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indeed aligned on the tender night, where a feat only surpassed by Tenzing and crunchiness no less than a tempura, has superceded our temperaments and temperate climate, with only far superior achievements to come in tandem.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.