“世界上没有怕老婆的男人,只有疼老婆的男人”.
Ip Man
A famous Chinese Kungfu Master
(translated: in this world there is no man who is scared of his wife, only those who absolutely love them)
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Michael Jackson's Oxford Speech
Heal The Kids - Oxford Speech
Oxford University, March 2001 by Michael Jackson
Thank you, thank you dear friends, from the bottom of my heart, for such a loving and spirited welcome, and thank you, Mr President, for your kind invitation to me which I am so honoured to accept. I also want to express a special thanks to you Shmuley, who for 11 years served as Rabbi here at Oxford. You and I have been working so hard to form Heal the Kids, as well as writing our book about childlike qualities, and in all of our efforts you have been such a supportive and loving friend. And I would also like to thank Toba Friedman, our director of operations at Heal the Kids, who is returning tonight to the alma mater where she served as a Marshall scholar, as well as Marilyn Piels, another central member of our Heal the Kids team.
I am humbled to be lecturing in a place that has previously been filled by such notable figures as Mother Theresa, Albert Einstein, Ronald Reagan, Robert Kennedy and Malcolm X. I've even heard that Kermit the Frog has made an appearance here, and I've always felt a kinship with Kermit's message that it's not easy being green. I'm sure he didn't find it any easier being up here than I do!
As I looked around Oxford today, I couldn't help but be aware of the majesty and grandeur of this great institution, not to mention the brilliance of the great and gifted minds that have roamed these streets for centuries. The walls of Oxford have not only housed the greatest philosophical and scientific geniuses - they have also ushered forth some of the most cherished creators of children's literature, from J.R.R. Tolkien to CS Lewis. Today I was allowed to hobble into the dining hall in Christ Church to see Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland immortalised in the stained glass windows. And even one of my own fellow Americans, the beloved Dr Seuss graced these halls and then went on to leave his mark on the imaginations of millions of children throughout the world.
I suppose I should start by listing my qualifications to speak before you this evening. Friends, I do not claim to have the academic expertise of other speakers who have addressed this hall, just as they could lay little claim at being adept at the moonwalk - and you know, Einstein in particular was really TERRIBLE at that.
But I do have a claim to having experienced more places and cultures than most people will ever see. Human knowledge consists not only of libraries of parchment and ink - it is also comprised of the volumes of knowledge that are written on the human heart, chiselled on the human soul, and engraved on the human psyche. And friends, I have encountered so much in this relatively short life of mine that I still cannot believe I am only 42. I often tell Shmuley that in soul years I'm sure that I'm at least 80 - and tonight I even walk like I'm 80! So please harken to my message, because what I have to tell you tonight can bring healing to humanity and healing to our planet.
Through the grace of God, I have been fortunate to have achieved many of my artistic and professional aspirations realised early in my lifetime. But these, friends are accomplishments, and accomplishments alone are not synonymous with who I am. Indeed, the cheery five-year-old who belted out Rockin' Robin and Ben to adoring crowds was not indicative of the boy behind the smile.
Tonight, I come before you less as an icon of pop (whatever that means anyway), and more as an icon of a generation, a generation that no longer knows what it means to be children.
All of us are products of our childhood. But I am the product of a lack of a childhood, an absence of that precious and wondrous age when we frolic playfully without a care in the world, basking in the adoration of parents and relatives, where our biggest concern is studying for that big spelling test come Monday morning.
Those of you who are familiar with the Jackson Five know that I began performing at the tender age of five and that ever since then, I haven't stopped dancing or singing. But while performing and making music undoubtedly remain as some of my greatest joys, when I was young I wanted more than anything else to be a typical little boy. I wanted to build tree houses, have water balloon fights, and play hide and seek with my friends. But fate had it otherwise and all I could do was envy the laughter and playtime that seemed to be going on all around me.
There was no respite from my professional life. But on Sundays I would go Pioneering, the term used for the missionary work that Jehovah's Witnesses do. And it was then that I was able to see the magic of other people's childhood.
Since I was already a celebrity, I would have to don a disguise of fat suit, wig, beard and glasses and we would spend the day in the suburbs of Southern California, going door-to-door or making the rounds of shopping malls, distributing our Watchtower magazine. I loved to set foot in all those regular suburban houses and catch sight of the shag rugs and La-Z-Boy armchairs with kids playing Monopoly and grandmas baby-sitting and all those wonderful, ordinary and starry scenes of everyday life. Many, I know, would argue that these things seem like no big deal. But to me they were mesmerising.
I used to think that I was unique in feeling that I was without a childhood. I believed that indeed there were only a handful with whom I could share those feelings. When I recently met with Shirley Temple Black, the great child star of the 1930s and 40s, we said nothing to each other at first, we simply cried together, for she could share a pain with me that only others like my close friends Elizabeth Taylor and McCauley Culkin know.
I do not tell you this to gain your sympathy but to impress upon you my first important point : It is not just Hollywood child stars that have suffered from a non-existent childhood. Today, it's a universal calamity, a global catastrophe. Childhood has become the great casualty of modern-day living. All around us we are producing scores of kids who have not had the joy, who have not been accorded the right, who have not been allowed the freedom, or knowing what it's like to be a kid.
Today children are constantly encouraged to grow up faster, as if this period known as childhood is a burdensome stage, to be endured and ushered through, as swiftly as possible. And on that subject, I am certainly one of the world's greatest experts.
Ours is a generation that has witnessed the abrogation of the parent-child covenant. Psychologists are publishing libraries of books detailing the destructive effects of denying one's children the unconditional love that is so necessary to the healthy development of their minds and character. And because of all the neglect, too many of our kids have, essentially, to raise themselves. They are growing more distant from their parents, grandparents and other family members, as all around us the indestructible bond that once glued together the generations, unravels.
This violation has bred a new generation, Generation O let us call it, that has now picked up the torch from Generation X. The O stands for a generation that has everything on the outside - wealth, success, fancy clothing and fancy cars, but an aching emptiness on the inside. That cavity in our chests, that barrenness at our core, that void in our centre is the place where the heart once beat and which love once occupied.
And it's not just the kids who are suffering. It's the parents as well. For the more we cultivate little-adults in kids'-bodies, the more removed we ourselves become from our own child-like qualities, and there is so much about being a child that is worth retaining in adult life.
Love, ladies and gentlemen, is the human family's most precious legacy, its richest bequest, its golden inheritance. And it is a treasure that is handed down from one generation to another. Previous ages may not have had the wealth we enjoy. Their houses may have lacked electricity, and they squeezed their many kids into small homes without central heating. But those homes had no darkness, nor were they cold. They were lit bright with the glow of love and they were warmed snugly by the very heat of the human heart. Parents, undistracted by the lust for luxury and status, accorded their children primacy in their lives.
As you all know, our two countries broke from each other over what Thomas Jefferson referred to as "certain inalienable rights". And while we Americans and British might dispute the justice of his claims, what has never been in dispute is that children have certain inalienable rights, and the gradual erosion of those rights has led to scores of children worldwide being denied the joys and security of childhood.
I would therefore like to propose tonight that we install in every home a Children's Universal Bill of Rights, the tenets of which are:
1. The right to be loved without having to earn it
2. The right to be protected, without having to deserve it
3. The right to feel valuable, even if you came into the world with nothing
4. The right to be listened to without having to be interesting
5. The right to be read a bedtime story, without having to compete with the evening news
6. The right to an education without having to dodge bullets at schools
7. The right to be thought of as adorable - (even if you have a face that only a mother could love).
Friends, the foundation of all human knowledge, the beginning of human consciousness, must be that each and every one of us is an object of love. Before you know if you have red hair or brown, before you know if you are black or white, before you know of what religion you are a part, you have to know that you are loved.
About twelve years ago, when I was just about to start my Bad tour, a little boy came with his parents to visit me at home in California. He was dying of cancer and he told me how much he loved my music and me. His parents told me that he wasn't going to live, that any day he could just go, and I said to him: "Look, I am going to be coming to your town in Kansas to open my tour in three months. I want you to come to the show. I am going to give you this jacket that I wore in one of my videos." His eyes lit up and he said: "You are gonna GIVE it to me?" I said "Yeah, but you have to promise that you will wear it to the show." I was trying to make him hold on. I said: "When you come to the show I want to see you in this jacket and in this glove" and I gave him one of my rhinestone gloves - and I never usually give the rhinestone gloves away. And he was just in heaven.
But maybe he was too close to heaven, because when I came to his town, he had already died, and they had buried him in the glove and jacket. He was just 10 years old. God knows, I know, that he tried his best to hold on. But at least when he died, he knew that he was loved, not only by his parents, but even by me, a near stranger, I also loved him. And with all of that love he knew that he didn't come into this world alone, and he certainly didn't leave it alone.
If you enter this world knowing you are loved and you leave this world knowing the same, then everything that happens in between can he dealt with. A professor may degrade you, but you will not feel degraded, a boss may crush you, but you will not be crushed, a corporate gladiator might vanquish you, but you will still triumph. How could any of them truly prevail in pulling you down? For you know that you are an object worthy of love. The rest is just packaging.
But if you don't have that memory of being loved, you are condemned to search the world for something to fill you up. But no matter how much money you make or how famous you become, you will still fell empty. What you are really searching for is unconditional love, unqualified acceptance. And that was the one thing that was denied to you at birth.
Friends, let me paint a picture for you. Here is a typical day in America - six youths under the age of 20 will commit suicide, 12 children under the age of 20 will die from firearms - remember this is a DAY, not a year - 399 kids will be arrested for drug abuse, 1,352 babies will be born to teen mothers. This is happening in one of the richest, most developed countries in the history of the world.
Yes, in my country there is an epidemic of violence that parallels no other industrialised nation. These are the ways young people in America express their hurt and their anger. But don't think that there is not the same pain and anguish among their counterparts in the United Kingdom. Studies in this country show that every single hour, three teenagers in the UK inflict harm upon themselves, often by cutting or burning their bodies or taking an overdose. This is how they have chosen to cope with the pain of neglect and emotional agony.
In Britain, as many as 20% of families will only sit down and have dinner together once a year. Once a year! And what about the time-honoured tradition of reading your kid a bedtime story? Research from the 1980s showed that children who are read to, had far greater literacy and significantly outperformed their peers at school. And yet, less than 33% of British children ages two to eight have a regular bedtime story read to them. You may not think much of that until you take into account that 75% of their parents DID have that bedtime story when they were that age.
Clearly, we do not have to ask ourselves where all of this pain, anger and violent behaviour comes from. It is self-evident that children are thundering against the neglect, quaking against the indifference and crying out just to be noticed. The various child protection agencies in the US say that millions of children are victims of maltreatment in the form of neglect, in the average year. Yes, neglect. In rich homes, privileged homes, wired to the hilt with every electronic gadget. Homes where parents come home, but they're not really home, because their heads are still at the office. And their kids? Well, their kids just make do with whatever emotional crumbs they get. And you don't get much from endless TV, computer games and videos.
These hard, cold numbers which for me, wrench the soul and shake the spirit, should indicate to you why I have devoted so much of my time and resources into making our new Heal the Kids initiative a colossal success.
Our goal is simple - to recreate the parent/child bond, renew its promise and light the way forward for all the beautiful children who are destined one day to walk this earth.
But since this is my first public lecture, and you have so warmly welcomed me into your hearts, I feel that I want to tell you more. We each have our own story, and in that sense statistics can become personal.
They say that parenting is like dancing. You take one step, your child takes another. I have discovered that getting parents to re-dedicate themselves to their children is only half the story. The other half is preparing the children to re-accept their parents.
When I was very young I remember that we had this crazy mutt of a dog named "Black Girl," a mix of wolf and retriever. Not only wasn't she much of a guard dog, she was such a scared and nervous thing that it is a wonder she did not pass out every time a truck rumbled by, or a thunderstorm swept through Indiana. My sister Janet and I gave that dog so much love, but we never really won back the sense of trust that had been stolen from her by her previous owner. We knew he used to beat her. We didn't know with what. But whatever it was, it was enough to suck the spirit right out of that dog.
A lot of kids today are hurt puppies who have weaned themselves off the need for love. They couldn't care less about their parents. Left to their own devices, they cherish their independence. They have moved on and have left their parents behind.
Then there are the far worse cases of children who harbour animosity and resentment toward their parents, so that any overture that their parents might undertake would be thrown forcefully back in their face.
Tonight, I don't want any of us to make this mistake. That's why I'm calling upon all the world's children - beginning with all of us here tonight - to forgive our parents, if we felt neglected. Forgive them and teach them how to love again.
You probably weren't surprised to hear that I did not have an idyllic childhood. The strain and tension that exists in my relationship with my own father is well documented. My father is a tough man and he pushed my brothers and me hard, from the earliest age, to be the best performers we could be.
He had great difficulty showing affection. He never really told me he loved me. And he never really complimented me either. If I did a great show, he would tell me it was a good show. And if I did an OK show, he told me it was a lousy show.
He seemed intent, above all else, on making us a commercial success. And at that he was more than adept. My father was a managerial genius and my brothers and I owe our professional success, in no small measure, to the forceful way that he pushed us. He trained me as a showman and under his guidance I couldn't miss a step.
But what I really wanted was a Dad. I wanted a father who showed me love. And my father never did that. He never said I love you while looking me straight in the eye, he never played a game with me. He never gave me a piggyback ride, he never threw a pillow at me, or a water balloon.
But I remember once when I was about four years old, there was a little carnival and he picked me up and put me on a pony. It was a tiny gesture, probably something he forgot five minutes later. But because of that moment I have this special place in my heart for him. Because that's how kids are, the little things mean so much to them and for me, that one moment meant everything. I only experienced it that one time, but it made me feel really good, about him and the world.
But now I am a father myself, and one day I was thinking about my own children, Prince and Paris and how I wanted them to think of me when they grow up. To be sure, I would like them to remember how I always wanted them with me wherever I went, how I always tried to put them before everything else. But there are also challenges in their lives. Because my kids are stalked by paparazzi, they can't always go to a park or a movie with me.
So what if they grow older and resent me, and how my choices impacted their youth? Why weren't we given an average childhood like all the other kids, they might ask? And at that moment I pray that my children will give me the benefit of the doubt. That they will say to themselves: "Our daddy did the best he could, given the unique circumstances that he faced. He may not have been perfect, but he was a warm and decent man, who tried to give us all the love in the world."
I hope that they will always focus on the positive things, on the sacrifices I willingly made for them, and not criticise the things they had to give up, or the errors I've made, and will certainly continue to make, in raising them. For we have all been someone's child, and we know that despite the very best of plans and efforts, mistakes will always occur. That's just being human.
And when I think about this, of how I hope that my children will not judge me unkindly, and will forgive my shortcomings, I am forced to think of my own father and despite my earlier denials, I am forced to admit that me must have loved me. He did love me, and I know that.
There were little things that showed it. When I was a kid I had a real sweet tooth - we all did. My favourite food was glazed doughnuts and my father knew that. So every few weeks I would come downstairs in the morning and there on the kitchen counter was a bag of glazed doughnuts - no note, no explanation - just the doughnuts. It was like Santa Claus.
Sometimes I would think about staying up late at night, so I could see him leave them there, but just like with Santa Claus, I didn't want to ruin the magic for fear that he would never do it again. My father had to leave them secretly at night, so as no one might catch him with his guard down. He was scared of human emotion, he didn't understand it or know how to deal with it. But he did know doughnuts.
And when I allow the floodgates to open up, there are other memories that come rushing back, memories of other tiny gestures, however imperfect, that showed that he did what he could. So tonight, rather than focusing on what my father didn't do, I want to focus on all the things he did do and on his own personal challenges. I want to stop judging him.
I have started reflecting on the fact that my father grew up in the South, in a very poor family. He came of age during the Depression and his own father, who struggled to feed his children, showed little affection towards his family and raised my father and his siblings with an iron fist. Who could have imagined what it was like to grow up a poor black man in the South, robbed of dignity, bereft of hope, struggling to become a man in a world that saw my father as subordinate. I was the first black artist to be played on MTV and I remember how big a deal it was even then. And that was in the 80s!
My father moved to Indiana and had a large family of his own, working long hours in the steel mills, work that kills the lungs and humbles the spirit, all to support his family. Is it any wonder that he found it difficult to expose his feelings? Is it any mystery that he hardened his heart, that he raised the emotional ramparts? And most of all, is it any wonder why he pushed his sons so hard to succeed as performers, so that they could be saved from what he knew to be a life of indignity and poverty?
I have begun to see that even my father's harshness was a kind of love, an imperfect love, to be sure, but love nonetheless. He pushed me because he loved me. Because he wanted no man ever to look down at his offspring.
And now with time, rather than bitterness, I feel blessing. In the place of anger, I have found absolution. And in the place of revenge I have found reconciliation. And my initial fury has slowly given way to forgiveness.
Almost a decade ago, I founded a charity called Heal the World. The title was something I felt inside me. Little did I know, as Shmuley later pointed out, that those two words form the cornerstone of Old Testament prophecy. Do I really believe that we can heal this world, that is riddled with war and genocide, even today? And do I really think that we can heal our children, the same children who can enter their schools with guns and hatred and shoot down their classmates, like they did at Columbine? Or children who can beat a defenceless toddler to death, like the tragic story of Jamie Bulger? Of course I do, or I wouldn't be here tonight.
But it all begins with forgiveness, because to heal the world, we first have to heal ourselves. And to heal the kids, we first have to heal the child within, each and every one of us. As an adult, and as a parent, I realise that I cannot be a whole human being, nor a parent capable of unconditional love, until I put to rest the ghosts of my own childhood.
And that's what I'm asking all of us to do tonight. Live up to the fifth of the Ten Commandments. Honour your parents by not judging them. Give them the benefit of the doubt.
That is why I want to forgive my father and to stop judging him. I want to forgive my father, because I want a father, and this is the only one that I've got. I want the weight of my past lifted from my shoulders and I want to be free to step into a new relationship with my father, for the rest of my life, unhindered by the goblins of the past.
In a world filled with hate, we must still dare to hope. In a world filled with anger, we must still dare to comfort. In a world filled with despair, we must still dare to dream. And in a world filled with distrust, we must still dare to believe.
To all of you tonight who feel let down by your parents, I ask you to let down your disappointment. To all of you tonight who feel cheated by your fathers or mothers, I ask you not to cheat yourself further. And to all of you who wish to push your parents away, I ask you to extend you hand to them instead. I am asking you, I am asking myself, to give our parents the gift of unconditional love, so that they too may learn how to love from us, their children. So that love will finally be restored to a desolate and lonely world.
Shmuley once mentioned to me an ancient Biblical prophecy which says that a new world and a new time would come, when "the hearts of the parents would be restored through the hearts of their children". My friends, we are that world, we are those children.
Mahatma Gandhi said: "The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong." Tonight, be strong. Beyond being strong, rise to the greatest challenge of all - to restore that broken covenant. We must all overcome whatever crippling effects our childhoods may have had on our lives and in the words of Jesse Jackson, forgive each other, redeem each other and move on.
This call for forgiveness may not result in Oprah moments the world over, with thousands of children making up with their parents, but it will at least be a start, and we'll all be so much happier as a result.
And so ladies and gentlemen, I conclude my remarks tonight with faith, joy and excitement.
From this day forward, may a new song be heard.
Let that new song be the sound of children laughing.
Let that new song be the sound of children playing.
Let that new song be the sound of children singing.
And let that new song be the sound of parents listening.
Together, let us create a symphony of hearts, marvelling at the miracle of our children and basking in the beauty of love.
Let us heal the world and blight its pain.
And may we all make beautiful music together.
God bless you, and I love you.
Oxford University, March 2001 by Michael Jackson
Thank you, thank you dear friends, from the bottom of my heart, for such a loving and spirited welcome, and thank you, Mr President, for your kind invitation to me which I am so honoured to accept. I also want to express a special thanks to you Shmuley, who for 11 years served as Rabbi here at Oxford. You and I have been working so hard to form Heal the Kids, as well as writing our book about childlike qualities, and in all of our efforts you have been such a supportive and loving friend. And I would also like to thank Toba Friedman, our director of operations at Heal the Kids, who is returning tonight to the alma mater where she served as a Marshall scholar, as well as Marilyn Piels, another central member of our Heal the Kids team.
I am humbled to be lecturing in a place that has previously been filled by such notable figures as Mother Theresa, Albert Einstein, Ronald Reagan, Robert Kennedy and Malcolm X. I've even heard that Kermit the Frog has made an appearance here, and I've always felt a kinship with Kermit's message that it's not easy being green. I'm sure he didn't find it any easier being up here than I do!
As I looked around Oxford today, I couldn't help but be aware of the majesty and grandeur of this great institution, not to mention the brilliance of the great and gifted minds that have roamed these streets for centuries. The walls of Oxford have not only housed the greatest philosophical and scientific geniuses - they have also ushered forth some of the most cherished creators of children's literature, from J.R.R. Tolkien to CS Lewis. Today I was allowed to hobble into the dining hall in Christ Church to see Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland immortalised in the stained glass windows. And even one of my own fellow Americans, the beloved Dr Seuss graced these halls and then went on to leave his mark on the imaginations of millions of children throughout the world.
I suppose I should start by listing my qualifications to speak before you this evening. Friends, I do not claim to have the academic expertise of other speakers who have addressed this hall, just as they could lay little claim at being adept at the moonwalk - and you know, Einstein in particular was really TERRIBLE at that.
But I do have a claim to having experienced more places and cultures than most people will ever see. Human knowledge consists not only of libraries of parchment and ink - it is also comprised of the volumes of knowledge that are written on the human heart, chiselled on the human soul, and engraved on the human psyche. And friends, I have encountered so much in this relatively short life of mine that I still cannot believe I am only 42. I often tell Shmuley that in soul years I'm sure that I'm at least 80 - and tonight I even walk like I'm 80! So please harken to my message, because what I have to tell you tonight can bring healing to humanity and healing to our planet.
Through the grace of God, I have been fortunate to have achieved many of my artistic and professional aspirations realised early in my lifetime. But these, friends are accomplishments, and accomplishments alone are not synonymous with who I am. Indeed, the cheery five-year-old who belted out Rockin' Robin and Ben to adoring crowds was not indicative of the boy behind the smile.
Tonight, I come before you less as an icon of pop (whatever that means anyway), and more as an icon of a generation, a generation that no longer knows what it means to be children.
All of us are products of our childhood. But I am the product of a lack of a childhood, an absence of that precious and wondrous age when we frolic playfully without a care in the world, basking in the adoration of parents and relatives, where our biggest concern is studying for that big spelling test come Monday morning.
Those of you who are familiar with the Jackson Five know that I began performing at the tender age of five and that ever since then, I haven't stopped dancing or singing. But while performing and making music undoubtedly remain as some of my greatest joys, when I was young I wanted more than anything else to be a typical little boy. I wanted to build tree houses, have water balloon fights, and play hide and seek with my friends. But fate had it otherwise and all I could do was envy the laughter and playtime that seemed to be going on all around me.
There was no respite from my professional life. But on Sundays I would go Pioneering, the term used for the missionary work that Jehovah's Witnesses do. And it was then that I was able to see the magic of other people's childhood.
Since I was already a celebrity, I would have to don a disguise of fat suit, wig, beard and glasses and we would spend the day in the suburbs of Southern California, going door-to-door or making the rounds of shopping malls, distributing our Watchtower magazine. I loved to set foot in all those regular suburban houses and catch sight of the shag rugs and La-Z-Boy armchairs with kids playing Monopoly and grandmas baby-sitting and all those wonderful, ordinary and starry scenes of everyday life. Many, I know, would argue that these things seem like no big deal. But to me they were mesmerising.
I used to think that I was unique in feeling that I was without a childhood. I believed that indeed there were only a handful with whom I could share those feelings. When I recently met with Shirley Temple Black, the great child star of the 1930s and 40s, we said nothing to each other at first, we simply cried together, for she could share a pain with me that only others like my close friends Elizabeth Taylor and McCauley Culkin know.
I do not tell you this to gain your sympathy but to impress upon you my first important point : It is not just Hollywood child stars that have suffered from a non-existent childhood. Today, it's a universal calamity, a global catastrophe. Childhood has become the great casualty of modern-day living. All around us we are producing scores of kids who have not had the joy, who have not been accorded the right, who have not been allowed the freedom, or knowing what it's like to be a kid.
Today children are constantly encouraged to grow up faster, as if this period known as childhood is a burdensome stage, to be endured and ushered through, as swiftly as possible. And on that subject, I am certainly one of the world's greatest experts.
Ours is a generation that has witnessed the abrogation of the parent-child covenant. Psychologists are publishing libraries of books detailing the destructive effects of denying one's children the unconditional love that is so necessary to the healthy development of their minds and character. And because of all the neglect, too many of our kids have, essentially, to raise themselves. They are growing more distant from their parents, grandparents and other family members, as all around us the indestructible bond that once glued together the generations, unravels.
This violation has bred a new generation, Generation O let us call it, that has now picked up the torch from Generation X. The O stands for a generation that has everything on the outside - wealth, success, fancy clothing and fancy cars, but an aching emptiness on the inside. That cavity in our chests, that barrenness at our core, that void in our centre is the place where the heart once beat and which love once occupied.
And it's not just the kids who are suffering. It's the parents as well. For the more we cultivate little-adults in kids'-bodies, the more removed we ourselves become from our own child-like qualities, and there is so much about being a child that is worth retaining in adult life.
Love, ladies and gentlemen, is the human family's most precious legacy, its richest bequest, its golden inheritance. And it is a treasure that is handed down from one generation to another. Previous ages may not have had the wealth we enjoy. Their houses may have lacked electricity, and they squeezed their many kids into small homes without central heating. But those homes had no darkness, nor were they cold. They were lit bright with the glow of love and they were warmed snugly by the very heat of the human heart. Parents, undistracted by the lust for luxury and status, accorded their children primacy in their lives.
As you all know, our two countries broke from each other over what Thomas Jefferson referred to as "certain inalienable rights". And while we Americans and British might dispute the justice of his claims, what has never been in dispute is that children have certain inalienable rights, and the gradual erosion of those rights has led to scores of children worldwide being denied the joys and security of childhood.
I would therefore like to propose tonight that we install in every home a Children's Universal Bill of Rights, the tenets of which are:
1. The right to be loved without having to earn it
2. The right to be protected, without having to deserve it
3. The right to feel valuable, even if you came into the world with nothing
4. The right to be listened to without having to be interesting
5. The right to be read a bedtime story, without having to compete with the evening news
6. The right to an education without having to dodge bullets at schools
7. The right to be thought of as adorable - (even if you have a face that only a mother could love).
Friends, the foundation of all human knowledge, the beginning of human consciousness, must be that each and every one of us is an object of love. Before you know if you have red hair or brown, before you know if you are black or white, before you know of what religion you are a part, you have to know that you are loved.
About twelve years ago, when I was just about to start my Bad tour, a little boy came with his parents to visit me at home in California. He was dying of cancer and he told me how much he loved my music and me. His parents told me that he wasn't going to live, that any day he could just go, and I said to him: "Look, I am going to be coming to your town in Kansas to open my tour in three months. I want you to come to the show. I am going to give you this jacket that I wore in one of my videos." His eyes lit up and he said: "You are gonna GIVE it to me?" I said "Yeah, but you have to promise that you will wear it to the show." I was trying to make him hold on. I said: "When you come to the show I want to see you in this jacket and in this glove" and I gave him one of my rhinestone gloves - and I never usually give the rhinestone gloves away. And he was just in heaven.
But maybe he was too close to heaven, because when I came to his town, he had already died, and they had buried him in the glove and jacket. He was just 10 years old. God knows, I know, that he tried his best to hold on. But at least when he died, he knew that he was loved, not only by his parents, but even by me, a near stranger, I also loved him. And with all of that love he knew that he didn't come into this world alone, and he certainly didn't leave it alone.
If you enter this world knowing you are loved and you leave this world knowing the same, then everything that happens in between can he dealt with. A professor may degrade you, but you will not feel degraded, a boss may crush you, but you will not be crushed, a corporate gladiator might vanquish you, but you will still triumph. How could any of them truly prevail in pulling you down? For you know that you are an object worthy of love. The rest is just packaging.
But if you don't have that memory of being loved, you are condemned to search the world for something to fill you up. But no matter how much money you make or how famous you become, you will still fell empty. What you are really searching for is unconditional love, unqualified acceptance. And that was the one thing that was denied to you at birth.
Friends, let me paint a picture for you. Here is a typical day in America - six youths under the age of 20 will commit suicide, 12 children under the age of 20 will die from firearms - remember this is a DAY, not a year - 399 kids will be arrested for drug abuse, 1,352 babies will be born to teen mothers. This is happening in one of the richest, most developed countries in the history of the world.
Yes, in my country there is an epidemic of violence that parallels no other industrialised nation. These are the ways young people in America express their hurt and their anger. But don't think that there is not the same pain and anguish among their counterparts in the United Kingdom. Studies in this country show that every single hour, three teenagers in the UK inflict harm upon themselves, often by cutting or burning their bodies or taking an overdose. This is how they have chosen to cope with the pain of neglect and emotional agony.
In Britain, as many as 20% of families will only sit down and have dinner together once a year. Once a year! And what about the time-honoured tradition of reading your kid a bedtime story? Research from the 1980s showed that children who are read to, had far greater literacy and significantly outperformed their peers at school. And yet, less than 33% of British children ages two to eight have a regular bedtime story read to them. You may not think much of that until you take into account that 75% of their parents DID have that bedtime story when they were that age.
Clearly, we do not have to ask ourselves where all of this pain, anger and violent behaviour comes from. It is self-evident that children are thundering against the neglect, quaking against the indifference and crying out just to be noticed. The various child protection agencies in the US say that millions of children are victims of maltreatment in the form of neglect, in the average year. Yes, neglect. In rich homes, privileged homes, wired to the hilt with every electronic gadget. Homes where parents come home, but they're not really home, because their heads are still at the office. And their kids? Well, their kids just make do with whatever emotional crumbs they get. And you don't get much from endless TV, computer games and videos.
These hard, cold numbers which for me, wrench the soul and shake the spirit, should indicate to you why I have devoted so much of my time and resources into making our new Heal the Kids initiative a colossal success.
Our goal is simple - to recreate the parent/child bond, renew its promise and light the way forward for all the beautiful children who are destined one day to walk this earth.
But since this is my first public lecture, and you have so warmly welcomed me into your hearts, I feel that I want to tell you more. We each have our own story, and in that sense statistics can become personal.
They say that parenting is like dancing. You take one step, your child takes another. I have discovered that getting parents to re-dedicate themselves to their children is only half the story. The other half is preparing the children to re-accept their parents.
When I was very young I remember that we had this crazy mutt of a dog named "Black Girl," a mix of wolf and retriever. Not only wasn't she much of a guard dog, she was such a scared and nervous thing that it is a wonder she did not pass out every time a truck rumbled by, or a thunderstorm swept through Indiana. My sister Janet and I gave that dog so much love, but we never really won back the sense of trust that had been stolen from her by her previous owner. We knew he used to beat her. We didn't know with what. But whatever it was, it was enough to suck the spirit right out of that dog.
A lot of kids today are hurt puppies who have weaned themselves off the need for love. They couldn't care less about their parents. Left to their own devices, they cherish their independence. They have moved on and have left their parents behind.
Then there are the far worse cases of children who harbour animosity and resentment toward their parents, so that any overture that their parents might undertake would be thrown forcefully back in their face.
Tonight, I don't want any of us to make this mistake. That's why I'm calling upon all the world's children - beginning with all of us here tonight - to forgive our parents, if we felt neglected. Forgive them and teach them how to love again.
You probably weren't surprised to hear that I did not have an idyllic childhood. The strain and tension that exists in my relationship with my own father is well documented. My father is a tough man and he pushed my brothers and me hard, from the earliest age, to be the best performers we could be.
He had great difficulty showing affection. He never really told me he loved me. And he never really complimented me either. If I did a great show, he would tell me it was a good show. And if I did an OK show, he told me it was a lousy show.
He seemed intent, above all else, on making us a commercial success. And at that he was more than adept. My father was a managerial genius and my brothers and I owe our professional success, in no small measure, to the forceful way that he pushed us. He trained me as a showman and under his guidance I couldn't miss a step.
But what I really wanted was a Dad. I wanted a father who showed me love. And my father never did that. He never said I love you while looking me straight in the eye, he never played a game with me. He never gave me a piggyback ride, he never threw a pillow at me, or a water balloon.
But I remember once when I was about four years old, there was a little carnival and he picked me up and put me on a pony. It was a tiny gesture, probably something he forgot five minutes later. But because of that moment I have this special place in my heart for him. Because that's how kids are, the little things mean so much to them and for me, that one moment meant everything. I only experienced it that one time, but it made me feel really good, about him and the world.
But now I am a father myself, and one day I was thinking about my own children, Prince and Paris and how I wanted them to think of me when they grow up. To be sure, I would like them to remember how I always wanted them with me wherever I went, how I always tried to put them before everything else. But there are also challenges in their lives. Because my kids are stalked by paparazzi, they can't always go to a park or a movie with me.
So what if they grow older and resent me, and how my choices impacted their youth? Why weren't we given an average childhood like all the other kids, they might ask? And at that moment I pray that my children will give me the benefit of the doubt. That they will say to themselves: "Our daddy did the best he could, given the unique circumstances that he faced. He may not have been perfect, but he was a warm and decent man, who tried to give us all the love in the world."
I hope that they will always focus on the positive things, on the sacrifices I willingly made for them, and not criticise the things they had to give up, or the errors I've made, and will certainly continue to make, in raising them. For we have all been someone's child, and we know that despite the very best of plans and efforts, mistakes will always occur. That's just being human.
And when I think about this, of how I hope that my children will not judge me unkindly, and will forgive my shortcomings, I am forced to think of my own father and despite my earlier denials, I am forced to admit that me must have loved me. He did love me, and I know that.
There were little things that showed it. When I was a kid I had a real sweet tooth - we all did. My favourite food was glazed doughnuts and my father knew that. So every few weeks I would come downstairs in the morning and there on the kitchen counter was a bag of glazed doughnuts - no note, no explanation - just the doughnuts. It was like Santa Claus.
Sometimes I would think about staying up late at night, so I could see him leave them there, but just like with Santa Claus, I didn't want to ruin the magic for fear that he would never do it again. My father had to leave them secretly at night, so as no one might catch him with his guard down. He was scared of human emotion, he didn't understand it or know how to deal with it. But he did know doughnuts.
And when I allow the floodgates to open up, there are other memories that come rushing back, memories of other tiny gestures, however imperfect, that showed that he did what he could. So tonight, rather than focusing on what my father didn't do, I want to focus on all the things he did do and on his own personal challenges. I want to stop judging him.
I have started reflecting on the fact that my father grew up in the South, in a very poor family. He came of age during the Depression and his own father, who struggled to feed his children, showed little affection towards his family and raised my father and his siblings with an iron fist. Who could have imagined what it was like to grow up a poor black man in the South, robbed of dignity, bereft of hope, struggling to become a man in a world that saw my father as subordinate. I was the first black artist to be played on MTV and I remember how big a deal it was even then. And that was in the 80s!
My father moved to Indiana and had a large family of his own, working long hours in the steel mills, work that kills the lungs and humbles the spirit, all to support his family. Is it any wonder that he found it difficult to expose his feelings? Is it any mystery that he hardened his heart, that he raised the emotional ramparts? And most of all, is it any wonder why he pushed his sons so hard to succeed as performers, so that they could be saved from what he knew to be a life of indignity and poverty?
I have begun to see that even my father's harshness was a kind of love, an imperfect love, to be sure, but love nonetheless. He pushed me because he loved me. Because he wanted no man ever to look down at his offspring.
And now with time, rather than bitterness, I feel blessing. In the place of anger, I have found absolution. And in the place of revenge I have found reconciliation. And my initial fury has slowly given way to forgiveness.
Almost a decade ago, I founded a charity called Heal the World. The title was something I felt inside me. Little did I know, as Shmuley later pointed out, that those two words form the cornerstone of Old Testament prophecy. Do I really believe that we can heal this world, that is riddled with war and genocide, even today? And do I really think that we can heal our children, the same children who can enter their schools with guns and hatred and shoot down their classmates, like they did at Columbine? Or children who can beat a defenceless toddler to death, like the tragic story of Jamie Bulger? Of course I do, or I wouldn't be here tonight.
But it all begins with forgiveness, because to heal the world, we first have to heal ourselves. And to heal the kids, we first have to heal the child within, each and every one of us. As an adult, and as a parent, I realise that I cannot be a whole human being, nor a parent capable of unconditional love, until I put to rest the ghosts of my own childhood.
And that's what I'm asking all of us to do tonight. Live up to the fifth of the Ten Commandments. Honour your parents by not judging them. Give them the benefit of the doubt.
That is why I want to forgive my father and to stop judging him. I want to forgive my father, because I want a father, and this is the only one that I've got. I want the weight of my past lifted from my shoulders and I want to be free to step into a new relationship with my father, for the rest of my life, unhindered by the goblins of the past.
In a world filled with hate, we must still dare to hope. In a world filled with anger, we must still dare to comfort. In a world filled with despair, we must still dare to dream. And in a world filled with distrust, we must still dare to believe.
To all of you tonight who feel let down by your parents, I ask you to let down your disappointment. To all of you tonight who feel cheated by your fathers or mothers, I ask you not to cheat yourself further. And to all of you who wish to push your parents away, I ask you to extend you hand to them instead. I am asking you, I am asking myself, to give our parents the gift of unconditional love, so that they too may learn how to love from us, their children. So that love will finally be restored to a desolate and lonely world.
Shmuley once mentioned to me an ancient Biblical prophecy which says that a new world and a new time would come, when "the hearts of the parents would be restored through the hearts of their children". My friends, we are that world, we are those children.
Mahatma Gandhi said: "The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong." Tonight, be strong. Beyond being strong, rise to the greatest challenge of all - to restore that broken covenant. We must all overcome whatever crippling effects our childhoods may have had on our lives and in the words of Jesse Jackson, forgive each other, redeem each other and move on.
This call for forgiveness may not result in Oprah moments the world over, with thousands of children making up with their parents, but it will at least be a start, and we'll all be so much happier as a result.
And so ladies and gentlemen, I conclude my remarks tonight with faith, joy and excitement.
From this day forward, may a new song be heard.
Let that new song be the sound of children laughing.
Let that new song be the sound of children playing.
Let that new song be the sound of children singing.
And let that new song be the sound of parents listening.
Together, let us create a symphony of hearts, marvelling at the miracle of our children and basking in the beauty of love.
Let us heal the world and blight its pain.
And may we all make beautiful music together.
God bless you, and I love you.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
A quick one on Leadership.
"Of course, [Obama]'s oratory is today unmatched. But his courage — the courage to go first, to lead, where none have gone before — is doubly unmatched.
When he speaks, he gives those who hear him confidence: not in him but in themselves. It was said of Cicero that when people heard him, they turned to one another and said, "Great speech"; but when Demosthenes spoke, people turned to one another and said, "Let's march."
All around the world people are marching with Barack Obama."
Gordon Brown, in a Time Magazine article on Barack Obama
Monday, May 04, 2009
When we went flying kites.
at lunch time i had a flashback.
when i was about 10 or 11 and my sister was about 4 or 5, i remember bringing her to the large empty field across our house and flew kites.
she was super cute back then and we had so much fun laughing and tumbling around in the broad, green lush.
sometimes, we just need to cherish moments like this.
note: the same field now has multi-HDB blocks, while the sister is now a blob. kite flying has become a rarity in Singapore.
when i was about 10 or 11 and my sister was about 4 or 5, i remember bringing her to the large empty field across our house and flew kites.
she was super cute back then and we had so much fun laughing and tumbling around in the broad, green lush.
sometimes, we just need to cherish moments like this.
note: the same field now has multi-HDB blocks, while the sister is now a blob. kite flying has become a rarity in Singapore.
Monday, February 23, 2009
everybody hurts.
人有悲欢离合, 月有阴晴圆缺, 此事古难全。To part is inevitable.
Su Dong Bo (苏东坡).
天长地久有时尽, 此恨绵绵无绝期。The loss is an eternal pain
Bai Ju Yi (白居易),
Su Dong Bo (苏东坡).
天长地久有时尽, 此恨绵绵无绝期。The loss is an eternal pain
Bai Ju Yi (白居易),
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
The Humiliation of America
The White House Moron Stumbles to the Finish
The Humiliation of America
By PAUL CRAIG ROBERTS
"Early Friday morning the secretary of state was considering bringing the cease-fire resolution to a UNSC vote and we didn't want her to vote for it," Olmert said. "I said 'get President Bush on the phone.' They tried and told me he was in the middle of a lecture in Philadelphia. I said 'I'm not interested, I need to speak to him now.' He got down from the podium, went out and took the phone call."
"Let me see if I understand this," wrote a friend in response to news reports that Israeli Prime Minister Olmert ordered President Bush from the podium where he was giving a speech to receive Israel's instructions about how the United States had to vote on the UN resolution. "On September 11th, President Bush is interrupted while reading a story to school children and told the World Trade Center had been hit--and he went on reading. Now, Olmert calls about a UN resolution when Bush is giving a speech and Bush leaves the stage to take the call. There exists no greater example of a master-servant relationship."
Olmert gloated as he told Israelis how he had shamed US Secretary of State Condi Rice by preventing the American Secretary of State from supporting a resolution that she had helped to craft. Olmert proudly related how he had interrupted President Bush's speech in order to give Bush his marching orders on the UN vote.
Israeli politicians have been bragging for decades about the control they exercise over the US government. In his final press conference, President Bush, deluded to the very end, said that the whole world respects America. In fact, when the world looks at America, what it sees is an Israeli colony.
Responding to mounting reports from the Red Cross and human rights organizations of Israel's massive war crimes in Gaza, the United Nations Human Rights Council voted 33-1 on January 12 to condemn Israel for grave offenses against human rights.
On January 13, the London Times reported that Israelis have gathered on a hillside overlooking Gaza to enjoy the slaughter of Palestinians in what the Times calls "the ultimate spectator sport."
It is American supplied F-16 fighter jets, helicopter gunships, missiles, and bombs that are destroying the civilian infrastructure of Gaza and murdering the Palestinians who have been packed into the tiny strip of land. What is happening to the Palestinians herded into the Gaza Ghetto is happening because of American money and weapons. It is just as much an attack by the United States as an attack by Israel. The US government is complicit in the war crimes.
Yet in his farewell press conference on January 12, Bush said that the world respects America for its compassion.
The compassion of bombing a UN school for girls?
The compassion of herding 100 Palestinians into one house and then shelling it?
The compassion of bombing hospitals and mosques?
The compassion of depriving 1.5 million Palestinians of food, medicine, and energy?
The compassion of violently overthrowing the democratically elected Hamas government?
The compassion of blowing up the infrastructure of one of the poorest and most deprived people on earth?
The compassion of abstaining from a Security Council vote condemning these actions?
And this is a repeat of what the Israelis and Americans did to Lebanon in 2006, what the Americans did to Iraqis for six years and are continuing to do to Afghans after seven years. And still hope to do to the Iranians and Syrians.
In 2002 I designated George W. Bush "the White House Moron." If there ever was any doubt about this designation, Bush's final press conference dispelled it.
Bush talked about connecting the dots, but Bush has failed to connect any dots for eight solid years. "Our" president was a puppet for a cabal led by Dick Cheney and a handful of Jewish neoconservatives, who took control of the Pentagon, the State Department, the National Security Council, the CIA, and "Homeland Security." From these power positions, the neocon cabal used lies and deception to invade Afghanistan and Iraq, pointless wars that have cost Americans $3 trillion, while millions of Americans lose their jobs, their pensions, and their access to health care.
"These obviously very difficult economic times," Bush said in his press conference, "started before my presidency."
Bush has plenty of liberal company in failing to connect a $3 trillion dollar war with hard times. The Center on Budget and Policy Priorities blames Bush's tax cut, not the wars, for "the fiscal deterioration."
Bush told the White House Press Corps, a useless collection of non-journalists, that the two mistakes of his invasion of Iraq were: (1) Putting up the "mission accomplished" banner on the aircraft carrier, which, he said, "sent the wrong message," and (2) the absence of the alleged weapons of mass destruction that he used to justify the invasion.
Although Bush now admits that there were not any such weapons in Iraq, Bush said that the invasion was still the right thing to do.
The deaths of 1.25 million Iraqis, the displacement of 4 million Iraqis, and the destruction of a country's infrastructure and economy are merely the collateral damage associated with "bringing freedom and democracy" to the Middle East.
Unless George W. Bush is the best actor in human history, he truly believes what he told the White House Press Corps.
What Bush did not explain is how America is respected when its people put a moron in charge for eight years.
Paul Craig Roberts was Assistant Secretary of the Treasury in the Reagan administration.
The Humiliation of America
By PAUL CRAIG ROBERTS
"Early Friday morning the secretary of state was considering bringing the cease-fire resolution to a UNSC vote and we didn't want her to vote for it," Olmert said. "I said 'get President Bush on the phone.' They tried and told me he was in the middle of a lecture in Philadelphia. I said 'I'm not interested, I need to speak to him now.' He got down from the podium, went out and took the phone call."
"Let me see if I understand this," wrote a friend in response to news reports that Israeli Prime Minister Olmert ordered President Bush from the podium where he was giving a speech to receive Israel's instructions about how the United States had to vote on the UN resolution. "On September 11th, President Bush is interrupted while reading a story to school children and told the World Trade Center had been hit--and he went on reading. Now, Olmert calls about a UN resolution when Bush is giving a speech and Bush leaves the stage to take the call. There exists no greater example of a master-servant relationship."
Olmert gloated as he told Israelis how he had shamed US Secretary of State Condi Rice by preventing the American Secretary of State from supporting a resolution that she had helped to craft. Olmert proudly related how he had interrupted President Bush's speech in order to give Bush his marching orders on the UN vote.
Israeli politicians have been bragging for decades about the control they exercise over the US government. In his final press conference, President Bush, deluded to the very end, said that the whole world respects America. In fact, when the world looks at America, what it sees is an Israeli colony.
Responding to mounting reports from the Red Cross and human rights organizations of Israel's massive war crimes in Gaza, the United Nations Human Rights Council voted 33-1 on January 12 to condemn Israel for grave offenses against human rights.
On January 13, the London Times reported that Israelis have gathered on a hillside overlooking Gaza to enjoy the slaughter of Palestinians in what the Times calls "the ultimate spectator sport."
It is American supplied F-16 fighter jets, helicopter gunships, missiles, and bombs that are destroying the civilian infrastructure of Gaza and murdering the Palestinians who have been packed into the tiny strip of land. What is happening to the Palestinians herded into the Gaza Ghetto is happening because of American money and weapons. It is just as much an attack by the United States as an attack by Israel. The US government is complicit in the war crimes.
Yet in his farewell press conference on January 12, Bush said that the world respects America for its compassion.
The compassion of bombing a UN school for girls?
The compassion of herding 100 Palestinians into one house and then shelling it?
The compassion of bombing hospitals and mosques?
The compassion of depriving 1.5 million Palestinians of food, medicine, and energy?
The compassion of violently overthrowing the democratically elected Hamas government?
The compassion of blowing up the infrastructure of one of the poorest and most deprived people on earth?
The compassion of abstaining from a Security Council vote condemning these actions?
And this is a repeat of what the Israelis and Americans did to Lebanon in 2006, what the Americans did to Iraqis for six years and are continuing to do to Afghans after seven years. And still hope to do to the Iranians and Syrians.
In 2002 I designated George W. Bush "the White House Moron." If there ever was any doubt about this designation, Bush's final press conference dispelled it.
Bush talked about connecting the dots, but Bush has failed to connect any dots for eight solid years. "Our" president was a puppet for a cabal led by Dick Cheney and a handful of Jewish neoconservatives, who took control of the Pentagon, the State Department, the National Security Council, the CIA, and "Homeland Security." From these power positions, the neocon cabal used lies and deception to invade Afghanistan and Iraq, pointless wars that have cost Americans $3 trillion, while millions of Americans lose their jobs, their pensions, and their access to health care.
"These obviously very difficult economic times," Bush said in his press conference, "started before my presidency."
Bush has plenty of liberal company in failing to connect a $3 trillion dollar war with hard times. The Center on Budget and Policy Priorities blames Bush's tax cut, not the wars, for "the fiscal deterioration."
Bush told the White House Press Corps, a useless collection of non-journalists, that the two mistakes of his invasion of Iraq were: (1) Putting up the "mission accomplished" banner on the aircraft carrier, which, he said, "sent the wrong message," and (2) the absence of the alleged weapons of mass destruction that he used to justify the invasion.
Although Bush now admits that there were not any such weapons in Iraq, Bush said that the invasion was still the right thing to do.
The deaths of 1.25 million Iraqis, the displacement of 4 million Iraqis, and the destruction of a country's infrastructure and economy are merely the collateral damage associated with "bringing freedom and democracy" to the Middle East.
Unless George W. Bush is the best actor in human history, he truly believes what he told the White House Press Corps.
What Bush did not explain is how America is respected when its people put a moron in charge for eight years.
Paul Craig Roberts was Assistant Secretary of the Treasury in the Reagan administration.
Monday, January 12, 2009
christmas is NOT about jesus.
The holiday season comes from the winter solstice, the first day of winter, which is the shortest day of the year. Usually falling on December 21st, it has been celebrated in the northern hemisphere since prehistoric times. It was marked as the beginning of "the return of the sun" because, after that, the days start getting longer.
The ancient Hebrews referred to the winter solstice as the rebirth of light, calling it Nayrot, the festival of lights. When Judah Maccabee defeated the Greeks and captured Jerusalem in 164 BCE, he rededicated the temple shrine during Nayrot, renaming the holiday Hanukkah. But because the Jewish calculation of Hanukkah is based on a lunar rather than solar calendar, Hanukkah can begin almost any time in December.
The ancient Romans held their festival of Saturnalia, the feast of Saturn, at this time. It featured wild parties, gift giving, and halls decked with laurel. However, they miscalculated the solstice date, seeing it as falling variously on December 23rd to 25th.
When Roman Catholicism replaced ancient polytheism, the Church found it practical to adopt the old Roman holiday, renaming it Christ’s Mass. But this popular move, made in the third century, didn’t meet with complete approval. Christians in the Middle East viewed their European brethren as idolaters and sun worshippers for repackaging this pagan festival as the birthday of Jesus.
As Christianity spread across Europe, the various “barbarian” cultures added their own pre-Christian solstice practices to Christmas. Thus the evergreen tree was introduced by Germanic peoples; holly and mistletoe, sacred to the Druids, came from the Celts; and the Yule log and caroling were provided by the Anglo-Saxons.
But some Christians condemned these trappings, especially the Christmas tree, citing Jeremiah 10:1-5 in the Bible: “Thus saith the Lord, Learn not the way of the heathen . . . for one cutteth a tree out of the forest. . . . They deck it with silver and with gold; they fasten it with nails and with hammers, that it move not.”
In the early American colonies, most Protestants wouldn't celebrate Christmas, viewing it as a Catholic holiday. This was why George Washington's largely Protestant troops didn't object to crossing the Delaware on Christmas night to attack the Catholic Hessians the next morning. It was just another day to them.
Only in the 1800s did the holiday begin to gain wider acceptance. Northern European customs were introduced into the United States by the flow of immigrants. So numerous individuals set out deliberately to fashion a secular celebration of the season that would be acceptable to Protestants.
American cartoonist Thomas Nast created the secular Santa Claus out of the varied European "Old Man Winter" folk images (having their roots in the Norse god Odin). Some fabled attributes of the Catholic Saint Nicholas were added. As for the colors of Santa's suit, they were quite varied until codified in the twentieth century by Coca Cola through its advertising.
The song “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” featuring the line “so be good for goodness sake,” was written in 1934 by J. Fred Coots and Haven Gillespie as a holiday children’s song. It became instantly popular when Eddie Cantor sang it on his radio show that November.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Deep thinking in mandarin..
花开花谢，潮起潮落.
日生日落， 人来人往.
----
and in total randomness... i feel like playing texas poker!
日生日落， 人来人往.
----
and in total randomness... i feel like playing texas poker!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Worst 5 money predictions of '08
Sun, Dec 21, 2008
The New Paper
Worst 5 money predictions of '08
1 Jan 2008
PREDICTION: ACCORDING to the Chief Executive magazine's annual poll, US CEOs expect the Dow Jones Industrial Average to sit at around 13,359, oil prices to be at US$96 a barrel and US Federal Reserve funds rate to remain at 4.25 per cent by the end of 2008.
REALITY: Fast forward to Wednesday, and the Dow is still largely directionless at 8,824, oil prices are at a four-year low of around US$40 a barrel and Fed rates are now at near zero per cent.
Oil, which peaked in July at about US$147 in July, could even decline to US$25 next year ' despite the OPEC production cuts.
2 Mar 2008
PREDICTION: Jim Cramer, the volatile host of CNBC's Mad Money programme, when responding to a viewer's e-mail, arrogantly asserted:
'Peter writes: "Should I be worried about Bear Stearns in terms of liquidity and get my money out of there?"
"No! No! No! Bear Stearns is fine! Do not take your money out! Bear Stearns is not in trouble."
"I mean, if anything they're more likely to be taken over. Don't move your money from Bear! That's just being silly! Don't be silly!"
REALITY: Hopefully, Peter (the viewer put down by loud-mouthed Cramer) had the cow-sense to seek a second opinion. Six days after the show's broadcast, Bear Stearns was sold for a pittance to JPMorgan Chase - after widespread speculation about the investment bank's massive exposure to subprime mortgage.
4 Sep 2008
PREDICTION: Donald Luskin, in his article 'Quit Doling Out That Bad-Economy Line' (appearing in The Washington Post), boldly proclaimed:
"Anyone who says we're in a recession, or heading into one - especially the worst one since the Great Depression - is making up his own private definition of 'recession'."
REALITY: The day after Luskin's self-delusional forecast, Lehman Brothers filed for bankruptcy. And the rest is history.
5 Nov 2008
PREDICTION: Outgoing US Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson, on National Public Radio, prematurely bragged about the improved health of US banks:
"I believe the banking system has been stabilised. No one is asking themselves anymore, is there some major institution that might fail and that we would able to do anything about it."
REALITY: Paulson, who emerged in October with a US$700 billion 'bazooka' to blast away toxic assets in troubled US banks, ended up acquiring direct equity stakes instead (a move he himself had rejected earlier).
Unfortunately for Paulson, shortly later, Citigroup's stock price plunged 75 per cent in one week - closing below US$5 for the first time in 14 years.
June 2007
PREDICTION: Dennis Blair and Kenneth Lieberthal, in their Foreign Policy essay 'Smooth Sailing: The World's Shipping Lanes Are Safe', declared:
'In reality the risks to maritime flows of oil are far smaller than is commonly assumed. Tankers are much less vulnerable than conventional wisdom holds.
Limited regional conflicts would be unlikely to seriously upset traffic, and terrorist attacks against shipping would have even less of an economic effect.'
REALITY: On Wednesday, the United Nations said Somali pirates in inflatable rafts have made US$120 million ($175 million) in pirate attacks this year. In two months, they had hijacked 30 ships.
The UN on Wednesday approved air and sea attacks on Somali pirate bases.
The New Paper
Worst 5 money predictions of '08
1 Jan 2008
PREDICTION: ACCORDING to the Chief Executive magazine's annual poll, US CEOs expect the Dow Jones Industrial Average to sit at around 13,359, oil prices to be at US$96 a barrel and US Federal Reserve funds rate to remain at 4.25 per cent by the end of 2008.
REALITY: Fast forward to Wednesday, and the Dow is still largely directionless at 8,824, oil prices are at a four-year low of around US$40 a barrel and Fed rates are now at near zero per cent.
Oil, which peaked in July at about US$147 in July, could even decline to US$25 next year ' despite the OPEC production cuts.
2 Mar 2008
PREDICTION: Jim Cramer, the volatile host of CNBC's Mad Money programme, when responding to a viewer's e-mail, arrogantly asserted:
'Peter writes: "Should I be worried about Bear Stearns in terms of liquidity and get my money out of there?"
"No! No! No! Bear Stearns is fine! Do not take your money out! Bear Stearns is not in trouble."
"I mean, if anything they're more likely to be taken over. Don't move your money from Bear! That's just being silly! Don't be silly!"
REALITY: Hopefully, Peter (the viewer put down by loud-mouthed Cramer) had the cow-sense to seek a second opinion. Six days after the show's broadcast, Bear Stearns was sold for a pittance to JPMorgan Chase - after widespread speculation about the investment bank's massive exposure to subprime mortgage.
4 Sep 2008
PREDICTION: Donald Luskin, in his article 'Quit Doling Out That Bad-Economy Line' (appearing in The Washington Post), boldly proclaimed:
"Anyone who says we're in a recession, or heading into one - especially the worst one since the Great Depression - is making up his own private definition of 'recession'."
REALITY: The day after Luskin's self-delusional forecast, Lehman Brothers filed for bankruptcy. And the rest is history.
5 Nov 2008
PREDICTION: Outgoing US Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson, on National Public Radio, prematurely bragged about the improved health of US banks:
"I believe the banking system has been stabilised. No one is asking themselves anymore, is there some major institution that might fail and that we would able to do anything about it."
REALITY: Paulson, who emerged in October with a US$700 billion 'bazooka' to blast away toxic assets in troubled US banks, ended up acquiring direct equity stakes instead (a move he himself had rejected earlier).
Unfortunately for Paulson, shortly later, Citigroup's stock price plunged 75 per cent in one week - closing below US$5 for the first time in 14 years.
June 2007
PREDICTION: Dennis Blair and Kenneth Lieberthal, in their Foreign Policy essay 'Smooth Sailing: The World's Shipping Lanes Are Safe', declared:
'In reality the risks to maritime flows of oil are far smaller than is commonly assumed. Tankers are much less vulnerable than conventional wisdom holds.
Limited regional conflicts would be unlikely to seriously upset traffic, and terrorist attacks against shipping would have even less of an economic effect.'
REALITY: On Wednesday, the United Nations said Somali pirates in inflatable rafts have made US$120 million ($175 million) in pirate attacks this year. In two months, they had hijacked 30 ships.
The UN on Wednesday approved air and sea attacks on Somali pirate bases.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Does it pay to be kind?
D recounted this story that I thought I should blog about:
(for non-singaporeans reading this, usually we have folks trying to eke out a decent living by selling 3 packets of tissues for $1 on the streets or at cafes. it's also worthwhile to note usually 20 packets will cost $1)
D and K went out for dinner, then D saw a poor old lady (henceforth POL) squatting by an intersection selling tissue papers. After occassionally observing her for 20minutes, D realised no one was buying it from her, so D gave K $2 to go buy a few packets.
D had expected the POL to offer up like probably 6 packets or 3 packets with change. "K, just give her $2 and get like maybe 2 packets, one for you and one for me", so said D.
(at this point I must add that K is a handsome eurasian that looks more european-ish)
K walks up with the $2 and handed it to POL. Like D, K expected POL to give 6 packets or 3 packets with change. The POL looked up, determined K was white (non-asian, hence easy to cheat), smiled..
and proceeded to give K only 1 packet of tissue.
yup. $2 for 1 packet of tissue.
(at this point, i told D that the economy is bad these days, inflation and the credit crunch might have played a part.)
-----
Naturally K whined about the tissue packets for a while, but K subsequently related another story to D
K was in London at a bus stop and one of the folks waiting at the bus stop approached K and asked for some loose change to take the bus, saying that he had no money.
K, being the nice person that he is, shelled out about a few pennies but the person saw that K had a few gold coins (gold coins = 1 pound) and asked for it as well.
K, not knowing what are the actual costs of bus fares (he was using the tourist card), reluctantly agreed. Worthwhile to note he was doing a good deed here.
Just then, the bus came and the person got up the bus before K. Horrors, K saw that he person actually flashed a disabled pass and got into the bus for free!!
(In London, they give free bus-passes to the disabled, including the mentally disabled folks.)
"F**king hell he took my money NOT to take buses!!" K fumes.
-------
Footnote: JZ told D that he has an inherent heart of goodness and will continue to donate regularly to the "Buy-D-a-Diamond" fund.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
the useless metal.
Quote of the Day
"[Gold] gets dug out of the ground in Africa, or someplace. Then we melt it down, dig another hole, bury it again and pay people to stand around guarding it. It has no utility. Anyone watching from Mars would be scratching their head."
Warren Buffet
"[Gold] gets dug out of the ground in Africa, or someplace. Then we melt it down, dig another hole, bury it again and pay people to stand around guarding it. It has no utility. Anyone watching from Mars would be scratching their head."
Warren Buffet
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
my fingers want to speak what the mouth cannot bear to say.
the day my mum passed away, was truly the saddest day of my life.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Don't work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone.
Speech by Adrian Tan (writer of the Teenage Textbook) to the NTU graduating class of 2008
***
Life and How to Survive It
I must say thank you to the faculty and staff of the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information for inviting me to give your convocation address. It's a wonderful honour and a privilege for me to speak here for ten minutes without fear of contradiction, defamation or retaliation. I say this as a Singaporean and more so as a husband.
My wife is a wonderful person and perfect in every way except one. She is the editor of a magazine. She corrects people for a living. She has honed her expert skills over a quarter of a century, mostly by practising at home during conversations between her and me.
On the other hand, I am a litigator. Essentially, I spend my day telling people how wrong they are. I make my living being disagreeable.
Nevertheless, there is perfect harmony in our matrimonial home. That is because when an editor and a litigator have an argument, the one who triumphs is always the wife.
And so I want to start by giving one piece of advice to the men: when you've already won her heart, you don't need to win every argument.
Marriage is considered one milestone of life. Some of you may already be married. Some of you may never be married. Some of you will be married. Some of you will enjoy the experience so much, you will be married many, many times. Good for you.
The next big milestone in your life is today: your graduation. The end of education. You're done learning.
You've probably been told the big lie that "Learning is a lifelong process" and that therefore you will continue studying and taking masters' degrees and doctorates and professorships and so on. You know the sort of people who tell you that? Teachers. Don't you think there is some measure of conflict of interest? They are in the business of learning, after all. Where would they be without you? They need you to
be repeat customers.
The good news is that they're wrong.
The bad news is that you don't need further education because your entire life is over. It is gone. That may come as a shock to some of you. You're in your teens or early twenties. People may tell you that you will live to be 70, 80, 90 years old. That is your life expectancy.
I love that term: life expectancy. We all understand the term to mean the average life span of a group of people. But I'm here to talk about a bigger idea, which is what you expect from your life.
You may be very happy to know that Singapore is currently ranked as the country with the third highest life expectancy. We are behind Andorra and Japan, and tied with San Marino. It seems quite clear why people in those countries, and ours, live so long. We share one thing in common: our football teams are all hopeless. There's very little danger of any of our citizens having their pulses raised by watching us play in the World Cup. Spectators are more likely to be lulled into a gentle and
restful nap.
Singaporeans have a life expectancy of 81.8 years. Singapore men live to an average of 79.21 years, while Singapore women live more than five years longer, probably to take into account the additional time they need to spend in the bathroom.
So here you are, in your twenties, thinking that you'll have another 40 years to go. Four decades in which to live long and prosper.
Bad news. Read the papers. There are people dropping dead when they're 50, 40, 30 years old. Or quite possibly just after finishing their convocation. They would be very disappointed that they didn't meet their life expectancy.
I'm here to tell you this. Forget about your life expectancy.
After all, it's calculated based on an average. And you never, ever want to expect being average.
Revisit those expectations. You might be looking forward to working, falling in love, marrying, raising a family. You are told that, as graduates, you should expect to find a job paying so much, where your hours are so much, where your responsibilities are so much.
That is what is expected of you. And if you live up to it, it will be an awful waste.
If you expect that, you will be limiting yourself. You will be living your life according to boundaries set by average people. I have nothing against average people. But no one should aspire to be them. And you don't need years of education by the best minds in Singapore to prepare you to be average.
What you should prepare for is mess. Life's a mess. You are not entitled to expect anything from it. Life is not fair. Everything does not balance out in the end. Life happens, and you have no control over it. Good and bad things happen to you day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. Your degree is a poor armour against fate.
Don't expect anything. Erase all life expectancies. Just live. Your life is over as of today. At this point in time, you have grown as tall as you will ever be, you are physically the fittest you will ever be in your entire life and you are probably looking the best that you will ever look. This is as good as it gets. It is all downhill from here. Or up. No one knows.
What does this mean for you? It is good that your life is over.
Since your life is over, you are free. Let me tell you the many wonderful things that you can do when you are free.
The most important is this: do not work.
Work is anything that you are compelled to do. By its very nature, it is undesirable.
Work kills. The Japanese have a term "Karoshi", which means death from overwork. That's the most dramatic form of how work can kill. But it can also kill you in more subtle ways. If you work, then day by day, bit by bit, your soul is chipped away, disintegrating until there's nothing left. A rock has been ground into sand and dust.
There's a common misconception that work is necessary. You will meet people working at miserable jobs. They tell you they are "making a living". No, they're not. They're dying, frittering away their fast-extinguishing lives doing things which are, at best, meaningless and, at worst, harmful.
People will tell you that work ennobles you, that work lends you a certain dignity. Work makes you free. The slogan "Arbeit macht frei" was placed at the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps. Utter nonsense.
Do not waste the vast majority of your life doing something you hate so that you can spend the small remainder sliver of your life in modest comfort. You may never reach that end anyway.
Resist the temptation to get a job. Instead, play. Find something you enjoy doing. Do it. Over and over again. You will become good at it for two reasons: you like it, and you do it often. Soon, that will have value in itself.
I like arguing, and I love language. So, I became a litigator. I enjoy it and I would do it for free. If I didn't do that, I would've been in some other type of work that still involved writing fiction - probably a sports journalist.
So what should you do? You will find your own niche. I don't imagine you will need to look very hard. By this time in your life, you will have a very good idea of what you will want to do. In fact, I'll go further and say the ideal situation would be that you will not be able to stop yourself pursuing your passions. By this time you should know what your obsessions are. If you enjoy showing off your knowledge and feeling superior, you might become a teacher.
Find that pursuit that will energise you, consume you, become an obsession. Each day, you must rise with a restless enthusiasm. If you don't, you are working.
Most of you will end up in activities which involve communication. To those of you I have a second message: be wary of the truth. I'm not asking you to speak it, or write it, for there are times when it is dangerous or impossible to do those things. The truth has a great capacity to offend and injure, and you will find that the closer you are to someone, the more care you must take to disguise or even conceal the truth. Often, there is great virtue in being evasive, or equivocating. There is also great skill. Any child can blurt out the truth, without thought to the consequences. It takes great maturity to appreciate the value of silence.
In order to be wary of the truth, you must first know it. That requires great frankness to yourself. Never fool the person in the mirror.
I have told you that your life is over, that you should not work, and that you should avoid telling the truth. I now say this to you: be hated.
It's not as easy as it sounds. Do you know anyone who hates you? Yet every great figure who has contributed to the human race has been hated, not just by one person, but often by a great many. That hatred is so strong it has caused those great figures to be shunned, abused, murdered and in one famous instance, nailed to a cross.
One does not have to be evil to be hated. In fact, it's often the case that one is hated precisely because one is trying to do right by one's own convictions. It is far too easy to be liked, one merely has to be accommodating and hold no strong convictions. Then one will gravitate towards the centre and settle into the average. That cannot be your role. There are a great many bad people in the world, and if you are not offending them, you must be bad yourself. Popularity is a sure sign that
you are doing something wrong.
The other side of the coin is this: fall in love.
I didn't say "be loved". That requires too much compromise. If one changes one's looks, personality and values, one can be loved by anyone.
Rather, I exhort you to love another human being. It may seem odd for me to tell you this. You may expect it to happen naturally, without deliberation. That is false. Modern society is anti-love. We've taken a microscope to everyone to bring out their flaws and shortcomings. It far easier to find a reason not to love someone, than otherwise. Rejection requires only one reason. Love requires complete acceptance.
It is hard work - the only kind of work that I find palatable.
Loving someone has great benefits. There is admiration, learning, attraction and something which, for the want of a better word, we call happiness. In loving someone, we become inspired to better ourselves in every way. We learn the truth worthlessness of material things. We celebrate being human. Loving is good for the soul.
Loving someone is therefore very important, and it is also important to choose the right person. Despite popular culture, love doesn't happen by chance, at first sight, across a crowded dance floor. It grows slowly, sinking roots first before branching and blossoming. It is not a silly weed, but a mighty tree that weathers every storm.
You will find, that when you have someone to love, that the face is less important than the brain, and the body is less important than the heart.
You will also find that it is no great tragedy if your love is not reciprocated. You are not doing it to be loved back. Its value is to inspire you.
Finally, you will find that there is no half-measure when it comes to loving someone. You either don't, or you do with every cell in your body, completely and utterly, without reservation or apology. It consumes you, and you are reborn, all the better for it.
Don't work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone.
You're going to have a busy life. Thank goodness there's no life expectancy
***
Life and How to Survive It
I must say thank you to the faculty and staff of the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information for inviting me to give your convocation address. It's a wonderful honour and a privilege for me to speak here for ten minutes without fear of contradiction, defamation or retaliation. I say this as a Singaporean and more so as a husband.
My wife is a wonderful person and perfect in every way except one. She is the editor of a magazine. She corrects people for a living. She has honed her expert skills over a quarter of a century, mostly by practising at home during conversations between her and me.
On the other hand, I am a litigator. Essentially, I spend my day telling people how wrong they are. I make my living being disagreeable.
Nevertheless, there is perfect harmony in our matrimonial home. That is because when an editor and a litigator have an argument, the one who triumphs is always the wife.
And so I want to start by giving one piece of advice to the men: when you've already won her heart, you don't need to win every argument.
Marriage is considered one milestone of life. Some of you may already be married. Some of you may never be married. Some of you will be married. Some of you will enjoy the experience so much, you will be married many, many times. Good for you.
The next big milestone in your life is today: your graduation. The end of education. You're done learning.
You've probably been told the big lie that "Learning is a lifelong process" and that therefore you will continue studying and taking masters' degrees and doctorates and professorships and so on. You know the sort of people who tell you that? Teachers. Don't you think there is some measure of conflict of interest? They are in the business of learning, after all. Where would they be without you? They need you to
be repeat customers.
The good news is that they're wrong.
The bad news is that you don't need further education because your entire life is over. It is gone. That may come as a shock to some of you. You're in your teens or early twenties. People may tell you that you will live to be 70, 80, 90 years old. That is your life expectancy.
I love that term: life expectancy. We all understand the term to mean the average life span of a group of people. But I'm here to talk about a bigger idea, which is what you expect from your life.
You may be very happy to know that Singapore is currently ranked as the country with the third highest life expectancy. We are behind Andorra and Japan, and tied with San Marino. It seems quite clear why people in those countries, and ours, live so long. We share one thing in common: our football teams are all hopeless. There's very little danger of any of our citizens having their pulses raised by watching us play in the World Cup. Spectators are more likely to be lulled into a gentle and
restful nap.
Singaporeans have a life expectancy of 81.8 years. Singapore men live to an average of 79.21 years, while Singapore women live more than five years longer, probably to take into account the additional time they need to spend in the bathroom.
So here you are, in your twenties, thinking that you'll have another 40 years to go. Four decades in which to live long and prosper.
Bad news. Read the papers. There are people dropping dead when they're 50, 40, 30 years old. Or quite possibly just after finishing their convocation. They would be very disappointed that they didn't meet their life expectancy.
I'm here to tell you this. Forget about your life expectancy.
After all, it's calculated based on an average. And you never, ever want to expect being average.
Revisit those expectations. You might be looking forward to working, falling in love, marrying, raising a family. You are told that, as graduates, you should expect to find a job paying so much, where your hours are so much, where your responsibilities are so much.
That is what is expected of you. And if you live up to it, it will be an awful waste.
If you expect that, you will be limiting yourself. You will be living your life according to boundaries set by average people. I have nothing against average people. But no one should aspire to be them. And you don't need years of education by the best minds in Singapore to prepare you to be average.
What you should prepare for is mess. Life's a mess. You are not entitled to expect anything from it. Life is not fair. Everything does not balance out in the end. Life happens, and you have no control over it. Good and bad things happen to you day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. Your degree is a poor armour against fate.
Don't expect anything. Erase all life expectancies. Just live. Your life is over as of today. At this point in time, you have grown as tall as you will ever be, you are physically the fittest you will ever be in your entire life and you are probably looking the best that you will ever look. This is as good as it gets. It is all downhill from here. Or up. No one knows.
What does this mean for you? It is good that your life is over.
Since your life is over, you are free. Let me tell you the many wonderful things that you can do when you are free.
The most important is this: do not work.
Work is anything that you are compelled to do. By its very nature, it is undesirable.
Work kills. The Japanese have a term "Karoshi", which means death from overwork. That's the most dramatic form of how work can kill. But it can also kill you in more subtle ways. If you work, then day by day, bit by bit, your soul is chipped away, disintegrating until there's nothing left. A rock has been ground into sand and dust.
There's a common misconception that work is necessary. You will meet people working at miserable jobs. They tell you they are "making a living". No, they're not. They're dying, frittering away their fast-extinguishing lives doing things which are, at best, meaningless and, at worst, harmful.
People will tell you that work ennobles you, that work lends you a certain dignity. Work makes you free. The slogan "Arbeit macht frei" was placed at the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps. Utter nonsense.
Do not waste the vast majority of your life doing something you hate so that you can spend the small remainder sliver of your life in modest comfort. You may never reach that end anyway.
Resist the temptation to get a job. Instead, play. Find something you enjoy doing. Do it. Over and over again. You will become good at it for two reasons: you like it, and you do it often. Soon, that will have value in itself.
I like arguing, and I love language. So, I became a litigator. I enjoy it and I would do it for free. If I didn't do that, I would've been in some other type of work that still involved writing fiction - probably a sports journalist.
So what should you do? You will find your own niche. I don't imagine you will need to look very hard. By this time in your life, you will have a very good idea of what you will want to do. In fact, I'll go further and say the ideal situation would be that you will not be able to stop yourself pursuing your passions. By this time you should know what your obsessions are. If you enjoy showing off your knowledge and feeling superior, you might become a teacher.
Find that pursuit that will energise you, consume you, become an obsession. Each day, you must rise with a restless enthusiasm. If you don't, you are working.
Most of you will end up in activities which involve communication. To those of you I have a second message: be wary of the truth. I'm not asking you to speak it, or write it, for there are times when it is dangerous or impossible to do those things. The truth has a great capacity to offend and injure, and you will find that the closer you are to someone, the more care you must take to disguise or even conceal the truth. Often, there is great virtue in being evasive, or equivocating. There is also great skill. Any child can blurt out the truth, without thought to the consequences. It takes great maturity to appreciate the value of silence.
In order to be wary of the truth, you must first know it. That requires great frankness to yourself. Never fool the person in the mirror.
I have told you that your life is over, that you should not work, and that you should avoid telling the truth. I now say this to you: be hated.
It's not as easy as it sounds. Do you know anyone who hates you? Yet every great figure who has contributed to the human race has been hated, not just by one person, but often by a great many. That hatred is so strong it has caused those great figures to be shunned, abused, murdered and in one famous instance, nailed to a cross.
One does not have to be evil to be hated. In fact, it's often the case that one is hated precisely because one is trying to do right by one's own convictions. It is far too easy to be liked, one merely has to be accommodating and hold no strong convictions. Then one will gravitate towards the centre and settle into the average. That cannot be your role. There are a great many bad people in the world, and if you are not offending them, you must be bad yourself. Popularity is a sure sign that
you are doing something wrong.
The other side of the coin is this: fall in love.
I didn't say "be loved". That requires too much compromise. If one changes one's looks, personality and values, one can be loved by anyone.
Rather, I exhort you to love another human being. It may seem odd for me to tell you this. You may expect it to happen naturally, without deliberation. That is false. Modern society is anti-love. We've taken a microscope to everyone to bring out their flaws and shortcomings. It far easier to find a reason not to love someone, than otherwise. Rejection requires only one reason. Love requires complete acceptance.
It is hard work - the only kind of work that I find palatable.
Loving someone has great benefits. There is admiration, learning, attraction and something which, for the want of a better word, we call happiness. In loving someone, we become inspired to better ourselves in every way. We learn the truth worthlessness of material things. We celebrate being human. Loving is good for the soul.
Loving someone is therefore very important, and it is also important to choose the right person. Despite popular culture, love doesn't happen by chance, at first sight, across a crowded dance floor. It grows slowly, sinking roots first before branching and blossoming. It is not a silly weed, but a mighty tree that weathers every storm.
You will find, that when you have someone to love, that the face is less important than the brain, and the body is less important than the heart.
You will also find that it is no great tragedy if your love is not reciprocated. You are not doing it to be loved back. Its value is to inspire you.
Finally, you will find that there is no half-measure when it comes to loving someone. You either don't, or you do with every cell in your body, completely and utterly, without reservation or apology. It consumes you, and you are reborn, all the better for it.
Don't work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone.
You're going to have a busy life. Thank goodness there's no life expectancy
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
A question about the Bible.
If there was no death in Eden, all animals must have been vegetarians, so why is the lion designed to eat meat?
The crazy idea of hate.
1. The Japanese have apologised to China on numerous occassions for WWII. For example Prime Minister Tomiichi Murayama in 1995, or PM Ryutaro Hashimoto in 1997, or Junichiro Koizumi in 2005.
2. China signed a joint communiqué in 1972 waiving all war reparations, and in 1978 signed a treat of peace and friendship with Japan.
3. When the war ended Japan left about US$100 billion of assets in China, which it agreed to leave as reparation.
4. Japan is China’s number one aid donor.
5. The oft-repeated claim that the Japanese killed 300,000 in the Nanjing Massacre is now widely agreed by scholars as not true. The actual figure stood closer to 40,000.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Getting life's priorities right
A PATIENT once told me: "You know what, doctor, when I was told that I have cancer, suddenly all my shares, my properties and my brand-new car have no more meaning."
Yet, the attachment that some Singaporeans have to their cars never fails to amaze me.
When they notice scratches on their vehicles after shooing off a cat resting on them, for example, they would complain to their condominium management or the town council. These motorists get so angry with the destruction of their "happiness" that they will not rest their case until the cats in the carparks are removed.
In the Housing & Development Board carpark where I park my car, there is a cat which would occasionally rest on car bonnets, including mine. I have found its paw marks on my windscreen several times, but there are no scratches on my car, just a few small dents that are definitely not caused by a cat. Whenever I see the cat resting on other cars, I would shoo it off and brush its hair off the vehicles so that the motorists would not complain about the cat's presence.
To me, what is important about a car is that it is functioning well enough to be safe on the road. So what if it has scratches or dents? Cars are bound to get such marks.The car does not feel the scratches. Rather, it is our attachment to the car that makes us feel the pain.
The patient who spoke to me became depressed after he was diagnosed with cancer, but his condition improved after he took stock of what was truly important in his life. When he was near his life's end, I asked him if he was afraid. He said no. He had done no harm to others, he said, and he remembered the good things that he had done. He also relished the happiness he had brought to others.
He died peacefully.
Dr Tan Chek Wee
Wed, Jul 09, 2008, my paper
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
there's no point being the richest man in the cemetry.
Five Lessons for Financial Panics
Baron Rothschild's adage was to "Buy when there's blood in the streets." Mine is "buy when CNBC starts telling you to short the market." Last Tuesday, CNBC exhorted its viewers to consider shorting stocks. Jim Cramer followed up a few days later by urging his followers to "sell everything" except commodities stocks. My gut says these are classic stock market "tells" that signal a contrarian buying opportunity, but I could be wrong. And that is the beauty of a financial panic and our first lesson.
Lesson #1: Nobody knows where the market bottom is.
It may be hard to believe, but your guess on the stock market bottom is as good as anyone's. That anyone includes Ben Bernanke, Hank Paulson, Bill Gross, George Soros, Warren Buffett, Lloyd Blankfein and even Jim Cramer.
In six months, the media will dig up some lucky market analyst who made a "remarkably prescient" call and turn them into a hero, a la Elaine Garzarelli, the analyst credited with predicting the Crash of 1987.
Lesson #2: Do not sell into a panic.
Anyone who sold their stocks on Black Monday, Oct. 19, 1987, came to almost immediately regret it. I know I did. I was a junior banker in London and watched the meltdown on our lone department Quotron.
My brain said, "Hang on, hang on." My wallet said, "Run for your life." With one phone call, I sold every Fidelity stock fund I had and promptly lost a quarter of my net worth.
The temptation to panic is primal. Be a man, not a monkey.
Lesson #3: Look forward, not backward.
Does anybody remember how negative sentiment was in October 2002? The S&P 500 was down almost 50% from its record of 2000. The Nasdaq Composite Index was off 75%. I had just returned from 10 years in Europe to run the UBS tech banking group.
What struck me when I first visited Silicon Valley was how negative everyone was. That was because my colleagues and clients saw the world through the distorted prism of the Internet boom. They couldn't see the tech market getting better in the future, because the tech market couldn't be any better than it had just been.
The market looks forward, but people like to look backward. A Cisco Systems shareholder that owned the stock at $77 has trouble forgetting that $77 price when the stock falls to $15. In time, it doubled to $30.
Is Citigroup at today's closing price of $16.76 so different? Wall Street in 2008 is Silicon Valley in 2002. It will get better in time.
Lesson #4: It's investing, not gambling.
Why do we obsess over our ability to pick the bottom or top of a stock price or the market? Statistically, it is a total crap shoot.
As Bernard Baruch said, "Don't try to buy at the bottom and sell at the top. It can't be done except by liars."
Financial panics bring out the worst in these tendencies. All this weekend, I was chewing over whether or not it was the right time to buy the XLF, the financial sector ETF that is trading at nearly half its record high.
I haven't pulled the trigger yet, but I know that picking a bottom is a mugs game. Admittedly, an awfully tempting one. Better to use common sense. Set price and allocation targets, space out investments over time.
Since the beginning of this year, I have made fund purchases on about 20 different dates with an average cost base equivalent to an S&P 500 level of 1346. On that money, I am down about 5%. There are mutual funds that charge that much for an up-front load. Investing like this won't make you rich, but you won't gamble yourself into the poorhouse either.
Lesson #5: It's only money.
There is no point in fighting the tape or your emotions as the market is gripped by panic. Next time the Dow industrials are down 300 and heading down further, do what you make your children do: take a time out. Turn off CNBC, your computer and BlackBerry and leave the office. (Wall Street professionals, unfortunately, this doesn't apply to you. You will get fired.)
I am a believer in the equity markets and have most of my net worth tied up in the stock market. So every panic over the past two decades has cost me, albeit temporarily, big chunks of my net worth.
Does it hurt? Of course.
Do I lose sleep over it? Occasionally.
But I always keep in mind that it is only money.
I think of my dad, who would inspect my weary face after my exhausting banker trips to Japan, India, and Hong Kong. As he put it: "There's no point in being the richest man in the cemetery."
Baron Rothschild's adage was to "Buy when there's blood in the streets." Mine is "buy when CNBC starts telling you to short the market." Last Tuesday, CNBC exhorted its viewers to consider shorting stocks. Jim Cramer followed up a few days later by urging his followers to "sell everything" except commodities stocks. My gut says these are classic stock market "tells" that signal a contrarian buying opportunity, but I could be wrong. And that is the beauty of a financial panic and our first lesson.
Lesson #1: Nobody knows where the market bottom is.
It may be hard to believe, but your guess on the stock market bottom is as good as anyone's. That anyone includes Ben Bernanke, Hank Paulson, Bill Gross, George Soros, Warren Buffett, Lloyd Blankfein and even Jim Cramer.
In six months, the media will dig up some lucky market analyst who made a "remarkably prescient" call and turn them into a hero, a la Elaine Garzarelli, the analyst credited with predicting the Crash of 1987.
Lesson #2: Do not sell into a panic.
Anyone who sold their stocks on Black Monday, Oct. 19, 1987, came to almost immediately regret it. I know I did. I was a junior banker in London and watched the meltdown on our lone department Quotron.
My brain said, "Hang on, hang on." My wallet said, "Run for your life." With one phone call, I sold every Fidelity stock fund I had and promptly lost a quarter of my net worth.
The temptation to panic is primal. Be a man, not a monkey.
Lesson #3: Look forward, not backward.
Does anybody remember how negative sentiment was in October 2002? The S&P 500 was down almost 50% from its record of 2000. The Nasdaq Composite Index was off 75%. I had just returned from 10 years in Europe to run the UBS tech banking group.
What struck me when I first visited Silicon Valley was how negative everyone was. That was because my colleagues and clients saw the world through the distorted prism of the Internet boom. They couldn't see the tech market getting better in the future, because the tech market couldn't be any better than it had just been.
The market looks forward, but people like to look backward. A Cisco Systems shareholder that owned the stock at $77 has trouble forgetting that $77 price when the stock falls to $15. In time, it doubled to $30.
Is Citigroup at today's closing price of $16.76 so different? Wall Street in 2008 is Silicon Valley in 2002. It will get better in time.
Lesson #4: It's investing, not gambling.
Why do we obsess over our ability to pick the bottom or top of a stock price or the market? Statistically, it is a total crap shoot.
As Bernard Baruch said, "Don't try to buy at the bottom and sell at the top. It can't be done except by liars."
Financial panics bring out the worst in these tendencies. All this weekend, I was chewing over whether or not it was the right time to buy the XLF, the financial sector ETF that is trading at nearly half its record high.
I haven't pulled the trigger yet, but I know that picking a bottom is a mugs game. Admittedly, an awfully tempting one. Better to use common sense. Set price and allocation targets, space out investments over time.
Since the beginning of this year, I have made fund purchases on about 20 different dates with an average cost base equivalent to an S&P 500 level of 1346. On that money, I am down about 5%. There are mutual funds that charge that much for an up-front load. Investing like this won't make you rich, but you won't gamble yourself into the poorhouse either.
Lesson #5: It's only money.
There is no point in fighting the tape or your emotions as the market is gripped by panic. Next time the Dow industrials are down 300 and heading down further, do what you make your children do: take a time out. Turn off CNBC, your computer and BlackBerry and leave the office. (Wall Street professionals, unfortunately, this doesn't apply to you. You will get fired.)
I am a believer in the equity markets and have most of my net worth tied up in the stock market. So every panic over the past two decades has cost me, albeit temporarily, big chunks of my net worth.
Does it hurt? Of course.
Do I lose sleep over it? Occasionally.
But I always keep in mind that it is only money.
I think of my dad, who would inspect my weary face after my exhausting banker trips to Japan, India, and Hong Kong. As he put it: "There's no point in being the richest man in the cemetery."
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
the 100% perfect partner.
"i am not perfect, and neither are you.
but we are perfect for each other."
often uttered by the monkey to the bunny.
Haruki Murakami: On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning
One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo's fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.
Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.
Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you're drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I'll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.
But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can't recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It's weird.
"Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl," I tell someone.
"Yeah?" he says. "Good-looking?"
"Not really."
"Your favorite type, then?"
"I don't know. I can't seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts."
"Strange."
"Yeah. Strange."
"So anyhow," he says, already bored, "what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?"
"Nah. Just passed her on the street."
She's walking east to west, and I west to east. It's a really nice April morning.
Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I'd really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.
After talking, we'd have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.
Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.
Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.
How can I approach her? What should I say?
"Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?"
Ridiculous. I'd sound like an insurance salesman.
"Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?"
No, this is just as ridiculous. I'm not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who's going to buy a line like that?
Maybe the simple truth would do. "Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me."
No, she wouldn't believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you're not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I'd probably go to pieces. I'd never recover from the shock. I'm thirty-two, and that's what growing older is all about.
We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can't bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She's written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she's ever had.
I take a few more strides and turn: She's lost in the crowd.
Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.
Oh, well. It would have started "Once upon a time" and ended "A sad story, don't you think?"
Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.
One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.
"This is amazing," he said. "I've been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you're the 100% perfect girl for me."
"And you," she said to him, "are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I'd pictured you in every detail. It's like a dream."
They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It's a miracle, a cosmic miracle.
As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one's dreams to come true so easily?
And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, "Let's test ourselves - just once. If we really are each other's 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we'll marry then and there. What do you think?"
"Yes," she said, "that is exactly what we should do."
And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.
The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other's 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.
One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season's terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence's piggy bank.
They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.
Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.
One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:
She is the 100% perfect girl for me.
He is the 100% perfect boy for me.
But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.
A sad story, don't you think?
Yes, that's it, that is what I should have said to her.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Emcee
If you need an Emcee for any events, I can do it in fluent English and Mandarin.
Rates negotiable (just doing as a hobby! :p)
for close friends' weddings, FOC :)
Rates negotiable (just doing as a hobby! :p)
for close friends' weddings, FOC :)
Monday, June 16, 2008
a feat, never to be repeated.
i did something amazing yesterday:
i farted away from debby with kind intentions to spare her agony, but failed to realise I was in front of the fan.. and that it was blowing towards her.
So she smelt it, turned wide eye and screeched.
i'm sorry. i shall never do it again (in front of the fan.)
i farted away from debby with kind intentions to spare her agony, but failed to realise I was in front of the fan.. and that it was blowing towards her.
So she smelt it, turned wide eye and screeched.
i'm sorry. i shall never do it again (in front of the fan.)
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
If I were to write to the Prime Minister..
**this spoof cracked me up so much this morning!
"Dear Prime Minister,
We citizens of Singapore urge you to PLEASE MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS. We DO NOT NEED your help. Every time, you mention HELP, we have to run for cover!!!
Help the poor? Raise GST!
Help traffic flow? Up ERP!
Help passenger service? Up Bus fare/MRT fare!
Help us get taxi? Raise taxi fare!
Help us get good government? Raise Minister and Civil servants' salary!
Everytime YOU WANT TO HELP, we all PAY FOR IT!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU...TOLONG LAH, please, we will HELP OURSELVES, noneed your help liao. We DARE NOT ask for help any more!!!
Sir, most honoured sir, I urge you NOT TO HELP Singapore INVEST also! Everytime your wife invest, we all lose money! Kao liao, kum siah! Just let us have a dose of bad governance, like recently the Mat Selamat case, like dat....so far, it is ok, your incompetence, we ACCEPT!
PLEASE DO NOT help us have better security! Wait we all kena PAY FORIT!! I believe ALL SINGAPOREANS PREFER NOT TO HAVE CRUTCH MENTALITY! I think it is ok lah, please just take your salary and enjoy life ok?
Thank you thank you,I am very chin chai one, any how any how, no need to help oso can one."
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
what an advice.
"give them nothing.. take from them EVERYTHING" - leonidas, 300.
early morning advice from WH on my Reuters messenger.
early morning advice from WH on my Reuters messenger.
Friday, May 02, 2008
resign la WKS.
The Commission of Inquiry was appointed by the government, with staff from the Home Ministry itself as one of its members. How can such a commission be truly independent?
With big salaries/titles, comes big responsibilities. If you jailed + remove the Chief of Commando for the accidental death of one soldier during training, I don't see why the Chief of ISD or the Minister himself (since ISD reports solely to the Minister) shouldn't go.
Don't think we'll forget this biased judgement in 2011.
oh, FYI. Wong Kan Seng's wife is the daughter of Lee Kuan Yew's brother.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
china emotions.
"When we have a billion people, you said we were destroying the planet.
When we tried limiting our numbers, you said it is human rights abuse.
When we were poor, you thought we were dogs.
When we loan you cash, you blame us for your debts.
When we build our industries, you called us polluters.
When we sell you goods, you blame us for global warming."
- a silent, silent Chinese
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Yo Mama.
Kanye West on his mum's death..
"I don't do anything I don't love anymore. While people chase money I pursue happiness. So many people talk about their investments or how much money they have but there's so many rich people who spend a lot of that trying to buy a piece of happiness. If there's anything my mom taught me, it is to enjoy life."
Monday, April 21, 2008
I.Think.
we are mortals, not gods. in this world, we stand as we are. in remembrance, we will forget the faults and preserve the good.
uphold the fair and social justice, at society, at work and at large. be pragmatic, not ideological, be steadfast in our approach to life goals. be nice to your family and friends.
respect values, respect point-of-views. visions and strength, charisma and true inner beauty, and with humility. these will carry us far and forward. win the fight against the machine with tripartism and surivival instincts, honed to the finest with independence.
be a thinker. be a leader.
have no ill feelings and be humble. welcome your enemies, welcome your detractors. learn from mistakes and move on in life.
this is true and good, as to night follows day, the sun from the east. from the inner, random rantings of yours truly.
jz.
Ao Tai Na summit
I tried explaning to a friend the other day, the process of trekking is often tedious, tiring and terribly uncomfortable. But the satisfaction of accomplishment and that incredible liberating feeling of being at the pinnacle roof of the world is immeasurable.
The Island
Monday, April 14, 2008
the funnies of office-life.
one of my friend's boss wrote the following email..
Subject: Is someone brewing beer in the pantry?
Hi,
It seems like someone has developed an innovative beer brewing technique... Place a plastic take away container on the pantry, leave some liquid inside it and maybe hope that it becomes some golden brew.
We can't condone bootleg liqour in the office, so please select one of the following actions:
1. Go drink up the liquid right now and throw the plastic container
2. Bring it home and put it under your bed
3. Bring it along for lunch today and have it with your roti prata
Cheers
Subject: Is someone brewing beer in the pantry?
Hi,
It seems like someone has developed an innovative beer brewing technique... Place a plastic take away container on the pantry, leave some liquid inside it and maybe hope that it becomes some golden brew.
We can't condone bootleg liqour in the office, so please select one of the following actions:
1. Go drink up the liquid right now and throw the plastic container
2. Bring it home and put it under your bed
3. Bring it along for lunch today and have it with your roti prata
Cheers
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