More Bloglitics.
If you write about people gloating over their first cheques from Google AdSense, people are gonna get upset thinking you have something against people who put up Adsense on their blogs.
If you write about the Singaporean blog culture being mature, people are gonna say you think Malaysian bloggers are immature.
If you write about Singaporean bloggers being treated more seriously in their country, people are gonna say you think Malaysian bloggers are inferior.
If you befriend Xiaxue, people will think you are Xiaxue.
If you attempt to find out what good points the Singaporean blogosphere have over the Malaysian blogosphere, people will think you’re trying to complain, or compare, or change. And change = very bad.
In short, don’t write anything good about Singapore, or Australia, or about any other countries. Or else people will think you have something against your own country.

Because I was misunderstood when I wrote in long proper English sentences, I hereby write my reaction to that in short simple English.
Head -> Wall
Gun -> Temple
Knife -> Heart
*sigh* At least I still have friends.

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Today’s date is 20th June 2005. Nice date, 20062005.
I’m sure there’s something important that’s supposed to happen today. Something to do with ‘XiaXue’ Wendy Cheng Yan Yan. An “interblog marriage” perhaps. Hmm. Dunno. Can’t remember. 😉
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My name is Kenny. The name on my birth certificate is my Chinese name, Sia Tze Foo, but people always call me Kenny. I had studied in Chinese schools before, but my classmates and teachers still called me Kenny. Which is fine because I reckon Kenny sounds heckuva lot better than Tze Foo.
Since my Chinese name is my official name, Sia Tze Foo appeared on all my official documents – from my passport, to my identity card, my Bachelor’s degree, my driver’s license, my phone bills, my credit card, and so on.

Sometimes I was called Mr Foo

This became a problem when I headed over to Australia. See, when I use Sia Tze Foo in Malaysia people know that my last name is Sia and my first name Tze Foo – ie, surname first, followed by your first name.
But them Aussies don’t do business like that. According to their system, your first name comes first, followed by your surname. So, Sia Tze Foo in Malaysia becomes Tze Foo Sia in Australia. But because of the way we write our Chinese name (we write it as Tze Foo, instead of Tze-Foo or TzeFoo), they automatically assumed that Tze is my first name and Foo is my middle name.
In other words, my name was mutilated into Tze F. Sia… or worse, Tze Sia. And that sucks because they don’t know how to pronounce the word “Tze”. I used to have a gym instructor who gets very excited everytime he sees me and says “Hey, how ya doing today, ZEE!?” Very annoying.

But at least mine is not that bad. I used to know a guy whose surname is ‘Yew’, first name ‘Fook Ping’.
And they called him ‘Fook Yew’. That poor bastard.
Another thing I find irritating is people pronouncing the surname ‘Tan’ as ‘Ten’ instead of ‘Ta-an’ (although technically speaking, ‘Ten’ is correct. I’ve also seen Jeff Ooi’s name incorrectly typed as Jeff OII. Sounds very wrong. It instantaneously transformed him from Malaysia’s Most Influential Blogger to Malaysia’s Most Abused Pasar Malam Boy.

Come to think of it, Chinese surnames can sometimes be a source of laughter in Western countries. The Chinese surname of ‘Huang’ (Yellow) is sometimes written as Bong. But if you introduce yourself as Mr Bong on the dodgy streets of Australia, people are gonna ask if you have any marijuana and the police might send you to jail overnight.
I remember I used to go to high school with someone whose surname is Loo. Then there’s a Miss Kok during my Uni years. That poor girl. Wonder how many times people mistaken her for a transvestite.
But all these pale in comparison to the most unfortunate surname in Chinese history – Ho.

Saw this ad in the paper sometime back. Sounds like who 50 Cents and Nelly would call when they need to renovate their homes. Don’t you think?

Go on. Try telling them they have ‘puffy nipples’.

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Here’s a trivia for you. Why is it that ‘XiaXue’ Wendy Cheng doesn’t want to marry F4’s Jerry Yan?

Because she doesn’t want to be known as Mrs Yan Yan Yan.

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They’re supposed to sit for their final exams next week, but Irene and IngHui couldn’t care less. Instead of piling on books and burying their faces into lecture notes, the two devils took advantage of Curtin Miri’s week-long study break to drop by Kuching for holidays, so I met up with them.

I’ve known Irene for a while now, but its my first time meeting IngHui since I met her online few months ago. Its interesting hanging out with these two. We met up for cheesecakes at Tom’s and hearing the two girls yak about their shall-we-say “extracurricular activities” is easily the most amusing thing I get to witness. Sometimes I think they’re betraying the female population talking about the things they talked about in front of me. And they weren’t even drunk.
Wednesday night is ladies night, where the girls get free drinks and the guys get to ogle at the girls who came here for free drinks. The three of us initially agreed to go pubbing together as the two girls will be flying back to Miri soon. But alas, they “let go of aeroplane” on me for better plans, and I ended up at the pub alone. Very pathetic.

Actually, having a quiet drink alone isn’t as loserish as it looks. I was sipping vodka in my little corner, observing the dynamics in the room, when suddenly something struck me. Have you ever noticed the types of people who come to pubs are almost identical everywhere?
Just look at their image, their attire, their body language. Its very actually very easy to sort these people into categories. Here’s what I did.

1) The resident pub dwellers

You know the ones. It seems like everytime you visit the pub, they’re there. No, not the staff. I’m talking about people who go to these pubs so often its almost as if they’re part of their furniture. They always stay till late and they’re always saying “Hi!” to people every 2 or 3 minutes. I wonder if they listed the pub as their postal address.

2) The underaged kids

This ones are easy to spot. First of all, they look WAY too damn young to even be drinking. They huddle around the table as if they’re having dinner, sitting there looking very bored, yawning, or even sleeping.
Little Annie probably told her mommy she went out for movies with friends, but here she is dazed and drunk after half glass of Tiger Beer. Why do they go to the pub if its so damn boring? I don’t know, probably because drinking is the cool thing to do.

3) The popular girls

You know her. The popular girl is super chio, nice bod, great top, long legs, thick lashes, million-dollar smile, sashaying in whilst all the guys go ga-ga. The guys she hang out with line up to buy drinks for her and she accepts, winking back at them cheekily, their hearts melt. She enjoys making the guys fall for her, but she doesn’t want anything to do with them. That’s because she most probably has a boyfriend somewhere.
The guys there have no chance. All her girl friends want to get on her good side, but they secretly bitch and backstab her because they’re all jealous of the fact that she steals all the guys’ hearts away.
4) The weird loner who drinks vodka in a quiet corner silently using his camera to take photos of everyone else in the pub, most probably to publish them onto his blog later or something.

Yea, stay away from him.

5) The popular guys

You know him. The popular guy is tall, handsome, big arms, perky butt, spiky hair, million-dollar smile, surrounded by an aura of suaveness.
He’s also very rich but that’s because he’s spending a lot of his father’s money because you always see him walking in and out of the private VIP room with the popular girls. All the girls secretly want to have hot steamy sex with him and all the guys are jealous of him but they’re not as vindicative about it because they get to have free drinks off him.

6) The rich businessmen

These guys are clearly a little too old for a pub filled with 20-somethings. Sometimes they’re seen together with the resident pub dwellers, but most of the time they’re just standing there still like a monument. They are very generous alright, ordering Chivas by the bottle and shouting everyone free drinks.
They shamelessly flaunt their wealth, because they can. At the end of the night all they want to do is to get into the pants of a girl young enough to be their daughter. And sadly for us, they usually succeed.

7) The desperate single males

Sit around, beer in one hand, popular girl walks in, eyes lit up, approach her? Nabeh… boyfriend look very fierce, got tattoo one. Waiting waiting waiting, watch soccer on TV, sip another beer, vampy little nymphette walks in. Wah her clothes so terror! Approach her? Don’t want lah, too shy. Take another sip, watch somemore soccer, aiya stupid Beckham dunno how to kick, miss the goal completely! CCB.
Waseh one chio bu just walked past me, fuyohhhh, check out the boobs on her. Aiyo how come the boyfriend so fugly, bad taste, dirty dancing some more. Dance with me lah! Haiyah. Finish drinking liaw. Buy another beer? Fuck lah no money. Tiu, so boring, no girls one. Better go home, wank and sleep lah.

8) The vampy little nymphettes
These small, young and petite little girls are helluva easy to spot. They usally come in wearing a top one-inch too low, a skirt one-inch too short, and ended up looking like Bai Ling on a bad hair day.

I don’t deny that they are sexy mamas with a sizzling hot bodies to boot. Its just that when the slut-factor is turned up way too high, good taste turns sour, clouds turn grey and birds fall off the sky. All the girls hate her and all the guys pretend to hate her whilst they stare at her cleavage.
The vampy little nymphettes will act like divas, cigarettes in one hand, alcohol on the other, coldly rejecting any attempt to start a conversation. Unless you’re the rich businessman, the popular guy, or an angmoh, in which case they’ll latch on to you like koala bears, virtually begging you to bring them home.
Those lucky bastards.

The original ‘Ang Mo’.

I know racism is a boh liao topic but please just bear with me one last time. 🙂
First off, apologies in advance to non-Chinese/Hokkien readers. This entry will be written from a Chinese guy’s point of view so much of this entry might not be entirely comprehensible. Also for this entry only I shall use ‘we/us’ to refer to Chinese and ‘them’ to refer to Caucasians.
Its quite interesting to read the suggestions some commenters have come up with to replace the Hokkien word ‘Ang Mo’ for Caucasians. Its also interesting to note that no one have yet come up with a solution to call Caucasians without making references to their skin colour, their hair colour, or by calling them ghosts.

Try calling her gwei-lo. Or rather, gwei-lui.

I know the word ‘Ang Mo’ is not meant to be deragotory, and most Caucasians don’t mind being called ‘Ang Mo’ or ‘Pek Lang’ or ‘Gwei Lo’. After all, those are colloquial terms instilled in our mind since young. But colloquialism is not an excuse for racism.
Put it this way, how would you like to be called a ‘Yellow people’ or a ‘Ching-Chong-Chang’ when you’re overseas? I know I wouldn’t be very happy if a Caucasian were to call me a ‘Ching-Chong-Chang’ instead of an ‘Asian’. So how come when we call them ‘Ang Mo’ its ok because its colloquial, but when they call us ‘Yellow people’ we think its racist? Those words are similar what!
I don’t understand. We can call Dayaks ‘La Kia’, Indians ‘Kek Leng Nga’, and Malays ‘Hua Na’ (not the little girl Huang Na, ok). YET, there are NO words to call Caucasians or Africans without making references to their skin colours. What is wrong with us Chinese!? We’re even funny enough to call ourselves ‘Terng Lang’ when clearly we are not the longest people on this planet!
Actually I do have a body part that’s very long. But that’s besides the point.

Yao Ming. The original ‘Terng Lang’. The girl in the picture is Coco Lee. She’s the cousin of my balls, Coco Nuts.

There’s a few people who suggested that calling Caucasians ‘Ang Mo’ is not accurate. ‘Ang Mo’ literally means ‘red hair’ but Caucasians are mostly blonde or brunette. We should call them ‘Kim Mo’ (gold hair) or ‘Chocolate Mo’ (brown hair) respectively instead. Then again, looking at the number of people dying their hair these days, I think calling a Caucasian ‘Kim Mo’ is also no longer accurate.

Anita Sarawak is not an Ang Mo leh.

Jeff Yen suggested that instead of calling them ‘Ang Mo’, maybe we can be more specific by referring them to their nationality. So we avoid the skin colour issue by calling them American (Bee-kok lang), or British (Ying-kok lang), or Australian (Oh-jiu lang). Of course that wouldn’t work right? Everybody knows these countries are actually quite multi-racial. Just because someone is American, doesn’t mean the person is Caucasian.

Snoop Doggy Dog clearly is not Ang Mo.

So how?
Here’s where I propose a solution. We need to create a new word. Let’s put an end to Chinese people calling Caucasians by their hair or skin colour!
Notice how some Chinese words are created from English words?
Like how ‘Mahathir’ is 马哈迪(Ma Ha Di) and ‘George W Bush’ is 不死(Bu Si)?
Let’s just translate the word ‘Caucasian’ to Chinese then.
Caucasian = Kou Ke Xian = 口渴先= Thirsty First
Caucasian = Gou Gu Xian = 狗骨先= Fresh Dog Bones
Caucasian = Ku Gua Xian = 苦瓜仙= Bittergourd Angel
Ugh… hopeless. I think I’ll just stick to calling them ‘Ang Mo’ for the time being.
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I’m a big fan of Quentin Tarantino’s black comedy Pulp Fiction.

I thought the scene where Samuel L Jackon’s character (a hired assassin) uttered out a passage from the Bible before opening fire on his victim was a classic. Its so grim yet so funny. I never took his character in the other his movies seriously since.
Like the one in Star Wars.

I can’t help it!

Racism in Malaysia is a recurring topic that often crops up in people’s blogs every 2 – 3 months.
It is an important topic. But frankly speaking, the topic has been done to death. Every man, woman, uncle, auntie, ang moh, cina, malay, Ah Beng, Ah Seng, and Hello Kitty have all written a blog entry on Racism in Malaysia. In fact, I think a Malaysian blog isn’t a Malaysian blog until you’ve written something about racism.

Even expats like ShaolinTiger wrote about racism in Malaysia. (No actual Shaolin tigers were harmed in the photoshopping of this photo)

Recently, the discussion on racism cropped up again after an e-mail from a so-called ‘very frightened Malaysian abroad’. Click here if you want to read it in full, but here’s a heavily-shortened version.

Dear Mr Ooi,
I have been meaning to pen some thoughts for some time now, to let people actually read the views of the typical ‘overseas Malaysian’ who is kept away.
I accepted a Malaysian government scholarship to study at Oxford University [and later] Harvard University for postgraduate study.
Now I am 31 years old and draw a comfortable monthly salary of US$22,000. Yet, I yearn to return home. I miss my home, my family, my friends, and the life in Malaysia. But of late, my idealistic vision of my country has really come crashing down.
I read about the annual fiasco involving non-bumiputera top scorers who are denied entry to critical courses at local universities and are offered forestry and fisheries instead.
I read about a poor Chinese teacher’s daughter with 11A1’s being denied a scholarship, while I know some Malay friends who scored 7A’s and whose parents are millionaires being given scholarships.
I read about the Malay newspaper editors attacking the private sector for not appointing enough Malays to senior management level, whilst insisting that the government always ensure that Malays dominate anything government-related.
I read that at our local universities, not a single Vice-Chancellor or Deputy Vice-Chancellor is non-Malay.
I read about a poor Indian lady having to pay full price for a low-cost house after being dispossessed from a plantation, whilst Malay millionaires demand their 10% bumiputera discount when buying RM2 million bungalows in a gated community.
As I read all this, I tremble with fear. I love my country and long to return. I am willing to take a 70% pay cut. I am willing to face a demotion. But really, is there a future for me, for my children and for their children? I am truly frightened.
I can deal with the lack of democracy, the lack of press freedom, the ISA, our inefficient and bureaucratic civil service, our awful manners and even a little corruption. But I cannot deal with racism in my homeland.
Yours sincerely,
A very frightened Malaysian abroad

After reading that email, my first reaction was “Wah! USD22,000 per month ar? Tio boh?”
But seriously speaking I can empathise with the guy. I’m lucky I don’t have to deal with racism in my everyday life because for some reason I seem to get along with all races very well. I’d like to think of myself as one who embraces cultural differences and I’d like everyone else to do that too.
The only instance I got accused of being a racist was when I wrote about Star Wars: Revenge of the Sikh, which is odd considering I was blasting the AiFM Chinese radio presenter.
Then there’s also once in Australia, an ang moh workmate of mine asked me why I call them ‘ang mo’, since the words ‘ang mo’ and ‘gwei lo’ are intrinsically racist. I stared at him with my mouth wide open as I struggled to find a less racist word for ‘Caucasian’ in Hokkien.

Its a different story when you talk about the Malaysian government, or ‘gahmen’, if you like. Digressing a little – I have no idea why some people insist on calling ‘government’ as ‘gahmen’. Here in Kuching, we call them ‘garblement’ because that’s what they do. They keep on sending out garbled messages to us all the time.
So anyway, do I think the Malaysian garblement is racist? Unforunately yes. I’d even go as far as to say that the Malaysian garblement has more racist policies than the Australian garblement, which is saying a lot considering how Malaysia once cried out against Australia over their ‘racist’ immigration policies and treatment of refugees.
But is it a surprise? Hardly. What do you expect when the ruling party ever since Malaysia’s independance is a Malay race-based political party called UMNO?

“Let no one from the other races ever question the rights of Malays on this land. Don’t question the religion because this is my right on this land.” – Badruddin, UMNO Deputy Chairperson
“Eh hello. I’m born here so its also my right to be here also wat. So hao lian for what?” – Kenny Sia, Blogger.

Btw, I always thought the name ‘UMNO’ for a political party is kinda cute. Can you imagine what their caucus sessions are like?

UMNO Minion: “Prai Minster! Prai Minster! Can we adopt another policy to increase our bumi discount to 30% pleaseee?”
Prime Minister: “UM… NO.”
UMNO Minion: “Then 20% can?”
Prime Minister: “UM. NO!”
UMNO Minion: “15%?”
Prime Minister: “UMNO!!!”
UMNO Minion: “Mmmk. :(“

Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against pro-Bumi policies. Before Mahathir, a lot of Malays are living well below the poverty line. Look at them now, how many of them can go onto Universities and finally afford their own cars?
The wealth gap between Chinese and Malay had been far too wide for far too long, and I think its a bloody good thing that the situation for Malays has improved to the way it is today. A country like Malaysia needs pro-Bumi policies.

On the other hand, policies like these are exploited. By right, regardless of race, the poor and the needy should be the first in line to receive government assistance. But look at what’s happening. The richest Malays in this country are still receiving discounts when they buying houses. How about those who really need it? Clearly, something is wrong.
I’m happy pro-Bumi policies improved the welfare of Malays in this country. I’m happy that it quelled the 1969 racial riot.
But please give me a break lah. Pro-Bumi policies are supposed help the underprivileged bumiputeras stand on their own two feet, NOT hold their hand and walk the long hard road for them. Once they are rescued beyond the poverty line, its time for them to stop relying on the government and start working hard like everyone else to earn their place in society.
I believe Pro-Bumi policies exist as a privilege, not as a right. If these policies still continue to work in favour of the bumiputeras who don’t need it instead of non-bumiputeras who need it, that’s when pro-Bumi policies crossed to the Dark Side and become Racist policies.

Darth Badawi lives.

Do the leaders of this country know what’s wrong with their pro-Bumi policies? I’m sure they do.
But are they doing something about it? No. And I think it does not take a USD22,000-per-month salary to know why not.
The leader of this country is a Malay-race based political party. So long as there are Malays voting for them, they will always remain in power and they will always come up with pro-Malay policies to make their voters happy. Meanwhile, non-Malays will continue to cry foul. But they can’t do anything about it because they can never garner as many votes as the ruling party.
Its gonna take an UMNO leader with the balls of steel to risk losing votes and say to his supporters “Look, we’ve have done enough for you now. We’ve helped you out of poverty, but don’t worry if you fall because the government will always be here for you. You’re all grown up now so its time for you to stop relying on me and start working hard on your own.”
But until that happen, nothing is gonna change.

This is a sensitive topic and I urge everyone to practise vigilance when leaving comments. Meanwhile, I leave you with a question that’s been troubling me for a very very long time.
Is there anyone out there who can suggest to me a less racist version of ‘ang mo’ in Hokkien?

Just a short entry today. I’m off to Riverside Ciniplex to watch Revenge of the Sith in a few minutes time. Man I can’t wait I can’t wait I can’t wait!

Yes, everytime Star Wars come around I turn into a geeky little nerd having an orgasm at the sight of Yoda.
Ok lah, its not that bad.
You know what’s bad?
Visualise this. Back when I was at Curtin University, I walked past the Physics student common room one day only to catch the sight of fat pimply kids with thick glasses playing chess whilst they listened to the Star Wars Theme Music playing over the radio.
Mannnn I was so traumatised! Nothing against nerds of course. I fully admit I’m a nerd myself. But that scene was nerdiness to the n-th degree plus one integrated over the range of negative infinity to positive infinity. I’m not making this up, and yes, it really was THAT bad!

A while ago I wrote about how sick I am of businesses jumping on the Star Wars bandwagon and coming up with all these boring competitions and “limited-edition” stupid gimmicks? Well, since I’m in Star Wars mood and all, I’ve helped the following businesses come up with taglines they can use to torture us further.
Remember, you saw it first on kennysia.com!
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Beard Papa

ROTI BOY… I am your father!

Inspiration Alan Salon

The Force is strong with this one…

Khidmat Negara / National Service

Come… to THE DARK SIDE!

xiaxue.blogspot.com

For nights when you may need to perform HAN SOLO!

BreadTalk

May the FLOSSS Be With You!

Viagra

Lord Vader? (Yes, master?) RISEEEEEE!

Update: Just came back from the cinema. Without spoiling the movie for you, I can say that I felt very disturbed watching evil prevailing over good in this episode of Star Wars. Without a doubt this is the definitely best instalment of the series. You really have to watch the earlier episodes of Star Wars to fully appreciate it.
Some notable things that happened at the cinema:
– I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to bring in outside drinks. An attendant stopped me and said “Ini tidak boleh masuk”. But then I waved my right hand at him using my Jedi mind trick and replied “Boleh lah!” Surprisingly it worked.
– A group of three backpacking British youngsters sat to my right. One of them have very bad body odour emitting from his armpits. And he wore singlets. I sat beside him for the whole 2.5 hours of the movie. I almost activated my light sabre.
– Irritated by Yoda’s way of talking, I am. Bad English grammar, he has. Tuition, he needs. Backwards all the time, his words are. If Yoda has an email address, com.starwars@yoda it would be.
– I got annoyed very quickly by the amount of scenes involving ‘Jedi hanging on the ledge’ after a battle. Try to count how many times that happened in the entire series. George Lucas must have gotten a blowjob or something each time he put that scene in his movies.
Other than that, definitely movie-of-the-year material.