Our Winner for "Lazy Blogger of the Year" ...

This year Class of '74 & '75 "Lazy Blogger of the Year" award goes to . . . . . . .

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*applause, applause, applause please!!* . . . . . .

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... to self-confessed sloth Ed. Tan a.k.a 'White-Elephant-Ed'!

Mr. Tan, you may now go and collect your award T-Shirt from Willie at anytime to your convenience . . . . *sigh*
Note: Edmund, would you like to sponsor a bottle of Amway Co-Enzyme Q10?

hmmm ... I think we should get some reaction now!
(Run Francis Run! hehee!)

Forever Young

Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen singing Bob Dylan's Forever Young



[This is Joan Baez singing the song]

Lyrics
May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every one
May you stay
Forever young

Chorus
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be true
May you stay
Forever young

[Chorus]

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay
Forever young

[Chorus]

Eternity (The One Word Sermon)

* This is a true story *

Arthur Stace was a loser, a no-hoper, an alcoholic and completely illiterate. He lived in the streets of Sydney, regarded by many who saw him as a lost cause.

One Sunday night in 1932 he entered St Barnabas' Anglican Church on Broadway, Sydney, and heard the Reverend T. C. Hammond preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. The Banner of Truth has published a paperback biography of T. C. Hammond. Arthur was convicted by the Spirit of God. He left the church, crossed the road, and sat under a tree in Victoria Park where he committed his life to Jesus Christ. He had become a new creation.

Later that year he was at the Burton Street Baptist Tabernacle on the corner of Palmer Street, Darlinghurst when he heard the evangelist John G Ridley preaching.

In his urgent, commanding voice, John Ridley cried, "Eternity! Eternity! Oh, that this word could be emblazoned across the streets of Sydney!"

Arthur Stace the little man who still could not read or write left that church, took some yellow chalk, bent down and wrote one word on the footpath. And throughout the night for the next 40 years, while Sydney slept, Arthur would take his chalk and write in immaculate copperplate handwriting the word "eternity" on footpaths, entrances to the train station, and anywhere else he thought it would catch people's attention.

Sydneysiders would alight from their commuter trains of a morning and see this word as they walked to work.

In Sydney today, you can still see the word in three places...

1) On his gravestone in Waverley Cemetery, commemorating the life of Arthur Stace who had become known as 'Mr Eternity'.

2) Inside the huge bell in the GPO clock tower which had been dismantled during the second world war. When the clock tower was rebuilt in the 1960s, the bell was brought out of storage and as the workmen were installing the bell they noticed, inside, the word "eternity" in Arthur Stace's chalk. (No one ever found out how Stace had been able to get to the bell, which had been sealed up, to add this mysterious entry to Sydney's folklore.)

3) In Town Hall Square, between St Andrew's Cathedral and the Sydney Town Hall. When the area was redeveloped in the 1970s, a solid brass replica of the word in Stace's original copperplate handwriting was embedded in the footpath near a fountain as an eternal memorial to Arthur Stace.

As the year 2000 was welcomed, the word "eternity" in Stace's handwriting, was emblazoned NOT across the streets of Sydney as John Ridley had wished, but across the face of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and, thanks to modern technology, was seen around the world.

Of all the words that have been spoken during the first two millennia, the one chosen by otherwise-godless people to be featured on the Harbour Bridge at the dawn of the year 2000, is the one that was used to remind so many busy Sydneysiders of their impending appointment with their Creator.

Because Sydney's fireworks display was the first of the international celebrations to be telecast around the globe, people in every continent witnessed the miracle that God performed when he touched the life of one little, 'insignificant' man - Arthur Stace - a man who heard the voice of God and responded by committing his life to 'preaching' his one-word sermon.

Heaven only knows how God will continue to speak to the hearts of so many people around the globe, using the work He started back in the 1930s through Arthur Stace and his piece of yellow chalk.

Ron Bevis
Maroubra Baptist Church, Sydney.

THE PRICE OF A MIRACLE

Tess was a precocious eight years old when she heard her Mom and Dad talking about her little brother, Andrew. All she knew was that he was very sick and they were completely out of money. They were moving to an apartment complex next month because Daddy didn't have the money for
the doctor bills and our house. Only a very costly surgery could save Andrew now and it was looking like there was no-one to loan them the money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother, with whispered desperation, "Only a miracle can save him now."

Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly
perfect. No chance here for mistakes. Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door. She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was too intently talking to another man to be bothered by an eight year old at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the
glass counter.

That did it!

"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. "I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages," he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

"Well, I want to talk to you about MY brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick ...and I want to buy a miracle."

"I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist. "His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?"

"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you." the pharmacist said, softening a little.

"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."

The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does you brother need?"

"I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money.

"How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago.

"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly. "And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."

"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents-the exact price of a miracle for little brothers."

He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said "Take
me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the kind of miracle you need."

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed without charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home
again and doing well.

Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place. "That surgery," her Mom whispered. "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?

Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost...one dollar and eleven cents...plus the faith of a little child.

Life Begins At Fifty

Maybe it's true that LIFE BEGINS AT FIFTY

But everything else starts to

wear out, fall out, or spread out.

There are three signs of old age.

The first is your loss of memory.

The other two I forget.

You're getting old when you don't care where your spouse goes,

just as long as you don't have to go along.

Middle age is when work is a lot less fun and fun a lot more work.

Statistics show that at the age of seventy,

there are five women to every man.

Isn't that the darndest time for a guy to get those odds?

You know you're getting on in years when

the girls at the office start confiding in you.

Middle age is when it takes longer to rest than to get tired.

By the time a man is wise enough to watch his step,

he's too old to go anywhere.

Middle age is when you have stopped growing at both ends,

and have begun to grow in the middle.

Of course I'm against sin;

I'm against anything that I'm too old to enjoy.

Billy Graham has described heaven as a family reunion that never ends.

What must hell possibly be like?

Home videos of the same reunion?

A man has reached middle age when he is cautioned

to slow down by his doctor instead of by the police.

Middle age is having a choice of two temptations

and choosing the one that will get you home earlier.

You know you're into middle age when you realize

that caution is the only thing you care to exercise.

At my age, "getting a little action" means

I don't need to take a laxative.

Don't worry about avoiding temptation.

As you grow older, it will avoid you.

The aging process could be slowed down

if it had to work its way through Congress.

You're getting old when getting lucky means

you find your car in the parking lot.

You're getting old when you're sitting

in a rocker and you can't get it started.

You're getting old when your wife gives up sex for Lent,

and you don't know until the 4th of July.

You're getting old when you wake up with that morning-after feeling,

and you didn't do anything the night before.

The cardiologist's diet:

if it tastes good, spit it out.

Doctor to patient: I have good news and bad news:

the good news is that you are not a hypochondriac.

It's hard to be nostalgic when

you can't remember anything.

You know you're getting old when

you stop buying green bananas.

Last Will and Testament:

Being of sound mind, I spent all my money.

To the Blog Administrator

I tried to scan this but it didn't come out in color (the hat is pink) :


So I searched Google & came up with this - "we're not old , just senior or experienced". Happy Birthday, FH2O! Peace!

The Official George W Bush "Days Left In Office" Countdown

This should wake up someone on a quiet Tuesday blog day ... hehee!

Happy Monday & Happy Birthday 2 Me Soon!

Trust that you all had a wonderful weekend and wishing you all an equally wonderful and productive work week ahead.

Quite a week for me as I'll be hitting the 'BIG FIVE O' on Wednesday! Quite a scary thought as where has all that time gone! And it felt like it was just only yesterday that I left St Thomas's Secondary School or graduated from the University of New South Wales in Sydney; well sort of. So much time has passed and water flowed under the bridge as they say. A lot of memories - some sublime while others still give me the twitch! Ouch!

I wondered how many of us here has already reached this milestone and I recalled having a quiet giggle when I saw an 'old guy' wearing this on his polo shirt - "Life Begins at Fifty". Now it's our turn for some other young punks to have a giggle! Be Well!

Baby Mop!

Who needs a maid? Get your baby to mop the floor!

*BREAKING NEWS* - SADAM Has ESCAPED!!!

We interrupt this Blog with a breaking news ; Sadam has escaped!!!
(something silly on a scorching Kuching lunch break ...)

Centerspread for November: Simon, Philip & Francis

I was 'rummaging' through my hard disks looking for a 'missing' project file when I came across this old photo taken with Simon Lim during one of his visit back to Kuching back in March 2005. Simon now lives in Sydney while the good doc and yours truly are in Kuching. Photo was taken at Simon's brother's new house when we went to pick him up for dinner. I'd better post this photo here just in case it get lost in my computer and my fallible memory!

William - You're NOT FAT!

... this is FAT!

Help! Mosquitoes

I thought this might be a good place to ask, so does anyone know how to keep the little beasts off oneself?



Whenever I go back to Kch, I'm like a walking pharmacy! I've got repellants, anti histamines, steroid cream, piezo, etc + we need to have to 'sio bung-hio' to keep them off. I've been told that mosquito sprays, 'bung hio', etc are only purchased when I go back. It's a nightmare..

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A little bit of information about the mossies. This is what wordsource.info has got to say about the little beasts.

Among mosquitoes, it has been established that only the females desire and extract blood.



Although I travel incognito,
I can't deceive the smart mosquito;
While others also have corpuscles,
Mine are the ones toward which she hustles;
My blood is thin and I have asthma;
She doesn't care, she wants my plasma.
Mosquitoes seem to love the rind of me,
The front, the sides, and the behind of me;
I've tried to think why they're so smitten,
And as I think, once more I'm bitten.
-Dick Emmons


Male mosquitoes drink only sugary fluids such as flower nectar. Both in the wild and in the laboratory, mosquitoes will visit certain flowers and will feed on fruit placed in their cage.

Since they vigorously probe the flowers of some plants, and can distinguish between different types of sugars, they play a role in the pollination of certain plants.
The females will also drink sugary fluids, but when hungry females are given a choice between sugar water and blood, they will always choose blood.
If males are offered the same choice, they will always drink the sugar water.
Since male mosquitoes do not suck blood, they also do not transmit diseases. Like the males of many other insect families, they are important for just one reason, and then they become superfluous.
The female usually needs to mate just once in her life. She stores sperm in her body and fertilizes her eggs at the moment when she lays them. Shortly before or after mating, she takes a meal of blood to provide the eggs with protein.
When the eggs are mature and ready to be fertilized, the female searches for a suitable place to lay them which is usually water that is full of decaying matter that includes bacteria and minute organisms.
Some mosquito species lay their eggs in places that are likely to contain water in the future; such as, rusty coffee cans, old discarded tires, etc. In such situations, the eggs lapse into a state called diapause and they will not hatch until this dormant period passes, and the water level, temperature, and oxygen content are just right.
The eggs of some species can survive for years in diapause, even in sub-freezing temperatures.
After hatching from the eggs, they swim about and begin to feed by sweeping the water with two large fan-shaped bundles of chitinous bristles (or brush-like structures) at either side of their heads.
The fans, or brushes, create currents in the water that direct food toward the larvae's mouthparts and help stuff the food into their deeply concealed mouths.
The larvae are omnivorous; feeding on bacteria, pollen, microscopic plants, and a wide variety of other minute things.
About 150 species live in the United States, more than 3,000 worldwide.
They don't really sting, in the sense of a hypodermic needle piercing the skin.
They saw their way through instead, using four cutting stylets kept in a protective sheath along with a duct that carries anticoagulant into the wound and a tube that carries blood out.
Mosquitoes fly into the wind, picking up scents which lead them to their victims. Just about everything attracts them, including the carbon dioxide we exhale.
Mosquitoes will even suck the blood of birds, frogs, turtles, snakes and just about every warm-blooded animal. In fact, some mosquitoes prefer their sources of blood to be other than human. There are many species of mosquitoes that prefer the blood of birds or other animals. In fact, some species have been observed to feed on numerous mammalian groups, on a variety of reptilian species, and even on other kinds of insects.
Anthropophilic mosquitoes are attracted to certain ranges of temperature and humidity, and to carbon dioxide from the exhalation of humans.
They seem to prefer dark-colored objects to light. Certain chemical smells may also come into play; for example, components of blood and sweat such as hemoglobin and amino acids.
The best explanation of what brings the mosquito to its victim is that she simply flies upwind until she comes upon a potential victim exuding a "host beam" of warm, moist air laden with carbon dioxide.
The mosquito proboscis (long tubular mouth parts used for feeding) consists of six different shafts. Four are cutting and piercing tools; a fifth transports blood from the host; the sixth transports saliva, thought to act as an anticoagulant for the blood going in the other direction.
The saliva also transmits the organisms of malaria, yellow fever, dengue, and most of the other diseases for which mosquitoes are notorious.
When a mosquito punctures ("bites") into the flesh, one usually feels an allergic reaction to the saliva, which causes the swelling and the itch. The fact that this reaction is allergic helps explain why some people suffer more than others when their skins are invaded.
Some mosquito species are nocturnal, diurnal, or crepuscular (active at dawn and twilight). They also differ in their preferences for altitudes.

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Kentucky Burger Commercial

For some strange reason, when watching this, William comes to mind ... heehee Just kidding! Peace! Eat 'fresh' burgers rather than canned food! Actually, it's better to avoid both of these junk food altogether!

Bad Day? - I LOVE MY JOB!!!!!

If you don't laugh out loud after you read this you are in a coma! This is even funnier when you realize it's real! Next time you have a bad day at work think of this guy.

Rob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana. He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs. Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.2 on FM dial in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest. Needless to say, she won.

Hi Sue,

Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all . Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job.

As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wetsuit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose.

Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wetsuit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi. Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse.

Within a few seconds my butt started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it. However, the crack of my butt was not as fortunate.

When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my butt. I informed the dive supervis or of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically. Needless to say I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet. As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber. The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't poop for two days because my butt was swollen shut.

So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your butt. Now repeat to yourself, "I love my job, I love my job, I love my job."

Now whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day? May you NEVER have a jellyfish bad day!!!!!

The Riddle (You and I)

I forgot to post this video of a very beautiful song from Five for Fighting for William in my weekend post for him. This is to thank him for making us laugh with his outrageous postings and every one of which I greet with a certain measure of trepidation! I am always ready to switch page whenever or in case my wife or children look over my shoulder for fear that they get the wrong impression of what kind of websites I visit! *sigh*

And to ALL of you have a Wonderful Week ahead and as the song says ... there's a reason for the world, You and I...

There was a man back in '95
Whose heart ran out of summers
But before he died, I asked him

Wait, what's the sense in life
Come over me, Come over me
He said,

Son why you got to sing that tune
Catch a Dylan song or some eclipse of the moon
Let an angel swing and make you swoon
Then you will see... You will see

Then he said,

Here's a riddle for you
Find the Answer
There's a reason for the world
You and I...

Picked up my kid from school today
Did you learn anything cause in the world today
You can't live in a castle far away
Now talk to me, come talk to me

He said,

Dad I'm big but we're smaller than small
In the scheme of things, well we're nothing at all
Still every mother's child sings a lonely song
So play with me, come play with me

And Hey Dad
Here's a riddle for you
Find the Answer

There's a reason for the world
You and I...

I said,
Son for all I've told you
When you get right down to the
Reason for the world...

Who am I?

There are secrets that we still have left to find
There have been mysteries from the beginning of time
There are answers we're not wise enough to see

He said... You looking for a clue I Love You free...

The batter swings and the summer flies
As I look into my angel's eyes
A song plays on while the moon is hiding over me

Something comes over me

I guess we're big and I guess we're small
If you think about it man you know we got it all
Cause we're all we got on this bouncing ball
And I love you free
I love you freely

Here's a riddle for you
Find the Answer
There's a reason for the world

You and I

Red Bull World Series Air Races

November 19, 2006
Spectators were lined up along the banks of Perth's Swan River where the fast and furious Red Bull air race began at midday (WST).
Eleven dare devil pilots took it in turns to fly low at speeds of up to 400kph around an obstacle course of inflatable gates on the river.
Police said the crowds along the Perth and South Perth foreshores are generally "well behaved" with only a few move on notices issued to rowdy people with alcohol.
"The major problem is traffic at the moment," a police spokeswoman said.
Organisers say there is still plenty of space on the foreshore from South Perth to Victoria Park and the Narrows to the Causeway but traffic is slow at all entry points.
Perth is the last leg of the 2006 World Series, which has drawn massive crowds in San Francisco, Istanbul, Berlin and Budapest this year.

Hungarian pilot Peter Besenyei claimed victory in the final leg of the competition as 300,000 spectators looked on from the banks of Perth's Swan River

Riddle for William over the Weekend

SARAWAK FLYING DOCTOR SERVICE, FDS, (by helicopter) & a snake for dinner

The Flying Doctor Service, FDS may be part of the somebody’s strategy to deliver health care and to reach out to the rural communities of Sarawak. The junior medical officer together with a team of medical staff are routinely despatched in the morning by helicopter to various remote sites. One day in 1983, such a team left Kapit Hospital on their usual tour of duty. The medical team did their usual rounds of dispensing creams, paracetamol, anatacids etc. While at Long Jaik, the Filipino pilot was unable to re-start the helicopter as the “battery is flat”. This also meant that we were cut off from the outside world in the deep jungle near Kalimantan. The members of the team included myself, Medical Assistant, Health Sister and Senior midwife.

As we usually returned to our base in Kapit towards the later part of the afternoon, usually around 5.30 pm, nobody took notice of our absence until it was dark. We came to understand that the Divisional Medical Officer, DMO was frantic, trying to organise a rescue mission as so many of her staff were on the “ill fated” helicopter. Apparently, the control tower in Kuching could not do anything as it was already dark.

The nurses spent their night in the heli while the 3 men found a safe (from wild animals) open spot near the river. It was also convenient to be near the river! As we did not expect to be stranded, we were left with very little resources. River water was very clear in those days and we managed to catch fishes to barbeque for dinner. We picked wild ferns (actually a Sarawakian vegetable delicacy now, but luckily not for the Penans) as vegetable dish, frying them in an empty tin. The iodised salt meant for dispensing came in handy. We remembered very vividly that a snake came by to visit us the next morning and we had to sacrifice it and took as part of our breakfast! We made “goreng pisang” from the wild bananas.

The local inhabitants were Penans and although they were friendly, they were unable to help with our predicament. Their staple food was wild sago. We decline their offer of sago, which was to be shared from the same source with their chicken!

We were given to understand that a rescue mission was organised the following morning after a small plane spotted our helicopter. A helicopter came in the afternoon, well stocked with emergency supplies (blankets etc.) for any eventuality, courtesy of DMO. As I was single and working alone, the event passed by with hardly any fuss. Subsequently, I realised that there have been helicopter fatalities. Certainly, the authority should review to see whether it is right and cost effective to send naïve young medical officers for such missions.

3.1.2006
by CLCM

Note: The above article by Dr Clarence Lei was received by email - don't ask me why the good doc did not blog this directly since he'd already registered as a contributor. The kay-po Blog Administrator added in the cartoons ...

Chew On This ...

Chew On This . . .
(a thought and 2 sights)

"I believe in compulsory cannibalism.

If people were forced to eat what they killed, there would be no more wars."

--Abbie Hoffman

Why it's wise to leave well enough alone ...

Here's proof that this is anatomically possible ...
(Remember the picture that u 'love' doc?)

Shopping bags

Have a look at these. Pretty neat aren't they?

Still Sexy?

A gentle reminder to those casanovas (or wannabes or those contemplating taking on seconds or even thirds!!!) who think that they're still sexy (fats or no fats) for their age on what the young ladies actually think of us ... *sigh*
No bruised or deflated egos I hope!

This reminds me of this nice old song with a very catchy tune by the Three Degrees titled "Dirty Old Man". Remember the three great looking ladies with style and attitude and their wiggy-looking wigs! And remember the words - "... you can look but please don't touch!" You certainly do not want to be accused of as one! So keep your hands to yourself!