tuna + acupuncture = great fish?

The president of Japan's Osakana Planning Co. told attendees of the Japanese Seafood Show in July that his tuna makes superior sushi because his company administers acupuncture to each fish prior to its death, in order to reduce stress.

The Times (London), 25 July 2008.

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Dictionary.Com defines the following as:-

tu·na /ˈtunə, ˈtyu-/ [too-nuh, tyoo-]
–noun, plural (especially collectively) -na, (especially referring to two or more kinds or species) -nas.
1. any of several large food and game fishes of the family Scombridae, inhabiting temperate and tropical seas.
2. any of various related fishes.
3. also called tuna fish. the flesh of the tuna, used as food.

ac·u·punc·ture [n. ak-yoo-puhngk-cher; v. ak-yoo-puhngk-cher, ak-yoo-puhngk-] noun, verb, -tured, -tur·ing.
–noun
1. a Chinese medical practice or procedure that treats illness or provides local anesthesia by the insertion of needles at specified sites of the body.
–verb (used with object)
2. to perform acupuncture on

The Wreck's Dictionary defines the above statements as full of &*#@. How weird can we get?

The rebellion will continue to hunt down weird news around this whacky world, until more crazy happenings, dezza!

Cookie Vikings

Legend speaks of the horror of the cookie vikings. I denied their existence for the many years of my life until the pangs of reality came to truth today. Gasp..the rumours were true. Legend exists.

Struggling to chronicle the horrors of the incident. I managed to recreate the image of the vicious marauders.



Although somewhat cartoonish, the real life marauders were vicious saliva dripping brats. Their fangs were the stuff of werewolves and their weapons were weird grins and hidden clubs. They left all kinds of damage and carnage in their wake. Barely able to conceal my own treasure trove of cookies, I was left at their immediate mercy as they plundered at will. Chuckling as they dumped wrappers of their spoils in my own bin, I could not bring myself to comprehend the monstrosity and primeval rage. Happily making their way onto the next village of smiles, I could only hug my fragile state while trembling at the recoil of the attack.

The horror of the raid will live in infamy and annals of "suckness" and retribution will be swift. Sitting in my "Stephen Hawking" likeness, plotting my revenge could not have been more fun. What I had with envisioned pitiless rage would even make Hannibal Lecter cringe in fright squealing like a little girl.

As I recuperate from the dreadful aftermath, the attack has severely crippled my resources for the upcoming difficult days ahead. I fear that the end may be near for the office realm. It didin't use to be like this. There used to be camaraderie and holding hands singing hippie songs and sharing of food. Slowly building my army from scratch despite the scarcity of resources, I vow to finally take over and steal what is mine back from the very bellies of the beasts.

I will have my revenge and gloat as I munch on their precious cookies myself. I can already envision my victorious stance over the crying and wailings of the to-be pathetic vikings.

Now, time to light the lamps of deviousness as I contemplate revenge! Until the next postings if I survive, dezza!

the egg

I used to remember my grandmother lecturing me in the old kitchen filled with rich fumes. Aromas of soup and other herbs which I could never differentiate form a root. She used to teach me how to determine if an egg is fresh or hard boiled. Solution - just spin the egg. If it wobbles, it's raw. If it spins easily, it's hard boiled.



Now the really interesting lesson was, a fresh egg will sink in water, a stale one will float. So how does one root out a stinker in life?

What happens when fresh ideas don't greet you in the morning? What happens when you find it hard to drag yourself out of bed?

How do you identify the staleness of life when everything does not float?

There comes a time in life when you are faced with questions, innate hurdles that keep you constantly wondering when will the pain end and you start to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Life is funny in the sense that some people think that life has a quirky way of working itself out. Others preach motivational outlooks at life. Think positive recite this mantra and you will succeed at your personal obstacles. Some declare that by letting it all go in drinks and karaoke once in a while is a healer. And even some who believe that a balanced life and healthy activities is the solution.

The answer does not lie in simple go to solutions. Rather in the short span of life, what I have come to discover is that people always look for conviction/s to believe in. Some higher order that determines the direction their boat heads to. There is a pillar that sustains their belief and that pillar keeps people going every single day. Fascinating at the complexity of the web that people spin. Some create too many tangles that they see psychiatrists. Some leave it one day at a time and are proclaimed loafers.

What I personally feel is that people are looking for a cause to live for. For a reason beyond the simple smiles and normal routines. They convince themselves that whatever they do is for the better tomorrow or even satisfaction an hour later. Working hard for a brand new car, a better life. Staying home to have more time for the family. There has been countless books of making the most of each day and even more about positive thinking.

What i say is that life is more than the Xs and Os. Life is not an equation that measures how strong your conviction is and how disciplines you are in achieving the end goal. For who knows what the actual end goal you desire is? Who would know that what you are doing is merely convincing yourself everything is fine and that the world is dandy.

Then, we look at the telly/tube and we see poor kids in Africa. We feel there is more to life. Suddenly that lack of materials and survival makes us reflect and be glad and want to make a difference. Then the vicious cycle repeats again and again.

That is the real stinker. Look for what you really want. Thats what really counts. Would you blast music at your cubicle right now because you felt like it? Would you jump up and dance after 30 minutes at work? So what is it that you really want?

Live life today sounds fine but if you continue to deceive yourself, it ain't worth it. Not that I'm saying you should quit your job now and start doing whatever you wish. I'm just saying that life is more than all the motivational talk and you should probably stop for a moment and think what the stinker in your life is. Me, I just figured mine out.

Dezza with the rebellion!

By the way, I've just been given a cool nick of "the wreck" by economic buddy "bola". All for the rebellion!

fakawi and phakar

A wise woman who was traveling in the mountains found a precious stone in a stream. The next day she met another traveler who was hungry, and the wise woman opened her bag to share her food. The hungry traveler saw the precious stone and asked the woman to give it to him. She did so without hesitation. The traveler left rejoicing in his good fortune. He knew the stone was worth enough to give him security for a lifetime.

But, a few days later, he came back to return the stone to the wise woman. "I've been thinking," he said. "I know how valuable this stone is, but I give it back in the hope that you can give me something even more precious. Give me what you have within you that enabled you to give me this stone."

What defines a great act is an even greater heart. At his point in time, I have in fact transcended rage to succumb to resignation that lives a bitch and if it were easy, there would be hell. Been thinking about what defines an action and beyond the personality that shapes that action. I look into that face in the mirror and what gazes back is the reflection of both defeat and fatigue. Tiredness over the crap that lives keep tossing at you. While mocking you, life also decides to trample you to the ground. What do you do when life spits back into your eyes while you holler before being pushed into a volcanic edge only to have your shoestrings stuck on rocks to be burned by boiling magma?

Every minute is insane. Which brings us to todays topic of fakawi and phakar. Both distinct. Yet similar. Fakawitribe is a group of fanatical bicycle riders that get lost in forests and hence the moniker, "Where the f@#k are we?" (This kinda reminds me of where Shaquille O'Neal, the MDE (most Dominant Ever) once described the term as adding a star before drawing the tic tac toes bit). For all sanity checks, kindly check out the truth here.

Phakar is a Maori term which was poked fun of on Aussie tv in 2005 which drew absolute hilarity for all viewers at home. I still recall the chaotic fun they were trying to poke at the Maori which was never taken kindly. Bad blood Kiwi and Aussies I was told upon reaching Auckland.

What both have in common? Just the tic tac toes and stars salute I have for my dear bimbo.

Till more absurd connections, dezza!

sports and what it actually means

Was involved in some teamwork in the office and started wondering, now, don't know about you but how many have actually seen the film, "Cool Runnings" which came out way back in 1993 about the fictional Jamaican bobsled team which rode to glory in the winter Olympics? Meant to be a comedy about the power believing in one another and the lessons of sacrifice, finding myself giggling throughout the entire show which was a wonder for a hyper 10 year old kid, I found myself really in awe of what it means to win as a team. Growing up idolising great super athletes such as Michael Jordan to the greatness of Tiger Woods, you really do wonder what and how is victory achieved. More than ever, "Cool Runnings" is the epitome of growing up pains and the cherish of friendship over that leads to victory. Funny how a comedy means so much more than the sports pages by the newspapers and mainstream media that what it takes to be a champion is to have supernatural talent and the ability to look good.


The 1989 martial arts film, "Best of the Best", comes to mind when it deals with respect of the opponents. Winning doesnt equal humiliation of those who fall. Defeat does not serve to fuel personal egos. Competition is the platform, the end goal of a challenge, a personal challenge to perform. It does not constitute a stage of adulation or of proving manhood. It is about respect for others and more importantly, yourself. At the aftermath of a bloody loss for the Americans, the crucial take-away point of the movie rests in the fact that they bowed before each other while muttering, "I know you". All those hours of tapes and reviews of each others, right down to family members left them not only with the primary aim of scanning for visible weaknesses but also a deep sense of respect for one another and the sport.

Recently, absurdity of news of Christiano Ronaldo, the star player of Manchester United, recently crowned European champions and on the verge of equalling the record of almighty Liverpool in the UK league and of Gilbert Arenas, the latest NBA superstar who sat out most of the 07/08 NBA season, rewarded as another Franchise cornerstone (at least Agent Zero had the manlihood to reduce the amount from 127m). Spoilt stars in a commercial inducing sporting world. Both stars in their own right leaving a sour taste in the pages of past heroes of sporting history when compared to Michale Jordan and Pele.

Sports shackled under the intense glare of media owners, sporting team owners, world federations and league authorities all with a share of the big pie is indeed still entertaining but it does make you wonder what happens when humans evolve. Catch up with physical capabilities and then what remains of competition? What happens to discipline and of what it takes to win? Blood, sweat and tears to be replaced with cronies and posses each with their own agenda trying to eclipse the very sport that catalyst their growth. The days of 60s and 70s where it was for the glory and perfection of the sport have bade us by but what remains is that intact legacy that will still live on.

Ramblings will continue to be ramblings but it does take you back in your couch and wonder what sports truly could have meant today.

Until more rebellion mumblings, dezza!

of aliens and the bizarre

Former NASA astronaut and moon-walker Dr Edgar Mitchell - a veteran of the Apollo 14 mission - has stunningly claimed aliens exist.

And he says extra-terrestrials have visited Earth on several occasions - but the alien contact has been repeatedly covered up by governments for six decades.

Dr Mitchell, 77, said during a radio interview that sources at the space agency who had had contact with aliens described the beings as 'little people who look strange to us.'

He said supposedly real-life ET's were similar to the traditional image of a small frame, large eyes and head.

Chillingly, he claimed our technology is "not nearly as sophisticated" as theirs and "had they been hostile", he warned "we would be been gone by now".

As bizarre as the whole fact may seem, we have more serious threats than the possibility of alien abduction or extraterrestrial threats (at least for me that is). Yesterday while dragging my way back to my condo and awaiting the ever tardy lift to descend, I encountered the most bizarre (don't think this exactly tops the alien claims though) experience in all 24 years of my breathing space on planet earth. Stumbling into the lift after another grueling day at the slave centre, I celebrated my triumphant escape from Alcatraz only to be led on into a trap - more of a box that moves. To my surprise, I encountered a group of "aquas" or ladymen to the uninitiated. My good friend "Gnei" and "Van Halen" mocking and taunting me appeared in flashbacks as I gripped onto myself in anticipation of horror ahead.

All was fine until floor 2 and when the first remark started from Mr. I-am-not-sexy-but-want-to-flaunt-it on my skin (to those who have met me in the flesh would get the drift) and questions on whether I was a Chinese mainlander. Then the horde descended as one as my fragile mind fled in terror. Hallucinations of them gang-banging me and the craziness of youth crept at such a horrifying pace. The panic button started going manic when the whole she-bang got off at the same floor. How come we shared a same floor and only now this had to happen??? Slowly I crept in a rendition of Stephen Hawkings hoping to turn the whole party of marauding suspicious group off.

Another she-male made a few remarks of how they would love to have my skin that kinda set the trigger off on the whole affair as I could feel the temptation of my knees buckling under it all. The constant smirks and smiles were getting to me a bit.

Before all hell broke loose and more scenes from Shawshank Redemption became reality, they politely bade me goodbye although my fingers were literally shaking from protecting the family jewels and my crack. Yes, it was a sudden letdown and blow of steam after all the highlights. All in all it was a bizarre yet pleasant conversation with people and this goes yet again to prove that not all flicks are bound in reality and that you too can strike a pleasant conversation with anything or the bizarre.

Heres to the next rebellion, dezza!

a champion made of heart

On July 4th Chestnut successfully defended his hot-dog eating championship by defeating the legendary Kobayashi in a sudden death dog-off.

Afterwards, Chestnut described the deciding factor in his victory.

"He wanted it," Chestnut said, "but I needed it."

Just what determines a champion? Been pondering this as i am an unabashed admitting sports fan and the very lure of greatness of the figures of sports remains that champions are recognised and runners up fade into the dusk unlike the glorious exits of the lone ranger and Tonto into the sunset. The really fascinating aspect of sports is that thin line that makes a champion. That willingness to sacrifice what is needed and more in order to cross that finite line that seperates mortals from those that go down in the history books, forever echoed and called upon as a definition of greatness.

Now I may be dragged out by an angry mob and stoned for this but I believe and proclaim that Malaysians have not a single ounce of greatness nor the qualities needed to be a champion. Except for the few squash (still thriving), lawn bowl (yawn!), badminton (staggering and losing guts on the big stage, besides huge drama queens), and football (a shame on all living and breathing involved in the local arena and probably they deserve stoning as well).

What seperates us from the very fine line of sporting ethics worth celebrating is that very notion and innate belief that we are losers and that we stand zero..absolute ZERO chance at winning in the popular games where the money is. Besides vouching for obscure and non rewardable sports, we have been busy building white elephants and at the turn of the Olympics in China, odds are we are coming back without another medal to cheer for. One must wonder where all the heroes have disappeared to.

There is absolutely no resolve both to be a champion both in sports and in wider aspects, a champion in what we should be go at.

While the Malaysian arena continues to publicly mortify us all with lewd remarks and during a time when we have difficulty explaining to our 5 year cousins what sodomy is all about, heres a toast to the great Games ahead!

Until the next channelings of the rebellion, dezza!