Israeli Military Babes


Aug, 2007

I was sent a link to pics of female members of the Israeli Defense Forces. They’re pretty hot. Sign me up—as chaplain, or sumpin’ Or the laundry room. 

Laundry room? Now that has some positively perverse possibilities—if I were the sort who lingered longingly over ladies' lingerie. BUT I'M NOT that sort. The guy you saw at Victoria's Secret sniffing the merchandise wasn't me. Lots of people look like me. Dustin Hoffman looks like me. So does Tom Cruise...yeah, that's it, it was probably him. Christian Scientist! Now there's and oxymoron!

Anyway, I showed these lovely pics to Wa and she said if I had time to look at these why am I not cleaning up my office. As if there's the remotest connection between the two activities! Don't you hate it when women 'think out of the box'? And she clearly has no idea as to the other stuff I look at.

A Brief News iTem

 
Jul, 2007

The Lower case “i” has disgustedly resigned from the alphabet due to exhaustion from overuse and blatant abuse.

As she left the building, she is reported to have said, “iQuit!”

Does It Suck, Or Does It Rock?


May, 2007


How it works:

When you enter a search term, sucks/rocks searches the web for several positive and negative phrases using that term. The score is the fraction of positive results to the sum of positive and negative results, normalized to 10.

Type in a search term, e.g. "Chiang Mai" press return and type in another search term (Bangkok), press return to compare the results.

At the moment John Edwards is scoring slightly better than Barack Obama and way ahead of Hillary Clinton.

Jesus scores higher than Mohammed. While Ganesh ties with Jesus, Buddha scores a perfect 10 and Coke beats Pepsi.

This can get addictive.

Cuddling outscores kissing which might indicate that there are more women writing stuff on the web than men. Could be, because if you compare "men" with "women", women outscore men by a respectable margin. But "Ken" beats "Barbie", go figure.

Nasty, Tasty Noodles

"Hey, wadya want from me? I invent noodles, not shades."

Apr, 2007

Momofuku Ando who invented the instant noodle in 1958 and improved on it in 1971 by putting it in a waterproof styrofoam cup, died earlier this year, aged 96. 

He founded the Nissin Food Products Company and is said to have often eaten the company's instant noodles, proving that the stuff will kill you, err ... eventually.

For those of you who aren’t juvenile enough and missed it, go back and read the guy’s first name, and snigger. 

Outsourcing

These guys seem to know what they're doing.

Apr, 2007

It was suggested to me that I should write a book. I thought about this seriously for about three seconds and it hurt my head. It just seems like too much work and besides, I’d need some talent too, though lack of talent hasn’t stopped other writers.

So it’s just that writing involves work is where the problem lies. Hmm..maybe I could outsource to some guys in India:

"Hello, do you accept outsourcing of writing work?"

"Err... yes. I am speaking very good English and having computer just down the road from my house at the cafe of the internets. They—the computer in this cafe—are having word processors which can spelt cheque, so I am—how you say?—GOOD TO GO!"

"Great! Now mosey off and write me a novel, chop-chop!"

So if any of you knows someone that do this, let me know. Better yet, call them for me and get them started on the job. Call me when they’re done. Leave a voicemail if I’m napping and call me back later to see if I got the voicemail.

All Your Data Is Belong To Us


Mar, 2007

I keep getting requests from people I know who want to update their records about my contact details. Fine. Except it's now all done over the web and I hate filling in personal details at websites that are collecting data like mad.

Even when I ignore these requests, my friends are filling in god knows what details about me in their web-based 'personal' online address book. An address book that in reality belongs to a corporation. Once (as it must surely happen) all this disparate data gets owned by
Google/MSN/AOL/Yahoo/Amazon (or any combination thereof after the inevitable M&A’s) and is cross-referenced, these guys will know a hell of a lot about you and me and our friends and relatives and where we live and what we do and our likes and dislikes. 

When I try to explain to people how uncool this is, they just look at me funny like I'm some kinda luddite. Just like you might be (virtually) lookin' at me now.

It's Just This Big


Feb, 2007

Career diplomat, former Director of National Intelligence  and now U.S. Deputy Secretary of State, John Negroponte says that during the Reagan years, he gave the brutal Nicaraguan Contras only incey-wincey tiny little guns that couldn't hurt a fly. Nothin’ illegal. Besides, it was all Oliver North’s fault.

Con Job

Feb, 2007

I read an article entitled "Math Made Easy: Study Reveals 5-year-olds' Innate Ability." It was about how kids do math all the time without realizing it and if you present math problems to kids in a creative manner, you can have them doing math naturally.

I didn't need a study to tell me this. My experience with Abia had confirmed it. When Abia was four, we played snakes and ladders, starting with one die. She would count the dots and move her piece accordingly. When she was able to move her piece without needing to count the dots, we moved on to two dice, and then three. Later we changed the rules  to allow a player to  remove any one of the three dice and count only the remaining two.  It progressed to where a player could choose to roll one, two, or three dice, thus needing to intuitively calculate probabilities. She never knew she was doing math.

We also made up many math games with playing cards. And I do mean 'we'; Abia would be involved in making up the games.

I started the same routine with our younger daughter, Gigi, but she was too smart for her own good; she sensed that I was trying to teach her something and wasn't “really playing” and she resisted.

She spotted my fraudulent intentions and called me on it. A friend suggested I forget Snakes and Ladders and immediately start Gigi on the cards - five card poker!

Gigi can smell a con even as I open my mouth, just like her mom.

But it was a con that first got me close to Wa.

My friend, Abie,  from South Africa had checked into the hotel where Wa worked a day ahead of me. Being Abie, he'd quickly managed to get the life stories of all three front desk girls. When I arrived, he filled me in on the details on each of them. The next morning he stood at the front desk and asked me to read his palm, feigning shock and surprise that I knew so much about him.

The others, including Wa, queued up to have their palms read, and since I got their past right, they believed everything I had to say about their futures. I became a celebrity at the hotel, especially with the chef, who was appreciative enough to always put a lot of extra goodies in my breakfast tray.

Anyway, for a lark, I told Wa she'd end up marrying a handsome young guy from Hongkong with a big nose who was a good palm reader. Just in case that wasn't clear enough, I added that his initials were GT.

An hour later I'd forgotten all about this and didn't really pay any attention to Wa (nor she to me) over the next two years that I stayed on and off at the hotel, apart from the usual niceties.

Then, once, as I checked out of the hotel, I noticed she had cut her hair, and for the first time, I really saw her clearly and thought to myself, "what a foxy lady!" This was a cool expression in those days, and I was nothing if not cool, even when talking to myself.

I said to Wa that I'd stay another day if she'd have dinner with me. She refused and I left. But I couldn't get her out of my mind and called her repeatedly till she agreed to have dinner with me. I flew over for a weekend and stayed ten days. We dated everyday and on the ninth day I asked her to marry me. I said we could get married first and fall in love later.

And that's what happened.

Some con job.


EEK! A Spouse!

The Marriage Bridge


Jan, 2007

Someone sent me a picture of this bridge and asked if I dared drive across it. Looks like a drive through my marriage when my mother's visiting.

My Mom visits every Christmas and I can't remember the last relaxed christmas I've had. Women are so territorial. If they were dogs, they'd be pissing all over the place.

We have peace, but it's a tense, uneasy peace, like at the Korean DMZ. Participants in our Six Party Talks comprise myself, the two dogs, my two daughters and one of the two antagonists. The dogs have turned out to be the best diplomats; saying as little as possible and wagging your tail a lot seems to be key in preventing any major international incident.

I've learned and emulated this winning strategy. One finds wisdom in the most unlikely places.

Happy (Holi)days


Happy Holidays, folks.

I can't say 'Merry Christmas' because some of you aren't  Christian and it might hurt your religious/atheist (pick one) sensibilities. At least that's what politically correct liberal secularists tell me.

For the same reason, I can't say 'Id Mubarak,' 'Happy Diwali.' or 'Happy Hanukkah' since some of you *are* Christian. 

I should spare a thought for those of you who may not even be having holidays. So let me rephrase my greeting: HAPPY DAYS.

This greeting could catch on because it works for every occasion, and non-occasion. Hallmark is gonna have fits. (Note to self: call broker, short Hallmark).

And this greeting works for everyone; surely, we all want Happy Days. The trick to World Peace is everyone wanting Happy Days for everyone else and willing to work towards that end, whether you buy the other guy's beliefs or not.

All I know is: I care for your well-being, I care only that you are good people, and that I have been—and can continue to count on being—a grateful recipient of your kindness and trust. So I wish you Happy Days, my Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Atheist and those-who-find-religion-when-the-market's-going-against-them friends. Happy Days.

---
The following is from Charlie Brown Christmas - Performed by the Cast of Scrubs

Buckle up, Charlies, I'll tell you what Christmas is all about. Here's the deal newbies:

You can stuff your stockings with shinny little things from now till you grow testicles but until that stocking is filled with love and devotion, well, it's just plum empty.

And no, you can't purchase those things at Bora Ashley, and, no, you can't win them in the Redbook Giveaway Extravaganza, and, gee, I'm sorry these aren't things you can wind-up and watch spin for eight hours.

Let me make this exceptionally clear: Christmas is about love. You can't live without other people's love. Not during Christmas, not ever.

So go spend that time with your friends and family. And if they laugh at you, laugh with 'em. And if they laugh again, hit 'em and go find some new friends. But for the love of God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph and is techni-colored dream coat, don't ever, ever forget this, newbie: you have to give love to get love. So start givin'. Now.