The Most Badass Book In The World

Now, one might say that books themselves aren't badass, Why? Becuase its not like a video where you can see the animated blood and gore and fighting and mindless violence. How can words be made into something badass you ask? Well, here's just one example:



Its a picture of a man PUNCHING A GORILLA IN THE FACE, how much manlier can it get?

However, this is NOT the most badass book in the world, in fact, the most badass book in the world is:


THE HOLY BIBLE. Sex, violence, betrayal, cities burning, people getting eaten by whales, gang wars, death and destruction, all in ONE BOOK! What other book mentions a man who died because he came on the floor? NONE.

Hell, even the very first story was badass. When Adam and Eve didn't listen to God, he was so freaking PISSED that he chased them out with an angel holding a sword, that was ON FIRE. Adam and Eve didn't get any more screwed than the day they tried to take shit to GOD.



And what happened to those two guys who talked bad about Moses, the guy who was closest to God? The ground literally opened from underneath them, and they were swallowed by the EARTH. That's scary shit! The bible kicks so much ass, it doesn't even need a cover picture, all it has to say is "holy bible" and you know it's badass already.

Man, one day I should make my own picture bible...that would be so awesome.

Terrorists are stupid

Its not because they blindly sacrifice themselves for something as unbelievable as 72 virgins (how are they supposed to find 72 virgins that are aged 16-19 there, unless they're all men?). There's always a better alternative than wasting precious manpower on suicide bombings. That one man could be used for holding a weapon, that could be used to take out a tank or several infantry if he's as determined to give up his life for the cause.

Such a method is, I know that you'd agree with me, not economically sound. Man can be used for many other purposes than just blowing himself up. If he's convinced that he should give up his life for whatever reason there is, why not put him to work 24/7 in a factory or something? Much more productive than strapping an explosive on him and telling him to run into a building.

Because these terrorist groups continue to use this method of violence, I feel that it is my obligation to correct them of their wasteful ways and provide a more reasonable, economical solution. Feel free to donate to my "get enough money to buy an Mp3 player" fund through mail for providing such useful information.

Alright, on to the solution.

Introducing the suicide pigeon! How hard is training a pigeon to fly to a selected location than to brainwash a man from his youth enough to make him forfeit his life? Just strap on the explosives, send the pigeon, and boom! Almost zero cost! What's more, they aren't easily identified let alone shot. Best of all, pigeons DON'T COMPLAIN! Man, I'm a freaking genius.



Flying small targets that are easily reproduced, don't take up space, don't need as much food, and turn into bombs when shot. The possibilities are endless! Hell, you can just spam them anywhere. Add shotguns and bird traps to the list of weapons that have equal importance as the M16 rifle. I own.

The internet is full of dumbasses

A long while ago, say, November 2007, I posted an article regarding my utter hatred for the Winx club. The post is still there and, sad to say, it has turned out to be the most popular post I've ever made, gathering a record 35 comments. How the hell did this happen? That was just a freaking rant. I didn't put much effort into it. There was no profound English, no display of practical wit and no intention for grabbing the reader's attention. Crap, there are so many other posts that I think were better than this one. I don't believe it. I can't believe it.

Eh, anyway this post isn't about the Winx Club, its about the comments I received. All these comments were from certain "anonymous" people. Despite the horrendous spelling, I continued to read on, intrigued by the fact that so many people have commented. Apparently, all the 35 comments had one thing in common.

If theres one thing I hate more than the Winx Club itself, its the people who continue to support it long after hearing rumors of its well-deserved cancellation. However, I am quite relieved that, after reading all their comments, the only people who actually like this dribble are idiots. The fact that every single comment had terrible spelling convinced me that people have to be that retarded to enjoy watching the show.



Not only was the spelling a complete disaster, the topic of the comment was even worse. They actually thought that I was the maker of Winx Club. I've never in so insulted in my entire life. Nuhh, don't cancel the show...Nuhh, don't give up on the Winx Club... How in the world did this happen? Why are there so many dumbasses lingering around on the internet?

All these incredibly stupid people think that I, Isaac Wong, 16 years of age, studying at St. Patrick's secondary school, am the maker of Winx Club, and that I am going to cancel it because I hate the show, as shown in the post.

Use your brain, you incompetent lot! First off, if the maker of Winx Club was going to cancel it (thus earning my support), why would he/she declare it in a blog, and a very unknown blog at that? I'm not as popular as Xia Xue or Kenny sia, you know.

Secondly, you can see my name right there at the top left corner. It says "the Isaac of Wong" so you don't have to address me as "maker of Winx Club". Furthermore, if you click my profile link, you will discover that I was 15 years old when I wrote that post. Yet, you happily assumed that I was indeed the maker of the very show I so despise.

Thank you for showing me the utter stupidity of a Winx Club fan. At least I can rest in the knowledge that only complete retards like watching this pathetic example of a television programme. At least be able to spell basic English properly before coming into my midst. Sheesh.

June holidays have officially started

Alright, lets get started. Chinese written O' Level is over (A1 A1 A1), remedials are done, my NCDCC camp, which lasted for three days, has come to a close. Out of these three days, I only had a precious 10 minutes to give commands to the new batch. Far too little in my opinion, I didn't even manage to punish them properly. Heck, I only scolded them once.

The next CCA training would be after the holidays. This is the first time I'm actually starting to look forward to attending. They say I'm a nice guy, so they won't let me handle a squad to myself. Bullshit. I was planning to make them run into a fence to scare the people outside. They want all the fun to themselves.

I swear, the secondary 4s get everything. On the second day of the camp, while the sec 1s were off kayaking and the sec 2s and 3s were on a hike, we got the whole bloody day to ourselves. We could do anything we wanted, and living 5 minutes away from school was very convenient. The night was even better, we got to enjoy making and eating barbecued food. This was not a camp, it was a freaking picnic.

Throughout the camp, there was this one song stuck in my head. I find it fitting to describe what I felt during these three days. Hey, I can be emo enough to use songs too.

Pink Floyd--Time

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an off hand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but its sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in the relative way, but youre older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the english way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought Id something more to say

Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
And when I come home cold and tired
Its good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells.

Take a while to soak the meaning into your head. It isn't that hard to understand. I have about 3 days left before the church camp. I'm going to try and make the most of these few days even if there is tuition. Tuition sucks.

Screw MSN Messenger

That's right. Screw the most popular internet communication device, the most user-friendly computer application that allows interaction with people around the world, the program that has spawned countless emoticon and pretty font providing websites. Screw it all, I don't need that shit.

The main and probably only reason I'm saying this is the experience of starting a conversation with someone who is supposedly online and waiting to talk, ending in a long silence, with me clicking the "x" button on the window. I mean, what the hell? Its like talking to a piece of deadwood claiming to be a source of entertainment and company.



So, I've decided. I'm either calling or talking to other people in person, unless I'm talking about doing stuff on the computer or I know that the people I will be talking to will definitely be online. Dammit, with things so uncertain, I'd rather be spending my day playing CABAL. Bah.

So very messy..

My house is probably the best the place to live in, and yet is also the worst. Its got a nice sofa, comfortable beds, a decent computer, fantastic speakers, and so much music. It has books on almost every topic, a nice television, and it has a wonderful 18th story view.

Looking at this, you'd think: "Wow! he has it all doesn't he? Not too rich, not too poor." Beh. All this serenity is great, but it only needs one thing to mess it all up. The house becomes a place of agony, of indifference, of..annoyance.

I swear, all it takes is one person, one bloody annoying person. The sofa does not comfort, the bed does not give rest, the computer does not distract, the speakers do not drown out the sound. The books do not shut out, the television merely keeps the mind blank, the 18th story view becomes bleak and unclear.

Having to deal with this person is maybe the greatest trial I'm experiencing, she just gets more and more irritating by the day. The mere sound of her voice makes my teeth cringe. I know what it does. It gives me strength, tolerance, a longer temper.

Maybe there's a reason I have to deal with this crap. Maybe I'm going to have to deal with these people later in life. But how can anyone be so dumb and yet so joyously ignorant of her annoying speech? That pride, that pretense of knowledge and understanding. There is only one person like this, and I have to contend with this irrational and disgusting behavior.

She is only a maid, an uneducated, despicable maid, and yet she can continue to throw her stupidity around the house. She cannot learn, she cannot realise her own shortcomings. She is a grievance, and I have to handle her.

Pardon my complaining, there is much to express, and I'm freaking pissed.

I must be kidding myself

Ok, music? Check. Inspiration? Check. Energy? Ahh, not sure. This must be the first time this year I've updated, and although I'd love to think that many people are waiting on me to post this, it might not be true. The reason I'm not updating as much as I am now is aside from dealing with sec 4 business, I had extra curricular activities.

At the risk of sounding like a whiner, I have had to put on a baggy, dirty, supposedly fireproof uniform, which is 3mm thick, for three days, just so I can put on a baggy, dirty, supposedly fireproof uniform today, perform in a parade with spectators reaching a record number of 20, and after that sit in a stuffy, crowded hall for an award-giving ceremony which lasted up to 6.00. The worst part was knowing I had to come back for school tomorrow.

What I was truly thankful for, was that after all that crap, they gave us FOOD! Gah, the puffs, amazing, the cheesecake, orgasmic. Cheesecake should always be viewed with respect and wonder. I mean, how do you put cheese, in a cake? It is a delicate procedure, done with much sweat, tears and blood. Mike Rowe has never worked as a cheesecake maker, and he should be bloody thankful that he hasn't.

Anyway, since I'm already here, knowing that I forgot the original topic, I shall tell you something about my CCA. As some of you know, its called the National Civil Defence Cadet Corps, NCDCC for short. What we do is give first-aid, CPR, and fight fire. Beats NCC and scouts in terms of usefulness.

However, as helpful and relevant to daily life as it is, the CCA does not seem to be very attractive. I have just met the new batch of secondary 1s, and it's just so disappointing, its like knowing you're suddenly impotent. Like your suffering chronic impotency. Yes, that bad, you feel it don't you?

I can't wait to work these sorry little people into shape, just looking at them makes me want to die. When they wear their PE attire, I can see their stomach and nipples protrude out, forming a distinct shape, and they wonder why I want to pump them. Can you just imagine breasts made of fat? Its horrible. They need to get fit now, or it will be too late for them.

Below is a Isaac-eye view of my squad.

The duty of bringing these people up into great leaders is upon all of the sec 4's shoulders, for that I am grateful. Because of that, I can leave them to my stricter friends if they give me trouble. Once they've learned, I might actually teach them the proper stuff. Until then, sees you.