Merry, Merry, Merry-go-round ...

Bubbles... bubbly...babble...

In a very unlikely case anybody is still able to read in these high-octane, very liquid times, he or she must be:

a) a Buddhist monk in his wi-fi equipped cell
b) a convict for latest mass murders waiting for a chair
c) a vegetarian
d) crazy as me

As none of those suspects need any extra wisdom-based input, this post will be a touch shorter.
That's it, for this year.

A Clandestine Taliban Cell in Bali

Police officer Mr. Younoseeme file photo

Undercover law and fun enforcer, Mr. Younoseeme, tracked down vicious and seriously mentally challenged fraction of Taliban retards in Bali, in the village of Pemuteran.
What are they doing there?

a) their goal is to bomb the shit out of Christian holidays
b) as they are too stupid to figure out on what date the holidays are they bomb for days and days
c) during breaks they scratch their private parts and lick their fingers
d) firecrackers they buy from local explosive dealers Toko Suki and Toko Serbu

All of the eight tourists in Pemuteran, remaining last six Hindus and a couple of expatriates were pleading for some action against hordes of psychos.

Special law enforcement forces captured one perpetrator and exposed him to extreme interrogation. However, as their vigilance and haste didn't match their brain department capabilities, they unfortunately forgot to ask him questions and poor terrorist died without revealing any substantial information.

While still at large, the rest of not very brave, but sufficiently boneheaded warriors for louder and more stupid world decided to hire a lawyer.
Prominent Taliban lawyer Mr. Bombthemall explained his sweet, lovely, innocent group of morons is only expressing support to the Indonesian government, namely to the president Mr. Y. Bambang. When announcing bam! bang!! bam!!! bang!!! they are expressing their gratitude and loyalty to him.
Chief of police Mr. Deeppoket was torn between how to stop the illegal use of explosives on one hand and not to break the ovations to the beloved president on the other hand.
As an upstanding official he did the best for both involved parties – he collected donations from all and retired.

Lawyer representing the peace loving group, Mr. Flowerpower answered: “I love you too”, and continued with composing a fatwa.

Remaining Hindus, tourists and expats signed the fatwa on all of the noise-makers.
You want your million?
Catch a terrorist, tear his head off, piss down his throat and post a video on you tube.
Since the fatwa is out, one way tickets from Bali to Afghanistan are sold out.

P.S. If you got the feeling there is no love lost between firecrackers throwing imbeciles and me – trust your feeling.

P.P.S. If you have similar Taliban problems in December at your home, feel free to use our fatwa.

 

Soothing Sounds of Bali

You cut the cables and this thing is OK.

Idyllic island of Bali and esoteric people of Bali can make you feel in heaven also with their approach to music.
There is a subtle difference between majority of Balinese and a minority of mostly young Balinese. This minority has just a little different ideas of heaven, music, inner peace etc. Their type of heaven you would gladly accept:

a) if heaven is for you a concert of mentally handicapped blacksmiths
b) if you are medically approved as a 100% retard
c) if you can not hear an F-16 overshooting 10 meters above your head
d) if you are already seriously brain-damaged from rave parties

Sound of a piano, soft vocal, mingling with ocean waves or golden silence spiced with some whispers from the leaves dancing in an ocean breeze – all this is about same appealing to a globalized young Balinese as garlic is to Dracula. Reason is simple. All this can make you enjoy the pleasures of your life, be at one with people surrounding you, with yourself. You can start thinking, daydreaming, creating – and this is a mortal sin for idiots.

Younger generation of Balinese strives to become brain-free as much as it is humanly possible. And what is better to suppress your brain from working then to overload them with absolute noise? More boom boom boom units you put into your head, more effective. So sub-woofers are rather essential for their brain-damaging meditations.
In combination with a big enough doses of methyl alcohol (part of their local concoctions) results are amazing.
Matter of fact, lobotomy brings the same results, however, it's still too expensive.

A young guy in our village started to use a rather innovative approach. After a solid input of doomsday sounds and enough methyl alcohol, he starts collecting cow excrement, mix it with a raw egg – and after devouring this, he claims he is in heaven.
I just hope they will never hear explanation what word “stoned” means. As there are so many volcanic stones in Bali – on the other hand, seeing them when they start to hit themselves in foreheads with the stones …

Dear innocent victims of collateral damage (passers-by, tourists, neighbors), please keep on mind these poor lowlifes are just amplifying their desperate cry:

“Is there anybody, anybody at all, who would like me or care about me?!”
Sorry to inform you, the answer is: “Nobody.” And I counted several times.

 

A Diver.

A friend. A diver. A chili eater.

In times when bean counters, ambulance chasers and second-hand car sellers start to govern the scuba world, it's the time for a real scuba addict to emerge.
Do you know this guy from somewhere?

a) a carpenter you hired some time ago
b) your soul auditor
c) your neighbor
d) the guy who told you “Go diving and sin no more.”

Whatever. The fact is, he's an old school diver and as the rest of this bunch, clean as a whistle, straight as an arrow and of course from time to time he has to pay the price for this. As for instance after a meeting with a notorious gang of pushers selling scuba diving certification cards, T-shirts and diplomas – OK, he looks a bit haggard, slightly damaged, but his message to the pushers is clear – piss off.

For this guy, diving is diving. Period. Full stop.

He is bearing the weight of his scuba gear with dignity, whenever his primary tank is empty he opens the second tank valve, he will change regulator only for a regulator, BCD for a BCD …
If I got him correctly, his final statement at the meeting: “Bless you that understand me, and spit on you which despitefully use me”, earned him this beautiful crown.

How come you don't know this guy from Oprah's show? Well, somehow it's not in his nature to sit on a couch and explain to millions of blessedly mentally challenged intellectuals what body lotion he uses after being whipped with thorns.

What his Hollywood and the Village friends think of him? They hate his guts for what he is and for what he isn't.

What CEOs of major Fortune 500 companies think of him? Nothing. As they can not get their minds out of an endless loop “How to fuck each other ...”.

What Dalai Lama thinks of him? “Why he's always so late coming for tea?!”

What I think of him? “Buddy, what do you think, time for another …?”

Some like it crowded

Stampeding from the cradle towards the grave.

Not just in Bali, but anywhere you are, you can go with the flow, you can follow the herd or if you don't feel the direction is right, you may turn left. Sounds simple enough, but how come it's so difficult to go your own way?

a) being a part of stampeding herd gives you strength
b) screaming same war cries with friends, coworkers, with any crowd gives you strength
c) getting confirmations from unknown and known people gives you strength
d) you walk (drive, dance, love, joke, meditate …) your road alone and discover (or not) your own strength

As every cat needs a soft pillow, every human needs company.
I have never met a cat stupid enough to go to pillow shop and try to get a pillow there. Despite the fact that they offer 12.453 different pillows – even soft pink pillows. But I've met quite some cats exploring my homes, carefully deciding, choosing and usually opting for my pillow to nap on …

Human superior nature is a little more mysterious – we tend to believe quantity and quality are synonyms.
Being part of the herd is same as not being alone.

We all have dozens and dozens and dozens of contacts, in our phone-books, email contacts, e-contacts of any variety. Quantity part of our potential company is confirmed.
However, if we try to select persons for whom we could say “Any given time they would call me for a walk or coffee, I would be really happy” we hit the reality check. Oops, the number is now shrinking as soft snow in Sahara desert. And if we add a question who of the remaining few on our list would actually remember to call us for a walk or anything?
Yes, there is really no need for snowplough in Sahara …

A rather common human goal to be uniquely the same with the uniform herd is a beautiful oxymoron, that describes human nature more accurately than five volumes of problematic Freud.

It's just a matter of selecting a herd most suitable for us.
If your bank will not crucify you, you can join a herd of “We have”. A new whatever. Piece of furniture, piece of land, tea-spoon, touch me gently mobile device, car, chewing gum … Just be very casual when mentioning your latest achievements and try to listen to bragging of your colleagues in the herd – if for no other reason to eat them alive when they leave.
If the bank or person providing you with funds seriously disagree with this solution, there are several other herds out there. All offering guaranteed uniqueness and being one with the herd.

Basic rules to join any of those are:
- tell herd members they are all absolutely unique and fantastic
- accept their evaluations that you are exactly the same as them – unique and fantastic
- master how to show a pitying expression to poor creatures who do not recognize these facts

This works well anywhere – from coffee shop chats, facebook, esoteric groups and subgroups, retired apple polishers, wannabe rocket scientist ...

There is just one nasty deficiency with this solutions. You can not experience more loneliness anywhere else than in the crowds.

If you are really weird, maybe you will think it's more likely two souls will connect on a lonely road.
A nun, just strolling and looking for nothing and a ronin aimlessly walking the same road.

Scuba diving and red tape

Superhuman patience and efficiency

As a next scuba addict, I'm also deeply and passionately in love with all the red tape imposed on dive business. Paperwork fulfills my secret dreams. Sometimes it almost make me come. Come to the verge of absolute violence – not something else (you and your dirty mind!).

Possible ways to get through required red tape without decapitating some government employed morons:

a) your organize all important paperwork in a huge, neat pile – and use your Zippo
b) for urgent e-notices you use delete button, paper varieties you sell for recycling
c) you sell all this shit on e-bay
d) you go diving and let somebody more capable to deal with this mess (Mazi the Cat and Jana the Patient)

My heart and soul is for a, b and c. And definitely for a good battle ax. For humanitarian reasons I allow my betters to deal with this – and I stick to scuba diving.

Maybe you are wondering why I start to think about the proper use of battle ax when government experts start questioning me about diving business related issues?
It's rather normal in order to decide to renew or not a business “license to operate”, that government institutions and ministries have to gather essential information about the dive business. And we have to provide it.
Yes, I agree.

However, when browsing through reports they demand, trying to find something even remotely related to scuba diving, well, it seems connections are so esoteric I can not grasp the meaning.

1. What kind of lunch you will offer to our expert team evaluating your business?
2. Business must be conducted in long trousers and long sleeves shirts with collar. How come you and your staff are in shorts and T-shirts, and some even in some rubber dress?
3. At our last visit you provided number for your telephone and email. Our staff could not reach you neither on phone number 012345678, nor your email number 1234@get-out-of-my-hair.com – are you solving the problem with Telkom Indonesia?
4. As a foreigner you probably do not understand situation in Bali very well. It's rather hot here. How do you plan to compensate us for this?
And so on to 194.

Maybe now it's more clear why I let solving the certain type of paperwork to Mazi the Cat and Jana the Patient. Our Indonesian licenses are in proper order, some chickens are sacrificed to prove our business is really a business, and I hum the verse from an old song “Jokers on my left, and clowns on my right ...”

Divemaster retraining tool

“Positive Behavior Tool”
Patent: A01M 19/0075

If you dive in South East Asia from time to time, you've probably already seen Divemasters behaving as Mengele going loose on Jews. Torturing, maiming, killing the marine life – just “following the orders from the boss and trying to please their valued customers”. If you confiscate their primary tools of destruction, they use their torches, cameras etc. to smash the life in ocean.
How to change their ways?

a) education is the king, the queen and the executor of this process
b) you need to get their attention to achieve anything
c) education without proper tools doesn't work
d) tools must be used properly

I started to reeducate them in a not very brilliant way. More accurate, I did it in rather inefficient and beautifully stupid way. I tried to explain to them that primary use of pliers is to pull old rusty nails from wood planks. And not to pull the nails from fingers. Stainless steel stick is a pointer and nothing else. Yeah, sure …
Working on diving retards painstakingly slow, step by step - and confiscating one instrument for torture after another – it's a never ending story.
Without a poking stick they put neoprene gloves on. After grabbing, breaking and killing a coral, their fingers are still intact and after a good dive they can still raise their arak bottles. Without gloves and stick they use a torch to remind underwater lesser life forms who is the master. Without a torch a camera to smash a harlequin shrimp …
Never ending process.

For all of you slightly tired of all the pleading and preaching, our new “Positive Behavior Tool” is available now.
At any attempt of torturing or killing you see, you just hit any part of the exposed body of offender with “Positive Behavior Tool” - and even hard core repetitive offenders change their ways – for good. Lowlifes will forget about their steel sticks, knives, black gloves and see the light instantly.
The tool is patented as a homeopathic educational tool.