Thursday, December 31, 2009

From 'best' comes 'enough'.


MUJI does not create products that lure customers into believing that "this is best" or "I must have this." We would like our customers to feel the rational sense of satisfaction that comes not with "this is best," but with "this is enough." - The future of MUJI, an essay from their global website.

Happy 2010. Let's have a year of 'enough'.

link via

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

1000.

It is quite a shock for me to realise that this is my 1,000th blog post. Even more that I've been blogging for five years. Five fucking years.

Looking back I think I've succeeded and failed at the same time.

I failed as a "successful blogger", meaning I didn't actually make any money out of it nor pursued to be on any "top bloggers" list. I didn't intentionally seek or construct anything funny just to prove a point. But the main reason that my blog sucked, and this is from my father, is that there isn't any point to it.

I bullshit about design, art, movies as if I'm qualified, I shameless put my dinners on display, I bitch about women, I confuse blogging with 'posting a comment after a YouTube clip'. Obviously I failed in a marketing terms of having a Single Minded Proposition. Yet in hindsight, I did whatever I wanted and I think it's a success of some sort. (With an attitude like that no wonder the blog sucked.)

Yet according to Google, there's a small group of people, and that includes you who're reading at this moment, who've been relentlessly following all the crap I've been churning. I'd like to thank you for putting up with my stench.

I know most of you have stopped commenting. But perhaps on this special occasion you'd be kind enough to drop a line and cite one thing you don't like about this blog. It'd be interesting to know.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Past 10 years in logos.


How true, yet sad at the same time when you see 10 years condensed into some logo chart. Then again, it's more about America than anything else. Do we care about America? Well, kind of I guess.

link via

Thursday, December 24, 2009

What are you made of?


Dick, obviously.

This proves my previous joke of 'If a key gets to open a lot of lock, it's a master key; if a lock gets opened by a lot of keys, it's a shitty lock'.

Ok, I'm mighty late on this, but I've always had this conspiracy theory that the Tiger Woods fiasco is just another distraction from world leaders. But I couldn't really pinpoint anything that's significantly important going on, like a war or something. Oh wait, that's still going on? And they sent more troops over? Ok.

Perhaps it was the Copenhagen climate change conference, or the slumping stock market?

Or maybe, the world is just interested in a rich black man screwing a lot of white women. Seriously, am I the only who realized Tiger Woods DOES NOT fancy black woman? If I were to be able to bang more than 5 women, I'd diversify. But this boy's got some serious complex going on.

Rich black men are the new poor Asian women: both looking for white sex.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Old people have too much time.


So this is a print ad we've done recently.

Apparently an old man called up to file a complaint. According to the recorded phone message, he said the box on the kid wasn't folded properly as it wouldn't hold any objects firmly. He then blamed the company for being irresponsible as an energy provider if they don't even know how to properly fold a box.

Hey, at least the phone number worked.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Title loosely translates to "standard pervert visual chart".


So young man, which direction is the woman licking to? Come on...

Tuesday, December 08, 2009

Something I brought back from Sydney.

So why is it so fucking hard for girls to fall in love nowadays?

See, love used to be really simple. It was like buying durians. There're different ways to buy a durian: we go to the market, we choose from a giant barrel, we could ask the bearded monger for his recommendation, we could even ask our neighbour to buy a couple and then pay them back. In short, we wanted a fruit. We simply wanted dessert.

Modern love is also like buying durians, but through the eyes of some fucked up woman that lives on a high rise flat with a deranged mother-in-law. Yes, she might be also buying durians, but she ain't looking for dessert or a fruit. She's looking for a durian that would allow her to grow MORE durians. So she needs to know what the flesh is like, she does the 'shake, shake', she smells the anus, she needs to know the heritage (D24, beautiful), she needs to know why it is so green or why the thorns are so thin, she demands the bearded monger to slice off a piece so she could 'poke' the flesh, she made them consent to a refunding agreement. (seriously, I can't think of anything more pathetic than telling a durian monger ' if not fresh I come back and change ar!')

And would anyone be happy under that much scrutiny? Of course not. Even if you find the best durians that would lay golden eggs for you, you'd think somewhere there's something better. (Yea, I heard Ipoh there got a one armed uncle, only comes out on Friday, his durians can lay eggs, babysit and juggle at the same time.) The durian has lost its function as a fruit, and now has become a tool.

That's right, girls. You can't find love because you ARE NOT looking for love. You don't want love.

You want a career. You want to be wanted. You want to be pretty. You want to retire. You want to be respected. You want your man to be respected. You want a humble man. You want freedom. You want someone that your best friends want. You want to have children. You want to go to Europe. You want to be single when you go to Europe. You want to party. You want younger girls to drown. You want an apartment. You want a house. You want a yacht. You want tea parties. You want to stay healthy. You want chocolate cake. You want to enter a club and not feel old. You want success. You want to be gentle. You want to be strong. You want to be alone. You want someone to tell you you're doing great constantly.

You want ALL of the above, attached to a penis. But you don't want love.

No doubt you'll be successful and get what you want and become the CEO of this multi-national corporate enterprise growing shit loads of durians everyday. I bet my balls then even with your billboards saying how awesome they are, you don't have a clue what they taste like.