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Tuesday 20 September 2005

Seafaring Riverboats, Unarmoured Humvees

We've all heard about how Kublai Khan's failed invasion of Japan, thwarted by the kamikaze or divine wind, that capsized his fleet of over four thousand ships. Centuries later, the young stupid suicide pilots of the Japanese air force would invoke the name of this conquering tempest when they ploughed their planes into enemy warships during World War II.

A recent archaeological expedition has revealed some startling truths about the Khan's failed venture, and downplayed the role played by the storm, long touted as the main factor.

Never mind that the Mongols knew scratch about sailing or sea battles, or that Japanese swordsmen were lethal in close-quarters combat. There were hints that Chinese ship makers commissioned into building the fleet had used shoddy workmanship as a means of sabotage. Kublai's impatience was also a factor; to complete his massive fleet within the unreasonable schedule, riverboats - totally unseaworthy vessels - were also drafted into the fleet.

The fleet had sunk even before it left the dry-docks.

We are strange, you know. We store history and quote from it, but never learn anything from it. Even today, people are still rushing to war with vague mission statements, poor preparation, and misleading preconceptions and lousy intelligence about the other side. When it all ends, usually in failure, the common folk have to bear the cost of the aftermath.

But we don't have to look back eight hundred years to learn about the folly of rushing to war. We only need to go back about two years.

Friday 26 August 2005

Tut: The Final Conclusion

Tutankhamun, the famous boy-king of ancient Egypt, is famous for a few things: his parentage, short life and short reign; his world-famous funerary treasures; the "mummy's curse" and the rumours about his death.

Especially about his death.

He lived in a very screwed-up time (one of many) in ancient Egypt, no thanks to his predecessor, Akhenaten, who dismantled a centuries-old social order and nearly caused the country's collapse. So hated was Akhenaten and his bloodline that great measures were taken to erase them from history. The gaps in this time frame, dubbed the Amarna period, left plenty of room for scholars to explore - and pad.

For a while, the juiciest theory about his death was that of murder; Tut's vizier may have plotted his king's death and married the royal widow to seize the throne. To prove or disprove this theory, Tut's tomb and his mummy have been thoroughly examined. The initial findings seemed to confirm the murder theory. Along with clues of a hasty burial, possible genetic defects and court intrigue, the "murder mystery" continued to tantalise many for years.

Early this year however, the Egyptians decided to conduct their own investigation (covered in the National Geographic documentary, Tut: Resurrected) with the help of CT scans. They concluded that Tut's death was caused by something more mundane: an infected knee fracture. Tomb paintings show that Tut was an avid outdoorsman, and that he fought in a battle. In either case, an accident or an enemy caused the wound that ultimately killed him.

Pretty convenient.

When he was first found, Tut was "glued" into his coffin by the unguents used to mummify him, so a "Dr" Douglas Derry freed Tut from the coffin - by cutting him into pieces. That certainly didn't help those who would autopsy him in the future, nor did it improve the overall condition of the mummy. When they laid eyes on Tut, the Egyptian team was shocked at the damage Derry had done, and the subsequent deterioration of his mummy.

Were the more plausible findings released to snuff out the wilder theories regarding Tut, along with any future exhumations, and allow him to finally rest in peace?

Sunday 17 July 2005

A Rainy Night Out

A friend invited me out to The Curve on a Thursday night for a drink and maybe a light meal for my belated birthday. I was expecting some sort of payback after calling this friend up to wish her happy birthday - almost one month late.

The trip to The Curve for the occasion was rather uneventful: it rained, the roads were slick, and the street-lights reflecting off the wet roads obscured the lines. Adding to the mix were drivers who behaved like the typical Malaysian road demon.

It was my first time at The Curve; even though I had plenty of opportunities to go there, I never found the time or the need. I was unimpressed by the architecture, although the open-air "street" was nice. As I was wondering where she was (there was no sign of her at the rendezvous point), I spotted a Little Penang Kafé across the "street". Then I saw two of the Kafé's waiters gesturing at my direction. I ignored them (because usually, nobody gives me a damn) until someone shouted from behind me, and I realised what was going on.

My poor friend - dining at the Kafé - had seen me and came running after me, huffing and puffing. That was what the waiters were trying to tell me - and I did not have a clue.

Coincidentally, it was at MidValley's Little Penang Kafé that I had dinner with her and her mother, the first time we met after... a few years?

If you're curious: yes, she's a tad chunky, but that's just her. It's an improvement to what she used to look like. Frankly I was more concerned about her health than her silhouette, then and now. She's currently selling RO water (yep, selling water. You gotta have skill for that, you know). She majored in Mass Comm and taught English for a while. She's also an ex-neighbour who looked much hotter in her teens.

Let's call her Sarah.

After her dinner we left for a drink since "it was still early". She led me to a HaLo Café at first. We'd barely taken our seats when her phone rang. Five minutes later she decided that she had to finish her call in private - and because an ah beng in a cap was on stage, strumming a guitar and trying very hard to rupture some eardrums.

I've never been to HaLo Café (and a lot of other places) before. There's even one at OUG's Citrus Park. I don't know if they're all the same everywhere else, but G*d help me if they are. It seemed like HaLo catered to the Cina crowd. Nobody seemed to mind the awful singing on stage; from the prices I suspect some members of the top management were ah longs (RM2 for "skyjuice" is plain extortion); the menus, though well-designed, were riddled with corrections, amendments and language gaffes ("Gas Drink" cracked me up).

Sarah eventually returned, probably because her phone battery was dying. Sensing my discomfort, she suggested we go someplace else. She took me on a "tour" around the half of the mall that was not already closed because it was late (around ten, I think).

"There's a Coffee Bean, and IKEA's just opposite, and over there is a McDonald's..."

"Mm-hmm... yes..." (Mentally, I'm thinking: y'know, I could always come back and look for myself, thank you) Don't get me wrong. I am grateful for her invitation, but I just have this obscure need to have the occasional nasty thought.

We finally settled for a drink at a TGI Friday's (the original rendezvous point). It was last order time, and given Friday's reputation for good food, the urge to snack was hard to resist. "Do you have 'last customer' discounts?" She asked the waiter at one point. Her brazenness alarms me. She even had the audacity to ask a waiter at a mamak stall about the prices for a dish (we know they follow "market prices"). We ended up having just drinks.

We had the longest conversation ever since we both left Penang. Friday's was quieter (no live band, but the one in the Slippery Senoritas opposite was trying hard), and despite the absence of alcohol, the words flowed freely. We both certainly aged a lot. Got sadder too, but a bit wiser (though I do have frequent lapses in judgement fuelled by fury).

There was a funny moment when she was describing a blind date incident (hers).

"My friend introduced this guy to me," she began. "He likes music, and musicals - things I also liked. But when I saw the guy, it was like, oh my God! He was so fat, and his moustache was all over his face, he was like... like..."

"Lu - Lucianno Pavarotti?!" I stage-gasped as she groped for a description. "You - dated - Lucianno Pavarotti?!"

I couldn’t recall exactly what else we talked about. It was a simple meeting, hardly even a date. No fancy food. No alcohol. Most of the shops had closed. Yet I felt great. It’s been an hour and two dozen MP3s, and I’m just wrapping up this post.

Maybe that's the state of mind everybody should be in when schmoozing with buddies. Because it is special. We only go round once.

So do our friends, by the way.

Friday 24 June 2005

How Not to Start the Day, Part II

My project manager entered the office, and by way of greeting, recalled the gory details of an accident site she passed by this morning (probably the one I heard on the radio, the one near Bandar Utama).

"It was so terrible," she went. "The body was pinned under the lorry, there was blood everywhere... the victim's organs were scattered all over..."

Good morning to you, too.

"...there was blood and organs on the floor, and the policeman had to use newspapers to scoop it all up and take it away..."

Forget what I said earlier. Skip breakfast if you want to.

How Not to Start the Day, Part I

One 21 June, the Minister in the PM’s Department blew his top in Parliament in such a way that defies belief.

The MPs were debating the Malaysian Medical Council's decision to no longer recognise medical degrees issued by Ukraine's Crimea State Medical University. The decision unfortunately affected a number of Indian students. The discussion got somewhat heated, and said Minister, Datuk Seri Mohamed Nazri bin Abdul Aziz, added fuel to the fire with outbursts (which I translated) such as:

"Yes, sit, sit, sit, sit, racist, this Ipoh Barat (refers to M Kula Segaran, DAP and MP of West Ipoh) is racist, sit, sit."

"Sit, racism, racism, racism, this is racism, sit, enough."

"Bloody racist, racist, racist, racist..."

The MP being harangued spoke up, only to be told by Nazri, "Sit, racism, you are racist, racist, you are racist, you have got no place in this country. Malaysia doesn't want racists, you are racist."

The drama starts at the end of page 127 of this document. I'm surprised this was actually on public record.

And that is why, you should never, ever skip breakfast.

Thursday 16 June 2005

Ah, Cats

Interesting creatures, cats. Carefree, cuddly, nice to have around, they're a favourite choice for people who want a low-maintenance animal companion. There's a reason why they're so low-maintenance.

Cats are built to kill. Agile and nimble, with sharp retractable claws, silent footsteps, quick reflexes and excellent night vision, they are the ninjas of the animal kingdom. (In an English suburb, domesticated house cats that have been allowed to roam freely at night actually threatened the local bird and rodent population.)

There have been reports of pet cats "sharing" their kills with their owners. If it's happened to you, it's no compliment. Cats are predators, and hunting skills mean a lot to them. It's their way of saying, "Hey, here's my catch of the night, you bald useless ape of a den-mate. When are you going to start pulling your weight?"

Because of their self-sufficiency and excellent survival skills, cats are solitary by nature (who needs humans, anyway?) - unlike dogs, who are much better at schmoozing.

So action, right? It has every right to be - it's an efficient and effective hunter. (Why do you think Jessica Alba's Dark Angel was spliced with cat genes?)

When you meet a sweet, mewling, cuddly furball of a kitten however, your heart melts and you'll forget all that I've just told you.

Ah, cats. Eat your hearts out, fellow humans.

Sunday 12 June 2005

A New Beginning...?

"Hello World!"

My, that was so cliché... (if you're a programmer, chances are you'll get it).

And that's that. Now leave me alone while I fool around with this new toy of mine.