Crime does not pay…..as well as politics.

It appears that justice has been served. 

Or has it?

On Tuesday, Kuala Lumpur’s High Court ordered the sister of fugitive businessman Jho “Felonious” Low and his shyster sidekick Eric Tan to pay US$2.8 billion (RM11.6 billion) to 1Malaysia Development Bhd (1MDB) over “tainted proceeds” that belonged to the sovereign wealth fund.

“The evidence before this court indicates an elaborate fraud,”  Justice Mahajan Mohd Taib said. 

Apparently, the prosecution had very credible evidence. “Their evidence stands unchallenged,” said the Judge. 

That’s because it wasn’t. Nor did the duo even show because everyone knew they were guilty as sin.   

That included both of them which was why they hadn’t shown up in the first place. 

In short, it was meaningless where justice was concerned. 

Jho Low et al had a good laugh over the entire proceedings going on in Malaysia. The fat fraud had already been convicted in absentia by the Malaysian courts. Now it was only proper that his sister and his sidekick should follow suit. 

Justice should prevail, he reflected soberly. And he thought the whole “in absentia” stuff was swell. 

It affirmed his guilt but he remained free to do whatever he pleased.  

It included, but wasn’t limited to, fraud. Strictly speaking, though, Felonious’ crime wasn’t fraud. Given its scale, it was more like Grand Theft National if you really thought about it. 

Jibsworth aka former Premier Najib Razak and Fatso had stolen over US$4.5 billion (RM18.63 billion) from 1MDB, a sovereign wealth fund that they had set up to expressly defraud.   

Malaysian taxpayers are still paying off its debt. 

Let’s face it. Jibsworth has gotten off lightly so far. Despite his crime and his standing at the time of said theft, his original sentence of 12 years has been halved which means he may be released as early as 2026. 

Not only that. He’s applied for house arrest – unprecedented in this country – and that case is being heard as early as December 22.

It appears that when you’ve been a former premier, all sorts of new precedents appear. 

It does not seem to apply to former deputy premiers though: witness Anwar Ibrahim’s treatment during the tenures of both Dr Mahathir and Jibsworth.

There’s one fly in the ointment. That’s the MAIN verdict Jibsworth must be bracing himself for which is set for December 26. 

This is the result of the case against Najib regarding the entire 1MDB  scheme: the trial dragged on for almost two years. 

The previous 12-year sentence revolved around the theft of over  RM40 million from a 1MDB subsidiary. 

You could  say Jibsworth’s troubles aren’t over yet. Not by a long sentence…I mean, chalk.  

Digesting all this as thoughtfully as he might caviar, Felonious came to the same conclusion he’d  arrived at every time he thought of his former mentor: better him than me!

Felonious knew he had most things covered. He had no fear of hell and he thanked God he was an atheist.  

Better still, he was Rich with Other People’s Money and he could still look himself in the mirror. 

And if he occasionally stumbled over the truth, he was still able to pick himself up and continue. 

So long as he wasn’t anywhere near Malaysia. 

ENDS

Erica Jong is an American novelist whose 1974 bestseller Fear of Flying vividly captured the challenges faced by a Jewish poet living alone in New York City during the 1970s. 

Mirelle E is less well known. Even so, her book detailing the  challenges faced by an aspiring French chef struggling with a morbid fear of hot oil won plaudits. Fear of Frying went on to become a literary  smash.

Literary, yes. Culinary, not so much: an  irrational fear of hot oil can thwart the best intentions for boeuf bourguignon.

Most people have some minor phobias. The most common is social phobia or a fear of social interaction. 

Other common fears are those associated with snakes, heights, spiders and public speaking. 

I found out I had a phobia of using bridges over busy highways. I have no problem with bridges over water but for some inexplicable reason, the thought of having traffic moving under my feet gives me the heebie-jeebies. 

Solution: I avoid them like the plague and cross the street at the traffic lights instead. 

In China, this can be a challenge as an intersection can have as much as 10 lanes. Walking mighty fast is the prescribed way to go.

But some fears are really way out there, as weird as Al Yankovich.

There is Anatidaephobia which is an irrational fear of being watched by a duck.

Say you are an inordinate fancier of duck, preferably roasted in Peking. And then say you were walking in Central Park and become aware you are the subject of an intense, malevolent scrutiny: it usually comes from the duck pond. 

This is when strong men afflicted with Anatidaephobia head for the hills. 

There is a particular phobia that’s only associated with the leaders of Singapore. It’s called chidephobia and is characterised by an irrational,  obsessive, and deeply suspicious fear of chewing gum. The mere sight of someone chewing gum or it Just-Being-There can trigger consequences like a blanket ban.

Then there’s Cenosillicaphobia which is a fear of an empty beer glass. This is an honest-to-goodness anxiety, a vox-populi fear if you like, especially if said  “people” are patrons of a nearby pub.

An absolutely ridiculous fear is aibohphobia which is a fear of palindromes. A palindrome is, of course, a word or phrase that reads the same forwards or backwards. Examples would be “racecar”; “Dammit, I’m mad” or, “Able was I ere I saw Elba.”

Ironically, “aibohphobia” is also a palindrome. This revelation is generally sufficient to send said sufferer screaming into the night. 

Arachibutyrophobia has those afflicted fearful of having peanut butter stuck to the roof of their mouths. They should be given a public flogging and banned from eating the stuff. 

I’m convinced my wife has some sort of nomophobia which is a fear of being without a mobile phone. People with pogonophobia should never, ever travel to Afghanistan. The condition describes a fear of beards.  

Meanwhile, the Trumpinator has a fear of bad hair days followed by funerals.

It came to light after the recent passing of former US Vice-President Dick Cheney. The President wasn’t invited to the former Republican’s  funeral. Since he feared funerals anyway, it was no skin of the presidential nose but he couldn’t help himself. 

“Dick Cheney who was a loser and a terrible person will be lucky to get a thousand people at his funeral,” the Donald posted on Truth Social. “My funeral will draw MILLIONS.” 

Insisting that his demise would attract a record turnout, the President concluded: “Every day, people say to me, “Sir, I can’t wait for that day to come.” 

ENDS

A little stupidity can go a long way 

I’ve mixed feelings about artificial intelligence. 

It’s a tad too succinct for my taste. 

Example: a friend asked ChatGPT: Who is Dr Rebecca Sta Maria’s husband? Its reply was terse: “A Malaysian Indian.” No bells, no whistles.  I mean, really!

Not the best answer, I don’t think. 

Anyway, I asked it today: “Did the Romans really  learn shipbuilding from the Malays? 

Its reply was swift: No.  

And it paused meaningfully as if it wanted to add, “Duh!” 

I think artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity. And, as if to prove my point, there’s  Islamic University Professor Dr Solehah Yaacob who, in an academic treatise, claimed the ancient Romans learnt shipbuilding from the Malays. “We taught them everything they knew,” quoth the nutty professor. 

History indicates that Rome already had a formidable navy 264 years before Jesus. Meanwhile, there is no mention of a Malay Navy let alone a shipbuilding industry. 

There doesn’t seem to have been one 1,800  years later either: old Alfonso sailed up the Malacca River to claim its port in the name of Portugal’s King Manuel against little  opposition. 

Indeed, Solehah’s original premise attracted criticism from her peers who wished she would concentrate on more important matters like the position of bomohs in Malaysian society. 

Did Solehah balk?

Not by the hairs on her chinny-chin-chin. 

In a Facebook post that all but spluttered, the angry academic and self-styled  thought expert stood by her theory, which she said was “developed through extensive study of classical Arabic sources.”

“My hypothesis concerning the achievements of the Malays and the borrowings of the Romans may be right or wrong. However, in both our academic and Islamic traditions, we are taught to respect differing opinions,” she wrote.

It was a crafty dig at her detractors. The thought-expert was pointing out that her critics were wrong, if not unkind, to criticise her research if it was flawed because  she stood ready to  accept all “differing” views. 

“Unlike the Europeans, who were largely continental, the Malays were a maritime civilisation… I firmly believe that the Malays were among the first peoples in human civilisation to develop the art of shipbuilding.”

Malaysia has never displayed any indigenous shipbuilding capability, certainly not once since independence in 1957. The awkward academic does not consider the point relevant.

Among Asian countries, South Korea and Japan stand out as two countries that make vessels of intelligent design. China, however, is the most prolific. 

The lecturer has had a history of controversy. She once asserted that the Malays could fly: she did not cite any airline. 

She’s also cited The Onion as a research source. It’s anything but: The Onionis a US-based satirical read although its editors must have been delighted by its Solehah-induced elevation. 

The indignant Solehah now says she’s the victim of a “media lynching.”

Even her university has distanced itself from her remarks, saying it regrets her actions, “which have tarnished our reputation.” More ominously, it’s launched an internal investigation into the matter. 

The abrasive academic had the last word though, “I sincerely hope that all forms of slander, insult, disinformation, and ridicule will come to an end,” she concluded.

So do we and there’s a moral here. 

Talking cock can, and sometimes will, come back to haunt you. 

ENDS

If we are not supposed to eat animals, why are they made of meat?

It’s not easy being a pig.

On the one hand, you could feel like a leper in Biblical times, pursued by accusatory chants of “Yuck” or “Unclean!” 

And on the other, you might be regarded affectionately, even covetously. This is always perilous with flashing red lights written all over it. Heading for the hills with all possible haste is generally  recommended, as covetous eyes of that sort generally measure pigs as so much bak kut teh (braised pork ribs).

There’s even more swinish stuff in the adjectives associated with the beast. “Pig-like” is uniformly nasty whether in reference to one’s eyes or one’s behaviour.

But our story belongs to Buffalo, a city in the state of New York and close enough to Canada to render refrigerators redundant during winter. 

More importantly, our pig was a native of Buffalo and had been brought up by its owner, one Norman “Norm” Brezinzki, an affable Polish-American policeman who never met a beer he didn’t drink.

Everybody loved Norm because he loved life and lived it to the fullest. In 2016, for example, he gave up alcohol and women. 

He later confessed it was the “worst day” of his life. 

The life-loving cop also adored his food although he believed “you are what you eat” so he avoided fruit and nuts altogether. He thought steaks were as American as the flag and insisted bacon was an essential food group. 

In short, he did not so much eat food as inhale it and thought sacred cows made the best hamburger. 

He was also deeply prejudiced and felt vegetarians were Communist, homosexual, or both.

Even his friends noticed that farm animals like cattle, sheep, pigs and poultry seemed uneasy in his presence. Once, a goldfish in a neighbour’s tank actually suffered cardiac arrest after Norm stared at it. 

You can see which way this story is heading. By the way, did I mention that the pig he’d nurtured, nourished and fattened so lovingly was named Breakfast?

The same realisation did not escape the perspicacious porker either.  

As a sensitive swine of the sort that had seen Babe, Breakfast could read the writing on the wall. He could add up two and two just as well as the President and he’d noticed the signs: the covetous glances, those greedy eyes and, worse, the furtive sharpening of blades when Norm thought he was asleep.

He knew the stakes as well as anyone. A hen might contribute to bacon and eggs but, for the pig, it was a lifetime’s commitment. 

He was a sensitive grunter and so, as sensitive grunters go, he went. 

In short, Brezinski’s Breakfast Bolted. 

You might say the pig hogged the headlines the next day. 

Residents in Victor Place of Buffalo said their neighbourhood erupted into chaos Wednesday afternoon when “a large pig” ran through the area, chased locals and dug up gardens looking for truffles. 

Why truffles, you might ask? Why not, was the porcine perpetrator’s answer. 

He was terrified of Norm and had been planning the breakout for some time. The cop discovered a tunnel that led under his back fence. 

It was Breakfast’s finest hour or, as Hollywood would have it, The Boar Shank Redemption.

ENDS

“A malaprop walks into a bar looking for all intensive purposes like a wolf in cheap clothing, muttering epitaphs and casting dispersions on his magnificent other, who takes him for granite.“

The joke lies in “malaprop,” a mistaken use of a word in place of a similar- sounding one. It made the sentence very funny.  

In truth, many grammatical oddities in English can be amusing, even banalities like collective nouns. 

 A collective noun is a word used to name a group of people, animals, or things so that they might be treated as a single unit. An example would be a “team” of players.

How might we break this down further?  

In Malaysia we have pesky Mat Rempit and far too many Datuks for love or money. 

Maybe they might be grouped like so: a “nuisance of Rempit” or  an “irrelevance of Datuks.” 

It was a diehard Communist Nikita Khrushchev who dismissed politicians as being the same the world over. “They promise to build a bridge even when there is no river,” he grumbled to then US vice-president Richard Nixon. 

A “mendacity of politicians,” perhaps? 

Collective nouns for people are unsurprising as in a “band of musicians,” or a “flock of tourists.” 

But there is also a “bench of magistrates.” And, an “illusion of magicians” and a “coven of witches”.

Lest we forget, there’s  also a “piety of priests,” a “lying of pardoners,” and a “confederacy of dunces.” 

How would we group women of the night, those red-light temptresses? 

A “stable of prostitutes” perhaps,  even a “warren of whores?”

We up our game considerably  with excellent substitutes such as: a “tray of tarts,” a “flourish of strumpets” and, wait for it, “an anthology of pros.”

Collective  nouns for things or inanimate objects are more prosaic as in a “range of mountains” or a “fleet of ships.”

But there are phrases that trip off the tongue more felicitously such as a “giggle of clowns,” a “quiver of arrows” and a “riot of colour.” 

There’s also a “superfluity of nuns,” an ironic reference to the over-abundance of said species during  medieval times.

But the imaginative reach of the collective noun truly flourishes when used to group animals.

Who was the wordsmith who coined a “murder of crows” or a “parliament of owls.”  

Credit the  linguistic stylist who invented a “pandemonium of parrots” and a “shrewdness of apes.” 

There are stranger associations like a “plague of lemmings.” It’s largely associated with the animal’s propensity to  throw themselves en masse off the cliffs of Madagascar into the seas below. 

An Oxford wag used the trait as an argument for mass suicide. He scribbled this opinion on a bathroom wall in the university: “A 100,000 lemmings can’t be wrong.” 

Indeed, group descriptions pile up. There is a “flamboyance of flamingos”, a “crash of rhinos” and, a “business of ferrets.” 

Owing to their tendency to engage in deep and crafty machination, there is a “conspiracy of lemurs.” 

Finally, there’s an “unkindness of ravens,” a “wisdom of wombats” and a “tower of giraffes.” 

OK, this should satisfy even the most pedantic of pundits. 

ENDS