From The Economist’s Letters:

War on tobacco

SIR – I read with interest the news that the United States Justice Department is “seeking $10 billion from tobacco companies it accuses of a 50-year conspiracy to make smokers addicted to cigarettes” (The world this week, June 11th). As a veteran of the second world war, I remember vividly the two cigarettes that came in the small package of K ration meals given to GIs every day by the American government. Through this process, millions of us were first introduced to cigarettes and became addicted to tobacco. I often wonder if more veterans died as a result of this addiction than the 400,000 who died in combat. If the government collects billions from the tobacco companies, I think justice would be served if they shared some of it with the families of veterans who died of lung cancer.

George Marotta
Palo Alto, California

I was thinking just the very same thing watching the Band of Brothers incessant smoking. Of course, when you have seen your platoon-mate’s head get blown up right in front of you, the threat of lung cancer wouldn’t be at the top of your priorities. Having watched 2 episodes of Band of Brothers, I’d say I think it’s well made, but I’m not too big a fan of watching people get blown up or blowing up each other. All I’m thinking is "Why? Why? Why? What for?" …and this is still going on today.  Another thing that boggles my mind is how people living in complete peace and are educated actually choose to pick up smoking when it’s so bloody expensive, they know it’s addictive, is so very nasty to your health, and just makes you a stinky-stink person. *shrug*

5:03pm: Fire alarm goes off. No one budges. Work goes on as per normal.

5:04pm: Announcement "Ladies and Gentlemen, the alarm has gone off on the 17th floor. We will investigate the situation"

5:07pm: Announcement "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have investigated the issue and found the alarm to be false. We apologize for the inconvenience"

In the 4 minutes, no one even twitches from their seat. I’m looking around wondering if I should just run down the stairs. If there was a real fire and a real emergency, that 4 minutes might save my ass.

Of course this time, I’m glad I didn’t have to lift my lazy butt off my seat for a false alarm. How many times did we have to evacuate the dorm/school building back at Berkeley because some idiot was bored in his/her dorm room or didn’t want to take an exam and tripped the alarm? But that really  should be the way to react to a fire alarm!!! Annoying as it is, that’s what the fire alarm is all about. Even if it’s a false alarm this time, it would have been a good practice drill. But nooooo, Singaporeans just sit there, so arrogant of our security.

This is not the first time I’ve been in a situation where an alarm goes off and no one even bats and eye. Funny to think that we are all so kiasu or kiasi with everything else except emergency drills, where a little bit of kiasi-ness should be there.

Bukowski’s recommended reading.

The first real book I found was by a fellow named Upton Sinclair. his sentences were simple and he spoke with anger. He wrote with anger. He wrote about the hog pens of chicago. He came right out and said things plainly. Then I found another author. His name was Sinclair Lewis. And the book was called Main Street. He peeled back the layers of hypocrisy that covered people. Only he seemed to lack passion…

…I read all the books by D.H. And they led to others. To H.D. the poetess. And Huxley, …Lawrence’s friend. It all came rushing at me. One book led to the next…And then along came Hemingway. What a thrill! He knew how to lay down a line. It was a joy. Words weren’t dull, words were things that could make your mind hum. If you read them and let yourself feel the magic, you could live without pain, with hope, no matter what happened to you…

There was no sense to life, to the structure of things. D.H. Lawrence had known that. You needed love, but not the kind of love most people used and were used up by. Old D.H. had known something. His buddy Huxley was just an intellectual fidget, but what a marvelous one. Better than G.B. Shaw with that hard keel of a mind always scraping bottom, his labored wit finally only a task, a burden on himself, preventing him from really feelign anything, his brilliant speech finally a bore, scraping the mind and the sensibilities. It was good to read them all though. It made you realize that thoughts and words could be fascinating, if finally useless.  

-Ham on Rye 

I have tried but failed to read DH Lawrence about 8 years ago. Will definitely pick it up now. Shamefully, I haven’t read Hemingway either, but will start now. What a great way to describe writers. Huxley as the "intellectual fidget" but "a marvelous one". And I don’t know about Shaw. I’ve always felt that way about Oscar Wilde actually. Tolstoy and George Eliot were, to me, the king and queen of peeling away layers of hypocrisy.

God, that man is a writer. "He knew how to lay down a line." I spent 4 hours last night falling in love over again with an over-weight alcoholic with boils all over his body.

"He has no ambition," said my father. "I don’t see how he can hold his god-damned head up and look people in the eye."…"If this country was full of men like him the Chinks would take over and we’d be running the laundries…"
"Do the Chinks really want to take over this country?" I asked.
"Those yellow devils have been waiting for centuries to do it. What’s stopped them is that they have been kept busy fighting the Japs."
"Who are the best fighters, the Chinks or the Japs?"
"The Japs. the trouble is that there are too many Chinks. When you kill a Chink he splits in half and becomes two Chinks."
"How come their skin is yellow?"
"Because intead of drinking water they drink their own pee-pee."
"Daddy, don’t tell the boy that!" (his mom)
"Then tell him to stop asking questions."

-Ham on Rye, Ch 8 

*crawls on the floor and knocks head repeatedly on the ground*

Once again, we so did not want to go. It was Jon’s going away party, and we love Jon, and the rest of his crew had already made reservations there, and we just couldn’t be the prick and the princess on someone’s going away party where we had spent half the day at the BBQ pre-party with the crew already. So it was off we went to TwAttica, my hell on earth, the land of idiots.

*gets up and knocks head further against the wall*

I almost cannot describe what it is about the crowd there that I detest so much. Almost. It’s like the big Attica doors is a portal sucking in the worst of humankind. The scene is a pick-up-slash-poser scene, and nothing else. I understand every club has it’s fair share of picker-uppers and posers, it somehow tends to intensify in Attica, bringing out the worst in human decency.

*crawls back on the floor and bashes head in*

They were playing unimaginative, crowd friendly hip-hop (the hoochie boochie type) in the first half of the night, which intensely bored me already. Ashley Caselle, whom we were waiting for, went on at close to 2am. He played such good trance (even better relative to the music prior…who the hell plays hip-hop to warm up for a trance DJ?) and I had some fun dancing in the middle on the dancefloor with some buddies. But the crew was not sufficient to buffer idiotic acts surrounding me. Hardly anyone else was dancing because of the music. They danced to pick-up or to be picked-up. I usually have no problem thrashing about wildly by myself. Of course, I love it when like-minded people thrash wildly together with me, but it’s not a requirement. But then, the dance floor started to get annoyingly packed and there was simply no more room to fun-dance anymore. I had more drinks spilled on me and my foot stepped on more often and more people falling over me than anywhere else. They kept exploding pieces of paper that would make people go idiotically "WHOOO!!" while pieces of scrap paper fall into their drinks.

*peels off strips of paper from bloody forehead*

At some point, I looked around me, with the flashy lights falling on and off people’s drunk faces, laughing madly over some dumb ass joke, everyone in unimaginative fashion (guys, mostlyover-paid ang moh expat twats in long sleeves collared shirts, usually striped; girls, in those miami-style tops, usually showing off boobies), and I thought I was in hell. It was an over-aged fratenity party, losers all around me. Music was great, but I just could not take another pick-up line, foot stepping nor drink spilling and left an hour into his set. A shame. But it was more than I could handle. Fucking twats.

Friday night started off at what is now our frequent spot, Harbin Corner Bar, nicknamed by us because it sits at the corner of Boon Tat & Stanley and they serve Harbin beer at Happy Hour prices of $10 for 4 bottles (& Coke light for me at $1.20). Then on to Prince of Wales (which I stupidly sms-ed to Ken ‘Prince of Whales’…d’oh, yet another Princess Diaries goof), with good prata-n-curry and a serendipitous find, Documentary in Amber with their Pink Floyd-ian grooves. Very very very good. They impressed me more than any other local band (not that I have heard many unfortunately) I’ve heard. Never heard of them before, but I’m definitely all-ears for them next time. I also learnt about a genre called ‘Wall of Sound‘ which I always knew I really really liked, but never knew the definitive term for. The musical education of kellykelly continues.

Returned home for Patrick to catch the NBA finals, for me to snag a nap, and for KrazyKaren to drop off some alcoholic lychee jelly, and for Ken to announce to us that "I am EASIER than you think". On to Grant Nelson at Zouk. He was quite a magical mixer. I have hardly heard a DJ overlap tracks so long into each other and have it work so well. He teased us with bits of a song across 2 other songs before playing it. Absolutely groovy. And when he freakin’ broke out a beautiful minimal mix of MJ’s Remember the Time, I lost my mind and yelled to the entire song, hiccups and all.

Blogger-dom: I realized that I’ve known a sarongpartyfren (Jo) the whole time in real life without knowing he was one (hi!). Oops. Time for me to pick up the musical baton…and ene, who I’ve never met before, came up and said "I noticed your boyfriend on the dancefloor, so I thought Kelly must be here!" (hi!). Nice to link you in my real life!

Further evidence of why humans are dumb. The Economist writes about the pioneer stream of Chinese tourists in Britain. Apparently, these Chinese who go all the way to England love to buy Clarks shoes, which are made for probably 50 times cheaper at home, but is sold at a higher price at the country of manufacture. This boggles my mind.

Oddly, Clarks shoes are apparently seen as luxury items in China. The company reckons that the brand, which has been around since 1825, may be helped by its lingering colonial associations. Its presence in Hong Kong when the Chinese market was opening up may also have allowed it to get its products into smart department stores before the competition: although many of the shoes are made in Guangdong, they are pricier there than in Bicester.

This so goes against sensibility. You pay for a premium to feed the marketing arm that creates this want so they can charge the premium. The irrationality goes further:

The Britons present were bemused by this frenzy, but the incomprehension may be mutual. Market research by Visit Britain, a government agency, says that along with beautiful scenery and bits of castle, Chinese tourists coming to Britain expect to find friendly local people and delicious regional cooking.

Black pudding (it’s a thick sausage made with blood and fat!!!!eerrrgghh!!), anyone?

I have been doing this awesome pilates abs workout where you lay on the ground with your legs bent, feet flat on the floor. Then you lift up your hips so your body looks like a slope. Then you lift one leg straight out. Ooohh…feels so good.

Then, in my excitement to see slowly emerging sculptured abs, I think I overdid it, or more accurately, I did a whole bunch of it two nights ago without proper warming-up. Now, I think bloody sprained my lower back because I keep getting sharp pangs on my lower left side if I put too much weight on my left. D’oh.

What silly strange creatures us humans are. The earth has never seen in the evolution of creatures a species that spends energy to burn off surplus energy, as well as spend energy to "tone up". You really don’t see a hippo nor an ant "working out". With this, together with the widely spread practice of scooping up another animal’s poo, I have ever more evidence that humans are in a de-evolution of going from dumb to dumber. I laughed when I found this quote from Darwin’s The Descent of Man:

No one who has attended to the breeding of domestic animals will doubt that this must be highly injurious to the race of man. It is surprising how soon a want of care, or care wrongly directed, leads to the degeneration of a domestic race; but excepting in the case of man himself, hardly any one is so ignorant as to allow his worst animals to breed. 

The words that come before this quote is quite disturbing, however, as highlight by this reader. It’s an argument I have read in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World Revisited: where in developing life saving instruments like pharmaceuticals we are allowing humans that would otherwise have died to survive beyond their ‘natural’ timeline. Thus, allowing propagation of a weaker race plagued by inherited diseases. Huxley must have read this from Darwin:

With savages, the weak in body or mind are soon eliminated; and those that survive commonly exhibit a vigorous state of health. We civilized men, on the other hand, do our utmost to check the process of elimination; we build asylums for the imbecile, the maimed, and the sick; we institute poor-laws and our medical men exert their utmost skill to save the life of every one to the last moment…Thus the weak members of civilised societies propagate their kind.

Do not think, however, that Darwin is an evil man though. He recognized that ignoring the weak in our society is an "overwhelmingly present evil". Too bad Hitler took this out of context. It’s a scary thought however, because who aside from a suicidal or terminally ill individual will not medicate an illness? I have no qualms poppin’ them pills when I was ill, that’s for sure. All I wanted was to get well. I sure as hell didn’t think, will curing myself now propagate a weaker human species?

Still, it is food for thought. It’s an argument that was present in my mind as I read The Economist’s survey on pharmaceuticals.

Wow, my train of thought went from a backache from pilates to animal poo to eugenics. How did that happen?

Jacob’s great idea of having a Swap Meet, where are bunch of us gather our stuff (books, DVDs, CDs mostly) and swap with each other so we all have new stuff to read/watch without spending a single cent, satisfied my anti-consumerist consumerist desires.

Today’s inaugural Swap Meet lunch was a success. I now have Bukowski’s ‘Ham on Rye’ to read (thanks, Jacob)! Which makes me very very excited and happy. Amongst the things swapped were a few DVDs like Kids, Napoleon Dynamite, Clockwork Orange, many Tom & Jerry DVDs (I think those are for you, Han) and books (the Fountainhead, Factotum, etc), the coolest of which are old school ‘Choose your Adventure’ books from Eileen. Dominique was an excellent secretary, inventorizing our entire collection in an excel-ed list.

Spawning from this Swap Meet will be Movie Parties for shows like Princess Diaries, where apparently you can play games (thanks Dom) while watching! Any excuse for a party.     

After swimming, I checked my handphone, only to read a very disturbing sms from Ken:

My god I’ve been stuck in a female toilet for the past twenty minutes. I’m so traumatized.

My initial reaction was, of cos, "WTF?". I thought the poor dear was somehow locked inside a female toilet (god knows how) and needed the fire brigade to knock down the door to save him or something (my mom locked herself in to a toilet in Las Vegas once. She couldn’t open the door, so she stayed in there for 20 min as well, until we all got suspicious and I went back in to look for her and she was screaming "KELLY! KELLY! CANNOT OPEN!" 2 seconds before the lock gave way and she opened it herself. But I digress).

But nooooo…he was locked in there by choice! I am laughing incredulously that he actually stayed in there for a good 20 minutes, with his fly undone too for what I assume was 20 minutes. I guess if he couldn’t pee on Michelle’s guests, he might as well sit in a ladies’ toilet and hear people pee. I’ve gotta say, as a female, it’s pretty embarrassing having people hear you pee. No wonder they have those li’ll gadgets in the Japanese/Korean toilets that imitate flush noises to mute out your pee (and the occassional farts that come along with). Some women really pee like horses with mega-wooshes. The worst is that when you go with a friend and they start chatting with you while they pee like a horse, yelling above their horse pee and across cubicles. Please don’t do that to me. I usually just go "eerr…can’t hear you. Talk to you when we come out." That’s why, unlike most females, I never go to the toilet with a group of girls, and never understood why they need to group pee. I don’t like having to wait for someone in a stinky loo. I don’t like hearing my buddy pee next to me. And I certainly don’t like to go in the same cubicle as you!! (Why? Why would you wanna do that????) I like the guy-system, chop-chop, no nonsense, just pee and get out.

Due to ridiculously long lines at the ladies’, and usually NONE at men’s, I have the tendency to slip into the men’s cubicles myself. Usually a deliberate smile to indicate that no, I’m not here by accident, I just wanna use your empty cubicles would shake off any embarrassment. Although I find the sight of urinals very very disgusting and always leave a.s.a.p. But, again, that’s another thing altogether. You can read about the new law in New York for Potty Parity (I want it in SG too!):

Women take longer

And those poor men who had to stand around waiting

“IF THERE was ever a bill I was afraid to be on the wrong side of, it would be this bill,” said Erik Martin-Dilan, a Brooklyn councilman whose district is 60% female. He was one of 50 council members who voted unanimously for a “potty parity” scheme, requiring many of the new and renovated buildings in New York City to have twice as many toilets for women as for men. A 1984 law had foolishly enforced equal numbers.

Michael Bloomberg, the city’s mayor, signed it on June 6th. With this, New York City joins California, Minnesota, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Texas, Washington and other jurisdictions in enacting “restroom equity” laws.

Flushing away complaints that the bill pandered to female voters, the mayor argued that it will not only speed women through toilets in sports arenas, bars, concert halls, convention halls and theatres (schools, restaurants, hospitals and municipal buildings are exempt), but also “reduce waiting-around time for their male companions.”

The law will apply only to new and extensively renovated facilities. The original proposal would have affected all buildings, but the NY Nightlife Association, among others, had strenuously objected. Stingy owners can still circumvent the new law, if they want to, by making their toilets unisex.

Read about the incredible Loo Adventures of Ken.