Primo is in town.

DJ Premier, the other half of the jazz hiphop group Gangstarr is here in town tonight rocking the deck. Though Guru would not be around to deliver his slick rhymes, I am sure tonight would be something.


I was contemplating though, why they are only brought in when they are already old. A month ago or so, Naughty by Nature came by. Now DJ Premier. Maybe they would wait till Nas holds a walking stick before they decide to fly him in. Perhaps I would kill someone so that I could watch Nas live on stage.


DJ Premier also was involved with Nas's most uplifting album, Illmatic.


For now I am trying to convince Apeq to go, but till now he have not replied my SMS. Either that or I will be staying sober the whole night. Though I am fired up to rock the floor. Wait, I could hear distance scratching sound.

The section on your left are for the defective dummies.

This morning began with something sombre. The sky was cheerful though, the sun has not shine this early for a long time already.


Couple of others sat gathering around me talking about babies today. They were talking about the babies in the intensive care unit. One of the person there just had a baby less than a month ago. Unfortunately the baby suffers from a block of the connection between the stomach to the intestine. Fortunately though, the baby's condition seems fine for now.


While visiting his own child, he managed to look at others.


After listening, everyone felt fortunate with our situation now. There are babies that are born with irregular size of head due to liquid in their head, babies with just two toes on each leg and some other defects.


In the matter of fact, I am considered a defect too.


This is because when I was in the stomach of Ms. Wah, the moment where I saw the light at the other end of the tunnel, I contemplated to walk out. Was I reluctant? God knows. I had to be pluck out using scalpels. Due to the soft bones, my arms are affected.


Now I cannot take out and lay both my palms straight out normally. If my palms are to be flat out, I had to twist my arms further. Due to this, I cannot play guitar without twisting. Maybe it explains why I never took it up. Or else I'll end up looking like a leech being burnt playing the guitar; All twisted up.


But the good thing is, my arms are considered hard to lock. You know when people twist your arm to the back and render you motionless or rather immobilized. I, however, have the privilege to pretend that I am hurting, and can dig their eyes out when they are not focusing with a slight twist.


So I guess things are only bad, when you want it to stay bad and not make anything good out of it.

Momma was a hoe.

In Dr. Dre's album Chronic 2001, there is a skit by Eddie Griffin entitled Ed-ucation. I always chuckle when I listen to it. Even after so many times listening to it.


Yes, it would be a little sexist. But at certain times, it takes two to tango. It is certainly the main idea of this comedy skit.


Below is how the skit goes; for those who have never heard of it.

Aww they say uhh.... a black man is a pimp. Well let me tell you the biggest pimp on planet motherfuckin Earth, is her momma. It's her MOMMA that told her,"Get a man that got a good job gurl! Make sure he got a good car gurl! Make sure he can take you out and buy you somethin gurl! "What happened to just fallin in
love with a nigga with a bus pass---- just cause you love the nigga?But I'm the pimp motherfucker!I gotta be the player! Biggest hoes, on planet Earth.... are walkin through the motherfuckin neighborhood. You KNEW when you got with the nigga he already had a woman. You knew he already had a family but you fucked him anyway!!!And then when you thought you gon' lose the nigga, you went and got pregnant -didn't you bitch, DIDN'T YOU!! THE OL' KEEP A NIGGA BABY. And then when the nigga ain't around, what do you tell thechild? "Aww that nigga ain't shit,
that's why yo' daddy ain't here; cause that nigga ain't shit. "How bout bein a woman, and tellin the kid the truth that yo' momma, you was a hoe! TELL THE KID!Momma was a hoe, I was weekend pussy. I had you to keep the nigga, it didn't work out, that's why he ain't here - but he a good nigga cause he take care of his REAL family. I was just a dumb bitch, tryin to keep, a nigga that I wanted.

Now stop bitching about how sexist it is. You can do your own skit, if you feel like it.

The last name.

Death Note the movie is actually the first part of a two part movie. Death Note however kept us sitting at the edge of the seat. Especially for the one who never got to read the manga. I couldn't read Kanji, hence looking at the the pictures alone in the manga couldn't help much telling me the story.


The second part of the movie, Death Note: Last name would be a fourway battle or so between 2 more Kiras besides Light Yagami, and L. What interest me for the second part was more screen for Misa. Many cosplay has been done using the character Misa. The lolita goth at prime time. But Erika Toda was amazing in the little screen part in Death Note.





With the stockings looking like a spiral up her long legs, I was petrified. And so was Shinigami too, fixated looking at her television show.


"Hajimemashite. Watashiwa Vlad-san. Anatawa kawaii desuka."


Truth be told, I don't know whether what I said above was even correct.


The core of the story, however, was how Light uses the death book to kill off most criminals. Criminals which were not prosecuted. Criminals not reported. Criminals who showed no reaction after being judged by law.


Like in the movie, there were two group that takes side to his crime. One supported him. They think criminals should be punished in that way since law could not apprehend them. The other one, thinks that even criminals even have human rights. No matter whether they rape 5 year old kid and go scot free. No matter they are big shot Yakuzas who will never be apprehended by the law.


Light dream of a crime-less world. Where everyone could walk down the street without the fear of crime getting at them. I believe that is everyone's dream also back here. We all know how crime rate has increased in these period of time. Days after days we watch the news and see people mugged, robbed, shot, killed, slashed, raped and bodies found everywhere. Some got caught, and some never gets caught.


Do you ever wish that the person doing the bad deeds, who were never got caught, to be punished in a different way since law could not get to them?


I believe we know the answers already. In a way, we are all Light Yagami.


Would there be a balance then if every criminal is fearful to do crime? Would the world be a better place actually without them? Or God let it be this way, with some sort of hidden message to human being? Would you, use the note book to kill off a criminal if you know the law could not get to them? Would you hope that the bugger who pushed your mom down the road and had stitches to her eyes to die the way you wanted them to, because the cops could not get hold of the person?


We are no different from Light Yagami anyway.

The eyes of Shinigami.

Friday night were spent sweating with a whole place of Singhs doing the banghra. The rules were simple, like I mentioned never bend down. Cold beers, so cold it tasted like nectar. Bottles of Dewars opened. Surrounded by high ranked officers. On the left, we have a prison warden. The right, ASPs from different state of the country.


I am literally surrounded by the pigs in blue.


Saturday night, we have the reassurance of being safe from police road blocks.


With a cold beer in hand, this uncle told me, "You don't worry about road blocks. This friend over here (he pointed to another man sitting at the side) will tell you which road to use."


We were safe alright. We spent the last hours of Saturday drinking Jack on plastic cups and munching on Domino's pizza. A friend texted before the wedding dinner saying we are invited to his birthday party at a service apartment. Drinking merrily and munching pizzas watching Green Bunny hang on to his dear life playing Leisure Suit Larry's Magna Cum Laude.


A lot of spanking fun and 360 degrees peeing on anyone in the game.


On the way up, drunk Russian models were frolicking with their tattooed cute butt. Apparently girls from Andrew Models were staying over at the same service apartment that night. I only had one wish that night. Oh God please let me speak Russian because saying 'spa si bo' out of nowhere sounds totally awkward.


But in between all that, I managed to watch the infamous Death Note. A very interesting story I must say. All this boils down to a million dollar question.


If you would have found a notebook dropped by Death, where when you write a name in it, the person will die in 40 seconds or according to how you want the person to die, who's name would it be? Someone better pray hard, that I don't find that notebook.

Bend it like Karpal Singh

Friday. The day where the people at workplace becomes lesser. The air conditioner seems always colder on Fridays. Like you are confined in a tight space and you are sliding in and out, reminding yourself of a mortuary.


It's quite an auspicious weekend I must say.


First, my Fighter has become a Crusader. He has passed his 3rd job advancement with flying colours last night. He now has pretty orbs circling around him. And if I might add, he savaged and beat the crap out of his mentor Dances with Balrog. Dances with Balrog always reminds me that if I would be a Red Indian, my special name would be Drinking with Apu. Thank you. Please come again.


Tonight the pre-Sikh wedding party will commence. Green Bunny and I would have to wear steel underwears and remember not to bend down and pick anything on the floor. Not even a RM50 note. Not even a girl lying down spread eagle wanting you to bend down and lick the clitoris to oblivion. You'll never know which Bayi did you, since there are aplenty around.


If we both don't drown or wake with a sharp pain on our anus, we would have go to a Muslim wedding at the big desert in the next afternoon.


Then on Saturday night, we would have the full fledge Sikh wedding. We probably be merrily running around doing the banghra like what we see in movies.


I never been to one. A Sikh wedding. This would be my virgin Sikh wedding and I certainly hope my anus would stay virgin when it all ends.


One thing good about a Sikh wedding is alcohol is never out of stock. One of the groom's cousin told me this specifically, "God bless you on Friday night."


I don't know what it meant.


Let's hope he meant that I will either crawl back home, or knockout at the side of the pool. There are two people you don't challenge drinking with. One being the ever mighty Irish. The other would be the Sikhs. It's just stupid making a challenge anyway.

Cabbies from Hell

Hands down, the far most unappealing and cut throat cabbies appears at Sunway. They are the worst of their kind without any statistic needed to be taken down.


The one who are honest and good enough to take are the one coming from other places. Maybe after dropping a customer nearby.


The one that make their routine driving around here are vultures. Most of them do not use meters. If they do use one, it is tweaked. Some of you might have remember the incident involving me and a cab which has a tweaked meter. It was not pretty. Especially when you end up waking up in your cab at the side of the road. Stinging feel on the face. You look in the mirror, and you find no difference between what you like now and the steering wheel.


Sometimes watching them outside the gate of my workplace, I do not understand how they make their daily living. Maybe by cheating one desperate customer, they call it a day. They reject customers who doesn't want to deal with their outrageous amount of fare. They usually charge double to triple. They end up hanging out there longer than they actually could do normal fare charge and drive around for the day.


Hours and hours went by. No customers want to pay up with their deal. They sat there talking and sometimes poking their own engine. They sit at the restaurant nearby drinking. They seem happy with it.


Well, as long as they are happy with their lives being vultures.

The sacrificial ground

Many of people out there always say that they have been sacrificing for miscellanous things. People say they sacrifice for love. They say they sacrifice for their family. They say they sacrifice for their friends. They say they sacrifice for God.


Have you ever heard of any true sacrifices?


Most important thing is have you ever sacrifice for anything in your life?


I am not sure who has, or who has not. But I am sure that sometimes what you did is not considered as a sacrifice. You want sacrifices. I will give you one instance of a sacrifice that I know of.


I had a colleague before this which I casually call Ms. Parrot. For those who had read about her will know that she repeats like nobody's business. You hear the same story for a week. She no longer work now since her contract was not renewed. She was already 65 years old of course.


She sacrificed her whole life taking care of her mother. If she is around 65 years old by now, you would like to imagine how old her mother would be.


She never got married. She never does anything much. She don't go out much. The farewell dinner at Pizza Hut, was most probably her most happiest moment of her life. She would have think that we would be sitting in a hut, eating this strange Italian food that looks like her door mat. She never had much friends beside for those at work.


Worst of all, her mother has now gone completely senile. She finds leaving the house for normal marketing routine would also be hazardous. As her senile mother has now many imaginary friends and talk crap all day long. At times scolding her for nothing, blaming her for all the problems in the world.


Imagine if her mother would have died anytime soon, which would have left her some 70 odd years living. It would be like her taking her first baby step lifting the coconut shell above her for the first time of her life. If she's lucky, the next frog under the coconut shell would manage to croak a hello. What if the frog can't?


Sacrifice. Now don't go telling everybody your sacrificial story. Because you can't just really beat that.


Be thankful indeed, that the frog around you could croak a hello, or if you are lucky, offer you a mug full of beer.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye

Hear Ye, Hear Ye, here comes a story.


There was once two country opposite to each other sharing a bridge, amongst other stuff. On each end of the bridge holds the gate to the country.


Country A's leader has done research and espionage. He had a reason to believe that country B has plans to step over to country A side of bridge and take over one of it's state. The bridge will be the way in. Full armored tanks in full speed speeding right through the ocean. By securing the south state, then there will be more infantry and back up units to launch a takeover.


Country A's leader quickly devised a plan on his own. He decides to build another bridge going in to the country. A bridge more harder for any armored tanks or infantry to be coming through. He also have plans that with the new bridge on that new side will make that aforementioned state rise and developed because of the shorter way for most ships to port. He told country that the new bridge is for a better ecology purposes and they believed it.


Why is country B is eager to break into country A? It is told that country B has an advisor. A Jewish advisor and trying to make a Palestine out of country A.


How come the storyteller just summarize the whole story short and just say that he wants to badmouth another Jewish. He seems very excited when he mentioned the Jewish advisor.


"Yahudi this, Yahudi that", was the story after came crumbling.


I sat there listening trying to do my job, but was interested at the story at the same time. Only right until the last moment.


This hatred is buried deep forever I should say.

Little Hennessy, laid back and cool.

Couple of years went by from the day I started my first crap on Fariz Force's FutureKL's guestbook. It was over a buck, a coffee and a conversation that initiated the birth of Social Cafe, hence the title on the page. Sitting down at times reading the archive, I could see the changes. At times I don't even remember I wrote those. I even had those wow moment when I think to myself, "Did I fucking write that?"

It could have been that all these years I wrote what I feel, or how I was feeling at the time before I click the 'publish' button. I don't think or plan how the post would end up to be. When feelings differs from day to day, so are the posts.

It's not a fucking academic site anyway. There are no rules and boundary to what a post should be like. It's half way fiction and fact. I also can afford to be wrong.


Once upon a time, one of the reader with the handle Yan wrote a testimonials for me on Friendster with a part of the lyrics from Nas's version of Thugz Mansion.

"I'm capable of anything, my imagination can give me wings
To fly like doves over the streets watchin' many things"

I never knew what it meant, as in what it meant when it was presented on my testimonial. I also wonder where she is now.


As now Nas's God Son album is playing in my car stereo for the week, I often find myself repeating Thugz Mansion. Beautiful accoustic. Lovely chorus. Meaningful lyrics. Nas and 2Pac.


Who said rap is all about bling bling, gun slingin' and MCPs?

Get that butt out of my mind

Sunday morning. The road was clear as usual. It felt like flying on my way to work. Gwen Stefani had to rub in the salt to the wound, when she kept yelling, "It's Sunday morning."


My unconscious mind suddenly replied, "Shut up bitch. Before I force choke you."


Images of me using the non-existent Jedi mind trick that I have force choking Gwen Stefani flashes before my sight.


It was a quiet Saturday. The daytime were spent watching a French movie, B-13. It is like watching a sequel to Yamakase (or whatever the title was). People running around climbing every orifice there are. A couple of Jackie Chans if you ask me.


Then came the invitation to a Raya open house. We don't get as much as last time because this year I can count with my hands how many house we went to. The highlights of this open house was Popiah Boring. It was named like that because one of the hostess prepared it overnight because she could not sleep and decided to make some popiah.


"Entah. I tak leh tidur. So I buat la popiah. Boring punya pasal."


We were laughing like hyenas. We told her that the next time we call, we make sure we will ask whether you are bored or not. If yes, we will come in an hour or two to savour some popiah. We like to call her Popiah Boring Girl as of now. She has the most flawless face I have ever seen on a woman. Not a bit of unwanted particles, not even make up.


Then came this girl. A Chinese girl. We both have one common thing. We both have only Malay buddies. Her name sounded like, 'Frisk Me', either that or I couldn't think straight after watching her butt glide.


"Alright. Hands up on the walls where I can see them. Spread that legs wide. Do not move or to try to do anything funny. Now I will have to search you for weapons.


She has the cutest butt. The kind of butt that would make Tommy drop a saliva or two. Small, tight and round. She was wearing a very thin and soft material pants. It is like those fisherman three quarter pants where it outline the butt when you are standing. The only visible panty line was the one suggesting a G-string. She just have to move left and right around the condominium.


Honestly the food was tasteless. But I was putting it down my stomach unconsciously. My eyes was of a sniper. Up above the hills, under the rock hole. Covered with blankets of grass. All I had was only one shot. One shot. But I ended up clearing all the ammunition I had.


Outside the condominium smoking, I and Green Bunny went, "Damn!"


The longest 'Damn' anybody can think of.

Scorsese pussy

The hype of The Departed just went cold last night as I sat watching it. I usually do not buy a copy that soon as I usually will wait for the original DVD to be released before getting the pirated copy.


But Apeq got it yesterday, and I am amused for the first time that I can see the 'cigarette burn' that is explained in Fight Club, because well, obviously that came from a master copy which was from a reel. I always notice it at the cinema, but it was the first time I caught it on a DVD.


As I sat there watching, we were both wondering what is left to be shown at the cinema when profanity went on for a series in like every 2 minutes of the film. For those who watched it at the cinema, what the fuck did you watch?


Don't get me wrong. I love the cinema. I love sitting down in rows having the large screen in front of me. It is my dream to watch every movie in the cinema. I call it a dream because I am sure you all know how difficult it is to watch it at the cinema. It's either banned or cut off.


Martin Scorsese's The Departed is like watching Infernal Affair with a whole different cast and different language. If you ask me, there is not much difference except for a little change of characters plot and a little different ending. The acting was terrific if you ask me. But we both think that Joe Pesci would make a better F. Costello, but then again Scorsese need to at least have a little difference between the two movie.


We only wonder if he pays royalty to original writing credits. But it's no doubt a good work.


I would also like to add that we both fell in love with Vera Farmiga's eyes. Such intensed eyes, and the blue hue gets you suck in faster than a vacuum cleaner. It's like the eyes is ripping you naked leaving behind what the society can not see within yourself. Maybe I need my own psychiatrist.

C.R.E.A.M

For those who were confused or rather yearning to know. No, I did not tie up Stufunk on an old oak tree and left him to mingle with the ants with body full of honey. No, UMNO did not send their ninja spies over to our place. No, this is not an emotional wreckage.


It's just dissapointment. It's like walking down the street and suddenly you were grabbed and put up in a confined space. Years of writing what I wanted and no constrain. And bam, deleted. Worst is no acknowledgement of why and who wants it deleted.


So we shall just stop there.


Today we should talk about CREAM. Not the cream you are thinking about. Wu Tang Clan came up with a number years back. The chorus goes like, "Cash rule everything around me. CREAM got the money. Dollar dollar bill yall."


Does cash really rule everything around me? Or is it power?


Many who did crime got away scot free because they have one of those two. That is for sure.


Recently, son of a director was caught and was tested positive for drug abuse. The director, knowing that it doesn't give him good name if his son was abusing drugs went through a lot of ordeal to make sure his son is 'innocent'. Word is he paid RM20,000 to authorities for all the test to be negative. But he should tell his son to be smarter during press conference especially when his last word for the press conference was, "Saya tak akan buat lagi sekali."


Smart boy indeed.


Unsolved murders also are being kept in the dark, when it involves 'powerful' people.


The great example is Jack The Ripper. Who is he? Why is his identity being kept a secret for so many years?


Only someone powerful enough to keep it a secret from the world for this long perhaps.

Is this ground zero?

I am sure most of you watched Fight Club. If you do, you should know who Tyler Durden is. If you don't, what were you doing?


Vlad is my Tyler Durden. I am obviously the Narrator. Few years ago I was a part of Social Cafe. People come and go, like it was a cheap motel at the sleaziest part of the town. I've had my Marla Singer moments.


In the book written by Chuck Palahniuk, the ending was much more than what we watched on the movie. In the book, he felt that he was talking to God, giving a Jack O Lantern smile, with the hole on his cheeks from the gun shot. In reality, he ended up in the asylum. It much explains this retribution.


The Jack O Lantern moment happened. I decided I perhaps should break away from aforementioned Social Cafe to have a better full control.


I and certain members of Social Cafe despises FINAS. The deleted post was my film. When it was deleted, it certainly feels like an act of FINAS and the Lembaga Penapisan Filem Negara (LPFN) banning and editing cuts throughout the film. Any screenwriter would feel that their work is violated. Any director, the boom man, the make up artist, and probably even the waterboy.


So, now welcome to my asylum. My imaginations and rants, though might not be best suited for you or well liked, will roll like a 8mm reel.