What’s Up, Doc?

Disclaimer: This is a review of a blog which chronicles the loco life of a zany doctor. The reviewer shall not be held liable for any degradation of intellectual level which might possibly be incurred by gullible individuals as a result of reading the blog recommended.

Alright. Before we begin, you’ll have to take this oath. Raise your right hand and repeat after me. “I solemnly swear that I am legally insane and presently have nothing better to do than to condescend to sheer incredulity browsing Dr Liew’s blog.”

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the sane and the insane, I’m thinking of hosting a banquet in honour of Dr Liew, in which he shall be conferred the “Wackiest Loco of the Year”. I’ll tell you why in a short while.

You see, when it comes to being silly, no one beats this outstanding guy. Not the Chatterbox spammer who seriously believes he is the rightful king of the Maoris. Not the ridiculous girl who advised me to feed my computer chocolate and green tea when it plays tantrum. No, none rivals dear Dr Liew. Hmm, with the exception of Matt Groening, the guy who created Futurama.

As far as I can collect, Dr Liew is a doctor, duh. A medical doctor who has a clinic in Kuala Lumpur. At least that’s what he claims. If you’re one of those typical persons out there who associate doctors with over-stressed, poor souls who slave away 24/7 – either for the noble service for mankind, or for the pursuit of a five-digit income – think again.

Yes. Working in a clinic as a doctor can indeed be a tiring job but this guy, Dr Liew, manages to find time to share some light moments in his blog. Yes. Being a doctor can sometimes be frustrating but this guy, Dr Liew, has his own, uh, unique way of dealing with it. Oh, God bless the wretched soul when he tries to strangle himself with his stethoscope each time he has to bear with annoying patients!

About a month back, three days before the National Day on 31st August, Dr Liew, as a patriotic citizen decided to spread around the spirit of merdeka. He began by offering a code that allowed a clock or a calendar to be displayed on a website or a blog. Sure enough, some innocent bloggers took the bait and crammed in the applet.

Wow! Now my blog looks sophisticated! So they thought.

But, come 10pm sharp, just two hours before the National Day, Dr Liew replaced his applet with one that displayed the Malaysian flag and with the anthem playing in the background. Talk about patriotism!

Another advice is that you should shove away the common misperception that doctors tend to be health-conscious. At the very least, Dr Liew isn’t. When the rest of us are shunning eggs because of the health risks which may result from cholesterol, this maniac has a penchant for “ultra-high-cholesterol-instant-death-four-yolk” (or something like this) mooncakes. Forget about jelly-skinned mooncakes. Those are for sissies!

The most worrying part is that Dr Liew’s wackiness is infectious. He is zanny and so are his Rolly Polyclinic nurses (RPCNs). Or did it happen the other way round? Anyway, I can’t go into that with ease. Already, I’m facing the possibility of being dragged to court for a libel lawsuit. So, just pay the doc a visit! But make sure you’ve read my disclaimer!

Dr Liew’s Blog – http://www.drliew.net/

A blog review by Wacko the Loco. Love letters, condemnations, hate mail, fan mail and death threats are welcome at wacko@loco.com. (Don’t be silly. It’s nonexistent!)

Quarter-life Crises

We sail within a vast sphere, ever drifting in uncertainty, driven from end to end. ~Blaise Pascal

To Myself,

Do you still remember those innocent childhood days, when you used to wonder where beautiful seashells come from? Perhaps from never-never land where wonderful things happen?

The serene, calm bay did not hold much of your interest. Instead, you were more drawn towards exploring the wide, open sea. You thought you’d be glad when one day, you’re old enough to set out on your own course for the land unknown which held sweet promises. You just couldn’t wait to grow up.

Soon, you found yourself old enough to face the challenges of the real world; you knew you were no longer the weak fledgling confined to the nest. However warm it might be, you were eager to leave. And you did.

Without regret, you turned back to have one last look at the tranquil beach which was the only place known to you as home for all these years. The languid waves swept the beach, washing away the footprints that you left behind, and together with them, the nonchalant childhood which you were glad to part from.

The new found freedom was indeed a fresh experience. How glad you were that you’d finally embarked on your solitude journey of self-discovery. You were so sure that you wanted it to remain this way; you preferred to be left alone, to have the carte blanche of doing whatever you want without anyone bugging you. Yes, you wanted to be a solitary voyager.

But soon, the new-found bliss ended as you sailed further into the sea. The real world was not as wonderful as you thought. A storm raged, threatening to swallow you into the violent waters. You clung on for your dear life, praying for the storm to abate.

Yes, it did. And you were thankful that you survived. Nevertheless, there was no way of telling how long would the sea remain calm. You didn’t know when it would try to deliver the next fatal blow. God knows how many were to come. For the first time, the uncertainty of the future made you feel insecure.

You had nightmares; terrible dreams of being chucked into a void where not a soul resided. You cried for help, hoping that someone, anyone, would come to you aid. But no, your voice was only muffled to shameful whimpers.

That was when the feelings of rejection, incompetency and inadequacy set in. You finally conceded your impotence in handling the issues at hand. The harder you tried to undo the knots, the more you made in the process. Perhaps, that was the reason you felt as if you’re being drowned by the ever-pressing demands of life. Just like being underwater, things seemed within reach, until you really reached out for them; they are so close yet so far-fetched. Just like being underwater, you were struggling to hold your breath, but the water pressure threatened to crush your lungs; you knew you had to surface.

For a moment, you didn’t want to be alone. You wanted company. You yearned for the love from that special one whom you’ve been waiting to make her presence. “No, let not sentient thoughts cloud your judgement,” you reminded yourself. Yet, the confusion was overwhelming and you wondered if you were praying for what you really wished for.

My lad, listen to me for once. Doubtfulness and uncertainty come in a package when you’re facing quarter-life crises. But when you happen to gaze upon the starry sky one lonely night, assure yourself that you’re not alone, for there is always someone who’s there with you, that is, yourself.

From
Myself

Cool, But Crazy

Sometimes, things just go haywire. And if they can't be solved through conventional ways, you might as well try out the unconventional solutions. By “unconventional”, I mean “bizarre” and “crazy”.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’m sane. For starters, sane people just don’t go around questioning their sanity. Thinking of the crazy thing I’ve just done recently, I’m pretty sure it warrants me a place in a sanitarium.

You see, I bought a Futurama Season I DVD last week. For some reason, my whimsical DVD drive just refused to let me watch the movies, except for the first episode. Everytime I tried to load the other episodes, the computer would completely be suspended in motion, until I ejected the disk from the drive.

In and out. In and out. I repeatedly inserted and ejected the disk and it was by chance that Lady Luck walked by at one moment and I succeeded in opening the second file! Imagine my joy and awe as I quickly salvaged what I could into the hard disk. Not much, actually. Just episodes one and two.

Stupid DVD! I went to the shop and complained about the faulty disk. The amiable guy at the counter tried it on his computer and – whadda heck? – it worked! So there I was, standing there, never feeling more awkward.

“I think the problem is with your DVD driver. You have a combo drive?”

I nodded. He then went on explaining that combo drives just don’t work as well as DVD drives. Nevertheless, he changed another disk for me, which still didn’t work when I later tried it out.

Stupid combo drive! I just want to give it a kick and yell like Bender from Futurama, “Bite my shiny ass!” Sorry, DVD. I’ve misjudged you.

And so, I turned to Tan Sri, a.k.a. the Tech Guru for help – we always do when we are having problems with our computers. I disconnected my antediluvian four-gigabyte hard disk and asked him to help me to copy over the files from the DVD.

After a week-long anticipation, the Tech Guru eventually announced that the disk was to be blamed. He had no better luck than I did – only managed to access a few more files than I could.

Okay. Stupid DVD! Sorry, combo drive. I’ve misjudged you. Then, what I did last night was totally unimaginable, or can I say, ingenious?

I could faintly recollect that the Tech Guru mentioned something about the disk getting heated up pretty fast. I don’t know where I got the idea, but I cooled down the DVD in the air-con vents before playing it. Jeez, it worked! But I only managed to copy four files before the disk got heated up again. Then, I would sit back and enjoy what I’d got so far, laughing away at Bender’s ridiculous punch lines while waiting for the disk to supercool at the air vents. It was thus that I eventually got everything on my hard disk. Whoopee!

So, next time when your computer chokes up, immerse it in nitrogen liquid… Or maybe, a bucket of iced water will do just fine.

It’s official. I’m nuts.

Szomorú Vasárnap

It is autumn and the leaves are falling
All love has died on earth
The wind is weeping with sorrowful tears
My heart will never hope for a new spring again
My tears and my sorrows are all in vain
People are heartless, greedy and wicked...

Love has died!

The world has come to its end, hope has ceased to have a meaning
Cities are being wiped out, shrapnel is making music
Meadows are coloured red with human blood
There are dead people on the streets everywhere
I will say another quiet prayer:
People are sinners, Lord, they make mistakes...

The world has ended!

~Literal translation of Szomorú Vasárnap (Gloomy Sunday)

In 1933, Rezsô Seress, a self-taught pianist, wrote a morbid song for his girlfriend after their break-up. Shortly after its release, she committed suicide.

A Hungarian teenager was drinking in a bar, with the band playing this song in the background. After finished listening to it, he cried, “I can’t stand this anymore!” Withdrawing a gun and pointing it to his temple, he pulled the trigger.

The policewoman who was in-charge of investigating the reason for the teenager’s sudden suicide listened to the song, hoping to find come clues. She was later found to have killed herself too.

The mystery surrounding the infamous song continued to spread across Europe and America.

In Washington, a pianist was invited to play the song in a funeral. Reluctantly, he agreed. But immediately after finishing the piece, he died of heart attack.

Another pianist in Milan heard of the news but was sceptical of it. So, he decided to try out the song. He then left a note before committing suicide, claiming that the song was too depressing for anyone to withstand, and thus, should be destroyed.

(By the way, Seress jumped to death from his flat in 1968.)

When the number of suicides in Hungary linked to the song climbed up to seventeen, Gloomy Sunday was allegedly banned. Even BBC was purported to have agreed that the song was too depressing to be broadcast over the radio. According to some sources, more than 200 persons worldwide committed suicide after listening to the song. Naturally, it soon gained its infamous popularity as the “Hungarian Suicide Song” or the “Suicide Anthem”.

To me, it is strange that some people just can’t accept the fact that anyone can just commit suicide anywhere and anytime, with or without a logical reason. After all, everyone has the right to choose the way to end his life.

No doubt, the history of Gloomy Sunday might have been blown out of proportion and has become an urban legend. All the same, it’s intrigued me to find out more about it. Isn’t it an easy way of making a graceful exit if you can literally drop dead after listening to a song?

There are two versions of the song, both orginally written in Hungarian. Personally, I think the second version is more meaningful as it strikes a chord within me and tugs on a certain melancholic feeling.

I also managed to download two of the latter version of the song, one by Diamanda Galás and another one by Sinéad O'Connor. They gave me shivers when I tried to listen to them last night. But when I replayed them this morning, they weren’t that creepy as I thought.

Frankly speaking, the music isn’t as interesting as I anticipated. It is the kind of song which I’d care not to listen for a second time had I not heard of its intriguing history. Even though most people comment that the verses written by Seress himself is better than the one written by Javor, I beg to differ. I’m of the opinion that the latter is more touching. I’ve included the second version so that you may judge for yourself.

Sunday is Gloomy,
My hours are slumberless,
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will never awaken you
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of ever returning you
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you
Gloomy Sunday

Sunday is gloomy
With shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have decided to end it all
Soon there'll be flowers and prayers that are sad,
I know, let them not weep,
Let them know that I'm glad to go

Death is no dream,
For in death I'm caressing you
With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you
Gloomy Sunday

Dreaming
I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you
Asleep in the deep of
My heart
Dear

Darling I hope that my dream never haunted you
My heart is telling you how much I wanted you
Gloomy Sunday

By Sam M. Lewis

As is the case with unexplainable phenomena, there are several theories surrounding Seress and his infamous song, including the claim that he was a cultist. Another more absurd version is that Seress adapted the song from a music composed by a scientist who was researching on ways to transfer thoughts and memories in the form of a tune. But I say, why listen to such baseless claims?

Meanwhile, I’m still alive, just in case you’re wondering.

† Sources (accessed on 08 September 2005):
http://www.phespirit.info/gloomysunday
http://www.flar.demon.co.uk/terror/tale135.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gloomy_Sunday
http://www.snopes.com/music/songs/gloomy.htm

You’ve Got Spammed!

Whoever he is, the weird thing is Bob somehow gets the funny idea that I’m by chance a sexually frustrated 19-year-old and offers to sell me Viagra to spice up my sex life.

“That’s ridiculous! Which perverted nerd would spam a blog?” I retorted.

It was only a few days back when I seriously doubt someone would actually spam a blog by posting ridiculous comments.

“That’s what spambots do. They crawl over the Net, searching for unfortunate preys and spam their blogs the same way spammers do through spam mails,” the encyclopaedic Tan Sri elucidated. For some reason, I was imagining an arachnidan spider or something similar to the squid-like sentinels from the Matrix haunting the cyber space. But, of course, that silly representation is by no means close to the real-life perverted individuals who spam for a living.

He added, “This is done primarily because the comments are taken into account by search engines.”

Okay, sounds reasonable. But still, I couldn’t conceive the idea – until yesterday.

To be chosen by a spammer out of a million blogs out there, I really don’t know if I should consider myself lucky or the other way round. I have no idea whether it was a spambot or an unscrupulous pervert who did that but the point is, it stepped on my toes and I shall make no bones about my disdain for spammers out there!

I love Gmail mainly because of the sheer size it offers. Then the other thing is the strong anti-spam feature that sends virtually every spam mail to the bin. So does Yahoo! Mail.

Anyway, once in a while, when I have nothing better to do, I’d get the itch to check the spam mails, which to my surprise, are mostly from someone called Bob. Nope, I have neither a distant relative nor an acquanintance by that name. Whoever he is, the weird thing is Bob somehow gets the funny idea that I’m, by chance, a sexually frustrated 19-year-old and offers to sell me Viagra at a cheap price to spice up my sex life. Which idiot would jump at such a scam? Heck! I’m still going strong, to begin with!

And now, there’s another spammer in my comments page who offers to help me on various subjects ranging from “dating a blogger”, getting health information and downloading fabulous adwares, providing a couple of links. Gah! As if someone is gullible enough to click on them!

Personally, I know some who constantly spam others’ Chatterbox with crazy monologues. There is an indigenious Maori King, a Hang Tuah, a couple of MIBs, a Martian, Ultraman, Power Rangers… The list goes on and on…

Still, Chatterbox spammers do not irk me that much. In fact, I pity them, for they may be in urgent need of psychological help. Afterall, no healthy man would engage in such extensive monologues as those I’ve encountered.

Alright, so long for now! Signing off. (Hmm… whose Chatterbox should I spam today?)

Lies

A lie can be half-way round the world before the truth has got its boots on. ~Jim Callaghan

I’m fed up with this! Everywhere I look, the world is just full of lies!

Ye who hath told lies are all sinful; ye who think otherwise, give thyself a kick in the butt, for thy denial is a lie by itself.

Who does not tell lies? The man who claimed to be the divine son of God? Or the supposed Prophet who went around propagandising but practised not what he preached? Or the One who boasts of His omni benevolence, omniscience, omnipresence and omnipotence?

There are lies everywhere, even the Holy Book is not spared, for it did not arrive by fax from the Holy One, but a deception commissioned by sinful men as part of their ploy to brainwash the foolish multitude and rally them for a selfish, and unholy cause.

They accuse each other of pagan and Devil worshipping. But who is Devil if not the creation of sinful men? What is hell if the object of such lively imagination is not meant to instill fear among the blind ones and shepherd them like docile sheep?

What is told to us is only a feeble attempt to explain the unexplainable; they themselves are in no better position to aide us in communing with the great architect.

It is depressing to find that our basis of trust and faith is founded upon solid, big fat lies instead of truthfulness. Indeed, the evil vice grips us firmer than it is comfortable. Just take a look… those people around you… aren’t they liars as well?

He who tells white lies is omni benevolent because by doing so, he perceives that he is supposedly sparing one from embarrassment and unnecessary distress. But does the truth really hurt? Is ignorance blissful?

He who tells lies is omniscient because lying, is in its own right a craft hard to perfect. He must have a thorough knowledge of the labyrinth of the human psyche in order to manouevre the blind to his cause.

He who tells white lies is omnipotent because by blindfolding his prey, he has the ultimate power of shepherding the unaware through the gullet of the wolf. A liar who is adept in his trade is capable of anything.

He who tells lies is omnipresent because he is all around us and each and every one of us is one of his kind. He comes in different forms: the politician who butters his empty promises, the mentor who imparts his biased views to his protégés, the preacher who is hypocritical in his teachings, the holier-than-thou man who brags about his status of divinity.

Civilisation is rotten to its very core. Unconditional trust has lost its ground.

Hear ye! Hear ye! I demand the naked truth, not nonsensical lies! Yea, especially thou who lie without a twitch!