Inane babbles

Since nobody reads this shit, I'll make this blog page a junkyard for my half-baked, undeveloped, unfunny and, at times, mind-boggling statements, which were once jotted down somewhere and waiting to be revisited and refurbished into, well, jokes. Here's one prime example -

My name is Chi Ho. Chi, as in Chinese feng shui... chi. And Ho, as in good... hou. So, in some sense, my name literally means Good Feng Shui - your house needs me.

You don't need to buy one of those mini water fountains with those spinning balls on it 'cause I've got 'em ... two. You can't see them but they are spinning. On some liquid.

And good feng shui is all about the elements and I assure you, ladies, I have all the element. Metal because I'll be your knight in shining armour, earth because I'm down to earth, water because my money is like that -- always flowing, fire because I have passion, in bed; and wood... *snigger*




Strange thought. Ever pondered how remarkable towels are?

A towel can be used to 'usher in' life, as sheets to cover babies right after birth.

It also can be used to 'take away' life, as a weapon to gag or to suffocate a victim or victims.

A towel can be used to wipe away imperfections to help one accentuate external beauty.

It also can be used to hide one's imperfections.

A towel can soak up the sweat of one who works hard.

Or one can 'throw in the towel', to signify a premature end to one's hard work.


Love is like a joke...

Spent the last ounce of my writing mojo rehashing one sentence for the past 4 hours, another writer's block seem imminent. Perhaps, I should just lay back on my chair, pour me a shot of whiskey, light a cigarette and clear my thoughts, but that's not my style. Cigarette smoke makes my curtains smell.

However, it in such moments, something in my head always light up, like a bulb, but a low voltage one since I'm into green technology. And emanating from that light this time is a realization of the co-relation between girlfriends and a joke. In many sense, girlfriends are a joke, but not in a derogatory manner lah.

Also, it's not the idealistic, pure version of girlfriend too but rather, the more 'manufactured' and 'commercialized' version. The one we were all thought or accepted in this day of age, whether you have the propensity or genitalia to be a girlfriend or not. Apologies, that was the Monash Commie side of me talking.

OK, OK, here's what I think. You know how when you tell a joke, it's funny, people around you laugh but there's always this party-pooper at the corner going, "Wait, I don't get it." And after a customary retell of the joke from the joke teller and, if necessary, followed by the voluntary attempts of explaining the joke by those who got the joke, the buffoon at the corner goes, "Oh, I get it now. Means, you're saying Siti Nurhaliza had taken off her tudung before, but in front of another man and not Datuk K, which she is not supposed to do, as an examplary Muslimin. Yup, I get it."

If you happened to be in a similar situation of this buffoon, you ARE a buffoon (too), and that although those around you are, genuinely, grateful that you got the joke, when in actual fact, you did not get the joke at all. You either get the joke once the joke is told or you just don't. You just have to know.

Now apply this to relationships, a girlfriend-boyfriend situation. Girlfriend can't decide on what to have for dinner, boyfriend throws in a few suggestions but nothing tickles her fancy. In the end, boyfriend picks the wrong choice of food and girlfriend ends up silently sulking. Boyfriend asks why she sulks but girlfriend says nothing. Nothing is never ever nothing to a girlfriend. You either get what your girlfriend says once she has said what she said or you just don't. You just have to know.

But in this girlfriend-boyfriend example, Japanese or Korean food would be a every boyfriend's wild card. If not, be it mamak or The Chicken Rice Shop, just take photos with your girlfriend. That'll shut her up. Too.

General Jamban

I like visiting my in-laws but the shit thing is, there is no place to park my car in that neighbourhood except for the neighbourhood’s communal toilet - a grassy patch stretch along the roadside, where all the pet’s from that neighbourhood and other neighbourhoods nearby pay their debts to nature.

You see, that’s okay when the sun is still your visual aid. But when night falls, the moon’s inherent ability as a visual aid pales in comparison, you see.

So, walking back to my car, I have to entrust my Blackberry to moonlight as a torch, which, in this case, provides little reinforcement to er, moon light, to somehow help me through this shit-uation. In a futile feat to navigate a clean path around the faeces convention that is present each night, one only can leave it to luck on whether one will end up with clean soles or unclean soles.

When luck is ditches you, it's better just to have one shitty sole.

Or better yet, one shitty sole that is not smudged on cat poo.

Or better yet, one shitty sole that is smudged on dried out cat or dog poo.

Or better yet, one clean sole but you’re not hopping into your own car.


A funny thing happened on the escalator...

My motivational levels have been running low lately, much like the excuses of our government to justify their ‘good governance’. My self-prescription for this rare condition of mine was retail therapy, after consulting my financial advisor in the form of an ATM, of course.

Retail therapy took just 40 minutes and in that 40 minutes, I bought two things which I don’t have time for these days - a toy and some books. After satisfying my mental state and having nothing left to spend, besides on a glass of teh tarik and on the parking ticket, I decided to leave.

With my new toy and books in a pink plastic bag hooked onto my index finger, I stepped onto the escalator, which will take me to the ground floor from the fourth. After a while I noticed everyone, on the opposite escalator - the one heading up - looking at me, before veering to the family in front of me and then back at me. Baffled, I looked at the family before me and saw what these people saw.

On that same escalator, there before me stood (what looks like) a Poh Poh or grandma, Kong Kong or grandpa, with their granddaughter and grandson (whom are still eligible for kindergarten, I think). Hooked onto this boy’s and girl’s index fingers was their own respective pink plastic bag and in those pink plastic bags, their own respective toy. Now, zoom out and see the whole picture, with me, holding onto my own pink plastic big that holds my own toy. Zoom out some more watch me as slide, quietly down, from the fourth floor to ground, with this family of four before me. I AM NOT THEIR GRANDCHILDREN!

Damn you, coincidence! Some times you’re on my side but when you put me in a joke, why must I always be your punchline? I wish I had the guts to pull out my phone, press it against my ear and shout, “Look, the kids miss you, okay! THEY MISS YOU! THEY ARE YOUR KIDS TOO! They are too young to understand what is D-I-V-O-R-C-E. Why don’t YOU buy toys for them the next time YOU spend time with them!”

(And repeat after, in the next flight of escalator, on the next floor.)


#3 Comedy in Malaysia today: Same old, same old

"Hey Chi Ho! I was at your show lah last night. Eh, why you tell all your old jokes wan? Cannot make new jokes wan meh?"

"Eh hi! Thanks for coming to my show. By the way, which is your favourite Linkin Park song?"

"Numb lo!"

"Farker, dang old song, right? Ask them to write new song lah. You treat me the very double standard wei."

Yes, we all have double standards when it comes to the treatment of comedians - forcing us to listen to your jokes that we've already heard many times over, not will to date us, among other maltreatment. Most of this negativity is directed to our jokes. Like a good friend once said, "If you go to U2's concert, you want to hear their old songs. Why can't people just listen to (comedians') old jokes?"

Well, perhaps jokes are different from songs. You get a totally different feeling of exhilaration when you hear a joke, as compared to a song. When was the last time you laughed at a chorus and jizzed in your pants. The thrill-factor is much higher in jokes too, hence the exhilaration, though brief, deserts us much more quickly. Like cum.

Speaking of cum, jokes are much like porn movies. Come on, watching the same old porn clip does not work without some extra help from your personal wank-box. I'm talking about your imagination. If a new porn movie takes you to places for the first time, it'll take you there for several more stops before it gets you nowhere, and that new porn movie eventually becomes old. Much like a joke.

Some comedians may write jokes every day, but only some jokes can work on an every day. Though there's a funny side to everything, there are many things to consider when it comes to the formulation of jokes. For instance, should a comedian joke about what happened to Japan? I did but I'm not telling that joke. Why? One man's joke is another man's poison and another woman's perplexity.

I think this assumption that comedians have an arsenal of new material every 24 hours stems from our exposure to comedy, be it from books or the Internet. There are tonnes of jokes, funnies or gags out there, but just because we only like (or know) one (or a handful of) comedians, we assume that that either the hero or the heroine comedian is ever-oozing with new material. It does seem like that in books and the Internet, but have ever you questioned what goes on behind the lives of those few comedians?

They have writers. Lots of them. They have comedy tours. Lots of them. And they don't return to their same spot for almost a year, which gives them time to cook up new funnies. Oh, and for the last 'them', I meant the writers. Of course. So, the next time you hear from this same comedian, "Hey! The dude's got new stuff! Let's download it! How the hell did he came up with shit like this?"

Here in Malaysia. What bloody 'comedy tour' do local comics have? We might travel up north, down south or to some place called Borneo but we're back in the same shit hole (comedy venue) after a month. And within that time, I would say the comics would only have coughed out 5 minutes of new material, depending on how many local scandals unfold within that month and depending on whether they write material or not (Yeah, plagiarism is rampant here.)

Over here, audiences are more used to the anecdotal form of jokes. A long story, followed by a twist then a punchline. Normally, jokes on sex and relationships work best. Somehow, this ritual of telling jokes limits the playing field of local comedians, forcing them through a single chute and in turn, drawing the audience with them. The method and topics become exhaustive and the audience get bored. Another reason to ask for new jokes, I suppose.

But perhaps, we should look into the readiness of our audiences at receiving 'new' jokes. I used to tell one-liners but somehow, I feel that, as a local, you're not allowed to sound smarter than you look. But when some white guy does the same, he's automatically brilliant. At least it explains why we don't look highly at our leaders. Seems to me that we're restricted to our own stereotypes - Chinese guys have small dicks, Malay girls are easy and Indians are just plain problematic.So, how can new jokes creep up from this endless and constrained cycle of rhetoric?

So, before you open that pie hole of yours and complain about local comedians repeat their old material, perhaps one should ask oneself first, "Am I ready for new jokes?" At the end of the day, when a new sex position does not work, don't we all return to a more familiar position to get the job done? Then, aren't we all okay with the same old, same old? So, really, there's double standards on how we treat comedians and jokes.

Damn. I could have written some new material by now.


Smartag? LIke seriously?

Bought my first and very own Smartag not too long ago. Of course, like most (if not all) new Smartag users, we've learned that this contraption, although it provides a more convenient way to leech out our pennies to the myriad thugs (sorry) tolls on our roads, it also provides a cause for concern. While the Smartag is a vice to our bank accounts, it beefs up the bank accounts of the many agents of vices, namely burglars.

You see, my dad got his car window bashed into (on a night he forgot to lock his car) and his Smartag stolen. Having gotten used to it, he unthinkingly bought another. Now, he has to constantly remind himself to keep the thing hidden from burglars but most of the time, the thing keeps itself 'hidden' from him, seconds before he hit the toll barrier.

But I've seen these 'Smartags' before in Australia. It's a much smaller contraption, permanently etched onto the top of car windscreens, hidden away from opportunistic eyes. So why can't we have that here? It was then I realized, that our very own 'Smartag' might fall on a different marketing plan. Allow me to interest you in my assumed findings.

The (mock) Smartag business plan

Subject: Smartag
Marketed Purpose: To be of convenience to unfortunate motorists who use motorways with tolls
Real Purpose: To maximize on profits

Smartag design
Marketed Design: Sleek, futuristic and convenient
Real Purpose of Design: Absolutely clumsy looking and huge so that motorists will find it hard placing it in their vehicle, hence, burglars will be able to easily spot it and hopefully, steal it. Then, the burglary victims will be forced to buy a new Smartag, thus, complying to our Real Purpose: To maximize on profits.

If these victims attempt to hide their Smartags, they will soon realize that the Smartag is not friendly to most door pockets, seat pockets and other storage compartments of their vehicle. Placing the Smartag in glove compartments is not encourage because motorists are forced to look for it when they are approaching tolls. Also, the sleek design of Smartag has no rubber or non-slip panels, which stops the effects of sliding.

So, in order to reinforce the initial Real Purpose, a holder is provided (FOR FREE) and instructions is provided to place the contraption in the most obvious location; on the windscreen. With that, this method will, again, further reinforce the statements made in the first paragraph of Real Purpose of Design.

Safety concerns (classified): Due to various reports, the bulky, heavy and detached Smartags may have caused injuries to motorists during road accidents as debris or blunt trauma hazards, upon impact. However, without sufficient proof of this, even though the possibility of such cases occurring is high, the makers of Smartags have decided to forego this safety issue, in line with the nation's most used motto by services providers - if there's nothings wrong, don't fix it even though you know that something is going to go wrong.



Had to write. Just had to.

Holy hell! I left 10 months out of my self-review of 2010. Oh well, it's 2011 and the year presents new aspirations, hopes and challenges.

I ended my 2010 having done to many things (mostly for people), made too many promises (except for myself) and helped too many people (who didn't help me in return). So, I'm going to be a little bit stingy this year and help myself more.

With this blog, I think I'll change it's feel a bit and chuck in more jokes. Hopefully, it'll somewhat authenticate the stuff that I did. I always wanted to do a different style of comedy but the anecdotal style of our comedy made it hard for me to break out and also, restrict my comedy in the similar style.

I believe that the three steps to constructing a joke - the setup, the twist and the punch line (the basic formula of joke formation) - can be delivered in just one sentence.

Don't really dig this whole 'joke formula' equation? Here's an example:

'Yo mama so stupid (setup), when she threw a rock on the ground (twist/situation), she missed (punch line)'

Simple right? But the idea of reducing this formula into a sentence or just a combination of a few words, the comedian has to 'incept' one of the three step into the audience's mind, which, eventually, presents the problem of why I was told such jokes won't work - audiences here are not matured comedy audiences.

Say all you want, but most members of the audience need to be fed with punch lines. Any local comedian will tell you this. The joke is not obvious enough, they need to be hinted on what the joke really is. Persona helps and on certain occasions, race too. An Indian comic to do a smart joke isn't really going happen.

Then again, there are many other elements that make a joke work but I think, a big part of it is the audience intelligence and know-how, other than the quality of the comedian. Heck, some jokes don't even follow the formula, which are the type of jokes that I'm used to writing, a lot.

Here are some one-liners designed to make you chuckle.

1) What's amnesia again?

2) Do synchronized swimmers have dry runs?

3) Funny how the first place we all learned to get high is called high school.

4) Being an underaged paedophile is fine.

5) Which dinosaur knows many words? Thesaurus

Won't get a roaring laughter and standing ovation but hey, it made you flex your brain a bit, right? RIGHT?