Saddam Dead

Saddam was hanged shortly before 03:00GMT…an article about this to come from me soon.

http://today.reuters.com/news/articlenews.aspx?type=newsOne&storyID=2006-12-30T030839Z_01_IBO034602_RTRUKOC_0_US-IRAQ.xml

My Rant For The Day.

I was going to write something today but my mind is drawing a blank. Or maybe I just don’t want to think. Im not really sure.

I honestly hate working. I don’t care of the job is easy or hard. I don’t care if I am working under someone or own my own business. I hate working. I wish I could stay in school forever. If you love what you do, it’ll never be work. I begin to discover that more and more as time goes by. I don’t know how people can go out there and work at a place they hate. People say owning your own business is the best thing in the world. It really isn’t. It might be good for a while but at the end of the day, I don’t really see it as any good. I mean, what am I really doing to help other people? Sure, Im providing service to people that treat you like shit but at the end of the day, I haven’t contributed anything to society.

Don’t get me started on the people. I really hate people. Some of these morons that come into the shop are just idiots. For example, this one guy starts talking to me. He tells me he’s an engineer (not the one you’re thinking of…this guy is an actual engineer…yes, he drives a train.) Anyways, he’s this typical hick wearing this thing that looks like a cowboy hat and raggy old clothes. He starts joking that I should start flirting with some of the girls in the store. Everytime he’d crack a joke I’d start laughing, hoping that after one or two jokes he’d go away. They weren’t funny at all by the way. Anyways, he points to these two oriental girls and says something like “these people are in the wrong country.” I was shocked. I didn’t know what the hell to say to the guy. I just changed the topic right there. What a fuckin jackass. Yea, your a real Canadian with that little fuckin cowboy hat of yours. If it wasn’t for those chinese, you wouldn’t have a rail system to drive your stupid engine on in the first place. I could go on ranting but Im sure you get the idea.

Getting that out into the open really felt good actually. I would love to go on ranting but I think its better to stop before I get carried away.

I need school. When Im not in school, I tend to dwell on things like that ^^. Not good.

Untitled…

I walked down a path through the rain last night.
I looked up at the sky and saw nothing but darkness.
The clouds burnt out the stars and cloaked the moon.
I was left with nothing but the cold mist and the damp rain and this dark path upon which I travelled.
It was almost as if I had ventured into another world where I was left alone…left to fend for myself.
The birds ceased to sing, the children ceased to laugh, the flowers ceased to bloom.
There was nothing but the darkness of the night, the chill of the rain and the errie silence of the clouds.
As a walked further down the path, I came across a rose.
It wasn’t an ordinary rose.
It was different.
It was the brightest rose I had ever seen, bloosomed fully and standing tall.
Its colour as white as the snow atop a silent mountain.
I bent down to admire it;
Its pettles, softer than silks adorned by Heer.
“O beautiful Rose. Why do you stand here alone in the darkness and cold?”
The rose smiled at me.
“Dear sir, I am not alone. My heart is full of joy. My heart is full of light.
I used to think that among the darkness, the rain and the cold, that I was alone.
But they, joy and light, they have been inside my heart the whole time.
I ask you, if I were lonely as you suggest, would my colour not be as black as this night?
If I were lonely, would you not have passed me thinking I was just another part of this night?
Sorrow seems to be your spirit this night.”
“Aye…”
“May I ask, sir, why you are travelling this path in melancholy?”
Not knowing how to answer, I sighed.
“I ask you sir, look inside of your heart and look deep. What do you see? Who do you see?”
I closed my eyes. Instantly, I fell into a trance.
Images began to fall from above. It was my life presenting itself right there before me.
All my sorrows, all my joys, exposed themselfs one by one.
Quickly, my mind became cluttered with them.
Cluttered with them to the point where it became hard to decipher what was what.
But through the medley that was my life, I found a path with a sign that read “the road less travelled.”
Pushing my joys and sorrows to the side, I set foot on that path and started to walk.
I knew for some reason that it was this path that would lead me to my heart.
The path peaked and it valleyed and it peaked again. And then I saw it.
It was my heart.
All of a sudden, I felt joy in a way I had never felt before.
It was the first time I had seen my heart like this.
It appeared as though it had never aged.
It appeared as though it had never been broken.
I stopped at the peak of the path and admired the sight before me.
It looked beautiful.
As I gazed over my heart, I noticed a window.
I ran over to it, my curiousity overwhelming me.
I reached the window. It was small but I could see everything inside it.
Resting my arms on the window sil, I peered through the glass.
What did I see?
I saw you.
You had built a house inside my heart.
You were sweeping away the bitterest of sorrows out the door.
You kept the sweetest of my memories inside a candy jar.
You decorated my most precious of wishes with silk.
You kept my hopes and dreams as your sisters.
I watched amazement as you sung my name.
Finally you saw me standing at the window.
You smiled at me and waved.
Tears ran down my face as I waved back at you.
Suddenly, I awoke from my trance, becoming fully conscience.
“Sir…Sir?”
I opened my eyes and saw the concerned look on the rose’s face.
“Sir? Why are you crying?”
I wiped my tears from my face and smiled at the rose.
“O beautiful blossom, tonight is the first time I looked inside my heart.
I found a friend…a dear friend.
She built a house inside my heart and lives in it.
There wasn’t a shade of darkness to be found.”
The rose smiled.
“Sir… God!
It is God that has put her inside your heart so that you may never feel alone!
If you ever in your life feel that happiness has left you, look inside your heart and find your friend.
She will be there to give you joy.”
I slowly got up and walked away from the rose.
All of a sudden, the darkness didn’t seem as harsh.
And the mist became ever so warm.
In that moment, I knew a friend like you was never going to let darkness into my heart.

-mast malang

Santa is a Communist

Children of the world…UNITE! Unite against this evil-do’er we call Jolly O’l Saint Nick. My friends, yes, it is true. Santa is a communist. Since the early days of the industrial revolution, Santa has been brazenly feeding his brand of Marxism to our innocent, young, capitalist minds. This must cease immidiately. That is why, Santa Claus must be exposed for what he really is: An evil Marxist Leninist that has successfully penetrated our society, hellbent on destroying the capitalist utopia we have struggled so hard to build.

The infamous “Ho Ho Ho” that is the very trademark of Santa Claus is actually the most simple of tools used to indoctrinate our children. “Ho Ho Ho” is actually a direct reference to Nguyễn Sinh Cung aka Hồ Chí Minh, the founder of the Viet Minh Independence Movement in 1941 who later became the leader of the one party communist republic nation-state in Vietnam in 1955. Just as Minh atempted to emulate Mao Zedong with his Land Reform Campagin, Santa has been busy redistributing wealth by handing out toys for free to those children that he deems to be “nice.” What exactly constitutes definintion of nice? We don’t really know. “Ho Ho Ho” is indeed the perfect peice of propaganda to instill in children that redistribution of property and wealth is in fact a good thing.

The trademark colours of Santa are red with a touch of white as an accent. Red, as well all know, is also the primary colour for the Рабоче-Крестьянская Красная Армия – Raboche-Krest’yanskaya Krasnaya Armiya better known as the Workers’ and Peasants’ Red Army. First organized in 1918 by the Bolsheviks to fight the Civil war, it evolved into the army for the Soviet Union after the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, the USSR was established in 1922. From the 1940s until the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, it was the largest army in the world. They adorned the colour Red so as to symbolize the blood shed by the working class in its struggle against capitalism.

It was on a wintery December that the man shown in the picture created the Cheka, the first Soviet secret police organization. Felix Edmundovich Dzerzhinsky established the Cheka on December 20, 1917, 5 days before Christmas. The Cheka then went on to eventually evolve into what was known as the Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti, better known as the KGB. Among other things, the role of the KGB was to suppress any opinion and/or behavior that was deemed to be unorthodox. Furthermore, those that were seen as not falling into the right ideological line were monitored by the oganization and were delt with accordingly. Similarly, it is Santa that keeps tabs on children throughout the year, making sure they fall into the ideological line of Nicism and Goodism. The KGBesk role that Santa has played in the lives of our young children can clearly be heard by carolers all over the capitalist world with the song Santa Clause Is Coming To Town. The Bolshevik tone of this song is stronger than stench of Santa’s reindeer crapping over the winter snow:

You better watch out

You better not cry

Better not pout

I’m telling you why

Santa Claus is coming to town!

He’s making a list

And checking it twice;

Gonna find out Who’s naughty and nice

Santa Claus is coming to town!

He sees you when you’re sleeping

He knows when you’re awake

He knows if you’ve been bad or good

So be good for goodness sake!

Oh! You better watch out!

You better not cry

Better not pout

I’m telling you why

Santa Claus is coming to town!

Santa Claus is coming to town!

Its like hearing the sounds of the Red Army marching through the streets of Leningrad all over again. Santa not only knows the littlest details about our precious little Suzy, he has her blacklisted on this List that he carries around tracking everyone’s ideological leanings.

There are, however, efforts to monitor Santa durring the Christmas Season. The North American Aerospace Defense Command or NORAD is a military alliance between the United States of America and Canada which is responsible for protecting the sovereignty and defence of US and Canadian aerospace. One of the roles that NORAD has taken on is the monitoring and tracking of Santa Claus’s activities. Moreover, NORAD has developed a sophisticated system of radars, satillites, cameras and CF-18 fighter jets to track Santa during Christmas eve. In fact, the same satillites that are used to moniter missile launches aimed at the North American continent are used to track Santa’s sleigh by tracking Rudolph’s nose via infrared sensors. Just as Santa knows about our whereabouts, we know his as well. But this is not enough. The Santa tracking system is only activated on Christmas Eve when the threat level is at its peak. And Santa has never once been detained and held for question as to why he continues to violate the sovereignty and airspace of of almost every country in the world.

Fellow readers, it took us an entire century to defeat the global threat of communism…or so we thought. Communism has continued to overlook our society un-noticed. More and more of our fellow consumers are beinging to realize the truth about Santa Clause. Fellow readers, we must rise up and declare war on Santa Claus. Captialism and its inginuity is what drives the world and we must not let the threat of communism inturrupt the global economy. Responsibility first lies with the parents. It is through their grassroots efforts of educating their children that will give rise to the true intentions of this so called “saint.” Rise up and defeat Santa Claus. Protect Mother Capitalism!

The Punjabi Language

Like so many other Pakistanis, I am Punjabi. But for some reason my parents never spoke Punjabi with me. They always spoke Urdu. At first, when I was young, I never really distinguished between the two. I understood both launguages, though I could only speak Urdu. But as I started to become mature and aware of my surroundings and who I was, I started to explore this “unknown” part of my identity. The first step I took was to learn how to speak the actual language. That took a while, but I will come back to that in a second. The second part then, was to investigate the origin of the language. I accomplished this to a certain extent but not to my full satisfaction. The third step was to research Punjabi poets and literature. It was after all of that, that I was then able to discover the true Punjabi culture and finally realize who I am.

After going through these various steps, I fell in love with the language. Not to the extent that I have become nationalist. Its a love that comes straight from the heart. I came to a point where I realized that at the end of the day, I would not be who I am, I would not be worshipping the God that I do if it weren’t for this language. To me, that is something profound. Now, having this love of Punjabi in my heart for a while, I began to reason why Punjabi is never spoken to children in Punjab (with the odd exception here and there). I had never really found the answer to that although it was right under my nose. I knew that, sadly, Punjabi wasn’t a recognized language in the Province of Punjab. It has no official status in Pakistan at all. I was sitting with a friend of mine in his car a few days ago, having a du Marier. He was on the phone with his wife. And I was very happy to hear that he was speaking Punjabi with her, as opposed to Urdu or English. After he was done speaking to her, I complimented on the fact that he spoke Punjabi with her. This lead to a discussion about the language. He mentioned that he had made the same painful observation I had, that Punjabi parents don’t speak Punjabi with their children. I asked him why that was. His theory intrigued me. His idea is essentially this:
The rule of the English in British India contributed to the development of an inferiority complex among the people. Urdu was seen as a “white collar” language whereas Punjabi was seen as a “blue collar” language. This inferority complex lead to the perpetuation of the Urdu language as a means of pleasing the English during the time of their rule. This inferiority complex is inherant in the Pakistani psyche to this day, especially among the Punjabi people in Pakistan. Evidence of this inferiority complex lies in the fact that in a household of Punjabi speaking people in Pakistan, Urdu is spoken at home despite the fact that Urdu is taught in Schools. Pashtoon people speak Pashto at home, Sindhi people speak Sindhi at home but for some reason, Punjabi people do not speak Punjabi at home. Having said this, if the language isn’t passed down from the parent to the child, the language risks the chance of dying.

And that is exactlywhat is happening to the Punjabi language in Pakistan. More and more people are starting to pick up Urdu as their mother tongue, rather than Punjabi. Less and less punjabi is being taught in homes and schools. The cornerstone of culture is its language. If the language is at risk, so is the culture. It seems that in Pakistan today, the Punjabi culture is slowly dying off as well, though not as fast as the language. Urdu is a language that will always be a part of Pakistan. It has Constitutional recognition as being the national language of the country, as Jinnah had chosen some 50 odd years ago. It is taught in schools all across the country, as it should be. Its poetry is read and appriciated by millions. Seeing the continuation of the domination of the Urdu language in Pakistan, it doesn’t seem that the language is under threat. Punjabi on the other hand seems to be on the losing end. For some reason, people do not see this indigenous language (Urdu isn’t indigenous to Pakistan) as being important enough to make a concerted effort to save.

Credit should go where credit is due. On the other side of the boarder, in the Indian State of Punjab (East Punjab), the prevailing language is Punjabi. Efforts have been made to resist the Hindi influence that the rest of the country is currently experiencing. Punjabi is the offical language of the state and it taught in schools and spoken in millions of homes. In fact, due to the large populaton of Punjabi people in Surrey, British Columbia, Punjabi is now being taught as part of the curriculum in publish schools. On average, more younsters of East Punjabi parents speak the indigenous language than do youngsters of West Punjabi origin. Moreover, this push of language has further led to the eventual preservation of their culture and traditions until the end of time.

Pakistan is in danger of losing one of the oldest languages in the world. And it is happening faster than we all think. People of Pakistani Punjabi origin need to take immediate steps to preserve our language so that future generations can appriciate where they came from and who they are.

This topic of interest developed a few months ago and was going nowhere up until a few days ago with my friend. I am sure that not all of my facts in this entry may be correct and so I plan to investigate more and conduct a through research of this idea so look forward to that in the near or far future. In the meantime, please enjoy one of Punjab’s cultual icons: The Great Arif Lohar, son of The Great Alam Lohar.

Some people are so stupid…

I will still never figure out how and why some people get so friggin stupid. It’s like they have Jello for brains. And then when you treat them like they have jello brains, they get offended. Jerkoffs. I don’t even have enough time to complain tonight. These morons robbed me of my sleep time. I hope the house of commons calls for a motion to segregate the normal people from the crap-for-brains among our society.

Arsalan and the Seventy-Two Virgins

I guess this is my first offical post.  And what better way to start it off by presenting this short story.  A friend sent me this link one night and I have been in love with the story ever since. Once you read it, you will understand.  I encourage everyone to visit his blog. There is some amazing poetry there that he has written.  The link is at the right side of the page…”Realm of Mystics and Seekers.”

Enjoy.

Salam…

It is time for this mind to express itself to the outside world…

Soon..