I’m sure many of you have heard the ‘Malaysians are a courteous lot’ campaign on the radio. I remember one of them was to ask us not to dawdle in our vehicle when leaving the parking lot, as other motorists might be waiting for our spot. Then they top it off with the campaign slogan - “Malaysians are a courteous lot”.

Alright, let’s have a moment of silence here review our sins… Malaysians…

…..

for we have lied to ourselves, to our God and to our dear animal friends on this planet here. “Malaysians are a courteous lot”…hhhyeah right…

Each time I hear this deceitful phrase, I feel a spasm of emotional sting inside my mind. Like, if we Malaysians are so ‘courteous’ as claimed, why would we need somebody to remind us that on the national radio? Doesn’t make a lot of sense, isn’t it?

“Oh, assholism in Malaysia must have escalated to such severe level, that they need to be periodically reminded to use their common sense and not to act like an asshole …hmmppffhh”

As if the “non-courteous lot” would listen. Maybe out of the odds, they would… But if that were to happen, then shouldn’t this be used for an even better cause? Like… perhaps to urge people not to break the law and we would have zero crime in the society? Oh then we won’t have to hire so many law enforcement officers liao… we just need a few radio stations to run the country.

How nice.

Well, don’t get me wrong… not that I’m against the idea of changing our festering mindsets into a better one. In fact, I think it’s a commendable effort (ambitious, I should say)… to hope for something positive out of it. It’s hard to believe that I’m listening to something that supposedly have been taught at schools, and indoctrinated by religions…

Just look at our Malaysian society today. Manhole covers getting stolen (oh fuck, I have lost count on how many times I have quoted this…), modesty being outraged, the old and the weak being take advantage of… and politicians worrying about dresscodes instead of deteriorating public conveniences (check out the majority of our Malaysian bumpy roads today, it’s as rugged as toad’s head).

Hell, can’t you see it people?? This is beyond what education, religious preaching & campaigning on the national radio could help. We need law & enforcement. As in - to think of a way to strictly enforce our laws and regulations to the society. Somebody violate traffic rules? Our government should make sure somebody is there round the corner to slap a big fine onto the violaters’ asses. Maybe suspend their license for a couple years… if necessary. Those who refuse to pay their fines? Mandatory jail term for 6 months and caning… if necessary. They key thing - ENFORCE. (We have nothing of that sort around…)

Our traffic police officers are only good at setting up roadblocks at the wrong place and wrong time, and to impersonate traffic lights. Some of them have even seen so much idle times, that they have grown as fat as a rhinocerous with eating disorders, that they need their uniforms to be tailor made by a juru-ukur tanah… (hey, try register that to the Guinness World Records for biggest girth on a traffic police officer and confer him a datukship).

I don’t know man, maybe someone could come up with a better idea. But you get the point anyway. “Malaysians can be a courteous lot if they want to…”

To defecate. To shit. To poop. To take a dump. To take a crap. They all mean the same thing. That is, to get that brown nasty turd out of your body through that narrow orifice of your ass. But for Emily and I, we give this sacred act a unique name - “to output”.

You see, I’m a healthy person. I “output” every morning when I wake up. Except for yesterday. Yesterday, I suddenly became so lazy and stagnant, that I don’t feel like taking a crap at all. So, I just didn’t give a fuck about everything and decided to crap later on in the afternoon (yeah, I can choose to postphone my crapping schedule, let’s just say… I have total control of my own ass)

But Emily felt that it’s not a right thing. It bothered her… not because she’s concerned that the crap might ferment itself multi-folds in my rectal cavity and fuck me up pretty bad, but because she thinks that if I don’t crap, the energy flow of my body would not conform to the Chi at the southeast corner of the house.

morning -
“Dear, aren’t you going to output?”
“No dear, I don’t feel like wanting to do that”

a while later -
“Dear, aren’t you going to output?”
“Ermmm, no dear, I have nothing to output”

a little more while later -
“Dear, have you output-ed today?”
“Nope. I have nothing to output, ok?”

some while later -
“Dear, aren’t you going to output already?”
“ARggghhhhh! Haven’t I told you already?? I don’t want to output! Why are you pestering me to take a dump?? Why?? why?? ”

But she just gave me that nonchalant stare… as if she’s waiting for me to finish whatever I’ve got to say, and would later schedule for the same repetitive badgering. It’s a psychological torment.

About 5 minutes after the emotional protest, I finally gave in. I went to take my dump… (had to force the damn thing out)

Knocked up ladies… they can be horrifyingly twisted at times. (I just hope she won’t ask me to hoover a live cockroach next… just to keep her hormone driven mind appeased…)