Back to school! Thank you, MOE, for saving our lives

I received the most terrifying news last week - and I'm not talking about the threat of a Singapore Grand Prix without F1 star Lewis Hamilton. He's so dreamy.

No, this news shook my wife and I to our very core. The global scourge that is the H1N1 flu finally hit home.

Although it wasn't confirmed, the mere possibility of it was horrifying enough, the two of us considered a suicide pact: The Ministry of Education (MOE) might not reopen the schools after the June holidays because of H1N1.

The thought of spending more time with the kids at home after surviving the past four weeks of hell with them - oh my god, MOE, just point the gun at our head, pull the trigger and put us out of misery right now.

Throughout the June holidays, all my two kids, who are in Primary 4 and 6, wanted to do was play computer games and watch reruns of reruns of The Nanny.



Any attempts to get them to do anything else, like their homework or even eat their meals, would result in bitter acrimony - screaming, some kicking and prolonged sulking afterwards. And that was just their mother.

I would like to say we didn't travel because of the flu pandemic, but actually, we simply couldn't afford to. Apparently, there's a recession going on.

Our sole solace was that the school holidays would be over in four weeks, which is why we lost all will to live when we heard that the break might be extended. Damn you, H1N1!

Of course, what was devastating news to us was Christmas morning for the kids. Whoopee, more time to make their parents' life miserable! Oh, how they celebrated - with more computer games and Fran Drescher's nasal cackle.

So you can imagine our relief - and the children's disappointment - when it was announced that MOE wouldn't shut the schools after all. It was our turn to laugh in their faces. Boom boom boom!

My wife and I literally danced for joy. I believed we krumped. Boom boom boo-oom!



But my 10-year-old daughter wasn't giving up so easily. She suggested we should lie to the school that we did visit one of the H1N1-affected countries so that she could attend e-lessons from home. More computer time for her!

Stop the music. Okay, so now we have another problem: a daughter who saw nothing wrong in lying.

Oh, well. She's going back to school tomorrow. She'll be the teacher's problem. Ha!

Crank up the Black Eyed Peas - time for the parents to have a holiday. I like that Boom Boom Pow!

- Published in The New Paper, 28 June 2009

Michael Jackson's not dead - he's hanging with Elvis

Michael Jackson is not dead. And neither is Elvis Presley.

The King of Pop and the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll are kicking it back in a secret bunker buried seven storeys under Presley’s Tennessee home-cum-tourist attraction, Graceland.

Or so reported the Daily Mail, quoting a blog called “68comeback special”. As if citing a website named after a Presley career landmark wasn’t inane enough, the UK paper also reported post-death sightings of Jackson disguised as a nun and flying to the airport using a jetpack on his way to Greenland to live with Eskimos.

No wonder he was turning himself white. He wanted to blend in with the ice.

At least nobody is saying he died on the toilet eating a burger like Presley did. Jackson was a vegetarian.

Although some also claimed that Presley was abducted by aliens, the movie Men In Black II hinted that MJ himself was an alien, which actually helped explain a lot about Wacko Jacko.



But can we still call him Wacko Jacko now that he is in heaven... uh, hell... uh, no longer on this earth? Is it being disrespectful to the “alleged” recently deceased?

The producers of Sacha Baron Cohen’s new comedy Bruno would probably think so.



A scene mocking former Playboy cover girl and Jackson’s even wackier sister LaToya was removed from the movie at the last minute before its Los Angeles premiere.



So Cohen, who frenched his “prostitute sister” and wrestled with his manager in the nude in his previous movie Borat, is suddenly afraid to offend because LaToya’s most famous brother has just “allegedly” died?

Let’s not forget that Michael Jackson is single-handedly (insert your own glove joke here) responsible for pop satirist “Weird” Al Yankovic’s entire career.

Yankovic first hit the charts in ’80s with a parody of Jackson’s classic Beat It called Eat It, accompanied by an almost exact copy of Jackson’s music video but funnier.



When Jackson released the album Bad, Yankovic followed with an album called Even Worse, featuring the single Fat.

All with Jackson’s approval.

Which seems to indicate that for all his eccentricities, Wacko Jacko at least had a sense of humour about himself.

Which is more than can be said about the other eccentric black ’80s mega-pop star, Prince, who refused to grant Yankovic permission for any parody.

Who knows? Jackson could be giggling at all this hubbub over his “alleged” death in Presley’s underground bunker right now. Or back on his home planet.

Farrah must be so jealous.

- Published in The New Paper, 28 June 2009

Happy Father's Day? Um... I think I killed mine

I think I killed my father. Since today is Father's Day, I figure this is a good time to mention this.

About 16 years ago, my father was rushed to hospital after suffering a possible stroke. I thought - and hoped - he was going to die. But he seemed to recover and regained consciousness.

He said something to me in his usual obnoxious way, but because his speech was impaired by the stroke, he was barely comprehensible, which made him sound even more obnoxious.

I don't remember what I said, but in my own obnoxious way, I made it very clear I was tired of putting up with his obnoxiousness.

That was the last time I spoke to him because he subsequently relapsed into a coma and died a day or so later. He was 58.

Part of me still feels a little guilty that I might have killed him with my last words to him - he lost his will to live after realising his oldest child and only son would rather he didn't.

As you may have surmised, my father and I weren't very close. The only conversation we had late every night when he came home was he would ask if I had brushed my teeth and I would say yes. That was it.

He often came home late because he taught art classes in the evenings after his office job in the day - all to afford a decent life for my mother, my two sisters and myself. (He also authored a few books on art under the pen name Ong Yih.)



An unfortunate consequence was he was a more beloved father figure to his students than his own children.

When he was home, he lost his temper easily and yes, he was quite obnoxious. I don't recall my sisters and me ever celebrating Father's Day.

Even though I knew he loved me as a father should, I had this vague feeling he was disappointed with me.

Alas, that's also where my relationship with my own 12-year-old son appears to be heading. Despite my intentions to the contrary, I have become my father.

Except instead of dental concerns, every night I tell my son to stop watching reruns of The Nanny on cable and do his homework.



I've come to accept that he'll probably wish me dead too one day - if he hasn't already (damn you, Fran Drescher!) - and I don't blame him.

For now, my consolation is he still wishes me happy Father's Day every year. Plus I have healthy teeth.

My one regret is my dad didn't live long enough to meet his grandson - so that he could rub it in my face in his usual obnoxious way: "Not so easy being a father, is it?"

- Published in The New Paper, 21 June 2009