Letter to the Fucking Racists

We had an Election for the MSA a few days ago.

A non-Malay was chosen as the president, and rightly so for he is the best man for the job.

So, we Malays received an sms roughly saying, "How can a Muslim turn your back on your Muslim brother? How can you vote for a non-Muslim?"

Here's my reply:

Dear Fucking Racists,
We chose solely on the basis of competence. We are of the opinion that our Muslim brother is not as competent as our non-Malay brother.
If we have the choice between Yasser Arafat and Gandhi to fight for our independence, we'd choose Gandhi. If we have to choose between Mahathir Mohammed and the Thai King to speak out against America, we'll choose Mahathir. Not because Mahathir's a Muslim. It's because he's competent in this.
So, Mr. Racists, you can go fuck yourselves upside down and all around.
With much love,
Johan Ariff bin Juhari.

Degrees

A friend is a person who has one or more same interest with you.
A good friend is a person who feigns interest in your interests.
A great friend is a person who tries to have an interest in your interests.

Oh and Volgogradians telah membuat Undian Paling Bijak, indeed. First step of world domination: check!

Johan Ariff bin Juhari: Undian Paling Bijak

Tomorrow's election day for the local Malaysian Students' Association. [MSA]

I'm running for the post Media Director.

I misunderstood that I had to write a manifesto but was corrected by the EC members. Thank god, I don't know what the hell is a manifesto. I thought it was one of those, "membangunkan pelajar-pelajar Malaysia di bumi Volgograd" thing but honestly, if I ever say that, that's a load of bullcrap. Sorry Maher. Haha.

Formally, the job is "to manage MSA blog and spread any info about activites of the organisation". In layman's term, that means the guy voted to be the director has to go around town spreading the latest news and gossips released by the MSA. See, why I'd be perfect for the job?

If you don't know me that well enough, well, let me tell you, then:

Free Will, Predetermination and Foreknowledge

It's 1am.

Theology disturbs me.

If one has Free Will, one sets the future for oneself.

If Predetermination exists, one's future is already set long before one could choose.

The fundamental flaw in religions, some might say, for Free Will and Predetermination cannot exist together. No matter what traditional religious teachers tell you, one concept is always stronger than the other.



I believe I took a third stand on the matter.

I don't believe in Predetermination but rather Divine Foreknowledge. Might sound the same but my interpretation is different.

Predetermination means everything that will happen has been set: when one blinks, when a butterfly flaps its wings, where would the sun be when a speck of dust finally touches down.

Foreknowledge, on the other hand, according to me, means Knowledge of the consequence of every action: what will happen if one kills a man or save his life, the knowledge of the different futures if one starts his day with his right foot and then later chose to give his seat to an old woman, rather than starting with his left foot and giving his seat or starting with his left foot and not giving up his seat or starting with his right foot but not giving up his space.

To me, Foreknowledge is more compatible with Free Will compared to Predetermination. Predetermination and Free Will generate the answers, "I am not wise enough to explain." and/or, "Only God knows/Because God wills it so."

The Foreknowledge and Free Will combo churns out, "Well, why do YOU watch teledramas, then?"

Vague

We didn't do something we usually do this time. I fear bad times are coming upon us, nay, swooping down upon us. And as Alistair said, swooping... is... bad....

It's early morning. You're sitting in the bus. There are two white lines falling so carelessly from your ears for the band that's playing inside your head. It's early morning. People are talking, trading facts sworn to secrecy. It's early morning. You're in a bus. You can't fall asleep, you'll miss your stop. You're bored. It's early morning.

This is what I do.

You can't read lips. It's one of those things you've always wanted to learn but did nothing about. What you can see, with the class act performing between your ears, is their mouths shutting and opening like goldfish in a bowl.

This is what I imagine.

You put the lyrics of the song you're listening to into their mouth.



Go on.

Try it.

What you get is an old man saying lovingly to his dear wife, "Mama, we're all gonna die! Mama, we're meant for the flies! Stop asking me questions I hate to see you cry. Mama, we're all gonna die!"

See the lady conductor arguing with a commuter in Bob Tutupoly's voice, "Hello dear, what can I do for you?"
And the burly commuter, replying through his nose, "Will you go and swing along tonight?"

The boy looking at the general direction of a girl and this song plays, "I can't live.... If living is without you..." and instantly that blank look seems to be a longing of a desperate heart.

This doesn't enrich your soul or anything. It's just good ol' clean fun.

So What If My Shoes Are Made in Gombak?

Apa salahnya pakai kasut Gombak?

Those, who are too young to remember this ad, has nothing at all in common with me.

So what if I still feel the inspired every time I rewatch Dead Poets' Society?

And so what if Cake's Italian Leather Sofa makes me giggle during the chorus?

And so what if Spider Jerusalem fires up my journalistic meatgun?

Like my father said, follow people la, people's life [Ikut orang la, hidup orang]

Wise man, my father.