Open Letter To The Terrorists Of The World

Have you, the feared and shadowy face of terrorism, taken a look at yourself in the mirror recently? How the face that stares back at you is gaunt and hunted? How the shadows and the eye bags threaten to overwhelm your once sparkling eyes? How you have to grow that mess of a beard just to hide who you are? How you can never seem to have a good night's sleep because of your job?

Have you, O mightily Freedom Fighter of the World, ever thought about your life thus far? And your future? What have you achieved since becoming a terrorist? Have you changed the world? Do you measure the scale of your success by how many lives you have saved? Or how many lives you have destroyed? Is your life worth anything by any yardstick?

Let me tell you, you bloody bag of scum, and you better listen hard. You, who think that giving up your life for a "struggle" is the epitome of bravery, let me tell you: the paraplegic who lost both his legs in a bomb that you set off has more courage in his little finger than you have in your entire body. Because he refuses to give up life. You think that by throwing away your life in a blaze of glory, you will be remembered forever? You are living in the past! The ones who are remembered today, are the ones that carry on fighting till their last breath while living long, fulfilling lives.

You, who think nothing of harming pure innocents, people who have never ever done a single thing to you. What is your justification? That in war, innocents must die? That in war, casualties are inevitable? Who the hell taught you that? You want to truly punish a person, you make that person suffer for the rest of his life! You don't like the American President or the British Prime Minister? Go pick a fight with them personally! But why involve the innocent?

You know what I think? I think you terrorists are just a bunch of gutless skinless cowards. Even every blogger on the internet does not try to hide behind such a veil of anonymity as you do. I also think that you are a bunch of impotent small fry that can only gain a sense of temporary power by thinking that you hold the power of life and death over people who have never thought of bringing harm to you. You set off 250 bombs together... for what? The world will talk about it for a week and then life still goes on! You have no idea how insignificant you are in the the scheme of life!

You really want to make a difference? Band together and talk! The Isrealis are pulling out of the Gaza Strip because the Palestinians talked! True the results may not be as immediate as bombing a bus, but the difference can be eventually astounding. You can lead by example and show the rest of the world that you are all honourable men, filled with righteous integrity, who recognise that every being, large or small, has a place on this earth. Or you can cower away from the glare of the light because you are too yellow-bellied to give your face to the stand you claim to be representing.

I thumb my nose at you, because you refuse to fight the good fight, and talk the good talk. I thumb my nose at you because you are too spineless to tell the world who you are and what you truly believe in. I thumb my nose at you because you are too weak to know what is effective and what is not. And most of all, I thumb my nose at you, because no matter what you do to impose terror, the people of the world, regardless of race or religion, will look at you in revulsion and hatred. Because at the end of it all, because of your actions, even rats will not deign to chew on your maggot-ridden corpses.

*I don't believe any terrorist has right on his side. No orthodox religion of the world condones the imposition of terror, or the curtailment of an individual's right to live life as he sees fit. So to the terrorists of the world: Stew in hell! Because no self-respecting God will allow you to defile His heaven.

Irritation sans Proportion

It was a couple of days ago when I first received an SMS from one of my friends saying that from 4pm to 8pm on the 9th of August, Singapore's National Day (akin to other nations' Independence Day or Founder's Day or Declaration Day or whatever), there would be a nationwide discount of 40% for petrol. This would apply to every single petrol kiosk in the nation, regardless of service provider or brand of petrol.

Extremely believable, because for one thing, I did not just receive the SMS from one person. I had a whole slew of friends messaging me and forwarding messages to each other. A check with my colleagues both close and no-so-close revealed that the SMS was making rounds everywhere. For another thing, the SMS was written in a very Reuters, matter-of-factly way that seemed to brook no nonsense. No hahas behind the SMS, no smiley faces. And for a third thing, it was eminently believable in that it made sense to only have 40% discount for 4 hours because it was Singapore's 40th birthday afterall. By the way, my dearest country, you have officially reached middle-age. Congratulations...

Anyways, like any other kiasu Singaporean, I woke up nice and early before my night shift today, and went down to my friendly neighbourhood Mobil Petrol kiosk. My heart of course skipped a beat when I saw this long snakey queue outside the entrance, made up of cars with drivers eagerly waiting to take advantage of the 40% petrol discount just like me. Fortunately, especially since it is my friendly neighbourhood petrol kiosk, I knew a back way in. That I duly used. And so there I was awaiting eagerly for my turn at the pumps. Nipped in ahead of this gleaming black Beemer (I think the driver showed me his middle finger, but not sure lah), hopped out of my imitation Mini and yodelled to the pump attendant: Man dao bu neng zai man, which meant in Mandarin to fill 'er to the brim. I then bounced happily into the kiosk mini-mart, believing all was right in the world and the birds were singing just for me.

Did my spot of shopping and then proceeded to the cashier's to pay. It wasn't until I was merrily traipsing to my car that I happened to glance at the receipt I held in my hand. There wasn't a discount of 40%. In that instant, the world came crashing down around my ears. Actually no lah. But it came close. I mean, what happened to all those well meaning SMSes I received from my friends who wanted nothing but to share a bit of joy and goodwill lobang with me? You mean they weren't true? That it was all a pack of lies? Irritation set in. I got angsty.

It wasn't until I was halfway to work that I realised that no one, and I mean no one had really ever verified that the information in the SMSes were true. I just took it on good faith that the information was true and that I was in for a good deal. Sigh. Oh well. Of course all my buddies and I agree that if we were ever to find out who perpetrated the hoax and lay our hands on him, we would flay his skin from his flesh inch by inch, pour Ax brand medicated oil on all the exposed parts, then add salt, and then vinegar, all the while recording his screams of agony on our collective MP3 players.

But seriously, there were like so-o-o-o many drivers out there taken in by the same misleading piece of information as I. In every petrol kiosk I passed by on my way to work, the same scene of spaghetti queues snaking away from the entrance of the kiosk was repeated. I'd bet my last dollar every one of those drivers also thought they were in for a great deal. If you think about it, had this been a working day, the number of productive man-hours lost would have been horrendous. The perpetrator might have thought that it was a harmless joke, and to most extents it is. But things might have gone wrong. It didn't happen at the kiosk I was at, but I can just imagine that at other petrol stations all across the island, irate drivers were furiously banging on the counters, demanding their 40% discounts of the petrol they pumped. And all the frazzled service staff trying to placate the drivers, explaining it was all a hoax. Things could have been really bad.

I sort of hope that tomorrow's papers will actually carry articles of the Ugly Singaporean making life difficult for the petrol stations' service staff. Not because I enjoy such chaos and dissension, but because I hope (although it probably is a really faint hope) that whoever sent out the hoax in the first place will have his conscience take a big bite out of malicious joy, and make him realise how inconveniently far-reaching his actions were.

Rot in hell, you dirty petrol discount SMS sender.