Chapter 4

"It has been a long time, Old Man. I remember not liking the sensations," he said to his companion. He was dreading the experience that was impending.

"You need not like it. Just do it. Think of the people. Of both worlds. Just put your head down and walk through the portal," came the retort. It was true. Much was at stake. But the fact that the prize might be in the Order's hands, and that he will be the one to wield it, was pumping his heart with an adrenaline rush.

They came to the portal. He still could not believe, after all these years, that such a symbol of mysticism in this dimension was hidden in such plain sight. It stank of the wastes of animals. "Funny how shit smells the same everywhere," he thought to himself.

"Let's get this over with."

They both walked into the sewer pipe under the New Jersey turnpike.

____________________________________________________________________________________

They emerged in darkness. Quietly, they slipped out of the baobab tree that housed the other end of the portal. Stephen Hawkings would have been proud. His theories were true after all. As they pushed apart the curtain of leaves that hid the huge split on one side of the trunk, huge spears emerged from the corners of their eyes and ended close to their throats.

"Your pathetic daughter was no challenge to our skilled interrogators, you wretched fool. Your mission was doomed from the start, once we knew that you only had this path to return to this kingdom. She told us everything we wanted to know. Most of the rubbish we had already known anyway." He spoke with as much authority as he could muster. He had to hide the fact that she killed 3 guards and 2 interrogators before they managed to pin her down and get the smallest amount of information from her. The 10 long days in between were the worst days of his life. His master was an impatient man.

"Your fear betrays you, Mordred. And you were lucky. The 10th day was his limit."

Mordred was furious. The veins in his forehead almost erupted. "Drag them away to the dungeons! And send a runner for the Master at once!" His minions moved in and dragged the prisoners away.

"Ah....Its good to be back, Old Man. Thanks a lot!"

Merlin turned his head minutely, and grinned.

Aw heavenly pungent fecal matter, the sky is gloomy!

The Duff had just turned his head to see a foreboding sky beckoning. This will really ruin all his best laid plans, and we all know how those turn out. Blame it on the rain he says.

The reason he is so upset is because he has invited some friends over for a party on this public holoiday to celebrate his country's birthday. And to just get together to get an update on each other before they go their separate ways and gossip behind each other's backs.

Pricks of a feather.....

The Duff returned home last night at the new dawn. He has been at a session of mahjong at the request of his slave masters. He said no but secretly the inner gambling demon awoke from its long stupor and began his war chant.

The Duff lost $54 dineros. He was up though, his ego kept reminding him later.

However, it was some good clean fun. Laughs and elbows to the ribs. Ranks dissipated and the conversations were not as controlled as he usually experiences them with that particular set of company.

The Duff was thinking the other day (another rare occasion). There is a rage currently in his social circles, of changing work ethics. The rage is to have an additional source or sources of income, to supplement whatever slave pittance a particular slave might be receiving. There are many courses to teach anyone and everyone on how to be an entrepreneur, or to trade stock options and the like. Everyone is getting onto that bandwagon.

However, The Duff believes that such intelligent and dynamic environments are too much of a challenge for the robotic slavers being churned out from the slave training camps. Their minds are simply not adequately equipped with......societal skills, much less business acumen. What the smart guys are doing instead are starting all these courses, getting genuinely good ideas and doing them, making these slavers do the guinea-pigging and then gobbling up their so-called accomplishments when they fail.

There could be another smart bunch who instead strive at the slave camps, kill or step over the robotic slaves on the way to the top(because all good robotic slaves love to just do the work and not take the responsibility, thereby staying at their respective glass ceilings) and then gobble these guinea-piglets to make everybody in the slave camp look good, the slave master most of all?

Food for thought. Your Truths?

The Duff has been coming home to a welcome sight recently. There has been a bird, a small one like a humming-bird, which perches itself on a branch at his porch. It'd be there every night, sleeping, breathing, dreaming. At first, The Duff's gal thought it was a fake, eventhough The Duff told her otherwise. In the mornings, it would fly away to get that fateful worm. But every night, it returns. To the same spot. And dream the same dream.

Another welcome sight had been his gal, who had been working hard on a project but doing it at his place. For more than a week, she was practically living in his room, working so hard to meet oncoming deadlines and changes from the client. But having her there was good enough for him. A smile was always at the edges of his lips. If she was to do the project from home, The Duff would have had to go to her castle at the end of each back breaking slave day just to see her hunched over her laptop. Still nice, but just not as much.

Is all the slaving in the world really worth the pain and the suffering? Shouldn't work be enjoyable? To be cherish and appreciated for the challenges it brings? It should cater to one's needs and desires, and not the other way around. When did everybody learn to compromise, and worse still to accept it as part and parcel of all things?

Should each and everyone of the human race yearn and stretch to an ideal?

This has been another thought deluge. The Truth is within you. The Duff wants it.

Mis-happenings

The Duff seems to be in a glut of misfortune. Like a hole in the ground, the shit just keeps piling up.

It all started on Saturday night, when the Duff fell asleep on his arm just for a while. He awoke to find his entire right arm numb. Even in the next morning, his two middle fingers on the right were non functional. He felt spastic. He couldn't use the mouse nor the keyboard with his usal finesse. Thankfully he could navigate with his left hand on the mouse. A quirk he had forced himself to take up some time back just for shit happens just like this.

Monday afternoon saw his entire right lap engulfed in hot soup during lunch. Thankfully he was sitting at an angle to the table, else it'd be Hasta La' Byebye to his family jewels. The lady who was serving him and who spilled the hot soup was less than apologetic, and kept up with some stupid comments that it's his lucky day and he should go buy the lottery. He retorted sarcastically that she should get it for him, or else he wouldn't be that lucky to strike it, but of course such intellectual exchange was lost on the simple minded specimen.

On Wednesday, he got back some control of his 2 middle fingers. Giving the finger was still out of the question however. That was a crippling effect that made him panic for awhile, much as the terror that a president of a bigoted country would have if he couldn't give the thumbs up.

Thursday saw his colleague engulf her mobile phone with her soya bean drink as the thin walled plastic cup holding the liquid exploded before his very eyes as she was trying to put back the cover. She lifted the phone to eye level, with the white stuff still dripping off it and she gasped, leaving her mouth open. Quite an image.

Ah.....Hormones......

It totally didn't help that a million drivers were trying to kill The Duff on the roads by attempting to smash into his car during the course of the week. Bloody idiots were like a swarm of moths being attracted to his flaming set of wheels. The counter on his curses went through the roof. Guess the person keeping score up in heaven must have been amused somewhat by this. piling on the negative points.

Speaking of swarms, the infestation of moths earlier in the year has translated into a swarm of caterpillar offspring in his house. The worst thing is that his maid has an uncontrollable fear of them. She freaks out and pesters him relentlessly. He wants to kill her.

The Duff caught the Island this week. Scarlett Johansson is da bomb! He knew she was jude to the core, but sometimes, nothing reminds one of such an undeniable fact more than a white lycra suit over a bodacious blonde.

The show was pretty watchable though. Lots of running, and futuretech. He loved the hover
jet-skis.

The slaving continues at a snail's pace. The Duff has his mid-year performance review with his slave master, and he was told that he needed to be more sociable, more visible, in the slave camp, and that he has a pretty good chance of being a permanent slave. While heartening to know that his slaving over the past few months has been satisfactory, and that he might have a dependable slave pittance in the near future, with slave perks, he is unsure whether that is the path he wants to take. He might just want to have his freeedom. He is thus torn between pushing harder at the slave camp, or to try harder to seek alternatives.

Truth of the week? The world is full of idiots, blondes are great to look at, slaving is shit, and that no one wants to share any truths with him.

Selfish bastards.

Where has all the time gone?

The Duff missed the blogosphere.

2 weeks gone. Once again The Duff has screwed up all his time management. Too many things occuring in his life. He has forsaken his pool, and various other social activities that he tries to partake in on a periodic basis.

For starters, he's been slaving his ass off(not literally of course). Many slave projects have been thrown at his slavery way. And he has slavenly scooped up all the slavery goodness of the slavery tasks. Such slavery slavenness should be slavishly sodomised.

Anyway, he's been assigned various projects recently which would have definitely raised his profile. As such, the MD thinks he is suitable for a perm post all too soon. While this news was certainly heartening to himself, he thinks that post would suck big time in the near future, since by the time he's there, another slave(who thinks he's adding much value to the company, "urgh") would be his boss. And that would be a majorly screwed up scenario to be in.
Also, The Duff doesn't want to be in too cushy a position in the slave camp. This would deter him from his escape plans.

The Duff's parents returned from the land far beyond this past week. Everytime they come back, the Duff's plans with his friends are always put on hold to accommodate their presence. It has become routine that even his friends know that he'd be unavailable and soon forget about him. Works both ways. However, its when he has friends who are less familiar with his predicament who would make some noise and shit. "Screw it," he says. Prioritise.

The world is still an ugly place. Recent developments in the local charity scene has been the talk of the town. How utterly boring that the main public is so slow to catch on bullshit that is squarely there in their face, and even force fed into their numbskulls ever so often by stunts performed by psuedo-celebrities. The Duff was much the wiser years hence. Such a braggart, and yet so wise. The world can be fair sometimes.

4 more booms in london. such a shame. terrorists are such pussies.

The Duff is over-spending. He is seriously worried about this. And his main vice, comics.

Now this is a horrible situation, as its one of his main de-stressing avenues, yet it is so costly to upkeep. Spending almost 400 bucks a month is way too much. While this might be aggravated by his little brother's penchant to demand and get his comics as well, he still thinks he should cut down. But to compromise on his own bliss, he finds it hard to do so. Everyone should have his own bliss. Compromise is such a dirty word.

The Duff's little bro just had his birthday. He is only 15 and he is almost the same size as Duff if not more so. The modern diet is really a powerful growth bitch. Must be all the steroids. The Duff really must restart his weights routine. But perhaps after he gets his new room done. Had to fix his bed and rework all his furniture. Excellent. He is now bonafidely Ikea-ed.

Ikano GO!

The Duff believes its all about how you spend your time. Plan it wisely, stick to your plans to a certain point, but give yourselves moments when spontaneity occurs. Those are the eternities between the seconds when life has more meaning.

This coming from The Duff, who has every clock available to him set 10 minutes ahead so that whenever he is in a rush, he forgets to backtrack and rushes himself more, believing he is 1o minutes later than he really is. Stupid. Yet effective. Especially when he remembers that he set them in advance. Its almost like finding time, just like loose change in a pocket. Always a pleasant surprise.

Death and Destruction

The Duff has lost half of his Saturday to the Sandman. He's pissed.

Speaking of Sandman, Neil Gaiman came into his town this past week. Hordes of fans queued up for his autographs at the local Border's and Kinokuniya. For those not in the know, he is the author of the well known graphic novel series The Sandman and Marvel's 1602, as well as various other novels like Mirrormask and Neverwhere. Mostly fantasy stuff. The real kind that just grabs The Duff and dumps him in another dimension. But sometimes, he hates it. When it gets too ethereal. Too subtle. And his barbaric brain fails to process or understand the profound meanings behind the words and images.

Maybe he's just stupid.

War of the Worlds was an extremely good show. The Duff caught it on Wednesday. The sudden violence and random death was a welcome jolt to an otherwise lacklustre week at the slave camp. Once again, Spielberg proves to be a master of emotional sci-fi. The Duff thinks its actually quite a simple formula. Normal workday leads to sudden action and death from nowhere, leading to desperation, leading to more action, leading to quarrels, leading to action, leading to hugs, leading to more action, leading to more hugs and kisses, leading to final action scene and ending in redemption.

Another oscar in the bag. Even if it was bypassed by the large categories, some technical awards will always be given to the movie. And there's always the MTV Movie awards. Just as long as its not the Razzies The Duff says.

So the Duff was ending his Thursday slave day when his Maternal point of origin sends him a short message service over the ether, to inform him that London has been attacked by some sinister force, most probably human. A quick search on CNN.com lead him to some initial articles the contributors had put online, attributing to some incidents in the London underground and a bomb blast in a london bus that had caused it to be a mushroom in an instant. They had attributed the incidents in the underground as electrical of origin. But I could never see how that would cause people to come up to ground level covered in blood, and not necessarily theirs.

The HORROR, The HORROR!

Apparently it was by terrorists opposing the G8 summit. But it also came after the IOC voted for London as the host of the 2012 olympics. Double Whammy.

The Duff thinks that was quite a bit of blood for the week. And it had only been over a 2 day period, and half of the blood was a ketchup mixture of sorts, but still. Society can only numb itself as a form of self defence.

Truth of the week, blood sucks. And see how the Londoners handle it. Much better than the pussy Americans. The British are actually used to this sort of violence. They had lived through it for decades battling the Irish.

What were your truths these past week? let the Duff know.

13 days later

So, the Duff is back once again, after a 13 day absence. Well, for that, this blog shall have 13 paragraphs.

That was 1.

Above was 2.

All right. The Duff was involved in some highly secretive exercises at work. While divulging this would be tantamount to screwing himself up the arse, he would just like to say that while it was a serious situation, the exercise itself was as futile as digging one's ears with a fork. Painful and useless. But, The Duff thinks it was good to be out of the office. For too much sitting would only lead to a highly gravitated ass.

The Duff caught some movies inbetween these 13 days. He caught Batman Begins the other week. Excellent comic book movie, or just a movie by itself(without the 70 year baggage of continuity, forgetting the Crisis of the inifinite Earths reset). Did you know that Batman once used a gun? This eventhough his parents were gunned down before his very young eyes?! Yesiree BOB!

Is Batman still gay?

6. Halfway there.

Just last night The Duff caught Initial D. Yes he did. In spite of all the prejudice that the entire society places on him for his ineffectual use of his mother tongue, he still likes to watch the occasional asian production of very well executed cinematic techniques. While the acting left much to be desired, the effects were cool and the story not all that bad. Put in a young nubile wide-eyed actress and it all fits for The Duff as a weekend popcorn entertainment. No doubt the $9.50 price tag was steep, but what the heck.

He had supper version 1 at outram; fish porridge with raw fish and frog legs as side dishes. Indulgence was satisfying. Conversation was flowing. Goodwill was all around. The Duff got fatter. No biggie. Not yet anyhow.

He then had supper version 2 at the macdonalds at east coast park. Fries and a coke. A world apart, but no less satisfying. A different group, a different conversation. But fun likewise. The Duff wishes to thank those who were present, and who tolerated his madness in staying up so late. He only got home at 5.30am. He had been awake a full 24hrs.

3 More.Time to close. He notices that grammar and normal sentence punctuation has left the building with Elvis.

So, Truths for the last 13 days? Its a hard world out there. money is but a tool. passion is important in life. women are the devil. married men can be bitches. pool on slanted tables are fun. and macdonalds make piss ass coffee. which are of course, free-flow.

What were your truths these last few months? time for a mid year review of your life. contemplate and relate. educate. disseminate. This has been a Duff mental puke. Peace out.

Duff is duff

The Duff is back, and apparently, hardly missed. He's been pissed with himself for letting this avenue of expression barren and at the mercy of the weather.

The Duff is back!

Has he been busy? No. A game of badminton, an afternoon of sun tanning, a movie, 3 weeks of work, and a chicken later, he is no different from the last posting.

Yes, a chicken. And it was trying to cross the road. Made The Duff's day.

Mr and Mrs Smith had some heavy boobular action. Angelina is overly babelicious, as in too painful to look at cos she's too much of a good thing, or a few things in this case. Brad Pitt does his weird eccentric bit once again. Can't see how he can keep it up.

The Duff has been messing around with simulated stock investing. He sucks at it. Playing around with pure guesswork, it reminded him of his parents' folly in real life. He shall have to tread carefully when the real thing comes about.

Work is getting boring as things clear up. What's left is a skeleton of tasks that hold little meaning to him. A lack of focus has arisen in his life. A cloud of blurring, a fog of unconsciousness. An immediate goal is lost in the horizon. He has to find it soon.

The Duff wrote a short script for an artist in Australia to illustrate. It has been 2 weekends, and no reply. Was it too short? Was it too lousy? The Duff deliberates but stops short of overwhelming self doubt. Screwit if need be. Personal tastes are just such, personal.

The Duff has also started on a book. A silly little project that his girlfriend had sown in his cerebral prairie. He plans to finish it within 2 months. Let's wait and be disappointed. Himself most of all. Starting with defeat? Almost sounds like a business plan.

He has started working out again. Albeit still as infrequent as before, its still better than none. His sloth has created a body of unapologetic fats. The constant pints of ice-cream, caseloads of carbonated sustenance and ever re-appearing snacks on his table do not help also. His proverbial 6-pack seems as unattainable as Michael Jackson's innocence.

How about the Truth? The Duff, in his everlasting map-less life, seems even more clueless than ever. Is the world really as chaotic and unchartered as it seems? When events occur, why do humans love to fit it into a so-called plan that they think is written out there, somewhere?

Where is the Truth? What is the Truth? Does it exist? Does it matter?

Life and New Experiences

The Duff has been exhausted by affairs of the family and the workplace. He truly was wiped out for the longest time, and couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Thank goodness for those fireflies.

The Duff had been getting into some new experiences lately. He had finally come to the conclusion that slaving is a bad thing. The workplace has been a dungheap of bullshit. He truly wants out. If he has the balls.

The Duff went for a concert the other night, having been given free tickets. It was an hour of spectacular dance. Music and lighting came together to accentuate a dozen dancers of unbelievable skill and endurance. All the elements came together to give him an experience like no other.

He fell asleep.

It might have been the lack of sleep the previous night, or the $5 cheeseburger he had before the concert filling his tummy and drawing blood away from his brain.

He enjoyed the performance though. Sad as it may be that he fell asleep, he really enjoyed the parts when his mind was lucid.

A meetup with his closest friends gave him the impetus to once again explore other avenues in life beyond slaving. A lunch with an old boss also gave him the urge to spice up his life further by attending a scuba diving course. Stayed tuned to see if he follows through on this. History gives small statistics of that happening.

His family is once again apart, as it has been for the last decade or so. While The Duff is saddened with this, it also allows him to continue his decadent lifestyle, without his parents' interference. Its a fine line to walk, and he is stumbling along it.

The Duff has also decided to follow once of his passions in life, which is to put down tales onto print media. Comics and novels, short stories and blogs, once again, stay tuned.

The Truth continues to elude The Duff. Every step he takes towards it, matters of sorts will push him back by 2 steps. Its only a matter of time before he lunges ahead, or plunge down the cliff face he crawled out from.

Perhaps yours Truths will save him. Please give him your comments.

End of another Era

The Duff has closed another chapter in his life this week.

He is leaving some of his nerdiness behind, to be left forgotten in his youth. For this week, 2 events had come to pass. Firstly was the last episode of Star Trek: Enterprise. He watched it, the final. The finale. Its all over. No more Star Trek in the forseeable future. While some may find this franchise utterly boring, The Duff secretly yearns for such a future to be made possible, simply because the simple worries of humanity are but a thing of the past in the stories. Humanity has moved on to much better things. Exploration, and knowing that there is a great unknown attracted The Duff immensely. He had found our current situation boring instead. The entire globe has been mapped to death, and governments stumble into space at a snail's pace.

The other event was Episode III of the Star Wars franchise. The story is complete. Anakin falls, to be redeemed by his son years later. The circle started 28 years ago is final done. This simple story, adapted from many sources into a space opera, has withstood the test of time, and patience of many, to present a story not fully fresh, but in a well presented package. The expert marketing done by Lucasfilms are second to none. The Duff applauds their efforts, and thanks them for such an overwhelming experience dragged over 2 plus decades. The Duff wonders what the nerds will do now.

And thus, The Duff ends his sci-fi nerddom. The genre is dead.

A long weekend is almost over. Mostly preoccupied by The Duff's parents. Which means a lot of eating, and The Duff will be putting on some extra pounds as usual. Sit-ups to ensue asap.

The Duff's favourite comic book author, Warren Ellis, has released a new series. Titled Desolation Jones, its about an ex-spy, who had an issue with alcohol, was thrown out of his agency, but enrolled into an experiment that made his impervious to pain, sleep and many other talents yet to be revealed. The setting is in Los Angeles, where all ex-spy personnel in the world retire in. Cool.

Many good comics coming over the next few months. Guess The Duff will never outgrow his comic nerddom.

That's the truth. What are your truths?

Chapter 3

She tiptoed along the ledge, cautious not to slip and plunge to a watery grave. The castle was well situated, atop a knoll that was surrounded by the seas during high tides. It wasn't easy getting to where she was. The lions and guards were simple enough to evade, but the crocodiles and eagles were something else. She knew the lord of the castle had a way with animals, but nothing prepared her for the menagerie that she had encountered, and dealt with swiftly, silently.

At last, she found the room she had been looking for. The highest point of the castle, overlooking all around the land. You could see your enemies approaching from half a day's march away. Ample time to prepare. If you knew what your enemy looked like.

The Artifact was nestled where the Old Man said it would be. It almost seemed all too easy. She thanked the gods for watching over her on this simple yet dangerous quest. She was the only one qualified enough to take up this venture. The Order knew this painfully, as others sent before her had not returned.

She knew the import of this quest, and to not take it lightly. It could well tip the balance of the war to their side. The glory will be overwhelming. She might be promoted, to stand along with the Gifted One. Ah, the Gifted One. How she had missed him. How she longed for his gaze to set upon her once more. She knew as she set off on this quest that so too was the Old Man, in search of the Gifted One. When he returns, if he returns, and with this Artifact in his hands, the war would be as good as over. Finally, after the decades of strife, peace could once more grace the kingdom.

She heard the shard slicing through the air. "Too late," she thought to herself. She had let her wishful thinking delude her of her situation. She was in the direst peril. After all, she was in the enemy's lair.

She felt her skin tear, and fibres in her shoulder splitting as the shard made its way through her conditioned body. The pain shot to her spine like lightning. She stifled the scream that almost escaped from her lips. She spun and tumbled to the wooden floor. Blood erupted in front of her as the shard peeked its head back out into the air. The thick crimson liquid dripping from its tip. She heard the laughter and the rejoicing approach with an orange flame as the door swung open. Another character appeared from the corner, hidden the anubian shadows.

"They sent a wretch! The guile of those fools. To think that a mere bitch could steal the prize from us. I will enjoy making you suffer the err of your Order's foolishness."

She tried to appear strong, but the fear overtook her once she saw their scaly bodies bathed in the orange glow. Their once human eyes sparkled as the flame danced in its position. And slowly, the flame made everything blur into oblivion as she passed out.

humidity sucks

So The Duff had his futsal tournament today. Went through to the quarter finals. Improvement from last year. Still, The Duff wasn't all too happy. Guess losing sucks, no matter what. A small consolation was taken when eventually the teams that The Duff lost to were the top 2 teams of the tourney. They were class acts, and a cut above the rest.

The Duff's younger brother is having his exams this week. The lazy bugger thinks he's so good at his various subjects. The Duff can't wait to get his results, and hopefully need not kick the little tyke's ass.

Mother's Day. Or is it Mothers' Day? Anyway, once again, it is sad that western civilization requires a specific Sunday to show extra appreciation to their mothers. Mothers should be cherished all year round, and loved in a sense like no other.

Are sons closer to mothers than daughters? Are daughters closer to fathers than sons? The Duff knows it is subjective, but he would like to know the statistics. He believes there has to be a trend to it. Human relationships are predictable after all. For example, a man and a woman out by themselves in a platonic relationship, for a whole afternoon by the beach? Hard to believe, and some just delude themselves into thinking so. Given different circumstances, these two would definitely get together. Dumbasses.

The Duff has been getting some low-level hands on training with regards to his slave labour. Note that low-level does not equate to easy. Each job has its own difficulties and challenges. Context and subjectivity blah blah blah......

An Ex-President passed away this week. The Duff was saddened, for eventhough in his youth he had made fun of this president's name (along with a brand of sauce), he always felt that this man was a classy guy. He had an air of nobility, and with such caring, soulful eyes and features. His passing even made a senior political pillar, who is commonly known for his stoic presence, break down.

Such are the truths of the world. We are human after all, each and every one of us.

The Duff has spoken. Now its your turn.

The Hills are Alive

As frightening as the title may have been, a simple tune has made it into one of the most recognised melodic words in recent history. The Sound of Music phenomenon is truly quite outstanding.

The reason this has come up is that The Duff had gone to watch the musical version of this movie classic on Thursday night. A birthday treat from his girlfriend. He thoroughly enjoyed the evening, eventhough he feels that the movie version was better somehow. Maybe it was just Julie Andrews.

It actually is a true story. The Von Trapp family escaping into the States during WWII. Of course it was made easier being that they were not poor Jews, but nevertheless, the creators of the musical and movie made the tale that much more emotionally involving. A few creative aspects were added, like making the eldest child a girl, and giving us the lovey dovey song "16 going on 17".

They eventually started a music school in America. I cannot imagine what it must've been like to be a student in such an environment. To be surrounded by such talent. But then again, The Duff wonders just how talented the whole family really was. Cynicism is such a party pooper.

The Duff hasn't read any new comics in quite a while. He misses the escapism tremendously. He has been on this Earth for too long. He longs for the fantasy and the unreality. Does this mean he is less rooted? Does this mean he is aloof, and less ambitious to get ahead in life, to have the finer things?

The Duff thinks not. Life is a balancing act, and he thinks we should all really just learn to have fun when we can, even when misery is perpetually following us. For really, life is too short. We have all heard that before, but do we really do anything to seize the day?

So chase that dream, marry that girl, start that company, paint that image, buy that handbag, go for that holiday, squash that bug, test drive that car, get his number, watch that movie, help the poor, .............................Just Do It.

Share your truths. Its within you.

Lessons

The Duff has just returned from a finance course. He is mentally drained, yet curiously satisfied in having learnt and experienced much, from the course material and his coursemates as well. Life is good for him. He wonders when it'll start tumbling down. He has been on an upturn for quite a while now.

During the course, his usual ADD brain kept wandering away from the topics, or blacking out into oblivion, for as usual his cerebral cortex was lacking a few dozen hours of sleep recharge logging. If sleep came in a pill, he'd be popping them by the hour.

Financial terms and going-ons (goings-on?) had been a puzzle to him, but like a magic jigsaw that solves itself, some gaps in his company's structure has come to light. Group work was interesting for he interacted with colleagues (in a loose sense) from other countries. Friendliness and cooperation were the rules of the day, and effort prevailed to produce good work from some humble folks.

Accomodation was in a hotel, with very good service and facilities. The room was clean and comfortable. All in all a wonderful experience.

The Duff pumped V-power fuel into his chariot today. He has used 98 for his last tank and had noticed increased mileage. He has decided to continue with the test for an even higher grade of petrol. Of course, this all depends too on his method of usage. Hard acceleration and exorbitant speeds all could eat into the better mileage claims on the posters. Time will tell.

For now, share your truths. The Duff awaits you, for you are the Truths of the world.

Peace out.

Cahos Toehry

The Duff spent zero dollars today. As in no cash from his wallet was reacquainted with another's sticky paws.

But in another sense, he has spent hundreds. He drove his car, he paid for his car. He has a home. He used water. He used electricity. Such waste. Such Decadence. Rots the soul.

He went for a Defensive Driving Course today. Supposed costs for each participant was around 200 bucks. He went through slaloms, emergency brakes with ABS and without, screeching and skidding over dry and wet surfaces. He even drove towards a live instructor at 70kmh before swerving away. Nerve racking it was. The Duff wonders how much the instructor's insurance premiums cost, if he has any anyways.

The Duff had 3 chunks of ham, 1 and a half slabs of steak and half an English sausage for dinner on his birthday. He didn't really eat anything the next day.

Maybe it was because the ugly English royalty decided to have a joyous affair on The Duff's birthday. Bad enough he had to share it with his sibling.

The Duff thinks Sin City the Movie rocks.

The Duff went to Malaysia last night, just for a Coffee. Without his passport. He went into the railway station along Keppel.

Verbal Diarrhoea on a Monday. Accepted in most developed countries.

Earthquakes again. Has our time really come? The news over the radio had a Minister insisting that Singaporeans are safe from Earthquakes. Just because some idiots felt the ground shake, they are scared shitless. Pussies.

If only an earthquake hit Singapore. It would be the only earth-shattering event in modern history here.

Truth of the Day. The triangle of survivability. In case an earthquake strikes, do not hide under tables, or below beds, but rather curl up just beside them. Rationalize this. The Truth is within you. Live and Learn.

My mental sphincter shall now become operational.

Ancient History

26 years ago today, a young and lovely lady was carrying a cake to her son's kindergarten. It was his birthday. He was 6. The appearance of his mother made his day, as well as the many kisses he received from his class mates.

The lady was also carrying other things, namely a handbag, another bag with clothes, and a foetus in her womb.

As she put down the cake on a table in her son's class, she felt a huge kick and started feeling contractions. She stayed on through till her son blew out the candles before excusing herself from the scene, rushing to the hospital. She registered herself in, and made sure the nurse informed her husband of the impending arrival of their second child.

As she lay on the hospital bed, waiting for the next contraction, she thought to herself,"Damn stupid baby. Had to be early. Had to be on the same day as the other kid. Which is kinda cool, but, what the??? Oh, here comes the next one. Ooouuuccchhh!"

A few hours later, the doctor held the slippery baby by the legs and bitch-slapped his ass. He started crying, and cheers went around the delivery room. The husband smiled, and held his wife's hands. Both were very happy. Nothing could go wrong in their lives at that moment.

The doctor faced the couple and offered his congratulations. A nurse approached him and stretched out her arms to take the babe. The doctor absentmindedly handed the baby over before she got to him. The baby fell to the ground and landed harshly with a "DUFF"

Death is but a moment away.

The Duff almost died today.

It wasn't bad enough that he had a swollen ankle and a stiff back. After a hard day's worth of slog, he got into his chariot, and away he rode, down the concrete roads that maze around the kingdom. All too soon he had bounced unto the straight country road, and he got into the "fastest" right lane, keep in mind that it was rush hour. The speed was sleepishly hypnotic.

And with his eyes ahead, at the tail of the chariot was his focus total. Yet, with just a blink, the chariot ahead suddenly seemed much closer. The Duff slammed on his brakes, and skidded. He could feel the shudder of the machine and the roughness of the granite on his pedal. He had thought that his chariot's bodyworks had hit the ground.

He stopped just in time. He trace the dust patterns on the number plate in front of him onto his windscreen. That was how close he got.

In a daze, the journey continued, uneventfully. The teachings on Sun Tzu on his MP3 player did not alleviate his lethargy. He was glad to reach his destination, his spirit totally spent.

The Truth he learnt today, was that Death is but a moment away. All the devil had to do was to complete the swing of his scythe, instead of pulling back as he did, however out of character that may have been. Its times like these when The Duff believes that everything happens for a reason, and that sometimes humans may just be part of some grand design.

Carpe Diem!

2678400 seconds later

The Duff™ is back.

So the Duff had some time off. Laziness took hold over his being for an entire month. He uses Opera as his default browser, but this disallows him to post blogs through it, and he has to use the Devil's browser (IE) to blog. Probably some problem with his cookie settings.

Too many things to recall over the past month to state back here. The Duff would rather state what is now.

The Pope is dead. Another earthquake hit. A lady is slowly dying in the US from malnutrition. The Duff's ankle is busted. Star Wars M&Ms are for sale. The end of Science Fiction is nigh. The Duff wants to get out of the rat race. Sin City debuted at number 1 in the US box office. Comics are expensive. Movie tickets are rising in prices as well. Weights are heavy, water is wet and air is polluted.

The world is going to hell.

But the Truth is out there. Within you. Enlighten the Duff. He is bored. Lift this cloud that lingers over humanity. Do the right thing.

The Duff is outta here. More to come later.

Rhyme Thyme 1

The Duff painted his gate.
Yup you got that right.
He painted it late,
in the middle of the night.

He painted it black,
over the whites.
He did not slack,
after dinner bites.

His father forced him,
in a subtle way.
He just started painting,
in his seat The Duff couldn't stay.

So his arms are now spotty,
with thick black paint.
It actually looks quite gory,
like his skin is nothing but taint.

Give it a day he thinks,
it should all come off.
If not he'd rub it pink,
with something that is rough.

CAR

The Duff has his car. His own car. His own piece of transportational excellence. His very own slice of motoring excitement. His one and only spot of mercurial travel equipment. Alas, it has arrived.

For 2 whole dreary months, The Duff had awaited the arrival of his carriage. For 2 months, he went through nail biting anxiety while he awaited the arrival of his carriage. For 2 months, he waited.

The wait is now over.

But, he has limitations. He cannot rev the engine beyond 3000rpms. Or go above 100km/h. He cannot jam on the brakes nor swerve too harshly. In fact, he is supposed to treat the workhorse like a metallic virgin.

However, he has flaunted all the above rules. His workhorse shall not be spoilt. Much like his previous 4 wheels, this one will be treated to the utmost toughest regiment of mechanical gruel.

To him, machines are tools to be used, not to be fussed over.

The Duff will simply not stand for pussy cars. That is his truth. Is it yours?

Redemption

Carrying his case, he enters the casino resort through the front door. Along the carpet he strolls in between the slot machines and makes his way through the crowd. Surrounded by people losing all their money to the casino while hanging onto their hopes, he shakes his head and smirks. He sees a family with 2 little girls laughingly enjoying their holiday. They remind him immediately of his own family. Or rather, what was his, but is now lost.

All was fine before the casino came to Sentosa. He had a good job, manning the bridge, and collecting toll for its short 1km stretch. It paid him enough for his frugal living habits and to support his loving family, even enough for his 2 young girls to see them through to whatever tertiary institution that might gain their fancy. He had his whole life planned out beautifully. His wife was gorgeous, and supportive. There was nothing more that he could have asked for. He was truly in bliss.

All was fine in the world, until the Government accepted a proposal for the Casino to be built on the island. The management immediately decided that the immense traffic that would use the bridge would be jammed up if the toll booth were to continue its lucrative, but ultimately unnecessary existence, and he was fired.

It really went downhill from there. He never got another job. His wife left him, along with the 2 girls whom he never saw again. He took to drinking, and blaming the world for all the ills he had to suffer. In the months that came, he had to sell his apartment just to make ends meet. After the mortgage and monthly payments to his re-married ex-wife, he was quickly siphoning off whatever sum was left.

He couldn't find the light at the end of the tunnel, and decided to go out with a bang, literally. He plotted his revenge.

As he carries the case filled with a timer and explosives, his mind fixes upon delivering it to its target. He nonchalantly puts the other hand into his pocket, and fiddles with the few coins that are in there. They are all that's left that he can rightly call his.

He fishes them out. A dollar and twenty five cents. As he passes the 5 cent machines, he pops a coin in, and continues walking. The machine rings and pops but simply swallows the gold-tinged coin. Small loss.

He turns left into the alley with the twenty cent machines, heading towards the lobby. He inserts the twenty cent coin in his hand, simultaneously getting a static shock from walking on the carpet. This time he stops. Cherry. Banana. Orange. Just as he expected. Again.

"Almost time," he thinks to himself. He imagines the collateral damage that would occur when the timer reaches its hour mark. It would be amazing. He had spent his last eight thousand dollars building this bomb over the last six months. He still remembers how to build one. National Service may have been years ago, but his time in the Engineer Corp was well spent on training.

He took another left and reaches the lobby. As he covers the expanse towards the reception counter, he passes the largest slot machine in the Casino. He pops the last one dollar coin. A million to one were the odds, largely branded above the machine in bright neon lights.

He hits the jackpot.

Immediately, bright spotlights shine on his person. The hotel manager, dressed in a suit, offers his hand and grabs the man's from his side, shaking it fiercely. The man goes into shock. Music starts blasting from all directions and a person announces over the intercom that the ten million dollar jackpot has finally been won. Confetti starts falling from the ceiling.

As he regains his senses, his left arm suddenly feels infinitely heavier. As he grasps the concept that his life has undoubtedly taken another turn, he starts to sweat profusely. It can all be salvaged now. He can even have his family back, and not worry about a thing again. With this jackpot, he can live like a king. Now he just has to excuse himself from such overwhelming attention, and quickly turn off the timer away from prying eyes. There is still a chance. Adrenaline courses through his veins at light-speed. His other hand shakes. He wet forehead glistens in the glare of publicity. The man in the suit grabs the case from him, and gestures him to follow as he leads the way towards a stage.

"NO!" He screams, and lunges towards the case. The hotel manager struggles with him, and tries to persuade the man to let go, and assures that the case would not be lost, that the concierge would take care of it. The man jerks it free violently. He hugs it and turns to run.

BOOM.