summit as they hopped and jumped with nary a care along to the soothing, melodious strains of N.W.A.'s Fuck The Police.

The entire room quickly became reminiscent of the 8 Mile rap battle scenes as almost all leaders in attendance were visibly seen hooting back and forth with cat calls and shows of support. When Japan's PM Aido asked Sultan Bolkiah if the inscribed B on top of his walking cane stood for his country's name Brunei, the majestic leader retorted, “My good man...evidently, we're Ballin'”.

After proper rest had been accorded to all leaders, they were invited to the hotel's exquisitely decorated ballroom for dinner. Everyone in attendance tucked in to a fine meal of grilled Thai catfish, truffles, Northern Thai styled dishes of beef and chicken. This was followed by various desserts and multi-flavored sherbets. Mr Najib however merely requested a bag of Lays Potato chips, a glass of water and a clay sculpted bowl of warm oatmeal. When the guests have all dined and watched the prepared pictorial montage of the day's activities, PM Abhisit made his way up the stage and delivered a rip roaring stand up routine, roasting all the leaders in attendance, saving the most acidic lines and aiming it towards himself.

After his speech was done, the halls darkened and a series of well times pyrotechnic rigs exploded with ferocity of Dante's Inferno, starling some of the leaders. The back lights then lit up revealing a fiddle band that began playing a hearty and jaunty country tune. The usually reserved leader promptly broke out into song and well, you wouldn't have known it but just about everyone in the hall was an accomplished dancer. All of the leaders, guests and world wide media exhibited commendable line dancing skills.

Round, round twist and twirl,
Jump around like a flying squirrel!
Dance, dance move your pants
Don't let go of your partner's hand

Jive, jive swing on by
Lady Obama you best not try
Feel the rhythm, step in time
Ain't any reason not to feel fine

Move, move get on the floor
Knock yourself out, don't be a bore!
Swirl, swirl cherries on top,
Asean Summit, the cream of the crop

As the night carried on, things became more exhilarating to a point where even the petulant and reticent Najib danced wildly through his excruciating abdominal pains, telling everyone "watch me, watch me!" as he channeled his inner interpretive tap dancer. PMs Abhisit and Arroyo set tongues wagging as they re-lived the Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers dance. Inhibitions fleeted away errantly as ice melted and friendships were cemented. The alcohol free flow contributed in many ways to the heightened sense of camaraderie filling the air. When midnight struck, the free flow and the euphoria hit its zenith as PM Abhisit was seen doing a handstand on top of a table; legs akimbo in the air to a reverberating trance remix of the Asean theme song.

He executed a deft head spin and stood up, grabbed the microphone, thrusting his hips back and forth suggestively; saying"Gloria, Gloria you're gonna want some of my coffee, you know why? Because I grind so good! I ain't black but you better be ready for something hot and dark in you tonight!" At the end of the night, all the sweaty faced leaders, their shirt tails out, stood in a long line chanting and laughing "Where you at Lil' Kim?" in reference to Kim Jong Il who has for the longest time continually stood up invites from the Asean forum of leaders.

The evening died down as the gathered leaders were again paired up and invited to slow dance to some Lionel Richie songs. While the business community isn't exactly overwhelmed by the monetary outlines and fiduciary schemes advocated as a result of this meeting, they were glad to know that all the leaders brought their game faces in responding to Mrs Obama's antics.

The very next day, the leaders got together to celebrate an early Halloween and the costumes and outfits adorned by the leaders ranged from the playful to the downright wrong. Najib Tun Razak turned up in an open roof sedan with a battalion of Malaysia's Gerak Khas (Unique Moves) Squadron and announced that he had come as his childhood friend and one time university lacrosse team mate Kim Jong Il. Abhisit and Gloria Arroyo showed up respectively as a slightly goulish looking Michael Jackson and a vial of Propofol and coyly announced that they'll be together till the bitter, rigor mortis and coma-inflicted end. The rest of the leaders came as themselves and this unfortunately, has rocked the Asean community as those who dressed up felt that they've been had by the short and curlies by these party poopers.

Malaysia Tables Motion To Host 2020 Olympic Games

In a move that will surely signal fair warning to his Asean neighbors, Malaysia's tightrope walking champion, premier lion tamer, cave painting advocate and sometime leader Najib Tun Razak today vocalized his plans to see Malaysia crowned as hosts for the 2020 Olympic Games. He told this to reporters whom he had invited along to ride with him on a convoy to a non-descript village in the rural backwaters of Kangar, Perlis.

Najib stated that this was very much more than merely a goodwill tour, this was his way of reaching out to his subjects or, as he affectionately calls them The Naj Entourage. Visibly proud of his cat-like verbal quip, Najib dusted off imaginary dirt from his shoulders while saying "Don't trip...shoulder chip..uh" while his minders all echoed "Hollaaaaa". In addition to all this, he also said that he'd been hankering to be photographed by the press in the midst of doing menial, country boy chores for days.

He stated, "We can go by Rio de Janeiro's example and host the 2020 Olympics as well to solidify our place in the world. Most of you are probably aware that 2020 is a date we all hold dearly in Malaysia, as do I". When a few press personnel chimed in that it was Vision 2020, Najib smiled and nodded his head benignly, bit his lip, uttered a calm yes and subsequently opened the sun roof, bolted right up in the moving vehicle and bellowed, "IT IS THE YEAR CHRISTINA AGUILERA TURNS 40!! ROOARRR!" He then sat back down, adjusted his poncho and smiled warmly at the gathered media, displaying the effortless panache and ease of timeless, evergreen showmanship.

He continued with the candor of a seasoned raconteur "Also, I would like to clarify that I too buried a time capsule sometime in 1980, and at long last I would like to see what has become of it after all these years." The jovial leader looked out languidly into the serene Malaysian rural paddy field strewn land, placed his hand on the almost completely blackened out windows of the SUV and whispered,.. I am coming for you...my precious. At this juncture, one of his minders stealthily reached his hands from behind Najib's seat and gave the leader a timely fist nudge behind the head, mumbled words of encouragement and he was jolted out of his midday reverie.

Immediately, the Prime Minister launched into an enthusiastic presentation of his plans to ensure that Malaysia will host the Olympics. More importantly though, is to show how Malaysia can secure the nomination and win it. Showing deft arithmetic prowess by counting only with his fingers, Najib forecasted that by 2020, Malaysia's economic landscape would have improved drastically because; we would would be the only sovereignty in the world with a functioning Iron Man Mark IV prototype armor ready for mass production.

More importantly, half of the country's imminent wealth will come directly from the 1Region1World self help motivational movie DVDs which Najib himself will write, produce, direct and star in. Of the DVDs he said "I am very proud of this artistic endeavor for it certainly magnifies that inside of us everyday lays miracles that are just waiting to break out and bedazzle the world."

He also said that the while he was strongly in favour of singing the theme song for the DVDs himself, having proved his vocal mettle many times over, he felt that it should rightly be a collaborative duet with him on sole lead vocals and being backed up by Siti Nurhaliza and Christina Aguilera. "I like my voice” mused the leader, "it's sonorous, commanding, definitely has a baritone, come-hither feel which in a very understated manner, requests due attention, each octave, each timbre just oozes with passion, certainly very much on par with Freddie Mercury’s, if not better. The 1Region, 1World ideal is something which we can definitely market to the international arena of inter-dependence and on top of that it will definitely earn us a handsome profit. To quote the great Vanilla Ice, if my rhymes were a drug, I'll sell it by the gram."


On shedding further light on his 1Malaysia plans, the leader felt that it was more a preordained destiny rather than a responsible undertaking for him to be both the team principal and number one driver in the 1Malaysia F1 Team. He said "Let's face it, this entire notion of 1Malaysia is by and large a labor of love borne of my obviously superior mind, I like being a leader, I am good at it and last I checked I'm not too shabby a racecar driver myself. It also doesn't hurt either that we stage the annual Sepang F1 race and that the world shines it's light on us."


However when further probed on the feasibility of Malaysia garnering enough regional support to host the Olympics, Najib stated that, "Well, if you must know, my uh, how the Americans say, ace in the hole is actually Cristiano Ronaldo. I've tabled a motion to the Ministry of Defense; asking them to sell off their newly acquired Sukhoi Jets and submarines. Obviously they did not agree to this, some even had the temerity to question my omnipotence, ha! Well, I rallied my troops and threatened to stamp out political kickbacks so in the end they relented and my will was done." The wily leader then stated that it was his modest estimation and hope that the proposed clearance sale would generate a transfer kitty of at least RM7 billion, a majority of which will be used to pay off the Portuguese ace's buyout clause estimated to be 1 billion euros. The remaining monies will be used for Ronaldo's weekly pay, in addition to him being bestowed a Datukship. All remnant funds raised would be directed towards sponsorship, jersey manufacturing and advertising.

When further pressed by hardnosed, determined journalists wanting to break for an inside scoop, Najib stated that has in fact, already signed Cristiano Ronaldo. He quipped that it was the easiest damn deal he had ever done in his life and that Twitter should be used as the official avenue to conclude business arrangements. The leader said that he direct messaged Ronaldo but was never accorded a reply so he had to utilize the "when push comes to shove" tactic.

At press time we've not been able to confirm with Real Madrid if they have in fact ,parted ways with their record setting player . Word from the grapevine is that Ronaldo went to the management to complain that for weeks he had been harassed by a certain strange man who would email him mathematical pictionary equations titled "Choose". It's contents were (I) Real Madrid = Ronaldo + Car : BOOM! or (II) Malaysia = Ronaldo + Najib = Smiles All Year Round and this has evidently left the Portuguese ace rather unsettled.

Shortly after this interview Najib arrived at the village amidst great fanfare and the trumpeting of elephants. When his convoy stopped, the shadowy, Ninjitsu trained leader alighted the vehicle , barged his way through the crowds and he quickly spray canned the town's hall with the words Kampung Ronaldo and returned to his vehicles which sped off blaring Thin Lizzy's "Jailbreak" and Najib laughing maniacally shouting over the loudspeaker "Y'alls just got spray-tagged."

For Wired News Corporation, this report has been sponsored by McDonalds, who...after all these years are still counting how many they've served. Indefinitely plagued by the crippling weight of insecurity.