Month: June 2023

THOSE WERE THE DAYS.

Nothing is as responsible for the good, old days than a bad memory. – Humorist Robert Benchley

I suppose the one constant in my life is that everything seems to have changed.

My daughter rolls her eyes when I talk of the good old days. To her, that’s any period before there was Velcro. You have to feel for Archie Bunker: “What happened to the good old days, when kids were scared of their parents?”  

And I’m 67.  Consider people like Dr M. What, for instance, would be his idea of the good old days? Those halcyon times with Maharaja Lela, his old classmate from British Malaya days? Then again, at 97, he has an inherent advantage: he doesn’t have to put up with peer pressure.  

A lot has changed since I was a child and not necessarily for the better. No one had an air conditioner in their homes when I was growing up, but you didn’t need one. It always seemed to get chilly at nights when the fan was switched on and we actually needed blankets. 

It’s different now. Air-conditioning in Singapore – where we live – is essential at nights as it’s warmer because of the greater humidity. In any case, our apartment doesn’t come with any fans. It tells you a lot about the city state. 

Its founding father, Lee Kuan Yew, even picked air-conditioning as “the secret” to Singapore’s success. It may be the reason why most places in Singapore have an Artic chill about them: your glasses remain fogged a great deal longer when you leave a building than they would in KL. 

Back to the old days. You could see the stars at night, at least when I was growing up in Seremban. The funny thing is, I don’t remember when I stopped seeing them. You get so busy growing up that you just don’t notice; things tend to just slip away. 

I have an impression that, like Lat cartoons, things were a lot more innocent then. My father didn’t always lock up the house at night, for instance, and my wife tells me they never did in Malacca. It could be a function of living in a small town, but you see my point. 

I don’t remember if our school canteens were halal or not. Certainly, no one seemed to particularly care nor raised a fuss.  

Life was a lot more laid back then with people seeming less judgmental. Guinness Stout, an alcoholic beverage of no small potency, was routinely advertised in the Malay newspapers with its readers being advised that it was “good for you.”

I can’t remember the Pan-Malayan Islamic Party – the forerunner to the current Pas – waxing hysterical about it. The “live and let live” spirit seemed palpably more genuine then. 

I’m not sure if I’m looking at the past through the sepia-tinged tones of nostalgia. But I doubt it. Back then, there was more humour and less of the rabid hysteria being exhibited by some Pas leaders nowadays. 

Something seems to have changed irrevocably.

And stupidity is on the rise. A parliamentarian – from Pas, predictably – took issue with the uniforms of nurses claiming that it could be distracting as it – the pant suit – was “figure hugging.”

And to think nurses wore skirts right up to the 90s.

I rest my case.

ENDS

THE EYES HAVE IT – FOR TELEVISION 

They call television a medium because anything well done is rare. – Comedian Stewart Francis

You can learn a lot about the United States by watching its television.

It’s a national pastime, apparently. Even the science supports this notion. Consider the law governing inertia: a body at rest gravitates towards watching television. 

The advertisements on display are, well, different. Direct, as in a-ton-of-bricks-direct, is one way of putting it. 

I’ll do one better: I’ll give you an example. 

Against the backdrop of shrieking brakes, rending metal, and wailing sirens to a fast-forward frame of gamely recovering patient in full body cast, comes the quietly reassuring voice of Legal Eagle: “Don’t get mad, get even.” 

He steps into view, all cleft chin, dimpled smile, and trustworthy teeth, not unlike Al Pacino in And Justice for All.  His message is heartfelt: getting even by way of compensation isn’t just the American way, it’s the only way. 

A single number – toll free, duh – flashes behind him, blinking in perfect rhythm to a heart monitor.  Call 1-800-DAMAGES for Instant Justice.  

OK, I’m exaggerating. But only a little. 

I found many of the ads touting medical treatments, supplements, and various cure-alls even more alarming. 

There is a method to their madness. They start off optimistically enough and by the time they have you convinced that, Yes-By-God-I’m-Saved, they   belatedly remember the 1-800 number for medical negligence and reel off every possible side-effect that might befall the user and conclude thus: ‘Consult your doctor before taking XYZ.” 

In the American ad world, apparently, that’s a defense: the legal equivalent of a cross before Dracula.

But I’m not kidding about the side-effects I heard being mentioned on medicine ads on American television.  There was “death” of course, but the really horrible ones like “anal seepage” were enough to make even Dracula run screaming into the night!

You didn’t have to be an economist to know that domestic demand aka consumer spending was the fuel that drove the US economy. Almost every show – from brain-numbing talk shows to incisive documentaries – had commercial breaks that sometimes went on for three minutes, selling everything from cars to designer goods.

You had to admire the absurdity of a gripping documentary being interrupted every now and then by three chipmunks singing the virtues of the “most comfortable” toilet paper in three-part harmony. 

Or a vaguely familiar actor extolling the “crazy, best deals” on mattresses at a Detroit store near you.  

Then there is Fox News which affected me greatly the first time I saw it because we don’t get it in Malaysia. Now I’m used to it as it’s aired in Singapore.

Even so, it spouts the most appalling garbage which says a lot about the average American: it’s consistently the most watched channel among US households.

It has commentators like the opinionated Sean Hannity who is greatly admired by people like Donald Trump.

It might be the reason why the comedian Mort Sahl wished aloud that the channel would hire “a real fascist” instead of “this guy who plays one on television.” 

In the interests of fairness and full disclosure, it was also Mort Sahl who said, “you haven’t lived until you’ve died in California.” 

Go figure.

ENDS

BACK IN THE USA

It was our first time in Detroit, Michigan, a place located in what the Americans like to describe as the “wide, open spaces” of the Mid-West. 

It was the first time for most of the others as well, including a great many Americans. It gives you some idea of the size of the United States. 

To put it into context, I’ve been to every Malaysian state except Perlis – any countryman can figure that out. Meanwhile, it takes only 42 minutes to drive from east to west in Singapore.  

America, on the other hand, has 49 other states to choose from and it takes between 40 and 50 hours to drive the length of Michigan, depending on the number of burger-joints you stop at along the way. 

In fact, that was how the great state was originally mapped. 

The city’s Mayor hosted the APEC (Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation) delegates as an introduction to the city and we marvelled at the imposing residence set amidst its Gatsby-like grounds. Its manicured turf was only separated from the green of Canada by the Detroit River and frigid was the operative word as a chill wind blew off its waters. It made the daily 17-degree forecast improbable. 

It was only my opinion, of course. “We used to call this bikini weather when I was in high school,” a cheerful mayoral aide revealed rather unnecessarily. 

At dinner, we met US Transport Secretary Pete Buttigieg, an informed person of such charisma that it seemed ridiculous that he could have lost to Joe Biden as the Democratic candidate. But the fact that he had a Secret Service detail – complete with sunglasses and ear patches – and a watchful Coast Guard cutter on the river attested to his Cabinet status.

Detroit’s the second biggest city in the state after Drummond but it didn’t feel like it. There were no jams and, indeed, little traffic on the streets. Some of the shops were boarded up with “For Sale/ lease” signs.

Even so, it was clean and there was a general sense of optimism with many people crediting the Mayor with much of the city’s rejuvenation. It had gone bust in 2017 and was now bouncing back: the 10-day APEC meet was presumably part of it. 

The city’s fortunes had been inextricably tied up with auto manufacturing. In the 1960s, for example, most households boasted a boat, but the industry’s decline since 1979 mirrored Detroit’s slump. It’s still home to the Big Three automakers but decades of disinvestment have also given rise to a peculiarly American phenomenon: a depopulation by race. Only 10% of Detroit’s 640,000-odd people are white. 

Our Detroit experience was pleasant enough. Food was great, we encountered mostly helpful and genuinely nice people. OK, there seemed to be an overachiever’s share of people who muttered to themselves, especially in the early mornings but who knows? 

You might mutter too if you woke up to 8 degrees “and windy”. 

We were given a tour of the Motown Museum where Barry Gordy and his family lived when he recorded the first Smokey Robinson hit in 1959. One wall of the legendary Studio A – complete with original 4 track console and Steinway piano – was lined with stars, photos ranging from Smokey and The Supremes to Michael Jackson and a grinning Stevie Wonder: too many bands to name, an impossibly youthful, and nostalgic, salute to Detroit’s past. 

Later there was even Motown-karaoke for the intrepid. The Americans and New Zealanders kicked it off with Marvin Gaye’s I Heard It Through The Grapevine followed by the Chileans with the Supremes’ You Can’t Hurry Love. Even the normally staid Chinese took to the mikes.

Only then do you realise why it would be prudent for them to keep their day jobs.  

It’s why Diana Ross is on the wall of Studio A in the first place. 

ENDS