The case for prom

My prom date

In the midst of post exam activities, I can't help but find the whole prom hoo-ha the most frivolous of activities for anyone of this frivolous age to partake in. And that speaks volume, because my post exam activities are as facetious as frivolity gets. Sometimes nothing goes on my mind for hours. For example, I left off the last sentence five hours ago and now it's 1 AM.

In our mindless pursuits to capture moments in time of our Sunday bests on a Monday with equally or more attractive members of the opposite sex, we often fail to recognise the equally or more subtractive effects on our wallets. As enticing as the stimulation of the economy sounds, I don't give a shit because there is little trickle-down effect. Always the rich people trickling the poor's money and the poor getting trickled. And call me a cheapskate if you want, because we live in a democratic country and that comment does not constitute slander. But my feelings will be hurt, and I will probably talk to you less in future. More importantly, screw you; it's not your money you're spending.

Then I have to justify the spending and the formality to my mother. So I tell her it's for prom. Then she asks me why am I dressing up for a simple fare of seafood. So I said ma, prom not prawn; it's short for promenade. Then she asks me why am I wearing a suit for a fruit. So I said no ma that's a pomegranate.

Okay i ran out of juice.

Nah, not really.

WTF? THIS POST SUCKS!

Mindblown

From here:

The way your family trees severely collapses when you look back a reasonable (<50) number of generations. I hope this explanation is clear:

You have two parents, four grandparents, eight great-grandparents, and so on. In general, if you look n generations back, there are 2^(n+2) people who are your (n-great)-grandparents.

Let's generously say a generation is 30 years. If you look back 40 generations, to around the year 800 C.E., you have 2^42 (40-great)-grandparents. That's well over four trillion people, more people than were alive in 800 C.E. by several orders of magnitude. More people than have ever been alive.

The reason this is possible: If you looked at a list of your 2^42 40-great-grandparents, you'd see duplicates. In fact, each name would show up around 10,000 times, possibly even more. So your (mom's mom's dad's mom's ... dad) is the same as your (dad's mom's dad's dad's ... dad), and in fact your can trace your ancestry to that guy in about 10,000 different ways.

 I have nothing funny to add. Sorry.

I know I should be studying,

But lately I have been occupied by very random thoughts.

Eating seedless fruits one day, I found the whole process of evolution counterintuitive. Darwin would probably flip in his grave. You see, the whole point of having seeds in the first place is for the fruit to ensure its long term viability as a species, so technically, a fruit full of seed is a fruitful plant. However it seems as though the only purpose for the existence of fruits nowadays is to appease human gluttony, and our lazy asses have made us spiteful of the presence of seeds. So we breed the seedless varieties. Seedless oranges, seedless grapes, and props to anyone who successfully creates the seedless durian. So seedlessness is now a virtue, not a bane to a species' continued survival. Which on another note, is absolutely confounding as to how they even reproduce now. I tried burying a seedless grape three months ago but the plot is still bare.

I guess my point is, evolution is ultimately influenced by irrational human wants, but even then this still does not explain why fat people are still around.

Exam stress

It's been awhile since I've tried putting my thoughts into words.

Aasihdoiadiha  dsfhashodihfowe gjoijdfogqwnqnsas doizisdnanw dabnlshiofge asdnlncsaa.

A-Level Stress

A typical conversation between 2 students going to take the A-levels soon:

Person A: Working hard?
Person B: Hardly working.

Idiotic idioms and frail phrases

"Needless to say"

THEN WHY STILL SAY IT?

Dumbass.

Retractation

Remember this? I stand corrected.

Because apparently, with a budget high enough, you can churn out a blockbuster dealing with the exact same subject matter that I once decried. Inception was damn bloody good.

With that being said, I still do not want to hear about your stupid dream.

Peoples Less Fortunate Than Ourselves

NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP / NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN / NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND / AND DESERT YOU PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS

PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS

Since the dawn of mankind, we have engaged ourselves in a never-ending process of technological innovation and advancement.

Man has thoroughly inbred in his very essence the desire for acquiring ever-increasing amounts of material luxury. There is no inherent wrong in the quest for a comfortable existence, but oftentimes, we, citizens of the First World, are all too guilty of selfish indifference to those less fortunate than ourselves.

Did you know: that the wealthiest 20 % of the world consumes 76.6% of the world's wealth?

Did you know: that the poorest 20% consumes just 1.5%?

Did you know: that Frederick Arthur Whitaker, Civil Engineer-in-Chief to The Admiralty, was also a Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath and a Commander of the French Legion Of Honor?

By the way, did you know that the coolthingamajig "Listen" button at the top of this posts reads out the words in pictures too?

Amazing word recognition software there.

Click "Listen" and try it now!

GP

Today, a friend of mine told me that there was once a GP essay question that went like this: "what priorities would you advise a 21-year old to have in life?". I replied "S_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX" (fill in the blank). My friend said, "I hope it doesn't come out for prelims. You might fail =/"

i laughed.

and then i wondered what if that really happened....

Advertise with SMRT Media!

Because it is Creative!

Also because it is Creative!

Did I mention that advertising with SMRT Media is Creative?

It is very Creative!

The most pointless conversation topic anyone can come up with

Today while conversing with my mother, I had the sudden revelation that the most inane thing anybody can talk about is his/her dreams.

Before you call me a hypocrite and demand I explain this post, I will let your hear the explanation so you'll shut up. You want to know why I talked about my dream but decry the arbitrary nature of such exchanges? Because this is my blog and I never claimed that it will make any sense. Also I wrote it when I was confused and vulnerable.

Now on to my main thesis. A dream, as we all know, often exists in stark contrast with reality. Unless you met Jesus or John Lennon in it, your dream honestly does not bear any inherent value to the rest of the human race. A dream often represents something wildly incredible and unlikely to happen in real life, and the fact that you choose to narrate one of your dreams to somebody only serves further to proof that point. Think about it, if you dreamt of something that is likely to happen within the confines of boring reality, would you have remembered it, let alone tell it to a friend? Hence the only dreams that are told are the truly fantastically improbable ones. Which brings us to the next point.

Since your dream is not likely to occur, what is the point of telling me your dream? The audience will be foolishly led on, sometimes even naively hoping for it to become reality. It is a giant cocktease, much unlike the general elections. Nobody enjoys getting played. Hell, the last time some dude in the US decided to tell everyone about his dream, he pissed everyone off so bad he got assassinated.

Also, another contentious point against talking about dreams is the lack of accountability. How do I know that you just lack conversational skills and just came up with this purported dream to keep the conversation going? I will use the classic dream-dating complex to illustrate this conflict. This particular phenomena states that if you go around telling people you scored a date with a babe (falsely), somebody who has too much time will eventually expose your claim. However, if you tell others that you dreamt you scored a date with a babe, no one will discredit you.

Alright you got me, there is no classic dream-dating complex. I just made that up. But if I told you I dreamt that such a complex existed, it would have sounded less questionable. Therefore, dreams, being entirely a figment of the imagination of the human mind, lack a higher authority that validates their authenticity. You can't just look up a search engine and figure out whether or not John dreamt that he could fly or if Alice really went to Wonderland. Maybe you can in the future but right now we lack the technological expertise to harness such complex data.

So there exists these weird people who tell you stuff that they have construed to have happened to them in their nocturnal subconscious. Then there are the downright mad people whom, deciding that it is a story that holds so much conversational value, tell you dreams that happened to other people. Seriously, what the hell? This makes you go from listening to something that did not happen to someone, to listening to something that did not happen to someone from someone else other than the someone who had nothing happen to him. Zero relevance to anything whatsoever. Ergo, there really is no point to talking about something that has no point.

Keeping all that in mind, I have just made you read me talk about something that has no point being talked about with no point. But I made a point in doing so, my point being that there is no point in talking about pointless things with no point. So that's different.

I'm categorising this as part of an existentialist crisis/evaluation of things.

Hopes and dreams

Last night I dreamt that I went to a very quaint hawker centre. Then I ordered chicken rice from an old man who was most happy to serve me. "Eat first, pay me later," he said joyfully.

After the sumptuous meal I walked up to the store to pay for the food. Just as I pulled out the notes from my wallet, Bob Marley starts to sing Three Little Birds.

I woke up before I managed to hand the cash over.

Which is very plaguing.


Genuine questions (serious answers only):

1. Did the old man get my money?
2. If he didn't, how do I make sure he gets his $2.50?

This issue has left me very guilt-ridden and disturbed. Some side of me thinks that my dream self spontaneously disconnected and became lifeless upon my waking up, slumping on the ground and allowing the old man to receive payment, just as he should. Like in Avatar. However in such a situation I fear for the welfare of my dream body as it lies unattended. On the flip side, I also believe that this is not a very accurate model since I don't always reconnect to the same environment as when I left off previously. How then will I pay off my debt? Do I incur negative spiritual karma as a result of my premature awakening? Maybe I did, and when I pass away my soul will transcend only to become an old chicken rice seller in dreamland constantly getting fleeced by people who prematurely wake up. Dreamland chicken rice seller cheat for a cheated dreamland chicken rice seller, an eye for an eye.

This is worrying. The only way to resolve this is to attempt reconnecting back to my avatar in the same place
I shall take a nap.

Law and order

Yesterday while I was home, the doorbell rang. I went to the door and opened it.

"Hi my name is ______ and I'm from the Church of ________," a teenage boy said, "would you like to hear about the love of God?"

"Would you like to hear about the efficiency of the Singapore Police Force?"

He said no and I said no and I closed the door.

Common Tests

Let's salute heroes amongst us who dared to take that extra step to scoring worse while making our lives abit happier (through laughing at them)....

Life, exemplified by a Tampinesian incident

Pictured: Not Tampines

(via @victorllc)

Ha ha. MacPhersonian losers. Not the main focus of this post. (Like they ever were in anything in the first place)



Today, just like any good Tampinesian would, I stood up to the man and decided to boycott large money-grubbing corporations, making a conscious decision to patronize the local barbershop instead. Okay fine it was a hair salon. Alright alright I went there because they give haircuts for $3.80. Happy now?

Since back-to-school haircuts are part of the national culture, there was a crowd and I had to wait. You know the cheap fifty cent a ride machines that deface neighbourhoods islandwide? Fifty cents as in half a dollar, not the rapper. They call them kiddy rides the last time I checked. Imagine the paedophiles that poorly crafted term would attract.

Where was I again? Outside the barbershop. Just testing you. So I was sitting by one of those machines when a kid no more than 5 and a woman no less than 500 came along. Judging from their faces, she should have either been his grandmother or he her grandson. Which is actually the same thing. Event that followed shall be summarised in point form, for my narrating skills are worthy of a Pulitzer's and should not be wasted on you.

1. Boy gets on the kiddy ride
2. Boy simulates driving, although I was quite sure he thought he was actually driving. Kids these days are dumb.
3. Boy pesters granny
4. Granny, "You must be kidding me on the kiddy ride, kiddo."
5. Boy, "Though a kid I am and a kiddy ride I am on, I kid you not for this is one of the best ride kit a kid can ride and the greatest kite I can bid"
6. Granny, "Fair enough, here you go."

She promptly inserts a shiny coin into the coin slot, much unlike what you can do at the casinos, except that there is bound to be no payout. Silence. She investigates and everything seemed to be in place. Except that the damned music won't start and a good half of her dollar is consumed by the machine. Anguished, the lady bemoans cruel fate.

Then, the game is reversed and she chides the child. A string of I-told-you-sos and now-my-fifty-cents-is-gone followed. Read the six points above. Nowhere in hell did the lady tell him so. The boy was silent. Indignant to the harsh words of the elderly matriarch, he swivelled the steering wheel furiously, determined to get his ride by hook or crook. And determined he was, for I swear that if not for the hinges on the vehicle, the boy would have went all Tokyo Drift on them amateur motherbitches in the car/motorbike park up ahead.

Maligned and torned apart, he staged his protest. He sat there, vroomvrooming with a stone heart, oblivious to her desperate pleas for him to go home. After 20 minutes and when I'm quite sure he completed 50 laps and was in pole position, he finally decided it was time. What moved his strong-willed ass, you ask? The granny, tired from NTUC bag carrying had a stroke.

Of ingenuity. Stroke of ingenuity. She moved that descendant by acquiescing to his unwavering motor-madness. By successfully convincing him that they will get a bigger, better, and shinier ride that actually works "tomorrow, at Tampines Central", he was pleased and decided to seal the deal. He trudged home happily.

Only one minor detail.

Tampines Central has no kiddy rides. Not a single one at all.

At least the child got a headstart on the countless instances of injustice and disappointment that will plague his later life. Hold on tight, kid, for it's a hell of a ride.

Then I went in and got my haircut and it's terrible as usual.

PS: Kids are like apples and grandparents like worms. They are spoilt rotten.
PPS: Analogies are like the Italian team. They don't really work.

Mathematics

Mathematics is interesting. It provides a form of measure that enables us to quantify every single aspect of life. Twelve years of mathematics makes you really proficient in the discipline too. Yet applications to real life are rare, if any at all.

Take the world cup for a quick example. Given that there are two teams playing at each match and there always will be a better team based on the FIFA rankings, common sense would prevail and one would assume the better team to win. However the countless disappointments so far in the tournament only serve to disprove this notion of correlation, and that every statistical occurrence is random and unpredictable. Also for the fact that this has occurred for 100% of all matches, it goes to show that any mathematical prediction of events is unreliable and the best statisticians will be the punters who guess scores accurately each time. Hence my advocacy for their employment as mathematics teachers instead. However this is problematic and will be met with limited success since football betting is much better paying than teaching, especially when you are good at it.

Another related concept is probability. Often in the stats papers you see how the probability of students passing a test increases with increased amounts of studying time. Sounds like a simple enough thing to wrap your head around, you say. You mug your ass off, burning through notes with flaming skulls, finally marvelling in awe as you step into the exam hall. Yes! The odds are in my favour!

That is exactly how probability works. It's just not how reality works.

This ended more depressingly than I thought it would.

The Longest Shot

The shot worth taking the most in life is the longest shot...

We live life for its challenges.



Some overcome.



Some fail.



But in the end it still boils down to whether you took that first step. That first step to freedom, to pride, to becoming a champion. Are you the conqueror? Or are you one of the conquered? Those who have taken that step have probably either tasted sweet success or ended up in the shits. But whatever the case... take the step. For it is better to have tried and failed than never to have tried before.



The shot worth taking most in life is the longest shot...but maybe, just maybe, when you've made it the hoop doesn't seem so far anymore.

Biased movie reviews

As most would know, in the annual published rankings of cultural strength amongst Singaporean towns, our beloved Tampines placed a dismal 11th out of a possible thirteen towns. We had to do something about it. We have to get that 10th placing to fulfill the legacy that the Ten Brothers (please read our history if you're new) bestowed upon us.

Hence begat the question of how we should go about doing this. I was in the school library the other day and chanced upon local indie films. Not to be confused with local Indian films. Misinterpretation is a bad thing. Like when you order food, because the ones taking orders are usually elderly and quite possibly hard of hearing, and for the fact that 不要 sounds like 要 (seriously, it's just like you took a fart and said 要 in close succession), the mistake only sets into you when your tongue burns from the chilli that you clearly asked the auntie not to add. That stupid bitch. Realizing the implications of the Chinese language- more specifically, Mandarin- you try to converse in Hokkien, the de facto fifth national language. Then you realise it's worse, because the two vernaculars for want and dowan are ai and mai respectively, a 57% jump in phonetic similarity than their Mandarin counterparts, and 3 fold increase in incorrect orders being taken. So as most geniuses would suggest (actually me), just switch to English, save the trouble- after all, yes is like me and no is like a fugly person- worlds apart. At least audibly. The words, not me and the fugly person. Eager to put this new discovery to test, I replied a firm "no" when the mee pok lady (seriously, I didn't pork her) asked “要辣椒吗？”, complete with Chinese punctuation marks. So she replied “哈？你讲什么？” and I had no choice but to revert and say “不要辣椒” and she made the noodles and I went back with the noodles and cursed her ancestors when my mouth stung for the next three days.

So the watching of local films will definitely reinstate the glorious town back to its glorious tenth place in terms of cultural awareness, I thought. I borrowed and watched two of them, and herein lay my reviews of both. Funny, because review don't actually mean I go back and watch the show again, in fact I just write about the show, something I can do with my eyes closed and hence no viewing. Just like how I say I give you my two cents worth when my opinion probably isn't worth shit, and may in fact cost you since time is money. You get the idea.



Film #1: Kallang Roar

In the spirit of the World Cup (anyone who subscribed willing to adopt me?), I decided that this would be an appropriate and timely one.

The hell I was wrong. This made me not want to watch the World Cup. They say it's a tribute to the great players of old, featuring most of them and re-enacting key matches. But actors will be actors, and none could play football to save their lives. To be honest, none could act either. One actor/player looked like he went on the set right after he did the McDelivery advertisement, and for a moment I swear I wondered why they allowed two balls on the pitch. The film is as much of a tribute to the players as trampling on graves is for remembrance of the dead.








Film #2: The Carrot Cake Conversations

At first glance, this is a very act-atas show, the artsy fartsy kind that you will never watch unless you want to boost your hometown's cultural rankings. Just look at the poster. Without the knowledge of who the actors are you probably think it was a poster for a porno flick. And like all other spectra, both ends of the artistic spectrum will converge together in full circle, hence there really is no distinction between porn and fine art. As I start watching it, I realise; yeah, it is very pretentious indeed, most tell-tale sign being the slapped on accents. In fact, Adrian Pang's character was too cool for school that when he received a call and had the options to press yes, no, or mute, he had to take the uncharted course, promptly unwinding his car window and throwing the phone out instead. Bravo.

And then there is Andrea Fonseka's character of a prostitute in Geylang. Daughter of a carrot cake stall worker, yet perfectly articulate and full of charming wit, she charges $100 for an hour of her services. See the level of reality we are dealing with here? It is one thing to mislead, and entirely another to give desperate men such false hope. In short, it's like letting a girl watch High School Musical with ten Zac Efrons, but this is ten times more unrealistic.

 [related comic]

At one point in the show when Alaric Tay's character questions her about ambitions, Fonseka breaks into a sprightly monologue about how she's gonna sing blues etc etc, when we all know that the reply you get when you do the same to a real life local prostitute is “哈？你讲什么？”

Anyway, reading through the first line of the second paragraph prior to this, I have to clarify and disclaim any insinuations of me asserting that daughters of carrot cake stall workers cannot be perfectly articulate and full of charming wit. What I meant to say was that you, carrot cake stall worker's daughter, may or may not be articulate, just not perfectly, and you may or may not possess charming wit, just not full of it. I hope I cleared any doubts.

Another consequence of trying to be artistic and full of thought would be, well, the characters are always deep in thought. This makes for really long pauses at most parts of the movie, which I attempt to rectify by downloading the latest sound drivers. Then when I finished my download and maxed out my bandwidth, they resume their conversation. Assholes. If you cut the pauses the show is probably a fifth the entire length. It's like I started talking to you, and













only finished my sentence













here. Irritating? You bet.

Looking pass all that deliberate alienation of the local audience and deciphering through the accents, the storyline is actually quite nobbad. Not awe-inspiring but at least local production must give chance right?.

I ran out of steam.

Arrivederci.

Shit I caught the atas bug.

Stance against social deviancy

The recent spate of baby posts here is nothing short of excessive, since 0 is the recommended lifetime allowance for the maximum amount of baby posts allowed, and expressing 2 as a percentage of 0 drains my calculator's battery at an unprecedented rate.

Hence, audio ecstasy, I strongly suggest to rename yourself to pedo ecstasy.

Thank you, come again.

Another Japanese invention

Wanna be a superhero?

The importance of PE attire

Today I played football in my uniform.

I'm quite sure I won the wet shirt contest by the end of the day.

Today I teow you a story

This morning, I woke up upon hearing the sound of my phone alarm. Which was the tune of Bob Marley's Three Little Birds. Actually it was the song, because tunes don't have vocals and I'm quite sure that somebody's singing. Anyway reason for song choice is because the lyrics recursively asserts that everything's gonna be alright. It is a dishonest and unreliable assurance, but it is happy. I can live with that.

So. 8AM it was. Rise and shine. I started the computer and opened the topic list for CT2. Fifty-six frakkin topics. Revision has been a crawl the past few days and ground-covering was minimal due to procrastination, but I think I will leave that story for another day.

Dejected, I went to the bathroom to wash up. The glistening morning sun shone majestically. Almost naturally, I had the greatest of epiphanies at that very moment. It was as though the masters of the world collectively imparted the answers to the greatest mysteries ever. To me. Everything became crystal clear.

With an almost murderous streak in my eyes, I sprinted to my desk and picked off where I left. Things have never been this easy. In hindsight, each and every topic of the syllabus was child's play. I tormented elucidation questions and dried the bloodstream of differential equations, stepping over the rotting carcasses of graph functions. Nothing could stop me. Not even gravitation. I realised how misconstrued that statement was when I started floating up into the skies. As I accelerated uncontrollably, oxygen escaped my lungs as I very nearly escaped orbit. I'm too young. Death can wait. "ALRIGHT FINE GRAVITATION YOU CAN STOP ME!" I conceded.

Finally completing descent, I sat by the desk, feeling exhausted yet accomplished.

Wow.

I completed my revision.

More than that, I am going to excel. I knew it.

Bob Marley's jingle started flowing all around. "Don't worry, about a thing..." No shit indeed, I thought to myself smugly. The volume of that ditty started escalating to irritating levels. Disgruntled, I turned to snooze the alarm.

I SNOOZED THE ALARM?

Damn it, it was all a dream.

The Life Plan

I am a guest writer. Today I bring to you a rhyme. This goes out to all the J2s studying for their A levels....

THE LIFE PLAN

A levels coming must study,
everything is not funny.
Must make sure get into good uni,
so can grow up earn money.
Parents tell you what to be,
even join what company.
They tell you to go to Lee & Lee,
you say you want to count money at OCBC.
But they don't see what you see,
in your heart you're so empty.
But come on cheer up be happy,
it's only a couple more months till you're free.
And at that time you and I will be full of glee,
cos we're done with this boring process finally (:

The case against GP

So you think GP is the all-encompassing, multifarious discipline that will add substance to your otherwise mundane regurgitation of facts and formulae? That it will help you achieve greatness in life and it has been rightfully placed at the core of the MOE concentric circle thing?

Fig 1.1: A purported draft diagram from MOE.

Well it is time to wake up your idea, because you sound like a fag and your shit is all retarded.

Just look at Fig 1.1. It is clearly modelled after a freshly violated sphincter ani externus, very much representative of what GP, at the very core, is out to achieve upon us students (assrape). Also there exists the glaring mathematical incoherence in the diagrammatic illustration, for the outer shells still triumph the inner cores in 2-dimensional area. Hence there is also the likely possibility that this was drafted by a proponent of the GP curriculum, too stupid to use π(r₁² - r₂²) to notice sheer arithmetical fallacy in her deductions in the blind pursuit of logic. Why 'her'? Firstly, GP teachers are mostly female. Secondly, I stereotype- it's much faster.

Touted as means for students to develop critical thought and hence make sound decisions, it actually very barely effects us at all at any point in our lives. Policymakers are such a low percentage of the population, and since making sound decisions only applies to them, GP should be offered as an elective at age 50 and above. This elective should be made compulsory for nuclear physicists though.

To err is human and to forgive divine. Incorrect decisions as a result of unsound logical deductions are perfectly approved by god! In fact forgiving every stupid mistake made by yourself and others actually puts you in higher regard. Throw your EZlink down the drain? No problem, free replacement! Lost your passport in transit? No sweat, just go on through! Friend crashed your Lambo after borrowing it? Its okay! Insurance will cover it! As can be seen, a world like such is almost utopic.

Do your part for Utopia! Hand up blank scripts this Wednesday!

The case for ponning PE

In light of a recent spike in this trend, we will examine why people would sacrifice good old-fashioned physical activity for 2 hours of aimless time.

Well, you see there? I just answered the question. You get 2 hours of free time. In that amount of time, you can:

1. Study. Not trying to be a prude here but as a wise man once said, failing in secondary school poses little damage, whereas doing the same hurts like a bitch here in JC. Maturity is indeed sobering, especially in times of stupidity.
2. Eat. Food is awesome enough said.
3. Avoid injuries. As the saying goes, nothing is certain but death and taxes. What this translate into is the ignorance of the possibility of injury, heightened in times of physical activity. But this is something you know that you do not know, so at least you know something. What would be scary would be the things you do not know you do not know, which brings me to the story of

Today
The story of today is an interesting one. Just like the previous two, the wet weather allowed for the cancellation of assembly. Which is quite honestly a very arbitrary process just to disseminate information. You assemble, you listen to some crap you don't care about anyway, then you disassemble. Its just like playing with Lego blocks, but with less educational value. And lol to the word 'disseminate'; your mom gave birth to you because she couldn't disseminate in time. Oh, snap!

That was some serious digression. I think I have attention deficit disorder. Is that a cow?

That was some unprecedented digression. Continuing with the story of Today. With the cancellation of morning assembly, everyone were pon stars in their own rights. I bumbled along for PE, after ponning two in a fortnight, for the fact that I was guilt-ridden for having so much pon in my system. It just wasn't healthy. So, PE: touch rugby on the field; sounds awesome right?

Pictured: Rugby.

Not pictured: Touch rugby during PE

[Spoiler Alert!]

It sucked.

With the field drenched, we decided it would be cool to play barefoot.

[Spoiler Alert!]

It wasn't.

Even the, we decided we should be the men that we were and trudge on in the face of adversity. After all, what else could go wrong?

[Spoiler Alert!]

Everything.

With our shoes and socks removed and our feet naked, we reckoned that there would be more traction and grip, being closer to nature's design and shit, right?

[Spoiler Alert!]

There wasn't.

I should retire that gag. I have trouble finding the [ ] brackets on my keyboard. ( ) + -  & ; * % DAMN IT WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU

Hence to make a long story short and cut to the chase without beating about the bush and have the buddha jump over the wall, you know how they always say still water runs deep? Total bullshit. Puddles in the field were barely still and they sure weren't shallow either. Basically, touch rugby today was squishing around mud and sliding in it when you fail to brake comprehensively, which happens whether you want it or not when you start running at the speed I run at, which is pretty damn slow actually. Essentially, physics was defied today, where inertia existed only as a form of delusion into thinking you will eventually stop as you slide around at uncontrolled paces, clinging on to dear life. Wait, you aren't in control if you were sliding around in the first place, I apologise for my uninformed expression. Hence, as an advocate of energy conservation, I personally feel that malls and corporations should take heed and replace all escalators/travellators with mud slides- saves a bunch of energy and gets peoples' fat asses to have a bit of exercise.

When the final whistle blew, I stepped out of the war zone, belligerent. Stained with blotches of mud, I looked back at how I thought that PE was the missing ingredient to leading a balanced and wholesome curriculum. Ah, such naivete. With my newfound wisdom, pon PE I say. Frakking dirt and grime is not frakking worth it.

Peace.

Amen.

What happened to all the nice guys?

lifting spirits

Introduction
In light of the failing elevators in school, we have decided that something needs to be done. Here at TPGang, we are often misconstrued as social misfits and miscreants, but that is only because of our unorthodox (in comparison with the other elites) upbringing methods that landscape the fundamentals of Tampineian humility. In fact, it is this very breeding technique that has cultivated in us a refreshing point of view on most things, which culminates into our double existence as an think tank that provides alternative ideas to everyday problems. What our main existence is still yet to be determined.

That being said, before we start on the brainstorming, we have to dissolve the problem into smaller separate yet interlinked magnitudes. Very much like how Paul has his Wheel of Reasoning, and how there is also the Train of Thought, here we have Tam's Pines; where Tam was in fact the surname of the founder of our hometown, and Pines is a deliberate misspelling of the original word so as not to offend his mother-in-law.

The Problem
Without further ado, at the cusp of Tam's Pines would be the problem. What we have identified in recent times is a surprising decrease in load capacity of lift A in block A. With a plaque above the controls that proudly declares its year of manufacture along with its (theoretical) capacity of 20 persons, you would be lucky if it carries 8 guys up these days. Which brings me to a side note of how

The lift is a judgemental bitch
What can be worse than a mental person? A mental judge.
Once it becomes clear that there is no way in hell the door is going to close, stares are thrown in all directions. Queasiness are at insurmountable levels especially when most passengers do not know each other. However, here in the glorious institution, the courtesy to sacrifice yourself for the greater good is almost non-existent - after all, no elite in his right mind would trade off the chance at elevation with the momentary gratitude received for volunteering to mingle with the dirty peasants of Staircaseland. So now, there surfaces the interesting question, of whose factual accuracy has been constantly debated since the invention of arguments:

Who gets out?
I am sick of writing in prose so the following will be presented in the form of a flowchart.

Figure 1.1: Fate determinism of lift passenger

To summarise, in order to secure yourself a good place in that little room,

1. Be at one of the four corners
2. Don't be fat

These are tightly held trade secrets only divulged on select occasions. Please only spread when you have selected the occasion for when you want to divulge them.

Solutions
The workload solution:
With a clear understanding of the pertinent problems, we can come up with effective solutions. In a school like ours, a heavy workload is synonymous with our culture. Obviously this imposes upon us extra weight, which makes us heavier, which causes the lift to spoil faster. Equated mathematically,

Total mass M = g × (weight of person + weight of workload) × number of people

Which is pretty damn heavy. Taking g and weight of person to be constant, we still have to take into account the fact that the weight of workload is an increasing function with respect to time. And not forgetting, in some special scenarios, the person's weight is also an increasing function with respect to time. Hahaha fat piggish bastards.

Hence, the logical approach here would be to reduce workload. Not only does this solve the weight problem, it also reduces costs (by means of more efficacy and less maintenance required), a reason why Estate has restricted student usage of the elevators anyway. However, the central tenet of homework grumbles is and will be such a recurring theme on this blog that it will potentially bore readers and drive them away, so we have decided to skip it in its entirety. It will be included in the Appendix though, Sloman page 97 section III. I will not go through please read it on your own.

The better solution:
Scrap the mechanical and electronic aspects of the current elevators. Instead, if budgetary constraints permit, lifts A and B should be re-purposed to connect to each other via pulley system.

Figure 1.2: How traditional boring lifts work

Figure 1.3: Proposed re-purpose of current lifts

The methodology of these new creations are very simple. All the passengers have to do is to balance the weights of the two cars such that the passengers of each car can arrive at their respective destinations. When the system is established completely, a league-cup system can be put into place. Heaviest people get relegated weekly to remain at ground level at all times, constantly at the beck and call of the healthier ones to weight the new elevator system such that they can be raised to appropriate levels. Not only does this solve our root problem, this strategy also provides constant motivation for everyone to keep fit.

Okay done.

Prove the equation Mr Low = Ip Man

Today, while listening during the lecture on how to determine angles between a vector and a plane, my mind could not help but wander- for my mind has been conditionally reflexed to do so upon the mention of the word plane, because it represents aerial freedom. With the movies watched over the weekend still fresh in my head, I took a solid glance at my lecturer.

Holy shit. It was unmistakable. That unwavering confidence. That calm composure in the face of danger. The imposing yet approachable stature of a peaceful warrior. There was no other explanation. Mr Low is a modern incarnation of Bruce Lee's master.

In the spirit of the discipline of mathematics, I will prove the equation that is this post's namesake.

 

"Look! Elmo Sees a Christmas Tree!"

Hence, by the Laws of Photoelectric Induction, Maclaurin's senility, Hammer of Thor and Loincloths of He-Man and the Masters of the Universe,

RI(JC) Math Lecturer 

=

Ip Man (shown)

Convinced? You should be. With my newfound perspective and respect for this great Chinese hero, I looked up upon the stage, and this was what I saw.

 "a equals to lambda b. Hence a and b are parallel vectors." - Ip Man

Explanation for recent spate of inactivity

Very simple actually. Lack of time and lack of inspiration.

There you go.

Speaking of things to write about; remember the last time I talked about cliffhangers? Okay I won't make a fool out of you this time. I promise.

So here goes. You know what I love best about this seemingly simple yet elaborately intricate literary device? You never know when one is about to lurk behind and creep up in your face.

Faces. Saw a good one not too long ago. Which brings me to a great story. The other day, while I was on my daily commute back home, I witnessed before me the most exquisite looking female ever, embodying the lie that real estate agents have created in a bid to boost sales revenue- the girl next door. However, looks are deceiving for the simple fact that my only neighbour is a schizophrenic old man who mistakes the lift for a urinal. Again, great things happen in Tampines (by now you should be brought back to the scene on the bus, because I am not referring to the neighbour here). So there I was, awestruck, for she had the biggest, most exotic pair of

eyes I had ever seen.So, being the man that I was, I walked up to her confidently and said with my best baritone voice,"

(to be continued)

Factual findings from fictitious films. Fuck.

"Why is it pretty girls think they can treat people like crap and get away with it?"

"Centuries of reinforcement."

- (500) Days of Summer

Someone buy me this shirt

All other hoodies are inferior now.

Lets Learn German

Definitions

Here we see the importance of definitions. Which begs to remind us of the importance of expectations. If you have high targets set and you fail to achieve them, it is unavoidable to perceive yourself as a failure. So the utilitarian approach here would be to lower expectations to increase contentment. But when that happens, excellence will not usually be achieved. Long story short, we are always faced with the choice of hedonism or working towards long term greatness. However, while short term play makes you happy, it will screw your ass tomorrow and you will be sad; while similarly, working hard now will promise you a bright future, but by then would you be happy?

Well I'm stuck at Vectors Tutorial when my download of Glee just finished, so this thought was naturally bred, since the law of vectors imply that no matter how much you run about in paths or circles, there is zero distance and hence no work done if you land at your starting point, while Glee simply tells me to follow my dreams; basically two very conflicting messages. However, this unfortunately just led me to wasting more time, writing this.

Wow, this post turned out to be a lot more serious than I thought.

The A Level Guide To...

As members of the TP Gang we have constantly sought to observe and analyse the intricate social happenings within the community ( read: gossip) , coming up with various theories and formulas to explain why and how such social phenomenon happen, specialising of course in the profound and highly emphasised upon boy girl relationships in school. Hi, my name is soley, and I will be the main academic for this nonsense on Decaphilic Musings.

For today's post, we shall be examining key terms and phrases commonly used when topics of such nature come about.

Asexual: The intention of not wanting to get close to any girl to reap benefits or the like, mantaining healthy friendships with them. It is a lifestyle that some of us in the TPgang have chosen to adopt, as it spares us from much of the heartache that some of our friends face.

Okay i actually came up with only one sorry couldnt think of the rest at this point, BUT whenever i do i shall add it on. soz.

look out for more academic posts by soley aka asexual.

Sheltered toilets

Upon receiving notification of the latest upgrades going on in our school from CommzD, I couldn't help but draw inferences and allusions to life in RJ. The toilet makes for a good example. The new heated showers references the general trend of workload intensity. Turning the knob a little very often yields results of disproportionate magnitudes, with water temperatures reaching scalding levels in minute intervals, similar to how we suddenly realise we're in a shitload of assignments and tutorials right after you left them to frolic for a second. The 90% failure rate of the plastic locks in both the shower and toilet cubicles (I once walked into a construction worker, um, constructing something) tells us that whether you like it or not, you are constantly watched, so be on the alert and cover your ass. And of course, the sodomisingly high pressured ass sprayjets in the toilet cubicles as an alternative to the conventional toilet paper tells us that if you don't do your papers and get your paper (degree), you have to be quite literally, fucked in the ass. Alternatively you can just opt to leave without employing either means, a choice that gives you a blemished record along with a very foul stench.

Also, who can forget the increasing number of shelters being constructed? Very naturally, one would make the direct link to how we all are sheltered kids, a common assumption I'm too lazy to contest. And my train of thought just derailed, because I suddenly remembered how the downpour this afternoon had me running along the supposedly sheltered PAC corridor only to be drenched quite severely. For sensationalism I would say I slipped and fell, not before I saved two drowning damsels in distress. But because these did not happen, and credibility is an imperative requirement of professional journalism, I wouldn't. Point is, the shelters are a good call. Keep it up.

By the way, I really hate cliffhangers because they are

WEEEEEEEEEEEE

YAYYYYYYYYY

A momentous occasion

So that's our blog in it's full glory.

But "hark!", you say, for upon closer scrutiny, you realise that the stars have indeed aligned on the tender night, where a feat only surpassed by Tenzing and crunchiness no less than a tempura, has superceded our temperaments and temperate climate, with only far superior achievements to come in tandem. And shall it be a conquest ever so fond, it will tenure tenaciously in our memories.

For at the stroke of ten, in the tenth year of the millennium, in the temptress of an estate that is Tampines, we see:

Tempus edax rerum.

Tampons are temporary.

Iron Man 2

So that's Iron Man 2, which flies to Singapore this Friday.

Of course, here at tpgang we do not just go all fanboy overdrive at the mention of each piece of adrenaline-pumped popular culture. Instead, we make thought-provoking sociopolitical commentary masked as bullshit. It is simply unfortunate that most people take our writings at face value and pass it off as nothing more than plain bullshit, very much similar to how my hidden talent is still hidden till today.

So commences our sociopolitical commentary on this very cool looking upcoming film. Socially, Tony Stark, with his wealth, women, and widgets (gizmos don't start with w), is without a doubt cooler than most cool things known to man combined, except for absolute zero, which by the law of physics denote nothing to be cooler than. This scientific observation is in line with the physical tone taken by the film, and by that I do not mean how action-packed the films are, which they are, but rather the way they chose to glorify the wonders of the scientific discipline. Watching how Stark graduates summa cum laude, breaks barriers, and invents things that would come straight out of a sci-fi movie, my interest in physics is almost revived. As I reach out to my notes on Quantum Physics I, determined to miniaturise the arc reactor even further, it suddenly dawns upon me that it IS A GODDAMN SCI-FI FILM, so ha! Well played and good try, Hollywood.

Interestingly, the nearest person I could find sharing similar achievements to that of Stark's in Singapore is this guy, whom honestly comes off as a snob in showing his achievements (check out the comparison sheet). You have to admit he has the expertise and wealth (and hence the girls when put in the Singapore context), but Tony Stark would kick his ass to infinity with minimal work potential if he were on a third column in that comparison chart. Arc Reactor? NO. Impenetrable Atomic Armour from the Future? NO. Author of 'A' Level Worked Physics Solution? Oh wait.

Expanding on the point about how most local girls only have financial stability as a mate-choosing criteria, I think this is where we all can heave a sigh of relieve. You do notice that bringing back the example of Iron Man, we would expect Stark, with his wealth and suaveness (naive=naivete suave=suavete? Okay, apparently not), to be able to bed and fled every girl he sees and wants, right? Wrong. He had to painstakingly craft witty dialogue in order to get into that reporter's pants, which when converted into a form of a conversation map would have resulted in so many possibilities I would have just said screw it and went home to tighten the screws on my armour instead. But here in our glorious country the only statement you need to provide is your bank statement and you're on the way to blissful marriage. And why is that? Simple. The abundance of good looking men in America only gives women more freedom of choice. Opportunity costs are high and they can afford to go for the best. However in Singapore, handsome guys are low in supply, simply because they are capital intensive and even then, there is a high chance that handsome guys might be substitutes to females (instead of being complements, because they are gay). Although we do not engage in the most handsomeness-efficient production methods, the desirable outcome generated here is how ladies wouldn't be picky because they simply can't be. So guys, advice is to stay consistently ugly, because only then will this mate-guaranteeing trend continue to prevail. At the same time, however, there is a worrying phenomena of globalization and specialization of trade occurring, which is most evident from the growing number of Caucasiophillic local women. If you're some hot shot, hot blooded, hot angmoh with cold hard cash, good for you- you won the girl fair and square. But quite often when you see middle-aged, bald-patched angmohs with a pretty young thing on the train (hence not rich), dropping hair as fast as the Circle Line (which is pretty damn fast), the thought of how a fast track to riches would be to set up a Singaporean bride agency in Angmohland never fails to cross your mind. Which brings me to my strong urge to the government to implement protectionistic policies to marriage right now. With their insatiable needs, women are bound to become more fastidious in their demands, and soon the nation will see herself saddled with problems faced by similar nations with a high male concentration ratio. Rape, homosexuality and homosexual rape just to name a few.

If I had time I would go on further about how Iron Man can solve the current political crisis in Bangkok, and I do. But then I realised, what the hell, Iron Man is red, and hence would be mistakenly regarded as a political naysayer. Then I also realised that Iron Man has quite a bit of yellow on him, so he would be taken for as a supporter of the King. Which is very desirable as his show of allegiance for both sides, coupled with his superhuman powers, would be more than able to bring peace and compromise to their ongoing troubles. However, transiting at Europe to refuel for his flight to Thailand, the volcano of Eyjafjallajökull erupted and caused all flights to be cancelled. So my solution would be to burn every Thais retinas so that they become colour blind and just see grey and will go "oh what is this new group for?" then you turn and nonchalantly tell them "world peace, dickwad". Then they realise everyone is grey and there is great success.

Wow, blogging is tiring.

Introductory Message

Greetings peasant, welcome to our humble abode. Before we begin, let us bring you a story of how we came to being.

As with all creation, there is formation, and as with all formation, there should be fornication. However, this is not the case with TP Gang, for we are all youthful, handsome, yet straight males. Although sexuality, a topic very captivating and commercially viable, will be a majorly recurring theme in the posts to come, our handsomeness and straightness have minimal incidence whatsoever on this episode that covers our origins. Just take note of that fact for now.

Remember the classic Chinese tale of the Ten Brothers, thought by many (inaccurately) as a cheap knock-off of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs? In actuality, Disney actually bought creative rights to the original story and spun it off, this time adding a fair maiden and the white prince, which then as we all know went on to become one of the most profitable franchises of modern animation history. Hence, we again witness the power of sexuality. Without the sexy temptress that is Snow White, nobody in his right mind would watch the Seven Dwarfs. That emotional need to possess feelings of superiority in height had already been filled by the Oompa Loompas of Roald Dahl. Or more simply the country of Japan.

Ignoring that short bit of digression, the tale of the Ten Brothers is one that is quite interesting. As most local peasants are incorrectly informed, our town's etymology that is this blog's namesake is the result of the abundant species of Ironwood trees. What you don't know and the government has spent years to cover up is the fact that the legendary Ten Brothers actually emigrated to Singapore (then known as 南洋, to them anyway) in the 1950s. However, luck was running low for them as 1st brother got incarcerated for outrage of modesty while peering around with his binocular eyes one day. 5th brother was on the Air Force's red alert with his constant uncontrolled bouts of sudden aviation without official permit. 9th brother with his big mouth and loud voice had it worst; his political activism often saw him tried in court for contempt of state. In a final act of defiance, the Ten Brothers simultaneously pulled their pants down to their ankles and ran around, finally culminating in the heterolytic (hence not gay) fusion (not fission) of their phalluses (don't ask me why), before getting frozen in time and turning into the landlocked landmass that we know of as Tampines today. True story.

Which logically explains why Avenue 7 is so damn long (7th brother was the tall one), and Avenue 10 always floods (10th brother is the crying one). Why Avenue 1 always experiences traffic jams still remains an unsolved mystery.

And this painstakingly condensed archive just about covers the beginnings of our hometown, or the origins of our origins (say that five times in a row).

Toodles.