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My US Trip (2005)

Day 13 - New York

Previously featured:
Flight to Newark, Day 1 - Newark-Princeton
Day 2 - Princeton-Philadelphia
Day 3 - Gettysburg-Lancaster-Ephrata-Alexandria
Day 4 - Alexandria-DC
Day 5 - Westpoint-Hyde Park
Day 6 - Hancock Shaker Village-Hanover
Day 7 - Burlington, Vermont
Day 8 - New Hampshire-Bretton Woods-Portland Head
Day 9 - Portland-Kennebunkport
Day 10 - Marblehead-Salem-Boston
Day 11 - Westpoint-New York
Day 12 - New York

NB: This is the last installment of the saga.

I left the motel at 6:30, caught the 7:21 train and reached Penn station at 8 plus. There, this guy was standing by a map of the subway system, and when I went over to peer at it (because the bastard at the control station the other day refused to give me a pocket-sized version), he gave me directions to where I wanted to go, then asked if I had any "change to take the subway". He didn't fool me, but I gave him a quarter or something to reward his ingenuity more than anything else.

At Penn station there were army soldiers patrolling the place. Although the sight was slightly discomfiting, I felt much safer than if it had been SAF soldiers doing the job. Their uniforms were faded, their jockey caps wrinkled and their boots dull, but that just indicated their level of experience ('lao jiao'-ness), and that they didn't waste time on unimportant frills like parade-standard appearance. For their firearms they had service revolvers; the logic of the SAF's using rifles on Ops Bascinet (the one where they protect key installations) is lost on me: rifles are useless in close, crowded quarters due to their being cumbersome, bulky, heavy and slow to aim and maneuver - they're meant for long distances and battlefield use. Which is why at Changi Airport SAF servicemen are paired with police officers with sub-machine guns; there's a reason why SWAT teams use them after all. So unless what we anticipate is a squad of parang-wielding terrorists disembarking and then running at our soldiers from 300 metres, the logic of using rifles is lost on me. Either that or 1) we assume that terrorists are stupid and will be more intimidated by patrols armed with rifles than pistols or sub-machine guns or 2) this is all for show and meant more for domestic consumption than terrorist consumption.

After a diversion or two (to get cinammon sticks for breakfast, for instance), I reached Battery Park at 9+, and found out that time passs for the Statue of Liberty had run out at 8:10, 20 minutes before the first ferry left. Ah well, I should've ordered them online (though knowing my luck I would've had to get them 6 months in advance). When they said there were a "limited number of time passes", they really meant it. Be that as it may, the time pass would not have let me enter the Statue itself, but merely the promenade and pedestal and would've restricted the time I could enter (ergo the name "time" pass), so it wasn't that much of a loss. Which might be why, when the ferry stopped at Liberty Island, at least half the people on it didn't get off.



I saw a woman with hoop earrings using a phone and, very gingerly, using her other hand to keep the hoop out of the way. I should like to see someone get her hoop stuck in something one day. In other hoop-related news, it's bad enough seeing 11 or 12 year olds with hoop earrings, but I saw one about 5 years old doing so.

Having hair which is still attached to your scalp fly into your mouth is a most unsettling feeling.

Proceeding on to Ellis island, I found that it was very crowded, probably due to dejected souls unable to get their time passes still being determined to get something out of their visit to Liberty and Ellis islands.

By the time I left Ellis island, my feet had been throbbing for some time. Faced with the prospect of queueing for an indeterminate length of time, I sat on the pavement to wait for the ferry like the vagrant that I was. A mother and daughter couple came along and inspired by me, sat down also. Once you start the ball rolling, it picks up momentum on its own - I also saw a couple some distance in front of me in the line sitting. Sitting is contagious and is advantageous.

A guy in a business suit and with an expensive-looking metal (as opposed to platic Casio) watch got his hand stuck in the subway door. He tried to extricate it by wriggling but was unsuccessful. When the doors of the car finally opened, his watch fell to the floor in 3 pieces (the centre and the straps).


In Times Square station, I saw a guy waving a sign which said "Free stress test". By the wall were some counters with funny machines and colourful books. Intrigued, I took a closer look and saw that only one book was being promoted: "Dianetics" by a certain "L Ron Hubbard". And so I decided to have some fun with the Scientologists.

Picking a free counter, I went up to the man, who introduced himself. In the interests of anonymity, I shall refer to him as "Bob". Asking me to hold on to the electrodes of his machine (which looked like 2 tin cans hooked up to a High School Science Project), he asked me to think of something in my life which I would like to improve. I did, and sure enough, the needle on the large display jumped (of course, the fact that one hand of his was behind the High School Science Project might have had something to do with it). I then thought about something in my life that I was fine with, but the needle still evidenced a reaction, showing that I was stressed. Amazing. I asked "Bob" about this reaction, but he either did not understand my question or did not want to understand it, telling me that it was only for stress detection.



"Bob" then asked me to think of something that made me angry or stressed. I thought about religious evangelism, and the needle jumped again. He asked if I wanted to talk about it. Not wanting to spoil the fun too soon, I bluffed and said I was thinking about people cheating others of their money (which is, if you think about it, pretty close anyhow). Calling my bluff, he asked, "You mean like right here?" Beating a hasty retreat, I demurred and mumbled something about beggars in the New York subway.

I asked "Bob" if I could buy his most wondrous machine. He looked disappointed and said it was only for people who were advanced in his discipline. I asked how long he'd been practising and how much of a master he was, and he replied that he'd been at it for 30 years, but wasn't as good as he'd like to be. "Bob" then tried to sell me his book, the recommended price for which was US$7.99 and had sold 20 million copies in 52 languages. He turned to the back of the book and showed me the locations of Scientologist chapters in various countries and cities.

Looking for Singapore, I found nothing and pointed this out. "Bob" assured me, though, that there was a rapidly growing chapter in Singapore and that many people there were getting into it. Oddly enough, despite his knowledge of this fact, he was unaware that Singapore was a country and not just a city. Looking skeptical, I declined and said I would rather check out some reviews on the Internet first. "Bob" then became quite alarmed, and countered that if you asked 20 people what they thought of Singapore, you'd get 20 different answers. I agreed in a good-natured fashion, adding that if all 20 said Singapore sucked, then it most probably did, and he was helpless to do anything but go along with my observation and add that I had to try "Dianetics" for myself.

Sensing that I'd milked all I could from this adventure, I bade him good day and asked to take a picture, which you can see above. In hindsight, I should've ended off by asking: "Isn't L Ron Hubbard the guy who once said, 'Writing for a penny a word is ridiculous. If a man really wanted to make a million dollars, the best way to do it would be start his own religion.'?"


Returning to the Met, I was pissed off to find large stretches of the museum closed (A "we are closed due to renovations till XXXX" or "we are closed today for a private function" would have been the least they could have done), among them the Cypriot and Ancient Near Eastern art sections and the Musical Instruments gallery and America wing on the second level, cordoned off with no sign or attendant to explain anything to hapless visitors (most of whom had probably been coerced into 'donating' to them).


Jacques-Louis David - the Death of Socrates


Sacchi - Pasqualini crowned by Apollo. I swear - this is the first painting (or picture of a painting) that I've seen that has an exposed male member. Perhaps this was done to strike a cruel contrast with Pasqualini, a castrato.

Jordaens - the Holy Family with Shepherds and Van Dyck - Virgin and Child are the first depictions of the Madonna I've seen where she bares her bosom.

Rembrandt painting of Bellona, the Roman goddess of war, shows her as being fat. Eh?

Pissed off by the rude staff and the massive closures, I left the Met before closing time and went to sit on the steps outside to rest my feet. Given that so many galleries were closed, there wasn't anything left for me to see anyway.

Some corner apartment was being renovated, and the construction workers didn't tape the tarpaulin down, so sawdust and wood flakes were flying around, some flying into my head. Some also landed on this woman, who cursed at the workers.

Meeting my sister and brother in law at Newark airport, we found that they charged a breath-taking US$3 for the rent of luggage trolleys. I would have left my trolley at the checkin counter in protest, but apparently too many angry customers had done that, and there were attendants on hand to wheel the trolleys back.

The scanners for check-in baggage were not film safe. Didn't this last happen in the 80s?!

In all, my sister had 7 shopping trips in 13 days (and 12 full days). Luckily I wasn't around for the last 2.

Sister's food diary: "Baja Fresh Mexican - shrimp taco, chicken flauta, beef burrito, salsa bar. [Ed: Since I wasn't with them I didn't have this]"


At Stockholm, they shoved us into a waiting room for over an hour instead of letting us walk around the transit area (which was just within sight). This waiting room had nothing inside but a non-enclosed smoking point that was too small to accommodate all the smokers (resulting in smoke wafting out) and insufficient toilets; there were 2 male, 2 female and 2 handicapped toilets. The last were, naturally enough, appropriated by the females but unsurprisingly the queue for the ladies' was still longer than for the gentlemen's since they were doing the gods' know what inside. Worse, the waiting room was not big enough to accommodate the entire plane, so people had to stand for that hour or so. At least they didn't subject us to 2 security screenings - one on getting off the plane and one before getting on - unlike the first time (they must be dreaming if they think people want to blow up their airport so much).

One of MAS's taglines is "Going beyond expectations". That isn't very hard to do, especially if one doesn't expect very much in the first place!

At KLIA I saw a woman in a tudung, but with one of the hats that some airport staff wear on top. Funky. And at the security screening there one man kept muttering a malay word to me, despite the look of incomprehension on my face. Eventually, a guy behind me translated the word as "open" - he wanted me to open my ice keg. The screening official then repeated the word "open" with a note of triumph in his face. It seems in that wretched country they assume everyone who looks like a native speaks Malay.

On unpacking we found that the Transport Security Administration (TSA) had decided to open one of our bags for "security purposes". Of all bags, they had chosen to open the one with potato chips inside, and suspiciously, some of the packets were open. Whether this was due to pressure differentials arising from altitude changes or hungry security staff is unknown.


Having someone correct your pronunciation exaggeratedly, and then promptly make the same mistake within 2 minutes – priceless.

Even in New York I couldn't get student-priced tickets for things. Gah. The UK is much more student friendly.

Although I didn't pay very much (all things considered) on this trip, that is not to say that a price was not extracted from me. My brother in law in particular assumed that I had given him several blank cheques for emotional blackmail and set himself up as a travel agent for guilt trips. I would pay more of the cost in future trips, but I know that I would be subjected to a similar amount of insufferable self-aggrandisement, so I am resolved to pay as little as I can in future when travelling with them.

"A conference is a gathering of important people who singly can do nothing, but together can decide that nothing can be done." - Fred Allen

***

The 16th of July seems to be a very popular day for events. So far we have:

- Launch of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
- NUS political association appreciation dinner
- Bloggers.SG convention (since I'm helping to organise this, it takes priority)
- ENS camp post-camp gathering
- Screwed Up Girl's Weiqi's tournament
- Baybeats 2005 - "Singapore (sic) Biggest Alternative Music Gathering"
- Bukit Panjang Government High's 45th Anniversary Dinner

***

The degeneration of a thread on overseas voting in Singapore:


A: Put it this way - given that sammyboy & the talkingcock are examples of overseas Singaporeans - I suppose the government is naturally leery of anyone who has experienced living in the outside world, and who might hold certain truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal and endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights. People such as these, politically speaking, are highly unlikely to be part of the PAP's reliable heartlander economic-stability-craving constituency.


B: just a quick quibble. one need not believe that all men are created equal and endowed by their creator with inalienable rights in order to believe in equality and human rights. if one adopts the kantian view of universalizability, then we can ignore divinity and bow to the force of rationality.


C: Back in Singapore, and one good quibble deserves another =P.

Why should we adopt the Kantian view of universalizeability? Because it is true. But how do you know, save that you choose to adopt it over another view that you don't like? Why should "the view that I prefer" be the true one? Or even the view that 51% prefers?

Perhaps because it is "reasonable". But what reason is there for believing in "equality" when men and women are naturally unequal in strength, talents, intellect, moral character etc? What reason is there for the extension of "equal rights" to members of one's species (an entirely arbitrary category in any case - why not just one's family, or friends, or countrymen, or ethnic group? Why do you have to extend rights up to the boundary of sexual reproduction and not after or before? How very illogical.) when the other animals don't bother?

If the Kantian view is reasonable and true, which I don't doubt, you will require an additional factor to make it so - a factor not founded on nature as we observe it, with its visible and real inequalities, but on a common human essence transcending nature. And in the search for that essence, you and I have already left natural materialism behind as an inadequate hypothesis/world-view.


Me: >what reason is there for believing in "equality" when men and women
>are naturally unequal

It might be argued that granting people equal rights are merely an expedient way of ensuring society's smooth functioning. Granting people equal rights acts as a foil to social discontent, is an implicit (explicit?) part of the social contract and obviates the problems of judging who has more rights than others (Who is to judge? What criteria should/can/must one use?).

>you and I have already left natural
>materialism behind as an inadequate hypothesis/world-view.

Alternatively, one can use a conjunction of rationality and social expedience (see above). It may not be as philosophically satisfying as whatever alternative you might be proposing, but then philosophically satisfying and internally consistent as Aristotle's system of crystalline heavenly spheres through which the planets circling the earth rotated in concentric circles in uniform circular motion was, we all know how marvellously wrong that theory turned out, especially in reference to the real world, don't we?

Or in other words:

C: "The world would make sense if we believed that the moon is made of blue cheese"
Me: "The moon is not made of blue cheese, therefore your proposal is invalid"


A: I acknowledge that you are attempting to traduce a form of experiential "understanding" that cannot be reduced into an internally consistent argument via the framework of logical or mathematical thought (viz. the rationalist/positivist approach).

However, because of the manner in which human perception is structured - i.e. - that our mind operates according to certain structural/physiological (I acknowledge this is open to debate but it's safe to say that some commonality of operational framework generally exists amongst all members of the human race to some extent, leaving aside the occasional aberration) precepts that convert a mass of sensory data into perceptual frameworks and experiences - the result being that the a materialistic framework built upon what is often derided as the "common sense" approach (you know, lame, simple minded, parochial and fallacious notions like "cause and effect") is the only valid one when discussing purely political or empirically observed phenomena. This holds more true when one is communicating in a structured linguistic fashion - ie. academic debate - in which the nature of its operands and operandi are built on axioms which have their origin in the commonality of human consciousness, the mechanism by which we interrogate our existence both within and without.

In other words, the difference between mysticism and theology:) The closest obligatory academic name-drop I can think of at this point offhand would be to refer to Spencer's concept of the metaphysically Unknowable (First Principles, 1862); at least in terms of his postulation that these should be segregated completely from the discussion/illustration of philosphical discourse.

If you wish to abandon those axioms, in search of an understanding or comprehension that exists beyond this sphere of influence - there is no manner - beyond literary hyperbole, unsupported assertions and appeals to emotion and authority - that we can effectively discuss or even debate, given the limitations of human perception, the English language, and the cognitive structure of human consciousness.


D: *slow smile*

Witness the slow slide from rights of overseas voters, to Kant in the sense of "ignore divinity and bow to the force of rationality", which immediately red-flagged C into replying :) with a simple assertion that rationality ain't all that rational when one looks at its deeper assumptions (or axioms, to quote A), to A's challenge that hah! rationality is perfectly rational within the framework of biopsychology dash psychiatry.

*somewhat amused* did I summarize it correctly? (maybe i left out a few points unintentionally because i'm not thoroughly familiar with the internal subtext of all the ppl on this list yet. apologies.)

I mention this to forestall a vicious crossfire where eventually no one will know which issue of the above series of emails is being addressed. Neuropsychology is a tremendously contentious field all by itself without adding the rights of voters into the mix, if all that one intends to discuss is only neuropsych.


Me: Yes, why do we always end up in this sort of morass?


Ah, what is truth?

Reality is an illusion!

There is no spoon.

Save us from the black helicopters!


And one wonders why most people here rather stay out of the fray, and spend their time doing more productive (or at least more enjoyable) things.

***

The False Promises of a Draft - Why conscription won't improve the military

"What is the purpose of a military? Is it to spread the social burden—or to fight and win wars? The U.S. active-duty armed forces are more professional and disciplined than at any time in decades, perhaps ever. This is so because they are composed of people who passed comparatively stringent entrance exams—and, more important, people who want to be there or, if they no longer want to be there, know that they chose to be there in the first place. An Army of draftees would include many bright, capable, dedicated people; but it would also include many dumb, incompetent malcontents, who would wind up getting more of their fellow soldiers killed.

If conscription is revived, draftees are not likely to serve more than two years. Right now, the average volunteer in the U.S. armed forces has served five years. By most measures, an Army of draftees would be less experienced, less cohesive—generally, less effective—than an Army of volunteers. Their task is too vital to tolerate such a sacrifice for the cause of social justice, especially when that cause isn't so urgent to begin with.

Would lawmakers be less likely to approve and fund wars if their children and the children of their friends might be drafted to fight? The answer is unclear... If patriotism or party loyalty did not play a role, might they fear accusations of selfishness or cowardice if they seemed to oppose a war simply to save their children's hides?"

***

Wives should submit to their husbands

"The marriage vow basically says that even if a husband turns out to be a scumbag or a couch potato who cares more for Man U than for his mother-in-law, we still have to accept him.

My husband and I have demanding careers, but when we come home, I give him a sponge bath even if I am tired. I prepare supper, and yes, I do peel prawns for him. I do so without asking for anything in return.

He is the head of the household. When it comes to any major decision, his vote counts for 60 per cent, and mine for 40 per cent. My grandfather was right. This is difficult. I find it challenging to submit to my husband."

Suffice to say that if a man knows how to make his wife happy, the marriage can equally be long-lasting and harmonious. Or, for that matter, if a country does not resist a foreign invader, the occupation will likely be less bloody and harsh.

The violent, incoherently-expressed misogyny expressed by many on the Sammyboy forum thread on this issue is amazing:


"Equality my ASS, as long as women don't serve AntAss or continue having mood swings every monthly cycle, they better shut the fuck up and serve their man's needs.

No wonder the very same pussies advocating more pussy power in Sinkapore wonder why nobody wants to marry them."


"I conclude that one line of thought (submission) should be imposed on women, and on people in general when it comes to values like politeness and courtesy.

On recalling, the brutal murder of a women right's leader in Taiwan many years ago was a good move.

If reason can't bring them back from their erroneous "liberal" beliefs, then violent force should be the next and last best recourse."


"the diffe is we fxxk them while you kenna fuck ha ha ha. They BJ us while you BJ them. Also you can get dump and they go back to their home country while we can dump them and they have no where to go. Also we can chop them to pieces and take their money ha ha ha. SG bitches fxxk ooooffffff...... who the fxxk need you."

"In spite of the cost of living, it's still popular." - Laurence J. Peter

***

Let's Be

Student take pride in thy learning labours and strive
to be true to thy self and neighbours
Show courtesy and tact in word and deed
and helpfulness to those in need

Be filial and show respect and
toil to raise mankind’s prospect
Always turn a peaceful and harmonious face
to those of other culture creed or race

Promote a good opinion of our school
and let self discipline become thy rule
and make commitment to our school and nation
A salient feature of thy education

Develop the Hua Zhong spirit through a sense of Hua Zhong unity
And thus through constant self renewal make our school a fine community
Guide thy self each day through thick and thin
By our school philosophy of Win-Win

Source: We sing this with a straight face. It was written with fervour by a Samuel Tan in a [Ed: Communist] propaganda song competition ~1991 when then principal tooh fee san wanted students to "march from point to point in school". scary.
the rule couldn't last very long, as dictated by sheer logic

in 2000 we lost the sec1sec2 b division, so we all sang 满江红 (man3 jiang1 hong2), the song which one columnist in ST previously translated as "River of Blood"
the principal was lambasting her on stage

My take: And you thought communism in Singapore was dead.

***

Posted by someone on Wikipedia:

"Halal labels scare some people to death!

In hungarian language "halal" means "death". When some oriental packaged food is sold in local supermarkets, people look at the label and see a stamp like "Halal - approved by Islamic Council of Blahblah". Of course they think food is infected by anthrax and 1/3rd of the sales price goes to funding Al-Kaida and so they call the police ..."

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

When I told people that I was going to help out at the Economics Society camp ('Infinite Horizon'; last year's was 'Exotica' and apparently one OG called themselves 'Erotica'), they asked if we were going to draw ISLM diagrams, sketch GDP trends and the like. Hopefully they were just being retarded as usual and trying to irritate me, for no one expects the Business Administration camp to be about managing offices, the Engineering camp to include bridge design, the Computing camp to involve reverse-engineering Microsoft's Advanced Systems Format (ASF) file format or the Law camp to end with a visit to the Supreme Court to see someone's jail sentence doubled on an unsuccessful appeal. As everyone knows, orientation camps are, of course, first and foremost about mass humiliation and juvenility.

Being a helper instead of a normal camper, I not only got a small discount on the camp fees (though Arts camp helpers got a hefty 50% discount off the $50 fee and the head honchos got to go free - hah!), I also got to slack off here and there: whenever there was an activity that the helpers weren't keen on taking part in, we'd just cheerfully proclaim: "Freshies [Ed: Freshmen] play! Freshies play!" and hide in some corner. Knowing what was on the program, we were usually not caught unawares by strange forfeits and activities, and had a behind the scenes look at happenings: "Do you know what happened to these straws before you put them in your mouths? I do! Muahahahaha!". Most importantly, I got to spend Monday and Tuesday helping out instead of hiding at home and meditating.

The goody bags contained the usual stuff: Newater (they give the stuff away to anyone who asks), a Yeo's H20 apple drink, old magazines, pens, biscuits and an M1 plastic bag as the bag itself and the like. Apparently the goody bags for guys attending the King Edward VII hall orientation last year had condoms.

We had a small turnout of slightly more than 15 people (or slightly less than 20), which was slightly more than usual: last year I'm told they had slightly more than 10 campers (?), and the year before they had less than 10 so they actually camped in tents in Sentosa (and it rained and the tents flooded, so they had to hide in the monorail station). This means that we actually had more helpers than campers, but since we usually took part in the activities, this wasn't much of a problem. I was musing that maybe we should merge with the Sociology society (say) to hold a camp next year. But then a small camp is cozy, with only 2 Orientation Groups (OGs), less time is wasted due to there being fewer people and OGs to manage and less manpower is required; since games are always between the two OGs, less movement is required and only 1-2 facilitators need to co-ordinate them. People also get to interact with each other more. We were also one of the very few camps to accept non-freshmen as campers, so we got some Year 2s (and possibly some Year 3s too) joining us.

On Wednesday, we lodged at TMS (aka Temasek) hall, and I got a little look at what being a hall inmate is like. Of course, the most famously restrictive part of life as a hall inmate is the interminable list of silly rules which are unreasonably foisted on young people already past their teens. Some might argue that no one cares to follow the rules, but their mere existence and occasional enforcement can tell one about the attitude that the administration takes towards students.

Instead of keys, inmates in NUS get transponders - high-tech devices that probably emit some radio signal to unlock doors and access certain areas. The catch is that pressing said gadgets only makes it possible to turn the locks on doors - one still has to rotate them manually to lock or unlock them. So you have the disadvantage of modern technology (the batteries need to be replaced every now and then) without any advantages (you have to manually turn the locks).

Everywhere in Temasek Hall was locked: the laundrette, kitchenette and TV room. One wonders at the need to keep everything restricted and barred. In contrast, a source who lived at King Edward VII hall the last academic year told me that there, everything except the rooms and the girls' toilets (because they had a history of peeping toms) were unlocked. Eusoff hall, bordering non-NUS territory, has some fancy transponder-locked gates to stop outsiders from trespassing. Ingenious people (presumably NUS students) have however found a way around the gates: a plank has been laid over a drain and people can go in and out of Eusoff hall as they please. So you have the disadvantage of fancy locked gates (bother and hassle) without any advantages (those up to no good can easily sneak in). Is anyone detecting a pattern here?

Meanwhile, my forays into PGP have revealed a seemingly endless number of grilled gates barring corridors, lifts requiring the transponder to unlock access to floors and emergency fire escape staircases, the exits to which are locked. My sources inform me that some halls also have grilled gates sealing off corridors. Of course, students usually leave such gates and doors unlocked, so the end result is, all together now, that you have most of the disadvantages of these security measures with almost none of the advantages (pitiful though they already are).

I hear that some halls have darkened corridors, making them look like asylums, but the names of said halls are unknown to me.

Many hall inmates are afflicted with hall fever, making them "go to mad extremes for the sake of hall". Which explains the recycling bin in the Arts canteen which says: "Stop vandalism! Prevent theft! Unauthorised person found in possession of the bins its contents will be referred to the police!" I figured no one would be desperate enough to steal the contents of soft drink can recycling bins, but I forgot about rag. If they're willing to buy cartons of soft drinks and pour the liquid inside away just to construct their floats, they're certainly willing to plunder recycling bins.

This being an orientation camp, there were plenty of forfeits for those who lost the games, or somehow picked the short straws. The art of thinking up forfeits is most fascinating: one needs to have the suggestion of prurience to tickle even the jaded palettes of worldly university students just past the cusp of teenagehood, without being blatant enough to offend the sensibilities of the NUS administration or the slightly more conservative bunch. The same goes for the games and activities, albeit in a more attenuated way (since forfeits are supposed to be 'punishments' of a sort). So we had forfeits like Body Parts (2 guys have to put requested parts of their bodies together. Examples: Hand and knee, face and armpits, elbow and calf), 'Do a pole dance with someone of the opposite gender' (few were up to standard though) and the banana dance, and games like 'With straw quarters in your mouths, pass a rubber band to the person beside you - who surprisingly enough is of the opposite gender'.

Of course, the crowds going for different camps differ: not being funky and kinky like the Arts camp people, we didn't have speed dating (SDU sponsored them some money, but still!), clubbing or the Nutella game (this involved smearing Nutella on someone's neck and having someone else of the other gender lick it off). One thing about orientation camps in co-educational institutions is that they all have pseudo-kinky activities which play on the male-female divide and the latent sexual attraction that is presumed to exist. This of course excludes certain non-negligible constituences, so next year I might want to help organise a GLBT camp (Gay, Lesbians, Bisexuals and Transgendered) to cater to those communities. Instead of salacious activities pairing people of different genders, this will have people of the same gender pairing up. But then, in the shape of Body Parts, we already have a little of this (same-gender pairing up and engagement in semi-lurid activities), so [Ed: For those who don't get it, this is a joke. Our dear conservative NUS administration would never approve this kind of thing].

Incidentally, one reason single-sex (rather, male) secondary school orientation camps are the most extreme and punishing ones is because they only have guys; another reason of course is that the students are not free to pontang (skip) them, being powerless and clueless Secondary Ones - in University they're optional, and in JC they're effectively so (which is also why conscript armies treat their slaves worse than volunteer ones, but by now I'm horrendously off-topic).

The T-shirt was, as usual, too small for me. Gah.

Lunch was catered by Temasek Hall. Some people complained about its quality, but I found it okay. Given that the food there is supposed to be one of the best (Raffles Hall, for instance, serves its inmates "health food", so I'm told), they're in for a rude shock if they choose to be inmates anywhere else. Besides which, I suspect the caterers up the quality of their cooking for orientation camps to con naive freshmen into staying there during term time, whereupon the quality of the cooking will plummet. The Law camp people were also dining there at the same time, and they had one more dish on their plate. I always knew they were filthy rich; even their orientation camp meal plans are more expensive than others'!

We had haram food all the way except for the last meal. Yay.

For the station games, I was appointed a station master, so I got to sleep, muse and read my periodicial for a few hours, albeit in a location without air conditioning and indeed fans or ventilation (MPSH 6). One group played the game (Win, Lose or Draw) a bit dodgily (with the drawer vocalising words even after a warning from me), so to get a point withdrawn due to disqualification returned to them, they gave me a saucy cheer about their coconuts, their bananas and their being chopped off. Having people perform so enthusiastically for you in meaningless but amusing rituals for the sake of empty points that merely serve to lubricate the functioning of an ultimately pointless game that has no significance at all in the grand plan of things is most amusing [Ed: For the clueless, this means that I enjoyed it]. Both orientation groups went by me relatively quickly, so I could run an errand or two before returning to my cell room for an undeserved pre-dinner nap.

Not having quite enough time on the program and worried about lack of enthusiasm, we very cunningly offered the campers a choice about whether to forego the Talentime, a customary camp activity whereby people humiliate themselves further. Not surprisingly, they overwhelmingly decided against it. Which makes one wonder why camps have Talentimes in the first place: it can't only be to kill time.

At night we had more games, the forfeit for one for which was for the males of the losing team to be adorned with makeup, and the females with camouflage cream. Then there was one where two team members had to sandwich a plate between their faces (the original plan was to use a slice of bread, but we decided that that was too disgusting), run to a tray of flour in which was scattered unopened sweets (which was unusual - it's de rigueur to remove the wrappers first), grab them in their mouths, run back and spit them out in a tray - all without letting the plate drop, naturally. I'm told that on the way back, I had the guy running with me in a wrestling armlock, with my arm around the front of his neck, so it looked like I was supporting him. And when we were running to the tray he, and not I, was yelping, so I'm not the only male who does such things!

The night ended with a "trust walk", with the campers blindfolded and made to walk down a long road. It was much too long, with not enough props to spice up the action: mustard, ketchup, chili sauce and cornstarch were all missing. We had lousy Made In China water pistols (damn, I miss my Super Soaker 200) which kept clogging up and malfunctioning, but after a while that got stale, even with my aiming at their ears and into their shirt sleeve holes. While the campers were being herded through the canteen, I found some stuff that hadn't been locked down by the vendors: a shaker of pepper (I shook some in the air but in the end I was the one who suffered the most), some wooden sticks (which we used to prod their legs with) and loose eggs (which we didn't use. Pity.)

The night walk ended with a slide which was lubricated with soap water; cornstarch would've been better but apparently we couldn't get any. Unfortunately the slide was too short, being about a storey at the most: I'm told last year's KE VII orientation had a 3-storey high slide. There was also a complimentary shampoo (and with Clairol too!) at the end, but I think that was just either an excuse to get everyone wet or a way to use up the shampoo since its original purpose was to lubricate the slide when diluted with water (what a waste!)

There was an obligatory midnight supper expedition, but as usual the cheese prata shop was as usual overpriced and delivered substandard food; even though we waited a long time for our food, it was cold, soggy and not at all satisfying when it came. Though I liked my watermelon milkshake.

I also found that the 7-11 still stocked the vibrating condoms which I can't find in other 7-11s:


ViCon: FIRST Vibrating Condom in Singapore. A top draw at Geneva Inventors' Trade Fair. Extra sensuality for both partners. Extremely safe and easy to use.

Checking out of Temasek hall the next day, I noticed a poster politically incorrect in the extreme: "Retarded? Look for more retards in the RAG room....". The words were accompanied by a picture of a guy putting a roll of film over each eye. Tut tut.

After a boring and awful sponsors' talk, we left for Sentosa. After making our way to Siloso beach, my OG (Group 2) won the first game so while the unlucky member of Group 1 who had been nominated to perform a forfeit was carrying it out (looking for a male stranger, finding out his name and getting him to come over and say hello), I had one of my numerous strange, perverse and twisted fantasies fulfilled: I was buried up to the neck in sand. While I was given a mermaid's tail, figure and DD cup breasts (incidentally, that wasn't part of my fantasy. Even I have my limits). Following which we had wet games while being pelted with an unearthly quantity of flotsam and jetsam, most of which I searched out and disposed of.

After the wet games had finished and we were cleaning up, we had some time before the next item in our program: some night confidence walk and Fright Night. We then proceded to attempt to finish some of the prodigious quantities of (nearly expired) Apple-flavoured H20 and Bubble Justea (with an indeterminate expiry date) that our sponsor Yeo's had gifted us with by playing a drinking game: A deck of cards was shuffled and each person drew one in turn. Those drawing cards between Ace and Five inclusive could assign to other players in any combination the requisite amount of sips of beverage to consume. Those drawing a six could keep it and throw it any time, whereupon everyone had to show a thumbs up; the slowest to respond would have to imbibe a number of sips between 1-5 chosen by the thrower. A seven would result in the drawer coming up with a word and everyone offering a rhyming word in turn; the first person to be stumped would get the same punishment. An eight resulted in a category of things which everyone had to provide a member of, with the usual punishment. A nine was a toilet card that could be redeemed at any time. A ten resulted in the drawer being able to make a rule that would last the session unless rescinded, the flouting of which resulted in the usual punishment. Jacks or Queens did nothing and a King let one deflect an order to drink X number of sips.

In the end those who suggested gender-specific rules (eg "All guys must at all times flap one arm like a chicken wing", "all girls must place one finger on their heads") got targeted by the other gender. And towards the end some wacky rules came out ("All girls must pinch themselves and say 'ow' when someone draws a card", "all guys must do star jumps when someone draws a card"). I was asked to provide a list on two occasions; the first time I suggested "Monarchs of England", but when I suggested "polearms" on the second instance, everyone was stunned, so I had to think of something else.

At a suitable interval, I extricated myself from the fray to prepare for Fright Night while the campers had their confidence walk down a dark trail. We held ours at perhaps the most famous abandoned house on Sentosa, just opposite the DBS/PA holiday chalets, and up the road from both the Scripture Union campsite and the Tourism Academy. I think it was the same house which I glimpsed when, during the GEP camp in Sec 1, someone in my class got lost and Tay Poh Huat led a search team to look for him, and we found some Malay drug addicts getting high at the entrance of the place.

After our setup, the path went something like this: the camper(s) would walk up a slope to the porch of the house, where they would see a dark room. Moving through the room, they would be accosted by a ghost. They would then exit the room and walk down a covered pathway. At the end of it, behind a shed, I would lurk with a white cloak (of sorts, which I later removed because I was baking in it) and with a bottle of silly string in one hand and snow spray in the other, and spray them liberally with it. I would then give them directions to U-turn (a term that no one understood, strangely), walk back towards the dark room, turn right and go up the corridor. A disembodied human head (a ball with 'hair' stuck to it) would roll down the stairs. When they walked up the steep staircase, they would turn around and walk into a large room, whereupon another disembodied human head would come flying at them (another ball sliding down a length of comms cord). Exiting the room from the right, they would walk down a long corridor, past a tree branch with a white cloth thrown over it. At the end of the corridor they would encounter a woman and her fetus, the former of whom would proposition the camper(s). Going down the stairs, a little boy would greet them ghoulishly (though the makeup unfortunately made him look more clownish than ghost-like). They would then be free to leave the house, to their delight. At least, that was the plan.

In the end, I think the ghosts were more scared than the campers, even with some helpers to keep them company in the night. The night was quite bright, so moonlight illuminated the trail somewhat (except, sadly, where some of us ghosts were stationed) We also didn't have enough props or enough preparation, so we were quite shoddy as ghosts. The guys strolled past merrily, especially the first (and only) all-male pair. Most of the girls yelped softly or otherwise didn't display their fright in a very audible manner (perhaps they had looks of dread on their faces, but it was dark where I was, so). I did notice at least one gripping her (male) partner's arm very tightly though. One guy, entering alone, had the decency to ejaculate token yelps of surprise, so there's some credit to him.

Above all, we probably went around scaring people the wrong way, and our impact was lessened despite - or probably because - of our antics. It was reported to us that before entering the house, many participants were "fucking scared" and that some didn't want to enter (no doubt due to some judicious seeding of suggestions and messing with their minds through the telling of ghost stories after nightfall). Ghosts which actively try to scare you ("Boo!", "I'm scared...", "Muahaha!") merely reassure participants that a live human that they know is in front of them, especially if they recognise the ghost's voice and/or visage. Ghosts which actually give you directions (as I did) totally spoil the effect. The campers' imagination is probably our most powerful weapon, especially for the females (witness the popularity of romance novels). Ghosts which ignore you, look through you or flit past the edge of your vision, uncaring, are probably the most effective spirits (IIRC, Haw Par Villa used to hire a woman in ghostly makeup to stand around with an umbrella in their "10 Courts of Hell" attraction, and she wouldn't take heed of passers-by). In fact, if we'd left the house totally empty, it'd probably have been more scary than it was with us inside.

Despite our ineptitude, some girls (naturally) put on such a good show that it was worth hiding for hours in a house stinking of bats. One pair of excitable girls came in together, and spent what must have been at least 15 minutes hesitating on the lintel marking the entrance to the first room, talking loudly to each other all the while about how scared they were ("I'm very scared, I'm very scared). When they finally reached my station and I sprayed them, they screamed and screamed and screamed: these were not the usual pathetic yelps or squeals which most girls are fond of; these were good quality, resonant and piercing screams. First one screamed, which prompted the other to start. Hearing her, the first became more agitated and continued screaming. And so on for at least half a minute. It made up for all the others' non-response.

Another pair of girls later wasn't quite so spectacular in the screaming stakes, but they were so spooked by the bouncing ball that they fell out, and someone had to guide them through the rest of the house with a light, "disarming" the reamining ghosts.

After Fright Night, I got a ride home from Gilbert and returned the following day after lunch. We had some dry games by the beach, I rode in the aforementioned contraption (merry-go-round variant), got horribly disoriented and screamed too much (for some inexplicable feminine reason, some girls were screaming even when the thing stopped, so I decided to scream for fun too. Oh, and it was rather scary also), for which I'm currently suffering (sore throat).

"Life is a sexually transmitted disease." - R. D. Laing

***

For lunch I had a tim sum buffet at Mirama hotel with erstwhile fellow slaves after their latest high key ICT.

Nigel was psycho and ordered the equivalent of 80 dishes/baskets (for non-dim sum items, I counted a "small" order as equivalent to 1 dish/basket, "medium" to 2 and "large" to 3) for 8 people. Somehow, we managed to finish them and had another 10 bowls of dessert. The other table had the equivalent of 55 dishes/baskets for 7 people, and they were also having difficulties.

***

Miranda is so helpful. Some weird ICQ users wanted to add me (I haven't seen these scum for a while actually), but Miranda told me that the user client was "Spam Bot".

***

Phantasy Star Online" / a game review from Christian Spotlight

""Phantasy Star Online" has been in development for a few years now. Heralded as the most epic game yet in the famous "Phantasy Star" series which started with the now-obsolete Sega Master System. Promising eye-popping graphics, deep gameplay, and the ability to play online with thousands of players across the world has risen this game to the pinnacle of hype. Just released mere days ago (as of this original writing), is Phantasy Star Online an acceptable game in the eye's of God?... "Phantasy Star Online" is one of those rare games that I believe is totally alright in God's eyes. Highly recommended."

No, this is not satire.

***

The next time I see someone describe herself in her profile as a "simple girl" (or any variant spelling thereof), I swear I'm going to interrogate her as to the criteria of simplicity, and what a complex girl would be like.

***

dunkindohnut and the_fell_bat both inform me that they want Wo-hen Nankan badges.

Wth?!

(If anyone else wants them, they should contact me. I might actually make them for everyone.)

The extended advertisement for NUS that's masquerading as a news supplement in today's Straits Times is most amusing. I wonder if they had to pay for it. Given that there wasn't any obvious indication of its being a paid supplement, I think the answer is no.

And people wonder why the Straits Times isn't taken seriously, or as a real newspaper.

(Also see: Singapore...boleh! Other countries...shitleh!)


My throat hurts.

Maybe I shouldn't have screamed so much on Sentosa, on a playground contraption (a merry-go-round variant) which I will now describe: A pole is stuck into sand and 4 beams extend out horizontally from its peak, forming a symmetrical cross shape. From each beam another extended down, with a saddle attached to it, together with handles.

Each person using the piece of equipment would sit on the saddle, facing the pole in the centre. Someone would then push one of the four vertical beams around, rotating the contraption around the pole (Alternatively, the users would bounce up and down, causing the contraption to rotate).

Come to think of it, it was like a carousel, keeping the saddles but sans the horses, except that it was manually-powered.

If anyone knows what this thing is called, please tell me!

Someone: it sounds like a convoluted sex toy
merry go rounds don't have saddles


Someone: so what did u volunteer being?

Me: err. stuff lah
station master
move stuff
paint banner
pack goodie bags
be a ghost in the haunted house

Someone: Were u the ghost of indulgence?

Me: no I was the ghost of christmas past
go and die lah
hahahah

Someone: (u be station master? u must have tekan the girls by pulling their ponytails)