A Side Of Beef ~

 Breakfast of Champions

I am not by any means a patriotic man. In fact, I would daresay that I hold several biases with regards to the land from which I hail. Be it bias with work, bias with people, or bias with authority, a good portion of my time spent bitching, which of I do spent a decent amount, is dedicated to the likes of my forsaken country. If ever provided with the option between relinquishing my nationality and a double cheeseburger with fries, we all know I’d be 2,000 calories over the Jenny Craig daily limit.

  Yes, I hear you lament. Yet another pointless tirade on the shortcomings of a lesser nation. And those of you who know me are probably reaffirmed in my being a bigoted, self-righteous, pompous, ravishing, muscular Asian boy. And for those of you that don’t, let me assure you,they are most undeniably correct (end part in particular). But just as there is no smoke without fire, similarly there are no flies without shit.

Malaysia, the bar setter that it is, is constantly setting new heights for the level of global retardism it garners for itself. Every time I see another headline involving our wonderful nation, I crinkle my nose in reflex as I prepare myself for the crap inundation about to unfold. It’s a fancy that International news doesn’t zone in on the weak underbelly which is our nation’s construct, its policies laughable, its ministers incompetent.  So far gone in fact, that your educated foreigner cannot be faulted for mistaking our leader’s ineptitude for faux political trolling. But despite the constant shit barrage that this bungling regime showers onto their people, they managed to do one thing right, and that was their attempt to quell the now renowned Bersih rally. 

 Now BEFORE all you haters go ape shit and label me some quasi-nazi slash Rambo prototype, you need to hear me out. Perspective, that is all.

perspective (pəˈspɛktɪv)

— n 1. a way of regarding situations, facts, and judging their relative importance.

  A majority of the free world would agree in unison that the ass smack down our so called Government laid on their citizens was a violation of basic human right. And you could hardly blame them. With the amount of riot gear and crowd suppression personnel present, you would have thought they were half expecting Kim Jong Il and his secret raptor-mole regiment to emerge and lay siege on the country. But what they saw as oppression, those more familiar with Malaysia’s affairs saw hope and quite possibly the birth of something revolutionary, both in its radical and mutinous sense.

Living a million miles away, on top of the fact that I already only give half a rat’s speckled ass to the goings back home, it’s hardly a wonder that I misappropriated much of the situation in the motherland. When people mentioned the Bersih rally, the growing political tension and the people’s unrest, I figured it was just the usual apathetic discontentment and griping. I figured pissed off Chinese people incensed at some new pork levy. I figured a movement supported in spirit but never in substance. I figured wrong. And just as I had, so did the government.

 Malaysia’s Leadership runs on an engine of fear and ignorance. It is their fuel, it is their conception, it is their means. And this, being the only thing they knew, was how they attempted to quash the people’s collaboration. But this terrorism only served to fan the flames, with their proactive arrests only bringing more attention to their desperation and ultimately resolved in the assembly of Malaysians, tens of thousands strong, from all likes of life, and all manners of race.

It was a congregation unlike anything I had ever seen. It was a force to behold. And the sight of it, albeit purely pictorial, actually overwhelmed me with mislaid pride. This was a step for the common Malaysian, something that banded our hearts together in a concerted effort and soldered it shut with the yellow glue of justice. Like a holy congress of rice, sambal and ikan bilis, the people came together with a union fitting that of a first class nasi lemak; harmonious, amalgamated and not to be fucked with.

  Now I could go on and grouse about how the authorities went Raccoon City on protester ass, but that has been done and done. Why criticize their conduct, when in fact, they have inadvertently created what they have been trying for all this time; a united Malaysia (granted united against themselves). Which drives home the point I started off with; perspective. What initial harm they aimed to cause, and post-rally, aspired to diffuse, has only worked to conceive an opus of grander proportions, a Malaysia without racial segregation, a Malaysia with a common cause and subsequently a Malaysia with a brighter future. They have (unwittingly) realized OneMalaysia and for that I thank them, for behind every foreign based Malaysian’s veil of cynicism and distrust, is an endearing citizen waiting to go home. It might not be now, it might not be in twenty years, but true Malaysians have never been sticklers for time.

The first step has already been taken.

Pictured; Democracy……..or Breakfast

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there dwelled a man. A man, despite his prominent greatness and skill in his craft, despised by many a Jim and Joan. A man, that chose to relinquish his relations with his fellow person in his pursuit of eminence. A man with balls so big, he low rides out of necessity not fashion. This man was called Kanye, and this is his story.

 Our tale begins in the humble village of Niggashire, where a young, and significantly less pants laden, Kanye was tending to his family’s fried chicken fields. Now it wasn’t always such that Kanye was yearning for some earning. Back then in his youthful state, he had hardly any other interest other than his passion for farming. Nothing would satisfy him more than to sit back after a hard day’s toll, surveying his handiwork and enjoying his bountiful harvest of KFC and grape juice. But all this changed one fateful day.

  Beads of sweat stained his forehead as he worked the ground with his plow. The year had been a dry one, and Kanye would have to put extra effort into the till if he was to make up for it. The General’s taxmen waited for no one and were quick to make examples of stragglers. Poor ol Fiddy, he never stood a chance.

 Pausing only briefly out of remembrance for his decrepit counterpart, Kanye got back to the arduous task of his land, but was brought to a halting stop when his plow struck something solid.

“Mutha fucking rock! Stop hating on your homeboy!” he exclaimed in grief as he moved around to assess the damage.

But a rock it was not.

  Dazzling rays of brilliance erupted from the crack in the ground sending Kanye tumbling in surprise. Wary at first curiosity eventually got the better of him, attraction to shiny things being characteristic of his people. Eye closed and body braced, he tentatively stuck his hand into the gap and retrieved the source of the radiance. His jaw dropped in awe, as he held the single most amazing thing he had ever seen in his life; a blinged out pair of shutter shades.

 Drawn by its immaculate glossiness and drunk by its intoxicating douche baggery, Kanye was compelled to put them on. And put them on he did.

 Electric surged through him immediately as he was basked in the Shades glowing warmth. The infinite knowledge of the universe flashed through his being, saturating his mind with wondrous rhythms and beats. His testicles swelled with the overflowing juices of awesome. He had the glasses. He had the Power.

 As the dust of his enlightenment settled, as if on cue, General Populace, and a contingent of his finest soldiers appeared and demanded homage be paid to his wise and benevolent self. Kanye, high on his newfound hegemony, cut off the General’s tirade and refused payment of any sort, and also remarked that the neighboring Lords terms were much fairer. Populace, furious at being interrupted, and even more at an outrage at being compared to Lord Knowles, would not let this lie.

 “KILL HIM”, the general demanded, and with that began an incantation of third degree magic.

~Romeotakemesomewherewecanbealone

I’llbewaitingallthere’slefttodoisrun~

The general’s charging army shimmered as their bodies morphed and bulged. They were grotesque images, former shadows of their once human selves. They had become Taylorswift fans. An ancient race of heathens, with little soul and even less taste.

 Kanye, having little time to grasp his rapping powers, couldn’t handle the barrage of meaningless rage. He was torn apart, beaten to within a hair breadths of death, left to die in the ravaged remains of what used to be his fried chicken fields.

 General Populace bellowed with laughter, ecstatic over having quelled yet another upstart. And with a phlegm coated spit, he mounted his palanquin and made way to the next household.

 But Kanye would not die. As he lay battered, bruised, he swore vengeance and started a slow and labored crawl to the mountains over the horizon. Months passed as he undertook a Rocky regime. Stairs were climbed, carts were shoulder pressed and cow carcasses pummeled as Kanye sought mastery of his gift. With the assistance of mountain hermit BonJovious, serenading him of feats of greatness and of eyes of tigers, Kanye was finally ready.

……

  The landscape lay in smoldering ruins. It had been 7 hours since Kanye had met General populace in the centre of his ley where he had been flaying bards to pass the time. Punches had been thrown, hordes defeated, and hair pulled. Both men weary with battle, were down to their last attacks.

“You did well,” General Populace commended and with that prepared to launch his ultimate final move, a move polished over many years and which has yet to find match within the countless artists he had done battle with; the almighty Torrent Download.

  His palms sparkled as he pillaged the land of its seeds.

  Kanye dug deep. Focusing all his talent, drawing on the well of power stored within his nuts, as well as that of his Shutter Shades, he formed a ring of pure luminescent power. “KAMEHAME HA,” he roared as he let the disc loose.

 Two forces clashed with a destructive force comparable only to that of Oprah’s bowel movements. The balance of power surged back and forth for what very much seemed like the whole episode (approx 20 mins) when suddenly for a brief moment it seemed like Kanye would fail.

  Losing faith in himself, he dived into a self introspective state and thought back unto the teachings of BonJovious.

“Have a Nice Dayyayyyyayyyyy.”

And with that pushed the disc through, destroying General Populace and his evils with him.

A resplendent ray beamed down from the heavens.

“JOIN ME,” a voice boomed and Kanye disappeared forever as he left to take his rightful seat next to the Big G-man in heaven. And all was well.

THE END