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因为有你,才有了更好的我。… 抱你的时候,我真是觉得,这十几年,和你,仿佛是一场梦。 我会拿着你的球衣,和我未来的孩子说。有个叫李宗伟的叔叔,是爸爸最伟大的对手,也是最好的朋友。 — 于林丹李宗伟

Only because of you, there is a better me. … When I hugged you I felt the past ten years with you had been a dream. I will take your jersey to my future child and say, ‘There is an uncle named Lee Chong Wei, your dad’s greatest rival and best friend.‘  — Lin Dan to Chong Wei

247c

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When Lin Dan hugged then took off his jersey to exchange it with Lee Chong Wei, English-language television commentators said the gesture was one of true Olympian sportsmanship. They were completely wrong, and untrue. It was a deeply personal act, as Lin Dan’s letter (below) will show. Outside Malaysia, Chong Wei would joke that his name-initials LCW means ‘Let China Win’. Friendship and rivalry are simply the flip sides of the same coin: rivalry strengthens friendship and vice-versa, a concept that westerners and Anglophiles seem to have trouble understanding.

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Malaysiakini English editors had on the night of the Olympic semi-final badminton match titled their report, ‘Lee Chong Wei slays Lin Dan‘. They weren’t just false in the word ‘slay’, but the editors also revealed their utter anti-Chinese prejudices and ignorance. Lin Dan’s letter to Lee Chong Wei (below in Chinese and translated English) will show that. It needed to wait a dozen years to write.

More to the point, the letter is a classic. In it Lin Dan reflects the deep and profound Chinese philosophical traditions and especially its existential outlook, preceding even Kierkergaard and Sartre, and in ways that illiterate Malaysian Anglophiles and Malaiyoos will never understand. The existential idea says this, without the existence of One, there is no the Other. Without Chong Wei, there is no Lin Dan and vice-versa; without silver there will never be gold.

Another Lin Dan example: “We’re not measured by results“. A few paragraphs later, he adds, “It took me some effort to beat the Indian kid… When I didn’t want to press on, I would remember my promise I had with you, the promise to meet you in the semi-finals…

The inference is most profound: Lee Chong Wei, feted by all Malaysia as badminton master, could have been possible only because of another Chinese named Lin Dan, a good man from our Motherland.

Lin Dan’s letter first appeared in public in the Chinese sina.com site titled 情怀|林丹李宗伟给彼此的信 . It begins, thus, wuxiong zongwei 吾兄宗伟 My clan elder brother Wei. [Letter in English translation after the hanzi version.]

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林丹的信。他们的奥运四分之一决赛比赛结束后一天。

吾兄宗伟

昨天看你扔下球拍、在空中跳起怒吼的时候,我真的很为你高兴。

  我们俩,认识该有十六年了吧。当年我们还意气风发,那时有陶菲克,有皮特盖德,我们俩还不够出色,第一次交手我赢了,可是我们谁也不会想到,这么多年来,竟然和你打了这么多场比赛。

  我们互有胜负,当然,让我小小骄傲一下,还是我赢得更多一些。但我不想谈成绩怎样怎样,因为你我早已不是可以用成绩来衡量的人。有人叫我“超级丹”,也有人为你感到悲情,因为你,感觉运气总是比我差一点,每次大赛的时候,我都能赢你一头。

  还是挺感谢你的。我的名字里,除了那些大满贯、冠军外,还有个温情的联系“林李”。我们也能像C罗与梅西,伯德和魔术师,费德勒和纳达尔一样,因为彼此的存在而永恒。

  因为有你,才有了更好的我。我拿到了几乎都能拿到的冠军,却依然不敢放下心来去偷懒。本来我可以高唱着无敌最是寂 寞,可是因为有你,每次都把我逼出冷汗,每次都能在决赛和我隔网相对的你。你在后面拼了命的追我,我也不能就这样让你轻易杀过来啊。你练,我也练。你不服 输,我不敢懈怠。

  就这样,我们都成了老家伙了。后来者越来越多了。我偶尔和你短信聊聊天,说说这些年轻人。他们不行啊,诸强争霸,哪像我们那个时候,只有我们两个。说实话,挺寂寞的,但是每次和你对战,都能将我全身的力量迸发出来。我练了这么久的剑,只有你,配得上我剑刃出鞘。

  于是,就到了里约,我的第四届奥运会。四分之一决赛的时候,我打印度那小子挺费劲的,但我挺了过来。当我差点没坚持住的时候,我就想起自己和你的约定,和你在半决赛相会的约定。

  第三十七次和你隔网相对,离第一次已经过了一个轮回。说真的,当我滑了那一下输给你的时候,我没有遗憾。你是我最伟大的对手,我愿意输给你,不后悔。抱你的时候,我真是觉得,这十几年,和你,仿佛是一场梦。

  我会拿着你的球衣,和我未来的孩子说。有个叫李宗伟的叔叔,是爸爸最伟大的对手,也是最好的朋友。

  最好的年华遇见你,是我的运气。决赛加油。——林丹

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Lin Dan’s Letter to Chong Wei the day after their Olympic semi-final match.

The English translation below, found in says. com, is not perfect but sufficient to reflect not just Lin Dan’s thoughts and feelings but especially his deep association with Chong Wei, a relationship rooted in their common Chinese ancestry, a cultural idea that transcends nationality and geography.

Such a feeling is possible only between two Chinese (not Anglophiles). Lin Dan spoke of it as the Lee-Lin relationship. That and the fact that Chong Wei and he had already met in the semi-finals explain why Lin Dan felt no longer compelled nor motivated to fight and win the bronze.

In beating Lin Dan, then crying over the victory, the Danish kid Viktor Axelsen thought he had beaten, with better skills, the World No. 1 badminton player. Axelsen probably thinks that skills is the final and most important arbiter in a contest. He could not have been more mistaken, but he doesn’t know it.

The letter is most moving when read in hanzi. From says.com:

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你是我最好的朋友 也是我的真爱

mug

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The Road Not Taken — by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

A Robert Frost Lesson in Melayu Politics

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For a man who had produced an autobiography and likes recording his thoughts on paper, Mahathir Mohamad is, paradoxically, adverse to books, literature in particular. He once chided Anwar Ibrahim as ‘bookish’, meaning the latter read too much. But, what’s too much?

On point of fact, Malays don’t read enough and Umno saw to it. The thoughts of the men when it isn’t Umno and Allah, it is money and, in consequence, lack a deep enough, solid tradition in literature.

In Robert Frost is a lesson for Mahathir in politics: Specifically, how shall the Malay choose between two Malay parties. It would have been the same dilemma confronting Mahathir when pondering over whether to create Bersatu.

Frost’s poem titled The Road Not Taken is problematic because of the interlocking lines in the beginning and ending:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The most frequent interpretation from those lines is the common idea of risk-taking, hence taking the road less traveled. Yet the title has exactly the opposite connotation:  it “isn’t about what [the speaker] did; it’s about what he didn’t do”, says David Orr.

This problem is further confounded by the lines that say of a decision — choosing which road — based purely on appearances. But Orr argues, “We typically worry more about where roads go than what they look like.”

Argued in this way, then Mahathir’s presentation of a choice between two roads — Bersatu or Umno — produces a startling new angle to view the dilemma he had inflicted upon himself and, as he would in days to come, inflict on the Malays as well. Two roads are about the same and, indeed in Frost, Umno has the better claim and is already trodden black.

If the Malays don’t take the Bersatu road they will, perhaps even regrettably, never know what’s at the end of the road because there is no going back with the decision they had otherwise taken, the one well traveled by. Yet, we know where that will take the Malays since the results of that decision — the road first taken 60 years ago — are everywhere seen today.

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Excerpted from David Orr.

“The Road Not Taken” has confused audiences literally from the beginning. In the spring of 1915, Frost sent an envelope to Edward Thomas that contained only one item: a draft of “The Road Not Taken,” under the title “Two Roads.” According to Lawrance Thompson, Frost had been inspired to write the poem by Thomas’s habit of regretting whatever path the pair took during their long walks in the countryside—an impulse that Frost equated with the romantic predisposi­tion for “crying over what might have been.”

The difficulty with “The Road Not Taken” starts, ap­propriately enough, with its title. Recall the poem’s conclu­sion: “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— / I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference.” These are not only the poem’s best­-known lines, but the ones that capture what most readers take to be its central image: a lonely path that we take at great risk, possibly for great reward. So vivid is that image that many readers simply assume that the poem is called “The Road Less Traveled.” Search­ engine data indicates that searches for “Frost” and “Road Less Traveled” (or “Travelled”) are extremely common, and even ac­complished critics routinely refer to the poem by its most famous line. For example, in an otherwise penetrating essay on Frost’s ability to say two things at once, Kathryn Schulz, the book reviewer for New York magazine, mistakenly calls the poem “The Road Less Traveled” and then, in an irony Frost might have savored, describes it as “not-very-Frosty.”

Because the poem isn’t “The Road Less Traveled.” It’s “The Road Not Taken.” And the road not taken, of course, is the road one didn’t take—which means that the title passes over the “less traveled” road the speaker claims to have fol­lowed in order to foreground the road he never tried. The title isn’t about what he did; it’s about what he didn’t do. Or is it? The more one thinks about it, the more difficult it be­ comes to be sure who is doing what and why. As the scholar Mark Richardson puts it:

Which road, after all, is the road “not taken”? Is it the one the speaker takes, which, according to his last description of it, is “less travelled”—that is to say, not taken by others? Or does the title refer to the suppos­edly better-­travelled road that the speaker himself fails to take? Precisely who is not doing the taking?

We know that Frost originally titled the poem “Two Roads,” so renaming it “The Road Not Taken” was a matter of deliberation, not whim. Frost wanted readers to ask the questions Richardson asks.

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Olympic news report titles from Malaiyoo editors

For a Malay

  • Azizulhasni Awang melakar sejarah (makes history)

For Chinese

  • Peng Soon-Liu Ying hampakan jutaan rakyat Malaysia (Peng Soon-Liu Ying disappoint millions of Malaysians)
  • Beregu campuran sekadar raih perak (Mixed doubles pair merely manages a silver).

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Malaysiakini reported: “Newspapers, said former Bernama general manager Yong Soo Heong (above), play an important role in shaping the minds and feelings of the people.”

Yada, yada, yada…. So much fart from a fatass.

This, below, is what happens when fatass Yong, having served a racist regime all his life, begins pontificating: He still pretends he is some wise ‘veteran’ journalist instead of the Umno propagandist-and-hatchetman he has been all along. People’s minds and feelings are for motherfucker Yong to ‘shape’. No wonder the Malaiyoos are still stupid after 60 years of Yong’s mind ‘shaping’.

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Yong: You must be sensitive lah in your headlines.

Kosmos Editor: What do you mean sensitive?

Yong: You jangan simply taruk.

Kosmos Editor: We didn’t simply taruk. We deliberately taruk.

Yong: But you jangan macam tu. People don’t like.

Kosmos Editor: What’s there not to like. We’re stating facts.

Yong: That may be true. Facts can be stated in different ways.

Kosmos Editor: That’s also true. The way of our headline was provided by your Bernama.

Oops….

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Malaiyoos With Crutches Can Never Climb Podiums

If Chan Peng Soon and Goh Liu Ying, the Olympic badminton players, were defeated in the quarter-finals, the Utusan and other Malay papers, Berita Harian for example, would have even nastier things to say. At every opportunity, they like nothing better than to spit at Chinese. Umno, helped by Bernama (General Manager Fatass Yong, above), had raised them like that.

Which is all the more contradictory because Malaysia had never before gotten so many medals especially at this stage of the games. For those Malaiyoo papers, therefore, their issue with Peng Soon and Liu Ying couldn’t be the color of the medals. If not that, then what?

The answer comes from another question: If instead one of the players was named, say, Maimunah would the Malaiyoos have insulted her the same way they insulted the Chinese?

Growing up on the only diet of bangsa, agama dan negara under which the Chinese must bow to the Malay and not get rich, Malaiyoos soon learn that outside Malaysia being Melayu means nothing. Nobody, no one person in the rest of the world, give a fuck shit for the Malaiyoo. In Malaysia, it may be big deal but to climb up an Olympic podium being Malay doesn’t help. Instead, everything is, in the end, up to the individual, the person’s own ability and skill.

In Rio, Malay standing isn’t improved by Umno especially, the protector of Malays and dedak feeder, and which, by Mahathir Mohamad’s admission, is the only thing that matters to Malays. Yet in an Olympic stadium, Umno can’t do a thing to lift up a Malaiyoo arse and deposit it onto the podium. There, in Rio, the Malays discover they are not just on their own, they especially need Chinese pendatangs not just to get enough people to fill up a badminton team but even to strut around the tracks in Melayu baju and carry their flag on Opening Day.

Shamed in that way, how do the Malaiyoos respond to their deficiencies, incompetence and inabilities? They blame the Chinese; they blame Peng Soon and Liu Ying for not bringing home the gold. This isn’t new of course. It’s what racists do, and are so good at, always, in Malaysia. (Wait now for Helen Ang to pour out more and then blame the Chinese for the Malay bigotry headlines.)

Malays are poor it is the fault of the Chinese (Ahiruddin Attan). Malays don’t do well in school, it is because there is no single school and there is no single school system because the Chinese school is in the way, blocking their dreams (Firdaus Abdullah). When a band of Sulus invaded Sabah, causing deaths among Malay soldiers, it is the fault of the Chinese since those deaths become necessary to teach the Chinese to show more patriotism who aren’t doing it (Kadir Jasin). All three men were at one time or other, Malay editors. Bizarre as their comments are but blaming the Chinese for every Malay problem is a default state, a national requisite in bangsa, agama dan negara.

Malays in such persons as Ahi, RPK, Firdaus and Kadir are so insecure, so prone to blaming everybody (remember Ahmad Maslan’s CampurTanganAsing?), that one motherfucking Melayu named Rozzeli Pin also found it necessary to lodge a police report because diver Cheong Jun Hoong had gotten some money over an Olympic silver and for “diving from a plank”.

So incredulous is this level of anti-Chinese hatred by the Malaiyoos that when such stories are told outside Malaysia, nobody believes it. Not even the Chinese themselves in Taiwan or China or Hong Kong.

Yet Malaiyoo racism is so extraordinary that, on the flip side, almost nobody inside Umno is willing to believe that a Malay named Najib Razak could steal 4 billion ringgit from Malaiyoo country. Malays don’t do this such things especially to Malays (Pak Pandir); Umno is protector of Malays after all: Bukan orang Melayu pasal, itu orang Cina Jho Low. Now, when the blame runs out, the Malaiyoo say it’s the fault of the Americans.

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There, at Annie, her Mat Rempit readers wash their mouths with Helen Ang’s gargle. What a bunch of Malaiyoo motherfuckers.

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Annie’s Motherfuckers

Countless Malay politicians, most lately Mukhriz Mahathir, has repeatedly blared out that Malaysians are not stupid. They are of course right: Malaysians are not stupid; it is just the Malaiyoo and the evidential fact of Malay stupidity is found in their unshakeable faith in Umno.

Stupidity migrates; it goes from leader to party to population.

There is a striking characteristic in Annie’s webblog, LifeofaAnnie: her readers had invariably migrated from Helen Ang. Migration goes from one Malaiyoo wannabe to a half-Malaiyoo. Like dogs attracted to a piece of bone, readers in both places are attracted to their racial content, just as pigs like wallowing in their own shit. Predictably, as a result, LifeofaAnnie, begins to read like a version of Helen Ang and their sites turn into a sty for Malaiyoo pigs.

There, at Annie, the same Olympic issue is made identical to Utusan’s anti-Chinese racism. It’s only that Annie’s readers are less capable of camouflaging their bigotry, which they do well instead by beating up Liu Ying or Peng Soon for their inability to speak Malay well. But, how do Annie’s readers know that both of them are Malay incompetent? Answer: because Liu Ying speaks Mandarin. If she speaks English, especially as good as Annie’s pathetic competency, then in the eyes of Annie’s Assholes, Liu Ying would be a perfect Malaysian. Strange, isn’t it; their logic.

In this way, the racism at Annie’s, like at Helen Ang, turns sports from medal colors to racial colors then to language and from there to an issue of nationalism and patriotism. Since Liu Ying speak Chinese, Annie’s fans argued, she can’t be a true Malaysian. Malay competency becomes the arbiter of patriotism, and that was essentially the end point in their arguments. It is the same logic used at various times by Kadir and Firdaus and one botak motherfucker named Sheridan Mahavera.  (Again, they would make an exception of English.)

In answering ‘So what?‘, Annie’s flimsy, half-baked defense of the badminton pair does nothing to stem the anti-Chinese vitriol. And why not? It is for the same reason that Annie’s defense is half-hearted: Chinese must be sensitive to Malays, and never the other way round, and Malaiyoo bigotry had never rested on rationality to begin with — language and nationality, they say (and hang on to your seat), are the same thing!

They have only in mind to spit at the Chinese the way Tinju Ali does his spitting. It is what bigoted racists do, after all, so that, like editors at Utusan and Berita Harian, they will even find in sports a great opportunity to put Peng Soon and Liu Ying out to dry because the Cina pendatang are taking away Olympic glory that Malays themselves aren’t competent enough for. Again, the bangsa, agama claptrap has no use outside Malaysia.

Like the arguments against hanyu that was presented at a recent film festival, Malay ketuanan fascism has no room for the Chinese language. It is therefore never considered a facet of Malaysian life. It has no rights; officialdom pretends it doesn’t exist, and if it exists in towns and homes it is of an inferior status to Malay. (Again, English is the exception.)

Would Annie’s Assholes be interested to know that the Chinese language is sought after by more than 50,000 Malay families — and growing by the month? No. Would they be interested to hear that the Chinese language, Chinese schools by extension, is the only thing preventing education standards in Malaysia from hitting the bottom? No, they aren’t interested. Would they be interested to know that hanyu is also a Malaysian language, accepted by the Constitution and it is the right of the Chinese? No, they aren’t interested.

They want only to spit at Chinese, just like it is at Helen Ang.

If page-views in Annie’s Life is any guide, it shows that Malaysia is full of anti-Chinese racist Malaiyoos. Their racism is very telling: a person speaking the foreign language English is never considered an unpatriotic Malaysian but their Malaysian neighbors who use Chinese is. Thus, like it is at Helen’s, Annie’s Life becomes a venting ground for bigotry by people who invariably grew up in national, Malay (previously, English) schools fashioned by Umno thereby becoming exactly like that Nawawi fella, like Tinju Ali and Jamal Yunos, and nearly every Umno minister without exception.

There is a solution to this Malaiyoo grunting and bitching and it is a simple one: anyone who fails a Malay language test can’t represent Malaysia in the Olympics. This is the bangsa, agama dan negara test all over again — even in sports, Malaiyoo style.

Because of the test, more Chinese will therefore attempt to better their Malay language? No. Do we, the Chinese, care? No. Will the Chinese be worse off? No. Will we throw a tantrum? No.

At Annie and at Helen Ang, as in numerous other forums, Annie’s Motherfuckers share the conceit and presumption that Malaysia is some big deal country the Chinese can’t do without. Well, here’s news for them:

We, the Chinese, don’t give a pig shit for Malaysia and especially not for Malaiyoos, neither their language nor their mothers. You can go and fuck your own mother Malaiyoo, and we still don’t give a fucking damn. Is this statement clear enough, Annie’s Assholes?

What a bunch of losers who can’t even find a single competent Malaiyoo out of 16 million to play badminton much less able to climb onto an Olympic podium. These Malaiyoos got what’s coming; it’s what they have been pining after for decades and decades and are deserving of it, especially these: Najib Razak and Umno. And the better part of it? Malaiyoos tearing away at each others throats. Lovely. So much patriotism on display, speaking in such wonderful Malaiyoo tongues. Dedak Malaiyoo! Daulat Malaiyoo! Patriotic your mother’s ass.

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The Bangsa, Agama dan Negara Olympic Sham

Nasib baik, tak dapat emas. Nanti Apanama sombong.

When Goh Liu Ying and Chan Peng Soon showed up for the first finals in an Olympic event, Malay editors and reporters faced two problems.

One, on an international stage, where bangsa, agama dan negara become useless to get even dedak, the Malaiyoos saw that they needed pendatangs to give Malaiyoo land some international prestige. They needed a Chinese to even carry their flag and forced him to dress in Malaiyoo clothes. No Malaiyoo in sight. Poor Malaisia

The second is the most pertinent.

At the end of the match, Malaiyoo editors were, of course, jubilant (for the reason above). But they’d pretend otherwise by deriding the pair: the Malaiyoos couldn’t help it and here was the chance to get even since, in court, there’s not a single Malaiyoo in sight.

In putting down Liu Ying and Peng Soon, this was the Malaiyoo assumption: In Rio or at any international platform the Chinese play for Malaysia. That is, the Chinese are there to serve Malaiyoos, a race that habitually insult and spit at the Chinese, abduct our children, jail us, threaten us our homes, and have even killed some of us. And the Malaiyoo still believe the Chinese are doing it all for the Malaiyoo name!

Even the lions laughed.

Hei Utusan, You mahu emas? Go get it yourself boy. Don’t cry if you fail; for comfort, try fucking your mother.

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我的爱   要快回来   讨厌这个混蛋国家  今天收到纸箱

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Mahathir’s Dumb Ass Lot

http://www.thestar.com.my/~/media/online/2015/05/16/21/20/tariq_pal_1pdf.ashx/?w=620&h=413&crop=1&hash=95A1194EACC91800B734A1E2280B94667BE32FBA

Malay emancipation, Tariq Ismail (above).

It isn’t the Chinese you need to convince about the goodness of Bersatu; it ain’t our problem, you see. It is Mahathir who needs convincing.

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Mahathir Mohamad’s justification for creating the party Bersatu to mirror Umno rests primarily on this, below: (They were, of course, some noble reasons but put those aside because they are only incidental to capturing votes.)

If the new party is to compete with UMNO, it must give the people in the rural constituencies and the unsophisticated urban constituencies the kind of comfort associated with UMNO’s kind of racism.

In that answer, Mahathir is saying, in essence, racism has its uses in Malaysia; the means to a bigger cause.

Grant him the plausibility of his mission, here is one of a thousand questions: when will Bersatu, to press home a point in its racism, sub-contract some members to turn up in Petaling Street and demand to burn alive some Chinese?

That isn’t some hypothetical question. The answer has been, in point of fact, been provided by Mahathir already: when the Malay ‘well-being’ is considered threatened by Chinese. Here, from Mahathir:

For the rural people who largely are poor, race is not only important but they believe is essential for their well-being. UMNO’s popularity is because it is a racial party.

Which is somewhat a strange argument from a man of science: being poor or, rural poverty, is racism’s equivalent. Mahathir had made the same argument about the NEP.

Mahathir wants a quick, short-cut way to depose Najib and is willing to adopt Umno’s methods. For the rest of the country, there is no need to worry how far he’d go or the extent to which he would use the Chinese. That’s a given; he will at some point or other. (But then he hasn’t many years left.)

Mahathir is simply not willing to first change the Malays — Tariq Ismail’s Malay emancipation — who keep crooks in power. He has no time for that. He wants first to depose the thieves and, after that, let’s talk. Which, in turn, raises some underlying issues the man was willing to ignore:

  • (a) Is it truly, truly, genuinely for Malays, that is, their ‘well-being’, Mahathir wants Najib out?
  • (b) The Malays will be perpetually fooled unless Bersatu steps in?

What kind of a Malay population has Umno raised the last 60 years during which Mahathir was responsible for a third of the duration. Why can’t they reason? Will they be eternally stupid? Can’t they read and think?

More important than those answers are the exposures made by and revelations contained within Mahathir’s justifications. His views of Malays haven’t changed, not since the last 40, 50 years: They are just a dumb ass lot. You need to trick them into doing them a turn of good.

This, not coincidentally, is also how PKR’s Rafizi Ramli and Wong Chen also see the Malays. Remember Rafizi’s 30 percent and growing by the day Malays? Strange, contradictory answers one get from politicians these days.

Sigh…. Mahathir has just made deposing Najib a pure Melayu problem. Tariq! Step aside.

Perhaps if Tariq would give the poor, stupid Malays something to read other than Utusan, it might be a beginning to emancipation. Just ask those Chinese chefs below.

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Patriotic Ass

Be patriotic! Raise the flag!

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A country wronged

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Sir, this ‘love Malaysia’ business is a perennial problem — August is its season — and, quick frankly, we are sick of it.

The new aspect in it is that, you say, the love of country should be ‘natural’. Natural?

Do you know what’s to be natural? You eat, that is natural. Your shit appears from your guts naturally; it happens neither by volition nor demand. But, where does it show that love is natural? Do you know what’s to be ‘natural’? Let’s not even get ahead of ourselves. Try this: what’s ‘love’? Please define. And so, by extension, do you know what’s patriotism? Can you even define what is it to ‘love Malaysia’?

Forget the huff and puff, and your woolly language; no, show us your love. And here’s how — to actually demonstrate love and patriotism: slit open your throat right in front of the cameras. Go on, do it!

Can we therefore say that if you don’t slit your throat, you are therefore not patriotic? And that especially your love is also not natural?

So you see, Sir, when the MPSJ orders people around to fly the flag, we are dealing with arseholes who shouldn’t be in charge of whatever it is they are in charge of. They don’t even know what is it they are saying. They don’t even know what’s a fucking flag and what it’s for.

As for Malaysia, do you know what makes a country? Does a flag make a country? And what’s there to love about this country? Love it for what? The mountains, the rivers? The mosquitoes? The hot sun, clammy air and sleepy afternoons? Or, the conniving thieves dwelling inside its palaces and strutting around like statesmen? Love it for all the Red Shirts threatening Chinese lives? And all the Apanamas bellyaching about their agama dan bangsa? That is, in case you haven’t been reading the papers, that’s all there is to it: what Malaysia is about.

In the circumstance, therefore, do you think Malaysia is deserving of love? And deserving because it is run by Najib Razak and his thieving band of Umno members, the same thieves who also say they love their country and then pin rows of “Love Malaysia” badges on their breasts and on their arseholes. Do you think they are a patriotic bunch because they hang up Malaysian flags?

Answer the fucking question: Yes or no!

Loving Malaysia then means sharing the country with them. But how is one to do so? How do you love a country that exist in the name of thieves and fascists? And, then there is the other dilemma: just like there is no law on political funding (remember Azalina O?), there is no law for loving.

Our love is not freely dispensed with, Sir! So there is nothing natural or unnatural to it. Love happens, it happens. One’s love, for whatever that might be, is priceless. It goes only to the deserving and to those we care for very much. And, in case you still don’t get it by now, we don’t give a shit for Malaysia or the fucking MPSJ. So, please, spare us all your talk about rules and flags and natural and unnatural; this is so much of kampung buffalo shit. The solution is to fire the whole MPSJ lot, not distribute flags for free.

You are right, though, in the implied basis of your argument: Patriotism is not the issue at stake; it is how that is expressed.

When the MPSJ orders shopkeepers to show the flag, on the pain of financial and licensing punishment, they restrict my right of expression. (But why limit imposition on shops only; why not demand it of every man, woman or child walking a Subang street?) They act a bully and they act unconstitutional. Aren’t they like Tinju Ali?

Fraudsters especially will want to fly the flag; and the more they cheat, the more likely they will do so. Ask yourself why, then try to answer — if you know how.

If we should express love for Malaysia, we demand to express it solely our way, and won’t give in to threats. MPSJ has no fucking rights to tell us when to use the flag especially one that concerns a weighty matter as Malaysia. The country is not to be trifled with. And the flag doesn’t belong to them; and they are not the guardians of Malaysia. They are not even elected. They exist only to empty trash bins and empty from the house of Ismail Sabri buckets of the man’s shit. That’s all MPSJ is there for, and stick to it. That shall be their patriotic duty.

So please, Sir, get your answers right. OK? And tell your MPSJ this: fuck off. We have wasted half an hour of our dinner time talking to arseholes who run this damned country. Malaysia is so screwed you are welcome to love it, but we’ll be going to have a drink after dinner. Is that permitted? Or must we ask MPSJ permission?

Meanwhile, pass on a message to Charles Santiago: tell him to stick his tongue into Wong Chen’s Subang arse — where it belongs. Indeed, selamatkan Malaysia! With the like of MPSJ and Mr Santiago, Malaysia has much that needs saving. After the saving, we’ll put up the flag even if they prohibit it. Goodbye.

 

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吴柳萤-陈炳顺 在加油!

优秀的技能 

发挥出色

恭喜你们

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支持你

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