I blame 2020 for Robinsons and Sean Connery

A 74-year-old Robinsons sales associate at the Raffles City outlet said: “I’m very sad… When I see the empty counters...

Posted by TODAY on Friday, October 30, 2020

Dear 2020,

You nasty.

And there are still two more months to go.

If only we can cancel you like the Raffles Hall Association cancelled the authors of the PAP Vs PAP book.

We should’ve agreed to a safe word before the year started, like “circuit breaker” or “wap”.

Is it too late to cry Uncle Roger?

Never mind SafeEntry. We need a SafeExit and quick.



It’s not enough that more than a million have died from the pandemic this year and Manchester United introduced its ugliest kit ever, you just killed off two beloved decades-old institutions within days of each other – Robinsons and Sean Connery.

The former announced on Friday that it was closing shop after 162 years in Singapore.

Already queueing for the TraceTogether tokens, Singaporeans are now also lining up to get into Robinsons before the doors are shut for good.





Where do I get my extra firm bamboo charcoal memory foam pillow after that?

I mean, besides Tangs, Metro, OG, Isetan, Takashimaya, BHG, Courts, Harvey Norman and the Internet.

I almost feel guilty for partially causing the closure of Robinsons by cancelling my OCBC-Robinsons Group credit card in March.

I already have too many cards in the wallet in my back pocket, which ruins the smooth curve of my perfectly shaped buttock.

And I realised that lately, I used the Robinsons card only to get a member’s rebate when paying for my all-butter Viennese milk chocolate-dipped finger biscuits at Marks & Spencer.



But no, it’s not really my fault that Robinsons is joining John Little and Oriental Emporium in the great megamall in the sky.

I blame you, 2020.

Don’t you see a pattern here?

Eddie Van Halen, Helen Reddy, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Chadwick Boseman, Olivia de Havilland, Regis Philbin, Charlie Daniels, Carl Reiner, Ian Holm, Vera Lynn, Little Richard, Irrfan Khan, Bill Withers, Kenny Rogers, Max Von Sydow, Kirk Douglas, Kobe Bryant and Toots of Toots and the Maytals – you took Toots!



Do you have a bucket list of famous names you want to end before you end?

And as if knocking off two iconic Bond girls – Diana Rigg and Pussy Galore, I mean Honor Blackman – isn’t sufficient villainy, you did what Dr No, Goldfinger and Blofeld couldn’t. You got to the man himself.

Connery was 90 years old.



I remember back in the mid-70s, my father once told me he was taking me to see James Bond. I thought we were going to see Roger Moore as he was the only Bond I knew then.

But the movie my father took me to see was this bizarre post-apocalyptic psychedelic fantasy with near-naked women and a giant flying angry stone head.



Traumatisingly unsuitable for children, the movie had an existential ending that haunted me for many nights to come.



Needless to say, it was nothing like James Bond at all with no Roger Moore in sight.

Why did my father lie to me?

It was only decades later, after he died, that I found out that the movie of my childhood nightmares was called Zardoz.



And the reason my father said he was taking me to see James Bond was that the movie starred Sean Connery.

At the time, I didn't know who Connery was, much less knew he was the original Bond. Eight-year-olds are dumb. I also didn’t know how to pronounce “Sean”.

My plan was to share this poignant anecdote with the Oscar-winning Scottish star if I should ever meet him – and also rag him about the red diapers he wore in Zardoz.

But that possibility is no more, thanks to you. Even 007 was no match for 2020.

Contrary to the title of the much delayed new Daniel Craig-starring Bond sequel, this year has been the time to die for too many.



My only quantum of solace is that I still have my all-butter Viennese milk chocolate-dipped finger biscuits. They’re for my mouth only.

Oh, and stay away from Sheena Easton.

- Published in The New Paper, 2 November 2020

Remembering Errol Pang: The man who brought Miss Universe here also produced 'Singapore's first full-length English film'

Former Miss Singapore Universe organiser Errol Pang died Monday morning at age 76. He was diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer in April.

He was one of the first people I interviewed as a journalist in Singapore after returning from America in 1993.

I was working on my first major magazine feature on the state of the republic's (non-existent) movie industry back then and Pang had produced what was touted as “Singapore’s first full-length English film”, Medium Rare, in 1991.



Local actress Margaret Chan (yet to star in Channel 5’s Masters Of The Sea) was in it. Curiously, she also got a co-writing credit.



The movie was poorly received, but Pang was surprisingly open and good-natured about it. He seemed like someone who was always happy to talk to the press for some publicity.

Since then, I’ve bumped into him once or twice over the decades, although I doubt he remembered me.

But I will always be grateful for his generosity with his time and humour with a youngish magazine writer 25 years ago.

Below are clips of the article from Man Life & Style magazine:





While Medium Rare is mostly forgotten now, its place in Singapore's cinematic history is undeniable, alongside Mee Pok Man and Money No Enough.

And Pang was its progenitor.

More than just a voice: Juanita Melson remembered

It's interesting how something can snowball.

So I was working in the newsroom on Sunday night and one of the stories fell through. We had an empty page to fill.

I meekly asked one of the editors whether she knew about Juanita Melson, who had died on Thursday, but it hadn't been reported.

Melson was the voice of the MRT for many years and gave a number of well-known radio DJs a boost early in their careers. (I found out about her death from DJ John Klass's Facebook post.)

I suggested to the editor that we could do a story about Melson to help fill the page.

A reporter was assigned to write the story and it came out yesterday in The New Paper.



Since then, others have picked up the story.















And today, she is on page 1 of The Straits Times.



The paper called her "iconic MRT announcer".



As saddened as I am about her passing, I'm heartened she's getting the public recognition she deserves, albeit posthumously.

And all because a story fell through and a page needed to be filled. It's interesting how something can snowball.

In my Facebook post about her on Saturday, I called her the "original voice of the MRT" to differentiate her from the current voice on the MRT.



But according to the reports, she voiced the MRT annoucements only from 1996 to 2008. The MRT started operating in November 1987. Assuming there were train announcements back then, Melson couldn't have been the "original voice of the MRT".

I apologise for the error.

But of course, Juanita Melson was more than just a voice and I'm fortunate to have met the human being behind the voice.

The "iconic MRT announcer" told me she liked this song:

Shocking celebrity deaths not 2016's fault (Was George Michael's death predicted by Last Christmas cover photo?)

Finally. It’s over.

2017 is here.

We can’t blame everything bad that happens on 2016 any more.

Yes, David Bowie died last year. Then Prince. Muhammad Ali. Mr S R Nathan. Daniel Ong and Jaime Teo’s marriage.



Not to be confused with Glenn Ong and Jamie Yeo’s marriage, which had perished a few years earlier.

I was more stunned by the news of the former couple’s divorce than a driver encountering a vehicle going against traffic on the expressway.



The lesson here is that if your name is Jamie or Jaime or Jiame or Jaemi or Jimea or, hell, just starts with the letter J, you shouldn’t marry a DJ with the surname Ong.

But 2016 didn’t kill those famous people or anyone’s marriage. Not even Brangelina’s.



2016 was just an innocent bystander who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

It got to the point where right after I woke up every morning, I would go to Facebook on my phone just to check what other celebrity had died while I slept.

2016 couldn’t catch a break even in the last week of the year, which was probably the most brutal in terms of celebrity deaths.

George Michael, Carrie Fisher and her mother Debbie Reynolds died within days of each other.

No, I’m not including the reported death of Mariah Carey’s singing career after her abortive performance on a live TV show on New Year’s Eve. All she wanted for Christmas was for the audio system to be working properly.



But for me, the most shocking death was Michael’s.

It was shocking because he was only 53. That’s just three years older than I am.



It was shocking because he died on Dec 25 when you could hear his song, Last Christmas, being played all over the place and thus, the world’s most morbidly obvious pun was born on Christmas Day

It was George Michael’s last Christmas.

Except that, officially, the 1984 song is actually credited to Wham!, the pop duo Michael was in with Andrew Ridgeley before Michael went solo.

So it’s actually Wham!’s Last Christmas.

Except that as far as I know, Ridgeley is still alive.

But should he be?

If you look at the inside cover of one of the original 12-inch single versions of the song, you will see a photo of Michael in Santa costume fake-crying over Ridgeley in reindeer costume playing dead.



This was 32 Christmases ago.

It is almost as if the photo predicted that a member of Wham! would die on Christmas Day.

Someone more insensitive than I am would say the wrong member did.

Which makes you wonder what kind of secret pact Ridgeley made with the devil.

Is your mind blown yet?

Wait, there’s more.

I have a 12-inch single version of Last Christmas and it was given to me by someone special.

Actually, it was my friend Stewart from the navy, although I do think of him as someone special. We sailed together to Thailand once.

I would like to say he gave it to me last Christmas, but it was actually two years ago and closer to Chinese New Year.

(I’m talking about the 12-inch.)

The vinyl record has been on display on my work desk since 2015 as an ironic homage to 80s kitsch, but now that Michael has died, it has become a poignant reminder of how we take a certain time in our lives for granted until it’s gone.

So as badly as we want to forget 2016 after it took away so many people who meant so much to us, at least it helped us remember why they meant so much to us in the first place.

So for 2017, our new year’s resolution should be to let those who are still with us know how much they mean to us while we still can...

I love you, Stewart!

Freedom.

- Published in The New Paper, 9 January 2017

They ran in memory of Max Woon, the S'porean who died at Mt Kinabalu

Mr Max Woon died in a fall while training for the Mount Kinabalu International Climbathon in Malaysia.

I don't know him, but as a runner, I felt he was a kindred spirit. I probably ran in a couple of the same races that he did, like The Performance Series at Gardens by the Bay.





It was heartbreaking to read the tributes to Mr Woon on the running-related Facebook pages I follow.













Yesterday, a group of runners gathered at Bedok Reservoir for a run in memory of Mr Woon.







You know, I used to scoff at the idea of a running "community".

Now I see that a community does exist — sadly, only after it came together to honour a fallen comrade.

SMRT was once sued for negligence by widow of worker killed by train

With SMRT apologising and taking responsibility for the Tuesday accident that killed two workers, let's not forget that this is not the first time that an SMRT worker has been killed on the job.

On Oct 17, 2010, Mr Chia Teck Heng, 48, was deployed by SMRT to attend to problems caused by a trip in the power supply at the Phoenix LRT station in Bukit Panjang.

He was on a designated walkway when he was hit by an oncoming train at 8.55am.

He died 12 days later in NUH.

Unlike the two recent deaths, there seemed to be little interest in how Mr Chia was killed. All SMRT said was that it was investigating the cause of the accident and that was it.

There were no further news reports on the case until two years later when Mr Chia's widow, Madam Moi Fong Sin, sued SMRT for more than $500,000 in damages, claiming SMRT was negligent and failed to provide a safe work system, leading to her husband’s fatal injuries.

That was in 2012. The outcome of the lawsuit has never been reported.

Scroll down for a 2014 video of a Janet Moi Fong Sin, whose husband "met with an accident at work" and "passed away".



The Straits Times, Oct 31, 2010:


The Straits Times, Sept 12, 2012:

Who’s your (founding) daddy? Raffles Versus LKY: Dawn Of Semantics

Somewhere out there, Sir Stamford Raffles must be feeling kind of miffed.

That is, if he is capable of feeling anything since, you know, he’s been dead for almost two centuries.

A year ago today, if someone were to ask me to who the founder of Singapore is, I would say the guy whom Raffles Place MRT station is named after.

A year ago today was March 20, 2015.

Three days later, Mr Lee Kuan Yew died.

In a message to Singaporeans, President Tony Tan Keng Yam said: “Yesterday, we lost the founding father of Singapore.”

And the President wasn’t referring to Raffles.

After that, it became almost de rigeur to call Mr Lee “the founding father of Singapore”.



And I would have to take a second to stop and swap out the image of a rather dandy-looking British gentleman in my brain for that of an older Chinese gentleman.

Yes, there is a distinction between “founder” and “founding father”, and no one has ever called Mr Lee the “founder” of Singapore.

Unfortunately, people have called Raffles the “founding father” of Singapore.



Hence, my slight confusion.

For many of us, ahem, more mature Singaporeans, we knew Mr Lee best as Prime Minister (or PM), which he was from 1959 to 1990.

Then he was Senior Minister (SM) for 14 years and Minister Mentor (MM) for seven.

After Mr Lee retired in 2011, we ran out of abbreviations to call him. We didn’t call him “former Minister Mentor” or “Emeritus Senior Minister”. (Hello, ESM Goh Chok Tong!)

While we did call Mr Lee “Singapore’s founding father” before he died, it was only after his death that it practically became his default title.

Before I go on, I want to emphasise that I’m not in any way questioning the contributions of Mr Lee to the founding of Singapore as a nation. So don’t come after me, Ministry of Culture, Community and Youth.

I just want to explore - with respect and dignity - other perhaps more accurate descriptions of Mr Lee that won’t make me do a double-take.

This is where I’m going to get a little nitpicky with words.

Okay, if Raffles was the founder of Singapore, to avoid confusion, could Mr Lee be the founding father of “modern” Singapore then?

That depends on your definition of “modern”.

Because according to Singapore Tourism Board website YourSingapore.com:

“Modern Singapore was founded in the 19th century, thanks to politics, trade and a man known as Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles.”

Yes, despite having lived and died before the invention of Instagram, Raffles was considered the founder of “modern” Singapore.

What’s left for Mr Lee? How about “the founding father of independent Singapore”?

Sure, if you don’t mind adding four more syllables to an already mouthful of words.

At this point, you may ask: “Why can’t there be more than one founding father of Singapore? You know what they say, success has many fathers.”

Sure, except that President Tan said “we lost the founding father of Singapore”, not “we lost a founding father of Singapore”.

However...

When Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong addressed the nation on the passing of his dad last year, he said: “The first of our founding fathers is no more.”



The poignancy of the double meaning of the word “father” aside, PM Lee acknowledged we had multiple founding fathers.

(I’m not sure about his use of the word “first”, though. Did he mean chronologically? Then what about Raffles, again?)

A month later in Parliament, PM Lee further advocated that we should “remember our founders, not just Mr Lee, but the core founding fathers of the country”.

The problem is no one is going to call Mr Lee “a” founding father of Singapore. Everyone uses “the”.

It also doesn’t help that for brevity’s sake, he is often described as “Singapore’s founding father”, not “one of Singapore’s founding fathers”.

What to do?

The apparent solution lies in a written statement from the Prime Minister’s Office a year ago. It said:

“The Prime Minister is deeply grieved to announce the passing of Mr Lee Kuan Yew, the founding Prime Minister of Singapore.”

Before that statement, I had never heard of the term “founding Prime Minister”. Have you?

It seemed to have been manufactured for the occasion.

Why can’t we just say “first Prime Minister”? Why must we force the word “founding” into everything?

Should we start calling Mr Yusof Ishak Singapore’s “founding President” as well?

Has any other leader in world been called “founding Prime Minister”?

Actually, yes - David Ben-Gurion, who led the founding of the state of Israel in 1948.

But despite my misgivings, “founding Prime Minister” appears to be slowly overtaking “founding father” as the go-to term to describe Mr Lee as we approach the first anniversary of his death this week.

At least Raffles should be relieved, wherever he is.

- Unpublished

Rock 'n' roll is dead, 'cool uncle' Kevin Mathews retires, ageism lives

Scott Weiland of Stone Temple Pilots and Velvet Revolver.

Lemmy Kilmister of Motorhead.

Natalie Cole.

David Bowie.

Drummer Dale “Buffin” Griffin of Mott The Hoople.

Glenn Frey of The Eagles.

Animal of Dr Teeth And The Electric Mayhem.



No, not Animal!

News of the manic drummer’s death last week was the biggest shock of all. He was reportedly only 66.

His last movie appearance was in Muppets: Most Wanted in 2014.



Co-star Fozzy Bear was quoted in the Waterford Whispers News as saying: “Although he had already been diagnosed with threadbaring syndrome, you would have never known he was sick.”

Animal’s death was also shocking because he was a Muppet.

I didn’t know Muppets can die.

I’m beginning to question the trustworthiness of this Waterford Whispers News.

But since it’s on the Internet, it must be true.



Still, as shocking as Animal’s passing was, after learning the news, I didn’t go to the toilet and cry.

Which was what local musician Kevin Mathews did after finding out about Bowie’s death two weeks ago.

Mathews, who is also a poly lecturer, told Yahoo! News: “I was teaching a class so I couldn’t react. The moment I got a break, I went to the toilet for a good cry.”

This is a 54-year-old man we’re talking about.

And he was bawling like a pubescent fan girl over Zayn Malik leaving One Direction.



Coincidentally (or not?), nine days after Bowie’s death, Mathews announced his retirement from performing and recording.



To explain his decision, the singer-songwriter, who had a big local hit with the ballad My One And Only as Watchmen in the early 90s, wrote in his blog:

“Since the late 80s, there have been numerous pronouncements of the death of rock ‘n’ roll. Each time, the prophets of doom have been proven wrong – the 1990s with the rise of Nirvana and the 2000s with the Strokes and the post-punk revival.

“I sincerely fear that 2016 might be the year that time is called on the former institution known as rock ‘n’ roll.

“Perhaps it is the death of David Bowie that has depressed me to such an extent that this doomsday scenario now becomes a reality.”

So according to Mathews, rock is dead. I blame Justin Bieber and tropical house.



Mathews also pointed to the lack of bands playing rock ‘n’ roll at the upcoming Laneway Festival on Saturday.

He wrote:

“This realisation has also aided in my decision to quit as a solo performer, whether live or in the studio – and focus on other aspects in my life.

“My main pre-occupation in music will be as a journalist and hopefully, as a curator and mentor. That is the only way I can see myself making a contribution.

“My music as a solo artist has no fucking significance whatsoever. Time to move on then.”

But the former lawyer also cited other factors that led to his decision in his heartbreaking Tumblr post:

“In the last three years, I have recorded and released two albums and one EP, which have been received with the law of diminishing returns.

“And even though I personally felt that Present Sense (the album I released last year) was the best I have ever done, the response has been abysmal — the worst ever experienced as a recording artist.

“In addition, the shows that I had put together to promote the album were also poorly attended.

“Not only that but when I tried to get the support of The Esplanade to support the album, they did not have any spot for me!

“Now, let that sink in — even The Esplanade — where every Tom, Dick and Harry has a chance to perform - were not interested to have me perform!

“I must admit that that really hurt.”

Well then, maybe he should form a band called Every Tom, Dick And Harry.

But as Mathews revealed, the ultimate career killer isn’t The Esplanade but ageism:

“When I reflect on this decision, I can see that it all started with a review of The Fast Colors’ performance where the reviewer described us as cool uncles that she wanted to kick out of the cool kids party.



“That ageist comment stung at the time, but I felt that it wasn’t true. Well, now I do believe that it’s time for this ‘cool uncle’ to leave the party once and for all.”

So basically, he’s retiring because someone called him “uncle” and it wasn’t his niece or nephew.

As someone turning 50 this year, I can relate. Next stop, “ah pek”-dom.

Ironically, Mathews’ hero, Bowie, who died of cancer at 69, worked right till the very end. Released two days before his passing, his new album Blackstar is topping the charts around the world.



Even in death, Bowie has a No. 1 hit.

I wonder if anyone ever called him “uncle”.

Death is said to be the great leveller, but clearly, some rock stars are more “level” than others.

Animal lives!

- Published in The New Paper, 24 January 2016

To mourn or celebrate? Kinabalu tragedy versus SEA Games medals

Friday was the opening ceremony of the SEA Games in Singapore. On the same day, the Sabah earthquake happened.

This resulted in a bipolar Straits Times front page the next day with the headline "Sabah quake: 8 S'pore kids, 2 teachers missing" and a giant picture of fireworks below it.



So was ST telling us to be concerned about the missing Singaporeans or happy about the SEA Games?

The two emotions sort of cancelled each other out.

Of course, by now, we know that eight Singaporeans have died in the quake, six of them schoolchildren from Tanjong Katong Primary School (TKPS). Two people are still missing. (UPDATE: Their bodies have been found.) It's a national tragedy.

But the Games must go on.

Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong declared Monday a Day of National Remembrance for those killed in the quake and that "one minute of silence will be observed at the beginning of the day at all SEA Games venues", thus conflating the two major news events of the day.

This gave ST the opportunity to make up for the awkward earlier front page with a great front page photo yesterday of players observing a minute of silence before the Singapore-Cambodia football match and spectators holding up signs that said "Prayers for TKPS" in the background.



In a way, that minute of silence gives us permission to enjoy the rest of the SEA Games even as we mourn the quake victims.

And by dedicating their wins to the quake victims and their families, the athletes also help alleviate some of the guilt.

But that doesn't make it any less weird to see on my Facebook news feed celebratory stories about Singapore's medal tally in between heartbreaking stories of those who perished on Mount Kinabalu.

It got me wondering, what if Mr Lee Kuan Yew had died just before the SEA Games? Would the Games be cancelled?

I know a number of events, like a Heartland Chingay Parade, were cancelled or postponed after Mr Lee's death in March, though none of them were as big as the SEA Games.

I think LKY's death was also the last time flags were flown at half-mast until the Kinabalu tragedy.

But to compare Mr Lee to the eight quake victims would be inappropriate. All life is precious. More so than medals.

Not that I'm advocating that the SEA Games should be cancelled or postponed. It would be like trying to stop a speeding non-MRT train. I mean, the organisers have already produced an album of SEA Games songs and everything.

Plus, you know, SG50. The people like their BreadTalk and circuses.

So my sincere condolences to the families and friends of quake victims.

And also... uh... go, Team Singapore?

Qing Ming: Queueing not the Fast & Furious way to pay tribute to the dead

I queued for more than three hours to pay respects to Mr Lee Kuan Yew at the Parliament House two Thursdays ago.

Sure, some reportedly queued up to 11 hours, but this is not a competition, okay?

It was long enough that I had to pee and figure out how use a Porta-Pumper.



But I couldn’t find any instructions inside the portable toilet. What to do?

There were other queuers needing to relieve themselves and I didn’t want to keep them waiting.

Yet I also didn’t want to leave the toilet for the next person to find my urine unflushed.

I blamed myself getting into this dilemma. Who asked me to drink so much water on that hot Thursday afternoon?

Wait, what are these black round things on the floor?

I stepped on a round thing and my pee was magically replaced by a sweet-smelling blue liquid. The round thing was a foot pump of some kind.

I also discovered that if I stepped on the other pump, I could turn on the tap to wash my hand.

So that’s why it’s called a Porta-Pumper!

Wow, first the Internet and now this. Technology is so amazing.

And thus I survived my three-hour queue.

Who knew I would be queueing again to pay respects to another dead guy just eight days later?

And he wasn’t even the founding father of a nation. He was my actual father.

On Friday morning, I found myself in my sister’s car with her and our 70-something mother stuck in a traffic jam, waiting to get into the Choa Chu Kang Columbarium where my dad’s remains lay.



It’s Qing Ming again, that time of the year when my family and — judging by the clog of vehicles around us — many other Chinese families brave the traffic to make the pilgrimage to the columbarium and/or cemetery and burn stuff for our departed ancestors.

It also happened to be Good Friday, which, because of the traffic jam, was turning out to be a bad Friday for us.

My mother, my sister and I started blaming each other.

The day before, I had proposed heading out earlier specifically to avoid the holiday traffic, but my mother said no because my sister was unable to wake up so early in the morning.

My sister said my mother never asked her and she could’ve risen earlier if we had wanted her to.

And so the petty recriminations continued.

And it was all because of my father, dead for over 20 years and is still giving us grief.

There must be better ways to pay tribute to the deceased.

And certainly creating a BreadTalk bun is not one of them.



Neither is starting an online petition to declare the day the person died a public holiday as it may be accused of being a scam to collect people’s personal information.

As my sister’s Kia inched ever so slowly towards the columbarium gates, I realised I had just seen the ultimate tribute to a dead guy the day before.

It was called Fast & Furious 7.

One of the founding fathers of the fabulously profitable Fast & Furious film franchise, Paul Walker, died in a 2013 car accident before completing the latest sequel.

The movie was eventually finished with Walker’s brothers and another guy as stand-ins for the dead actor and some computer-generated necromancy. Talk about a resurrection.

Creepy?

A little.

Exploitative?

Well, despite star Vin Diesel mentioning Walker every chance he gets while promoting the movie, the producers at least had enough self-restraint not to call the sequel Fast & Furious 7: Watch How We Deal With A Major Cast Member’s Death.



I know that was why I wanted to see the movie.

That and the insane trailer where Diesel flies a car out of a high-storey window of a building into a high-storey window of another building.



In between ridiculously unsurvivable car crashes that our heroes manage to survive and too many leering close-ups of women’s bottoms in the movie, every line Walker’s character utters and other characters say about him seem to foreshadow his demise.

Oh no, his wife is pregnant again.

Oh no, this will be his last job before he retires.

Oh no, he’s going to fight Tony Jaa, the guy from the Ong-Bak movies.



Oh no...



But Walker’s final send-off in the movie is not what I expected. It’s surprisingly uplifting, almost to the point of being in denial.

The movie’s last shot is a bird’s eye view of two cars racing side by side and then one car splitting off to another road.





It’s like the drag race equivalent of the Singapore Air Force’s “missing man formation” aerial tribute planned for Mr Lee last Sunday but cancelled due to bad weather.



But Walker got his tribute — and what a blockbusting tribute it’s turning out to be over this Easter weekend.

‘Furious 7′ Racing Toward A $225M-$275M Global Opening http://t.co/GDPfeJO08N
— Deadline Hollywood (@Deadline) March 31, 2015

If only all our tributes could be massive box-office hits.

What’s next for the Fast & Furious franchise after Walker? Will a close family member take his place? At least Amos Yee didn’t make a YouTube video about him.

Meanwhile, sitting in the passenger’s seat of my sister’s second-hand 1,000cc Picanto, all I could do was fantasise about parachuting out of a cargo plane with my muscle car like the Fast & Furious gang into the Choa Chu Kang Columbarium.

Anything to get out of the Good Friday/Qing Ming traffic jam.

My mother said she needed to pee.

- Published in The New Paper, 5 April 2015

A lot of sky crying on Twitter for LKY

Cliche of the day:

The sky cried with us pic.twitter.com/dqgXlXzucg
— Seogeneration (@Seogeneration11) March 29, 2015

The nation and sky cried for Mr Lee Kuan Yew. #ThankYouLKY
— Jeff (@dnshrstno) March 29, 2015

it seems that even Singapore's sky cried for the loss of LKY today.
— Angelica Dominique (@anjellycax) March 29, 2015

Even the sky cried for you. #thankyouleekuanyew #nothingwithoutYEW
— ԵɧɿՐԾՏɧԹ™ (@thirosha_) March 29, 2015

Even the tears falling from the sky #RIPLeeKuanYew
— #jonghyun (@eugeniacjy) March 29, 2015

Today the world cried at the lost of a great man, the sky too. #GoodByeLKY
— SimplyNS (@SimplyNS) March 29, 2015

Even the sky cried for you, Mr Lee. This is how important you are to all of us. #RIPLKY
— xinyii (@xinyiicheh_) March 29, 2015

Even the sky shed tears for Mr. Lee's farewell. Thank you bringing us together and for a great nation #RememberingLeeKuanYew#LeeKuanYew
— Sugunesh (@Nesh7290) March 29, 2015

Even the sky cried for him. Singaporeans from all walks of life gathering at the side of the roads,… https://t.co/Mgdmp8ZfUN
— Sheryl.Y ❁ (@whatsupsheryl) March 29, 2015

Even the sky cried for the legend #LKYRIP #LKY #respect #saluteLKY
— M O N K E Y B H A I (@Devanmonkey) March 29, 2015

50 years ago, you cried for Singapore. 50 years today, the sky and Singaporean cry for you. #RememberingLeeKuanYew pic.twitter.com/zDgsE9umG2
— 아그네스 (AgneS) (@agnestan77) March 29, 2015

The sky, the country, the people weep for you today Mr Lee. Farewell and thank you.
— JianHao F² Tan (@thejianhaotan) March 29, 2015

Even the sky shed tears for Mr. Lee. #raining
— 장한빈 MR. BIN (@jacktiew_hanbin) March 29, 2015

On the last day of mourning, even the sky sheds tears. Thanks for being relentless in your endeavor… https://t.co/SemFKH8OzQ
— Raffles Chan (@TheOneChan) March 29, 2015

Once upon a time u weep for the Nation, Now the sky & nation weeps for YOU. #SALUTE #LEGEND #Bye #LeeKuanYew #RIP ♡
— #ImBeardHunk (@_SugenHomiez_) March 29, 2015

#RIPLKY we cried a river, so is the sky 😭
— 琳 (@_weilinnx) March 29, 2015

50 years ago he cried for this nation. 50 years later, the nation and the sky cries for him.
— Melissa (@ConstantDream13) March 29, 2015

On our first national day the sky shed tears of joy. And today the sky is shedding tears of sorrow! pic.twitter.com/FBmNt6Yoel

— Just Viknes (@JustViknes) March 29, 2015

LKY died ,even the sky cried
— Lee (@AotuLee) March 29, 2015

even the sky cried for us #RIPLKY
— fira | zayn :( (@livelikeharry) March 29, 2015

The sky cried hard at the departure of a great man. #goodbyeLKY
— Ernz Lim (@ErnzLim) March 29, 2015

2 years ago, we (your friends) shed the same tears for you and the sky cried for you too. Soon you'll meet him in heaven.
— Y3N1 (@redtelyfoneboof) March 29, 2015

It's raining heavily today because the sky is shedding tears for the final precession coupled with chants of LKY 😭#RememberingLeeKuanYew

— Aphrodite ❤ (@andrea_nonymous) March 29, 2015

50 years ago, he cried for the nation. 50 years ltr, the nation cried for him, the world cried for him & the sky cried for him. #LeeKuanYew
— evaaa ☺ (@silvershimmery_) March 29, 2015

today, the whole of singapore and even the sky cried for the last farewell to our great leader. tears… https://t.co/PWXJhSja9d

— ting (@_changting_) March 29, 2015

The sky mourns and sheds its tears as we say goodbye to Mr. Lee Kuan Yew.

— L.A. Rabago-Celino (@elle_eigh) March 29, 2015

The sky rains so we can conceal the tears in our eyes. Mr Lee is watching from above. #RememberingLeeKuanYew

— APRIL 石蕊 (@aprilshirui) March 29, 2015

The sky cried for joy on the first NDP and now it's crying with us on this day
— clara (@arockettothesky) March 29, 2015

the sky is definitely crying for Mr Lee and all these rains represent all the Singaporean tears.

— 아르야니 (@DatSexayBiebs) March 29, 2015

Singaporeans cried for the past 5 days over the loss of our great leader.. now even the sky's crying..
— ★σωℓιтε★ (@0wlite) March 29, 2015

The last day.. Goodbye, Mr Lee Kuan Yew #LKY. Our last journey with you. The sky has cried for us,… https://t.co/otb8kjWtYg
— Eunice Ng (@nezzdcom) March 29, 2015

Even the sky "cried" for Mr Lee's funeral…
— Forever Alone~ (@tatsomeone) March 29, 2015

And the sky finally cried on Mr Lee Kuan Yew's funeral wake.
— Sheemz (@sheema_laya) March 29, 2015

People weep, sky weeping. #RememberingLKY
— ephram (@ephram_) March 29, 2015

Even sky cried the whole day for the departure of lky 💦💦
— carolRR_ (@CarolLin520) March 29, 2015

he cried for us we cried for him and now even the sky is crying with us over him
— Jozoe ⚜ (@hatterings) March 29, 2015

the skies cried for him when he was first appointed as sg's 1st PM. and the sky cried again for him to send him off for the last time.
— king jun (@m00nbins) March 29, 2015

连老天爷都感动了… u made all of us cried including the sky 😥😢
— June Ng (@June_Nwc) March 29, 2015

And I wondered which was more numerous : the tears from the nation's eyes, or the rain that fell from the sky. #RIPLKY

— Mark Kon (@FarhaKon) March 29, 2015

The sky cried for LKY .... #RememberingLKY
— キュートでファンシー. (@VIANNN__) March 29, 2015

Even the sky weep 4u .u r amazing ,the founding father of Spore #LKY
— alibaba (@toukou) March 29, 2015

Sky just cried for LKY
— Ng Phong Su (@nommyvore) March 29, 2015

Some even see LKY in the sky...




The Straits Time report: 'Even the sky is crying': Sombre mood as Mr Lee Kuan Yew makes final journey across Singapore

Umbrellas & tents: 3 hours 10 minutes in The Queue for Lee Kuan Yew

Unlike many Singaporeans it seems, I'm not a big queuer. No queueing for multiple hours for Hello Kitty or iPhones for me.

So early yesterday morning, when I read that the queue starting at the Padang to pay respect to Mr Lee Kuan Yew had been reduced to 30 minutes, I thought, hey, if Stefanie Sun could do it...



Of course I knew that by the time I got to the Padang, it would probably be longer than 30 minutes, but it shouldn't be too bad.

The moment my wife and I stepped out of City Hall MRT station some time past 2pm yesterday, we saw people joining a long queue outside St Andrew's Cathedral. I assume it had to be The Queue.

It helped that there was a young girl holding up a sign that said "Queue starts here".

It didn't help that she looked a bit frazzled and was relieved to see a bunch of navy guys in uniform behind us.

She quickly went to them and asked, "Are you here to help?"

The navy guys looked confused. "Help what?" one of them asked, although it was pretty obvious to me why she needed help.

"Help manage the queue," said the girl.

The navy guy said, "No, we're here to pay our respects to Lee Kuan Yew."

Those must be the saddest words the girl had ever heard in her life. To say she was crestfallen would be an understatement.



I thought the navy guys might step up and save the damsel in distress by helping the poor girl with The Queue anyway, but I guess they wouldn't know what to do themselves. The crush of people was just overwhelming.

Meanwhile. as she was talking to the navy guys, people who had just arrived were wondering about the sign she was still holding up. Someone asked, "Does The Queue start here?"

No, it didn't. People had already queued up behind the navy guys. The sign was a lie.

After she realised the navy guys weren't the saviours she was hoping for, she left to find the real start of The Queue, I assumed.

Not a very reassuring beginning to my queueing experience, but at least I was now mentally prepared for more queue mismanagement.

I started the digital stopwatch on my iPhone.





The Queue moved in stops and starts. This could be because we had to cross a road and wait for the light to change.





The Queue then went underground into the Esplanade MRT station and back out again.





Along the way, we were offered umbrellas and bottled water by different people. At the Padang, we got cake from BreadTalk (to make up for its earlier faux pas perhaps?).







We were stuck at the Padang for a long time. More than hour in, I considered quitting The Queue. Despite the tents, the afternoon heat was getting to me.



More importantly, I needed to pee very badly. There were no Porta-Pumpers at the Padang.

One happy surprise was I saw an old NS friend, Patrick, there. He was on duty as an SCDF volunteer paramedic.



A former naval diver, Patrick was the guy who went on a rant against Jack Neo's frogmen movie I wrote about in my column last year.

He came to talk to me, but before I could say a single word, he was called away because of a casualty.

I later saw him stretchering a woman to the first aid tent. It was a reminder to keep hydrated. The problem was the more you drink, the more you may need to pee.



Fortunately, after we moved out of the mini tent city at the Padang, a row of Porta-Pumpers awaited. I eventually figured out how to use one.



After relieving myself, I felt like I could go on for a couple more hours in The Queue.



We got to the river and a boat with a picture of LKY went by. How fitting.



From across the river, we heard cheers from the Boat Quay bars. I believe the cheers were for the India-Australia cricket game going on at the time. India eventually lost the World Cup semi-final.



After the Asian Civilisations Museum, we reached a long white tent where a sign said: "Waiting time from this point: 30 minutes." Almost there!

We could see the back of the statue of the other "founding father" of Singapore, Sir Stamford Raffles, under renovation.



A woman in front of me who had been carrying flowers for LKY for over two hours had them unceremoniously taken away.

After seeing piles of umbrellas in the tent, another woman tried to return her umbrella but was refused.



There were a row of scanners on stand-by.



After going through the metal detectors, we left the tent and saw Parliament House. Is that where we were supposed to go? Finally!



I don't think regular folks like us would get to visit Parliament House any other time and hence all the photo-taking.



Put away your cameras, we're going in!



Once we stepped into the air-conditioned Parliament House, the cold was a welcome relief.



We were told to keep moving and I barely got a glimpse of what I queued up three hours for because of all the people. I was almost run over by a guy in a wheelchair.



And before I knew it, I was on my way out.



Outside, there was a queue to get out of the area and another queue of people waiting to go in. I believe the latter was the priority queue.



It seemed to me that with people in wheelchairs, the elderly and parents with small children, the priority queue moved more slowly than the regular queue.



I checked my stopwatch. I had been in The Queue for more than 3 hours and 10 minutes.



That was quite a lot longer than 30 minutes.

I didn't get to do much inside Parliament House with my few seconds before Mr Lee. I didn't even have time to bow and I don't believe in prayer. I actually considered saluting, but my hair was too long.

If I had lingered a little longer in front of the coffin, I felt like I might've burst into tears. So maybe it was a good thing the guy in the wheelchair came along.

I guess in the end, my time in The Queue was my tribute to LKY.

All 190 minutes of it.

I hope the poor girl with the "Queue starts here" sign found someone to rescue her.


EARLIER: Is there a wrong way to pay tribute to Lee Kuan Yew?