I LOVE MALAYSIA! - The Ultimate Travel Guide to Malaysia

A quick glance at Google analytics has proven to me what I've always suspected, Malaysia loves me. There are depressingly few people that visit this blog, and for depressingly good reasons, but I am ecstatic that a majority of my guests are from what I now consider to be my adopted nation, Malaysia. Yes, Malaysia, you have welcomed me with open arms, you've peered deep into the vacant spot where my soul should be and you filled it up with your humid, tropical love. Someday I hope to visit you and share my love with you in a much more intimate fashion in as many places as I can get at.

When I  am finally able to visit my new nation I will wear my finest baju and put on my favorite songkok in all of the kampung I can see. I can't wait to share stories of our many similarities over keropok lekor and nasi melak. It will be like coming home again, for the first time.

To honor the love and respect paid to me by the people of Malaysia, I will show my appreciation in the only way that my stunted emotional growth will allow - with derision and sarcasm.

These two buildings (their name  roughly translates to "Giant H") are the worlds largest sweat shop. 95 percent of all cloths for sale at your local mall were made in these towers. These towers are literally a nightmare within. The horrors and degradations that occur upon the helpless workers inside are beyond what you silly westerners were able to dream up in you 7 terraces of purgatory. The local people's name for this roughly translates to: "Palace of Lost Souls." It is a cruel fate that awaits those desperate enough to find themselves trapped within.

This is the Malaysian Prime Minister. He was on heavy sedatives when this picture was taken because that is a traditional pastime of the Malaysian elite. Much like the Victorian upper-class adoration for pale, white skin (which connotes a level of wealth that allowed one to purchase expensive sunblock made from beluga fat), the Malaysian upper-class takes a near fatal cocktail of painkillers and sedatives to indicate that they have the level of wealth that will allow them to sit around in a bleary eyed stupor all day then pay for medical bills and rehab when they start foaming at the mouth and pass out.

This is Malaysian food! It's made with a specific blend of fresh spices developed over centuries to give white people diarrhea - and it's worth every agonizing minute.

Fun Facts About Malaysia!

• Likelihood of U.S. invasion: 18%
   
• Percent of Malaysians named "Rick": 4%
   
• Favorite Beatle: Ringo
   
• Capitol City: Detroit
   
• Official Language: Malaysian and Romulan
   
• Largest Export: Malaysians
   
• National Bird: Cocoa Beware
   
• National Pastime: Recovering from dysentery
   
• National Anthem: Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac
   
• National Currency: Beads and animal pelts
   
• Least favorite Beatle: John Lennon

Malaysia holds the world record for the least populated building, which is 1.

Malaysia gained its independence from the Banana Republic January 4th, 1982, in what later became known as the Coconut Revolution. An uneasy truce exists to this day.

Malaysia's largest and, by far, most successful tourism marketing campaign is being mistaken for the country that was in The Hangover 2.

Captain America: The First Avenger - BEST MOVIE REVIEW EVER!

Captain America. Captain of a once proud nation. Cappy stands as a symbol of the core values that made America great, values which have been systematically violated and cast aside by that very nation while Captain America slept in his icy bed. When America violated its own values, it violated Captain America - and while he was passed out no less. Disgusting. Such a crime. Literally, anywhere you go in the civilized world, that is a crime. We’ve treated Captain America like a freshmen sorority girl and we should feel terrible (perhaps donate some of our trust fund interest payments to a battered women shelter). But now, finally, we get to hear his story.

Endowed with superhuman speed, strength, and regenerative abilities, along with chiseled abs and muffin titties, how could such a man embody the fightin’ underdog spirit of America? Simple, make us believe that underneath that endless handsome and muscle there is a withered up, asthmatic, near-handicapped man. And isn’t this a near perfect metaphor for the country that Captain America represents? A nation with a military so powerful it could destroy all life on the face of this earth with the touch of a button, yet is convinced that at its heart, it’s very soul, it is a simple, vehemently unsophisticated, mildly retarded man. America believes that deep down inside, at its center, it is merely your toothless cousin from Nebraska who’s overalls are way too big and are caked with cow shit. This way, despite having the largest military on earth and the most powerful weapons ever invented, America, in its own mind, and Captain America, in his own mind, remain the underdog - that scrappy fighter that never backs down from an insult and is always willing to stand up for what’s right. It is true, a weak man knows the value of power, which right now is exactly $98.56 USD per barrel. Go get ‘em Cappy!

First of all, it’s never OK to wear a flag as a piece of clothing. I enjoyed how half the movie was dedicated to justifying Captain America’s appalling fashion decision, but, in the end, even that wasn’t enough. He wears an American flag suit, lame, but wait! It gets better! He does it because he was part of a traveling theater performance company that sang show tunes and danced - which he enjoyed so much that he wanted to wear his shitty costume all the time to constantly be reminded of it. Bullshit. Evil Knieval did it, but at least he was drunk and hated himself. Listen to me, Cappy, you need to burn the uniform of this and every other shitty job you ever left. Trust me, it’s part of the healing process. Get yourself something strappy, play with proportions a little, and it wouldn’t hurt to put a boot cut on those trousers.

So, we know Steve Rogers is dreamboat, but what about the rest of the cast?

• Red Skull. He quit the Nazi’s right? So that makes it cool to say that I think he’s awesome right? Because he is. Did you see those outfits? And that car? Awesome! But if he is still a Nazi, I totally take that back. It's too bad about the face too. I'll bet that is a deal breaker for most women. How could he kiss with those lips? He probably weeps with loneliness when he pounds off his withered, red junk.

• Peggy Carter has an amazing rack, almost as nice as Captain America’s.

• Philip Seymour Hoffman’s stunt double filled in nicely for the role of Dr. Zola.

• Tommy Lee Jones was, again, cast in the role of Tommy Lee Jones in the role that Tommy Lee Jones was born to play . . . over and over again 

So, was the movie any good? Who gives a fuck? You're going to go see it anyway or chances are you've seen it already. I have. I'm just as guilty as you.

5 Hot New Trends in Gum!

When did gum become a luxury item? Especially when it is available for free under any table. Of course, that is the power of marketing. We've been convinced that some indestructible, chewy compound that rids our breath of fish taco stench is worthy of its own designer, leather pouch. And think of all that wasted packaging. Gum doesn't need to be individually wrapped in paper, tucked away in its little tri-folding pouch, then hermetically sealed in plastic to ensure that a substance that will outlast Twinkies stays fresh. It's not that I care about the Earth. Fuck the Earth. I'm sorry, but you environmentalists have nobody to blame but yourselves. I used to be one. I know. I get that we all have to do our part, but do you have any idea how inconvenient that is? And whatever you can manage to do, it's never good enough. It's like a game of one-ups to see who is the greenest and you can't "win" until you are riding a bicycle made of bamboo, recycling your own urine, using your own body oils as a means of hairstyling, and subsisting entirely on a diet  of organic, fair-trade tree bark. If you use plastic bags, you're a monster. If you recycle your plastic bags by washing them out and using them again, you're still a monster. If you dig other people's used plastic bags out of the trash and use them, you're less of a monster, but still a monster. The "true" environmentalist would dig used plastic bags out of his neighbor's trash and fucking eat them to break them down internally and absorb the pollution into his body. Though, in a way, this example makes perfect sense in that the only real way to save the Earth is to kill yourself. So, enviros, it's time to answer the call and make the ultimate sacrifice for Gaia.

Here are the 5 hot new trends in gum:

1. Tiny gum for your tiny dog. (favorite flavor: Dog Butthole)
2. Gum made of crushed up diamonds and the bones of Africans. (favorite flavor: Sadness)
3. Gum infused with the tears of porpoise and blessed by a Yogi. (favorite flavor: Gwyneth Paltrow)
4. Single-malt gum aged for 20 years in American white oak barrels. (favorite flavor: Midlife Crisis)
5. Gum that has been pre-chewed by Ben Affleck so that it loses all its flavor. (favorite flavor: J-Lo)

Top 20 Things to Say to Get the Job of Your DREAMS!

The economy is in the shitter. Unemployment is at an all-time high. Double-dip recession. Soaring energy prices. Debt ceiling. Illegal immigration. The Chinese. Dogs and cats living together. WE'RE ALL FUCKED! The world economy is teetering on the brink of collapse and what you need is that last top-tier corporate job to rape the masses for your fortune, buy your way on to some millionaires’ club private island fully stocked to last through the apocalypse, give the economy that last kick-in-the-ass it needs to send it into complete meltdown, live in luxury while the masses destroy themselves, then finally reemerge a decade later to populate the earth with your seed. Go on, you deserve it. 

But how, you ask?

Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret, in the corporate world accomplishments, experience, and resumes don’t mean shit. If you want to break into the corporate world all you need is two things: confidence and a bone breaking handshake. The handshake is easy, you just need to build up you hand crushing muscles. Just get some of those grippy, springy things and unleash your burning disdain for all humans into every squeeze . . . 8 hours a day. Next time you grab another person’s hand, be the first to merciless crush the shit out of it. They will hate you, but they will respect you.

The second part is a littler harder to teach because people are so weak. The bottom line is you gotta have big swingin' balls, and if you’re a woman, you gotta have even bigger swingin' balls. You think you’ll wait for an interview? Wrong. You want in, you make your own interview. You barge your way in to the boss’s inner chamber and fight whoever gets in your way. And when you finally arrive, don’t you dare put down a resume. You really think some piece of paper is going to do it? Wrong. You think you can walk right up to an untamed wolf with a piece of paper that says: "don't eat me"? Wrong again. Fail. You're dead, again. In this, the moment of truth, you only have one chance. You have to lock eyes with the boss and stare that motherfucker down until he respects your power. If there is any doubt in your heart, mind, or soul he will see it and immediately pounce on your weakness.

Now that you've established your power he must either fight you or listen to what you have to say. If he does permit you to speak within his chamber the only thing that matters is that you speak confidently. Shoot from the hip. Don't pussy out. Never say "please" or "thank you." Remember, confidence means saying whatever you feel like whenever you feel like it - and that's a God given right.

I'll tell you how I got my top-tier corporate job. After I broke his secretary's nose and stared that 8 foot tall son of bitch right back down into his seat I crumpled up my resume and threw it at his face. "Open it up," I said. He looked at the paper. 

"Ten thousand dollars? What the fuck does this mean?"

"That's how much you'll lose every day if you don't hire me."

And he did. Hired. See you on the island. 

That's how it's done, but for all of you who still need some help, here are the Top 20 Things to Say to Get the Job of Your DREAMS!:

1. You need me more than I need you.
2. I have so much talent you can waste.
3. I won't sleep with the interns . . . unless you ask me to.
4. I REALLY don't want to go back to prison.
5. I have a treasure map tattooed on my back and the only way you will see it is if I'm naked and employed.
6. Hire me if you want to take casual Fridays to a WHOLE OTHER LEVEL.
7. You need someone to put Debbie back in her place – and I'm the one to do it.
8. I want to eat your food in the break room while you are not around.
9. I finally understand what you mean when you say you "frown upon" drinking at work.
10. You can get a lot worse than spit in your coffee . . . just sayin'. It could be a lot worse.
11. I want to tell you about my adventures in bird watching and show you pictures of my grandkids for 6 hours.
12. I'll give you one of my two tickets to paradise. Pack your bags we leave tonight.
13. I have most of my fingers, ALL of my toes, and usually don't have this rash. You'll get used to the smell.
14. I have a scepter of +1 ass kissing and an amulet of free refills at Starbucks. Looks like you could use a refill on your weak-ass THACO. Mithril, son. Mithril.
15. Hire me and you won't regret it. Fair warning though, I get gassy after lunch. You may regret it from 1pm to 2:30pm.
16. I have wild mood swings, freak out in elevators, can't eat solid food, and may have narcolepsy. You'll get karma +1.
17. We can hang out all the time, at lunch, after work. I'll get you up in the morning. I just want to watch you breath.
18. This will not be the worst thing I've done in exchange for money . . . <shudder with horror>
19. Hire me and I will bring a piñata filled refreshing horchata to work every day. Make it rain!
20. Hire me because gambling with office petty cash is much more exciting than gambling with my own.

Gemz of the Interwebz #2

I don't know what the fuck YOU think the interwebz are for, but this is pretty much sums it up. The interwebz is about using the anonymity of online interactions to come up with really bad and potentially dangerous ideas that you can't back down from. What? You thought terrorists had that market cornered? No way. White people have been using the internet to come up with bad and destructive ideas since the beginning! It was developed by the military, right? ZING!

I present to you one ruined house and at least two dead bodies . . . one with super sweet scuba gear:

ANNOUNCEMENT: I'm Making A Hit Hollywood Movie!

Super heroes are so hot right now. In my increasingly desperate and reckless attempts to break 150 followers on Twitter, I’ve decided to make a superhero movie. The problem with the superhero genre is that it’s getting bloated. Everyone and their mother has seen the “green light” and crammed every major superhero onto the silver screen. People are tired of seeing superheroes they aspire to be with awesome powers that they wish they had. People have had enough of the glitz and glamour - the polish of your Marvel or DC superhero – they’ve moved on. The next evolution of the genre is not another Superman, but an Otherman. Yes, for every superhero out there with laser vision and superhuman strength, there is some guy out there who can fart out laughing gas when he eats a peach. He may not be able to save the world or get the girl with his power, but that doesn’t make his story and his struggles any less meaningful. I think the world is ready for this, are you ready?

“So, what does it take to make a successful Hollywood movie,” you ask? Shitloads of talent. Check. Done. Moving on. People might say, “but you’ve never made a  movie, how would you know?” That’s a fair question, to which I say: “no one ever taught me how to breath and I do that awesomely.” Making hit movies is like breathing to me, I can’t control it and if I try, I pass out. I am so passionate and naturally gifted that I truly am blessed.

This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you to work with a future master of cinema. I don’t want your money and I have all the talent I need, but what I need from you is your unwavering support without a lot of questions. This is TOTAL cinema, so you’ll have to be prepared to support the cause mind, body, and soul. This is not a cult. I also need actors, so send me your demo reel with your finest performance.

This is ripe. You gotta pick this fruit and get on board with this before the fruit ship sails away.

Title: SOON TO BE ANNOUNCED!

Premise: SOON TO BE ANNOUNCED!

Equipement:

• Camcorder

Budget:

• Around forty dollars
• 1 coupon for toothpaste at Safeway
• 1 really small bag of pot - unknown origin and age (no lighter).

Talent:

• Tons

Rice Krispies Treats of Death

It's on a box in every store in every part of the world where food is sold or bartered for. It has only 3 ingredients: marshmallow, butter, and Rice Krispies. It is a simple three step process, heat marshmallows and butter, add Rice Krispies, and pour into serving pan. Combined, this simple recipe has, by my calculations, turned out over 1 billion metric pounds of light and fluffy treats. A dominating force within the "treat" sub-category of deserts. It is a recipe that has been unchanged since the early 14th century and has since brought immeasurable joy to innumerable humans. Rice Krispies Treats are an unshakable pillar of our lives, our society, our world.  So much has come to depend on a treat that is so moist and squishy.

Somehow. Some way. I found the flaw in the recipe. An ill-conceived exhaust vent begging for my X-Wing's torpedo . . . and a direct hit. I'm not really sure how, but I managed to fuck up Rice Krispies Treats. I followed the recipe to the letter (or number, in case of measurements), yet the brown, hard, foul tasting treats before me are not those which have defined the dessert habits for an entire species. Though it is certainly not in the recipe, the faint yet lingering taste of burnt hair runs through these foul creations.

Whatever this flaw in the grand recipe, my team and I will work hard to find it and correct it. With The Force as my witness, I will find it.

Transformers: Dark of the Moon BEST Review EVER

This summers biggest movie finally came, and came again, and again. Michael Bay once again proves that he has three cocks and is truly a one-man gang-bang. Everyone knows what he is all about, his "deal." MB likes it rough, fast paced, all over the place, and above all - big, wait, no - HUGE. You know when you enter that dark, cavernous room with a Michal Bay film that you will be walking out with a limp and an extra large popcorn bucket full of shame. However, Transformers: Dark of the Moon has found new ways to penetrate into the hearts and minds of movie goers - Michael Bay has found the cinematic equivalent of the "4 hole." Bravo.

Let me explain.

Transformers: Dark of the Moon begins surprisingly nice. It's cordial, Shia LaBeouf's foibles are oddly endearing and funny. As the characters begin to develop, we want to know more about who they are and what they are really like. We feel bad for judging the movie so harshly before it even had a chance to explain itself. "This time is different" we say. "He's really changed. Taken on board the stuff we talked about and really changed." We open up and we begin to trust. We begin to feel again.

Then new characters start to be added a little haphazardly, and it's like "whoa," but it's OK, he knows what he is doing.

Then the action starts to pick up a little and a giant mechanical snake appears. OK. That's interesting, I wonder where this is going?

Then the explosions start happening and fights start to break out, robots start betraying robots, and a space shuttle explodes. It's starting to get a little rough, and we're getting a little uncomfortable. "Slow down, Michael Bay. This is getting out of control."

But he doesn't listen, he just get's crazier, starts pounding more. The action gets faster, bigger and more intense every scene. Plot lines start interweaving, old characters come back to fight once more, the explosions get bigger, the special effects get more expensive, the mechanical snake is eating fucking buildings, up is down, down is up, and you realize . . .

NO, MICHAEL BAY! NO!  YOU HAVEN'T CHANGED AT ALL!

It's like a date gone horribly wrong. He acted so sweet and we wanted to give him another chance, but the next thing we knew he was having choke sex with us and riding us like a rented mule. Transformers: Dark of the Moon is the movie equivalent of an abusive relationship. Why do we keep coming back?


Transfomers: Dark of the Moon was not our fault. Say it. Out loud.