Win a copy of the book...

...here.

Launch Updates

The programme tomorrow goes something like this:

8pm: Buffet dinner with – wait for it – FREE orange cordial. Or something. Those facebook invite thingies are notoriously unreliable, so I don’t know how many people are actually coming. Do come early if you want the free food and Orange Cordial! or something.

8.45: I will give a speech that may or may not change your life depending on how drunk you are at the time.

9.00: FISH plays. Watch out for that Tragedi Secawan Kopi song – I can’t get it out of my head.

9.45: My band plays 5 original songs, one of which I still haven’t written until now. I plan to write it tonight so there’s a good chance it may suck.

10.30: Majlis bersurai but WAIT!!

10.31: House band Sweet Escape plays three sets till late.

In between there’ll be lucky draws and quiz-type-things where you can win a copy of the book and T-shirts. And if you can’t make it early, do come anytime. Bojangles opens till very late, so we’ll probably be there till about, I don’t know, 4 or 5am?





Other tour (tour sial!) updates:

Interview on Capital FM at noon Friday
Sharon Bakar's Readings on Saturday the 29th.

Other reviews/blog posts:

Lily
Leen Ash Burn
Pugly

What else-what else?
Nothing I guess. I'm sick as hell and going to sleep.
See you at the launch!
Now flush off.


Map to Bojangles:

The First Review of Devil's Place

Amir Muhammad reviewed it for the Malay Mail here.
I went out this afternoon to the news stand behind TMC, bought a copy of the paper, and thought I'd walk over to Starbucks at Bangsar Village before reading it.
I made it as far as the traffic light, couldn't take it anymore, and started reading. Through the corner of my eye, I saw others crossing the road and, assuming the light was green, followed suit.
A car honked and the driver enthusiastically enquired whether I was Bodoh ke Apa.
But I didn't mind. Not one bit.

RSVP

I'm going nuts juggling work and the book launch.
Need to know how many of you can make it on the 28th so I know how much damn food to order.
If you're on Facebook, please give your yes/no/maybes there.
If not, you can just leave a comment below. You can remain anonymous if you're shy-shy. I just need the numbers. And to make things easier for you, I'll even provide a set of responses that you can copy-paste if you want:

1) Yes! I will attend your book launch! I've been your fan, like, forever! Please accept my underwear as a token of my fanaticism!

2) Yes! I will attend! I was going to give birth on that day, but what the hell, the baby can wait another day.

3) God told me to build an ark and take two of every animal on it because He's going flood the world again on the 28th but I told him "Fuck it. I have a book launch to go to."

My Book Launch

Warning: Don't try the above stunt at home. And if you do, I recommend tomato sauce. Of course, I know that unless you're an absolute wuss, you probably don't have tomato sauce at home. But it's worth making a trip to the shop to get some. Trust me on this, okay?

Anyway, this is it then. I hope you'll be able to make it Nov 28. I really do. Especially if you've been a regular reader. Because you guys know my writing better than anyone. And because it's about damn time you paid me for my writing.

Here's the synopsis of the book (I think Pazuzu would've been proud):

Ning Somprasong gave up working the streets of Thailand for the more tolerable hotel rooms of Kuala Lumpur. She thinks that if she can send enough money back home, her daughter can avoid making the same choices she had to make.

Terry Fernandez is a struggling musician who’s marrying up. And in the process trading in the life he loves for a world he can’t understand. When he finds his friends dead in his room at The Grand on the night of his bachelor party, he naturally thinks the Minister of Education is trying to kill him.

Chua Chee Ming has been spouting crazy conspiracy theories to anyone who suffers the misfortune of getting into his cab. He thinks the CIA and the Government are trying to kill him because of his theories on human cloning.

Julio Chavez of the CIA hated his posting in Malaysia, until a dead terrorist was found in a hotel room at The Grand. He thinks the Chinese Communist Party is involved somehow.

Suleiman Salleh is back in Malaysia after hiding out in Indonesia for several years. The Most Wanted Man in South-East Asia is on a very important mission but he thinks he’s being stalked by a homosexual.

Fellatio Lim Boon Fatt is a pimp who has lost one of his girls. He thinks the name Fellatio means the Greek God of Power and Wish-dom.

Along with a jaded ex-bouncer, a sleazy cop and an old man who’s looking for his cat, these people find themselves in the middle of The War on Terror, where nothing is what they think it is…


Oh ya. I'll be giving out a few free copies during the launch to readers of The Floating Turd and PUNDAK who can correctly answer questions based on everything I've written so far in these blogs. So adik-adik kenalah baca balik and hafal everything, okay?

If you're on facebook, you can be my fan (as if you weren't already. I see you getting ready to throw your underwear at me!) here. Event page is here. Feel free to invite your friends and ask them to feel free to invite their friends and ask them to ask their friends to feel free to invite their friends. But ask their friends' friends not to invite their friends, because, you know, we don't want just anyone walking in and buying my book, do we?

The Malayan Times is a fictional newspaper featured in the book.

The Hideout is a fictional bar from the book. You can check out some of my music there which I'll be playing at the launch.

FISH's music is here.

What else-what else?

Oh ya.

Apology:

I hereby apologise in advance to the following people who might be offended by the contents of the book:

God. Jesus Christ. Muslims. Christians. The CIA. Malays. Chinese. Indians. Latinos. Yoda. Princess Leia. Darth Vader. Chewbacca. Jack and Rose from The Titanic. Cab-hotline operators. Gloria Gaynor. Jemaah Islamiyah. Al-Qaeda. Africans. Midgets. Australians. The Irish. Irish-bar patrons. Old people. Reporters. Thai prostitutes. The police. Malaysian politicians. RTM. Malayalees. Rappers. Ruud van Nistlerooy. Jews. George W Bush. State Religious Departments. Arabs. Cats. Homosexuals. Gandhi. Sesame Street. Chow Kit drug-addicts. Chairman Mao. Communists. Greenpeace. Princess Diana. Chinese karaoke singers.

See you at the launch.

Flushed Away but...

I have a confession to make. And it's a difficult one. I fear many of you might feel disappointed with me. Angry. Betrayed even.
I mean some of you have been with me since way back when I was voted Blogger of the Year. You were there when I travelled through time, when I cheated Death, when I discovered that I was the descendant of Jesus. And you were with me in my campaign to be Prime Minister.
I know-I know. You've all been there for me. Which is why it's really hard for me to say this.
I've been rehearsing this speech for weeks. Typing in front of a mirror. "How do I say it?" I ask my reflection. "What will they say?" "What will I say to what they have to say?" "Is that a double chin?" "Fuck! That is a double chin!"
There are no answers. There is no right way to say this. Except to just say it.
So here it goes:












My name is not really Pazuzu.





















Say something.









Anything.




No wait. Wait! I can explain Come on Give me a chance. After all we've been through. That's all I'm asking. Okay-okay.

Thanks.

Okay.

So. It's like this:
When I first started blogging, as I was about to key in my real name, the African wind demon Pazuzu entered my body and made me say curse-words and gave me a really bad complexion but then a priest tried to shoo the demon away but then he fell down some stairs and then the TV started calling my name and...no wait. Wait-wait-wait. Shit. This wasn't how I rehearsed it. The priest fell down the stairs and...errr...anyway, a whole bunch of stuff happened and that's how we find ourselves here!

So there you go. See? There was a perfectly good explanation. Everything back to normal, except...

Pazuzu's gone now. Flushed away. But The Floating Turd remains.
On monday, I will blog about some exciting stuff that's happening in my life. And I will do so, for the first time, under my real name. I don't think anything will change though. Sure, I won't be able to turn my head all the way round and float to the ceiling and stuff. But other than that, everything else's pretty much the same.

But I know that I will miss Pazuzu.

And for no good reason I can think of, I hope you will too.

The Exorcism of Pazuzu...

...has begun.

Box Set: Lingam, The Musical (Complete Episodes 1-5!)

Episode 1




Episode 2




Episode 3




Episode 4




Episode 5






The management of thefloatingturd.blogspot.com hereby vow never to do anything like this ever again. Thank you.

Debate: What You Use To Catch DeFish

Topic: Pee around the toilet bowl is caused by, not men, but women who, in their struggle for equality, try to pee standing up.

Discuss.

Save The Chinese!

I have been accused by A Babe of Very Little Brain of being a peanut who has forgotten its err...peanut shell ever since I was famously featured in The Star (Note to Babe: Has Jasmine ever been featured in The Star? Huh? Has he? HAS HE?).

So I would like to clarify once and for all that I, Pazuzu, have not let fame go to my hea...what do you mean you didn't know I was featured in The Star?

You don't read The Star?

What the fuck kind of MCA member are you?

Never mind. For the benefit of all you morons out there who don't read The Paper That Only Prints Really Really Really Important News So You Have More Time To Read The Ads, I have reproduced the article here:



Click to enlarge


Hah!

You read that?

Huh?

Did you?

Kiss my Trademark Adobe Flash Stickman! KISS IT! (Note To Babe: Does Jasmine have a Trademark Adobe Flash Stickman? Huh? Does he? DOES HE?)

Anyway, now that I'm really famous and have a Trademark and all, I have decided, as all famous people do at some point (usually when they get on Oprah), to "play my part" as a "responsible citizen" and "give something back to society" and "have my picture taken with retarded/sick/old/orphaned people" so I can "look good" and "people will like me" and won't mind in the least when I "use quotation-marks unnnecccesssarily" and refuse to check the actual spelling for "unnnecccasssarily".

And as you all already know, the most underprivileged community in Malaysia, despite what HINDRAF and UMNO will have you believe, is The Chinese Community.
Sure, they may have a natural aptitude for business and making money and becoming rich and all, but the one sector where they lag behind all the other races is in the "Not Giving Myself a Comical-Sounding Name Sector".

Not that other races are much better.

Indians have a tendency to put way too many syllables in their names. I suspect that it's because Indians will always be competitive and try to outdo each other ("Your son's name is Mangolingam? My son's name is Thirumangolingam! Hah! ")
Malays have a tendency to give themselves Government Names like Nuriah. If you ever met someone named Nuriah, your immediate instinct would be to address that person as Puan Nuriah, even if this particular Nuriah happens to be a newborn baby.

The thing is, with Indians and Malays, these unfortunate names are given to them by their parents, probably as a permanent practical joke.

But most Chinese people, as you all know, choose their own bloody names!
Once they reach a certain age, they will suddenly show up in school with a new name-tag and announce to everybody that they no longer wish to be called Wong Wee Lim. "Call me Ricky," they would happily say, and go about their business as though nothing unusual just happened.

Then, sometime around the 80s I think, Chinese people appeared to have simply run out of names. All the Rickys, Jackies, Vickys and Nickys were taken. So, out of desperation, they started using non-names as names. Suddenly, you found yourself being introduced to a Milk Choy or a Prudential Tan or a Coppertone Ooi. My mother once had a student named - I swear I am not making this up - Filofax.

People, this has to stop.

We cannot simply hunch over our beers and pretend that this isn't happening. I believe we have to Do Something. Which is why me and fellow-famous-person Bono have started the "Donate A Name and Save A Chinese Person" worldwide campaign:



(from left) Bono, Me and Chinese Person


And you can play your part too.
All you have to do give an example of a wacky Chinese name and a suitable replacement-name in the comment box below and you could help a Pantomime Chin become a Bob Chin.

To promote this campaign, Bono and I are giving away free T-shirts to all those who donate a name:

I realise some of you don't drink or smoke and probably have no use for the above T-shirt. But that's like saying you won't wear a "Save The Whales" T-shirt because you're not actually a whale. Come on people. Do your bit for your fellow man.

Donate a name in the following format in the comment box:

Wacky Chinese Name: ___________
Suggested Name: _______________
E-mail: __________

and I'll e-mail you a voucher which you can print and redeem for 1 free t-shirt at Bojangles Pub in Desa Sri Hartamas (the road behind Fitness First) while stocks last (if you don't want to display your e-mail in the comment box, you can e-mail me your e-mail and I'll e-mail the voucher to your e-mail. e-mail. e-mail. e-maiStopIt! )

Guys, if all of us do this, then maybe, just maybe, I can get enough Chinese votes to win my election campaign and become your next Prime Minister. Speaking of which:

PUNDAK is back.

You can become a PUNDAK candidate for the General Election. Go here and pick your constituency now!