Names, And Links

What's this about naming or renaming airports after famous people? Can you imagine the hassle of informing numerous organisations about the impending name change every time a national hero dies, maybe once a decade? Or situations where you tell your associates: "I'm flying out of Dr M?" I'm so glad it's just called the "Kuala Lumpur International Airport".

Is it really necessary to have a URL to all your sources, especially when they will eventually expire? Do you have to clean them up or check them every now and then? What do you do about it?

Do Not Pet Snakes

The issues raised in the National Geographic Special America's Deadly Obsession: Snakes is nothing new; after all, it's just an extension of what my previous entry was all about: the average American's ignorance and hubris when it comes to dangerous wildlife. Both involved real snake experts who got careless, and both happened on September 11th, 2001. One died; the other lived. There's even a report of a guy who was strangled to death by his pet python.

Yet Americans continue to buy exotic and venomous pets, and release them into the wild when they get too tough to handle. Buying saw-scaled vipers from Pakistan. Baby cobras. Black and green mambas. Reticulated pythons. Gaboon vipers. King cobras. Taipans.

What strange, warped, heavily medicated or intoxicated mind would consider the above as pets? Playthings? Worst of all, these species aren't even native to North and South America, which already boast some lethal species like the eastern diamondback rattlesnake, cottonmouth, and lance-head vipers. Consider the following:

• King cobra: Possibly the largest venomous snake in the world. Neurotoxic venom, delivered in large doses, kills by paralysis. Can take down an elephant.
• Saw-scaled viper: Small, agile and bad-tempered - like most Middle Easterners it shares the environment with. Strikes very quickly. Probably used to kill Ramses III.
• Black mamba: From Africa. Fastest snake in the world. Aggressive; will stand its ground if cornered. Will bite multiple times. Its neurotoxic venom is deadly.
• Gaboon viper: One of the largest vipers in Africa. Haemotoxic venom that turns flesh into a soft Slurpee-like consistency is delivered via a pair of five centimetre fangs.
• Taipan: Native to Australia, and distant cousin of the cobra. Some species carry neurotoxic venom that is far more lethal than their cousins.

All this gives me the impression that the American attitude towards danger is pathological, extending all the way to the White House. I'm sure that Carter, Reagan and Bushes Sr and Jr thought that the two-bit dictators, warlords and extremists they used to coddle were cuddly and harmless too, until they grew too big and too dangerous.

Just Who Is King of The Jungle Here?

This is one of those cases where the American freedom of expression supports a cause borne of a warped sense of altruism: Keeping a pet lion.

This family's case is not unique in the US. Across the country, people buy and keep exotic pets: lions, tigers, bears, pythons, leopards, etc "out of love" and the "spirit of conservation". Most of these animals are rejects left behind after a zoo, circus or animal park goes under, and they go relatively cheap at exotic pet markets.

I won't doubt that some of these pet owners are really serious about their charges. However, all of this pales in comparison with the real significance of these animals in the wild. The big cats keep the number of grazing herd animals in check. That's what they were built for, and nothing else. Everything in the wild was hunky-dory until we humans came along. We found fire, invented the axe, and bred like viruses. We took over the job of hunter-killer, effectively firing the native predators from their jobs.

Keeping wild predators as pets is not an act of love or mercy on our part.

It's an insult.

A Cat Named Cleo

There is a cat that's quite fond of my corner of the neighbourhood. I'd take pictures, but since I'm too much of a tightwad to invest in a cheap digital camera, I'll write about it instead.

I have no clue as to the animal's gender. There's no trace of a nut sack, or any indication that it's been fixed. Therefore, being the sexist creature that I am, I'm going to assume it's a female and call it Cleo for the sake of this narrative.

Cleo was part of a litter born of a neighbour's cat. She and a feisty ginger-coloured kitten were left after her other siblings were given away. Unlike many pet owners in the country, this neighbour didn't believe in caging cats, so they were left to wander all over the place, though not too far away from their home. As time went by, only Cleo was left. I never knew what happened to the other one.

For a cat her age (about one year old), Cleo is small and scrawny. She's mostly black; there's a patch of white at the base of her throat. Her green eyes has a piercing gaze and there are times her claws never fully retract. She distinguished herself by sleeping in the most unusual places in our front yard: the empty shrine where the previous house owners burnt joss-sticks and left offerings, the narrow space between the front grill and sliding glass doors, and on top of either gate-post where there would be stone lions if we ever believed in feng shui.

Being a good tenant, she tries to pay the rent. Problem is, cats utilise a different kind of currency, which usually takes the form of dismembered body parts of small animals. On several occasions we've found half-eaten mice, geckoes and lizards on our front yard, which really freaks my younger sisters out. Sister #1 is scared of rats; Sister #2 has gecko phobia. Their unfortunate brother (me) has to assume the role of undertaker when Cleo brings home the bacon (which we respectfully decline).

Once, in broad daylight, we caught Cleo in the process of butchering an iguana-like lizard, thus confirming the identity of our mystery rent-payer. Nature-lover that I am, I knew that she has the right to kill anything she comes across - it's her nature. But nobody commits murder while I'm around, so I chased her away and grabbed the lizard, snake-wrangler style, and deposited it in some vegetation. I didn't think it would make it; a patch of red on one side showed that Cleo had already done some damage.

For weeks afterward, there were no body parts. I'm pretty sure I pissed Cleo off for spoiling her fun. But cats aren't dogs; they don't learn. Upon returning home yesterday, there was a dead lizard, a mouse with a missing midsection and the top half of a gecko.

And she still sleeps in the shrine (proof that cats are condescending to the point of demanding worship), or on either gate post. I don't know about the worship thing, but if it ever came to warding off evil forces, my money's on Cleo. No expensive, overcrafted paperweight endorsed by Lillian Too could ever match Cleo when it comes to personality, attitude and the lethal killing arts.

Duck!

Chicago Says Non! to Foie Gras
Score one for the animal welfare fundamentalists. I was disappointed that the ban had nothing to do with bird flu, although it could have been.

Chicago has banned the sale of foie gras in its restaurants because city officials think the French delicacy is cruel to ducks and geese.

— from Agence France-Presse, via Yahoo! News

Fundamentally, killing and eating animals is a form of cruelty. Snuffing out the life of a creature to consume it, especially when it's not a matter of life and death - what could be more wrong, from a moral standpoint? But we still do it. We encourage others to do it; for some of them it really is a matter of life or death.

Bans like that really won't make a difference. Once a duck's fate is sealed, whatever else done to it before or after it's killed is just procedure.

MalContent

Some students from the University of California, Santa Cruz, calling themselves Students Against War (SAW), found themselves inundated with death threats after foolishly releasing their contact details via an online press release. They had apparently heckled some recruiters from the military at their varsity's job fair.

There are allegations that right-wing pundit Michelle Malkin was responsible for much of the death-threats by reproducing these contact details on her site for the viewing pleasure of her audience. To rub salt into the students' wounds, she reprinted their details in another post when they asked to have them removed. The students of SAW, she claimed, should pay for that mistake and their "seditious, thuggish behaviour".

The brickbats were soon flying between the US left and right regarding this issue, everybody scrambling for the moral or ethical high ground, regardless of who they trample on the way. It feels heart-warmingly like home.

As a pundit, Malkin is not obliged to be law-abiding, moral or ethical. But if a fire does break out, how much would she - along with all the other highbrowed armchair pundits and Neanderthals with a limited vocabulary who jumped too quickly into the burning bandwagon - get burned: lightly seared, medium or well-done?

Remember: It wasn't too long ago that a 12-year-old Japanese girl had her throat opened by a schoolmate with a box-cutter over a nasty online exchange.

"Ain't gonna happen", you say?

There are a lot of Americans in the US. The odds look pretty good to me.

Serai House, Part 2: Dessert and Digicam

I don't want anybody to think that this restaurant was awful, it's just that the best dishes are steeply priced. You see it in all mid-level restaurants: expensive decór, pretentious food presentation, and terribly helpful floor staff - clues that tell you you're not really paying for your meal.

Lately, I seem to be spending a lot of time with this lady. While I have a small circle of people you'd call "friend", she seems to be the one with the most free time. On a whim, I extended her an invite to lunch at Serai House. This time the experience was much better. First, I had company. We ordered much more affordable fare. There was conversation. Laughs at each other's expense. All reminiscent of my last dinner appointment.

The durian cheesecake made an encore performance. After waxing lyrical about the dessert in my pseudo-review of the restaurant, I wondered if it was the cake, or just me. It just might be the cake after all, since Irene abandoned her own dessert half-way and began nipping bits off mine. Strangely enough, it was delightful to watch.

She still has that digicam. Oh, grief. Just like Mary's little lamb.

If I take her out to a few more joints she might start a food blog. Look out, world.

On the topic of desserts: There is a cake called Chocolate Indulgence; it's actually Death by Chocolate (or Chocolate Overdrive - take your pick). I should know. I had a slice.

Anthony Bourdain, With Reservations

The Malaysian episode of Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations finally premiered on ASTRO's Discovery Travel and Living, Channel 11. Expect the usual brand of humour and straight-shooting from the swaggering chef with the French-sounding name.

• Among the local luminaries making an appearance are Chef Wan, and fellow presenter Asha Gill, who still looks anorexic.
• He does not fumble when pronouncing Malay or Indian words - much.
• A female member of the production team found a leech hitch-hiking on her butt, so it's Tony to the rescue. Lucky leech.
• "Torpedo" soup! Tongkat Ali-laced coffee! Beats cobra hearts or duck embryos any day.
• Watch the lumbering white man stalk the jungle with Sarawakian natives, catch fish (not), spear a captured pig (finally!) and get hammered on tuak (Iban-style sake).
• It's the second show in this series where a pig is killed. You won't be able to watch it though; the segment has been snipped. Flinking film censorship boards.
• Foodie destinations like Penang and Malacca are not featured at all. Major letdown.

I'm still not too happy with the censoring of the pig-killing. You wouldn't be happy too if there's no torpedo in your torpedo soup. And no Penang! Not even a pit-stop in Ipoh, where there's more good food, and white coffee! Maybe it's too far north, and too much to cram into a one-hour segment.

Good, but could've been better. Bourdain's definitely starting to show signs of slowing down.

Don't just think about it, Tony. Quit smoking already.

Can't Dance - The Floor Is Shaking

Guess who's being blamed by our Deputy Inspector-General of Police for the increase in difficult cases? Gil Grissom, Horatio Caine, et al of CSI.

"CSI and a few other series teach how to remove traces of crime," said Deputy Inspector General Musa Hassan.

He told the country's Bernama News Agency such television programmes provided insights into how police work and made them more efficient.

...The police officer added the force was now faced with the challenge of how to remain "a step ahead of criminals" because of the success of the TV series in Malaysia.

Oh sure, blame fictional Westerners (when there're no real Westerners handy) for your own sheer incompetence. It must be sobering to know that crooks responsible for the remaining sixty-percent of the crimes you couldn't solve could be getting tips from the CSI series or the crime documentaries on the Discovery Channel.

And what do you mean, "now faced with"? Are you saying that remaining a step ahead of criminals - a common challenge faced by lawmen worldwide for as long as history is documented - is new to the Royal Malaysian Police?

Serai House, TTDI

There's this restaurant that was open for quite some time - I just never had any excuse to visit it. The review in The Star gave me one.

Two words: durian cheesecake.

Frankly, it was the most pathetic first-meal-in-a-new-restaurant adventure I ever had. I was greeted by a transvestite waitress, who was really helpful when it came to the menu. Price, however, became a major factor when ordering, and I ended up with rice and grilled Aussie sirloin strips marinated with local spices - and no veggies. What I did order was really good, but I just wasn't making the most of my first visit.

If not for the durian cheesecake, I would've ended up feeling hollow inside.

Where was I? Oh yes, the durian cheesecake. A tad too sweet, but tastes really good. The fibres from the durian pulp are there. I spent half my time there nipping small chunks off the terribly expensive RM10 slice. I didn't want to leave. I wished the cheesecake could regenerate so I could spend the rest of the day eating that wonderful dessert.

But alas, I live in the real world, where all good things must come to an end.

Lulled by the atmosphere and the blissful sensations brought on by the magic of durian, I ordered the house coffee. Big mistake. The brew, for a lack of a better word, was rather weak. They serve it in a funky cup, but the small portion and average quality is not worth the RM6 price tag.

Grilled beef, white rice, iced lemon tea (also sweet as heck) cheesecake and coffee set me back about RM68, but I had my first - and best - durian cheesecake ever (durian desserts are evil; damn good durian desserts are diabolical), so I guess everything turned out OK.

So go ahead and knock yourselves out at Serai House and help it stay in business. A place that dishes out such fine food and wicked durian cheesecake deserves its place in the sun. I don't want it to close. I'll be back.

I won't be ordering coffee, though.

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Serai House

44, Jalan Datuk Sulaiman
Taman Tun Dr Ismail
Kuala Lumpur

CLOSED FOR GOOD

Farewell, Peter Benchley

Peter Benchley (1940 - 2006)
I was born the year Jaws came out. The opening score should have been written for my birth.

Sadly, the author of the story that terrorised - and entertained - millions, has passed on.

The hype generated by the book and the movies never told the truth about the world's largest predatory fish, which belongs to a family that's reached the evolutionary pinnacle of its species long before the rise of mammals.

Since writing the novel, Benchley had learned much more about the great white shark, and became one of the strongest voices calling for its conservation. He never intended to misinform anybody about sharks; it just made a good story. But like I said, the stories don't even tell half the truth.

Thanks to Benchley and many others like him, we know more about sharks like the great white. As fear gives way to respect, some of us can see Jaws for what it really is: a creature whose mastery of its environment was long and hard-won.

When he spun the yarn about a monster from the deep, Benchley probably never thought about how inextricably linked he would be to his creation. Now that the man is gone, we should do all we can to make sure the beast does not follow.

We owe him that.

TEMPTations, The Renaissance KL

I never feel at home in swanky eating establishments, but I rarely pass up a chance to sample two- or three-star fare whenever the opportunity presents itself. Most of the members in the two software development teams (one team being mine) decided to have a buffet lunch to celebrate a job well-done. The venue: TEMPTations, at the New World Wing of The Renaissance, KL.

(This was the second; the first celebration was at a company dinner at a Chinese restaurant inside the Tropicana Golf Club, which in all probability negates the bonuses we were supposed to receive)

Most of the food was good; I ignored the shellfish (allergies and all that), and experienced horror from a pâté made of the stale organs of some animal mixed with crunchy bits of plant origin (there's no way it could be foie gras - too expensive for a buffet spread, and I'd never believe foie gras could taste so vile).

I also had blue cheese for the first time. Smells bad, tastes OK, although it's more like medicine than a chunk of soured milk cream. There was also a cheddar-like cheese that doesn't taste like any cheddar I've tried - nearly tasteless, not like the sharp, tangy feeling one associates with off-the-shelf stuff from Kraft's.

Everything else that I could pick was good: juicy beef and chicken satay, smoked salmon, smoked chicken, smoked duck, fresh veggies for salad, the curries, bread pudding and the crispy biscuit fingers that were among the skewered thingies you coat with melted chocolate that swirled down from a fountain.

Despite my churning stomach (damned vile pâtés, and I only had one!) and the realisation that my appetite wasn't what it used to be, it was still a great experience.

At RM55++ per person, you generally get your money's worth.

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TEMPTations

Ground Floor - New World Wing
Renaissance Kuala Lumpur Hotel
Corner of Jalan Sultan Ismail and Jalan Ampang, KL