First Mobile Entry

This is my first mobile blog entry. Koolgiler. 5 years ago, the very thought of blogging on a phone was incomprehensible. 5 years ago, I wrote my personal experiences on a small diary. My readers were my mom and naughty little brothers. (they eventually found where I hid my diary) Now I have 500 readers everyday and can blog while taking a dump. What excellent use of spare time!

Action TVC in the Making

I'm currently finishing a storyboard for a video competition that I'm confident I will win. Yes, that's how confident I am. Harharharhar (ketawa riak)

It'll be my very first action video clip. Loads of car action, extreme action, action action and it's going to be well made, unlike this video:

Raya Rumble main-main je. This video I'm making is for a serious competition. I love competitions. What's there not to love? Experience, trophy, cool reception, money money money, ain't it funny? In Afiq Deen's world....

Samson the Dead Rat

This a tribute video dedicated to Samson the Dead Rat.

Hunger Strike Haram

The new Mufti Perlis, Datuk Dr. Juanda Jaya said that the practice of Hunger Strike is Haram because it is similar to a Hinduism and Buddhism practice.

This is a very stupid excuse.

If this is the logic used by the Mufti then everything started or initiated by Hindus or Buddhists is Haram like the consumption of:

If that is so, people who eats Nasi Beriyani (or more specifically, Nasi Royal) will receive 'musibah' or a godsent tragedy like suddenly becoming retarded like what happened to these innocent unknowing youngsters :

I prefer Mufti Johor, Datuk Mohd Tarir's excuse which is its haram "Because Muslims are required to take care of their own lives," Mohd Tahrir said.

Motorsikal Cap Ketiak

When I saw this hardcore biker cruising around on his customized bike, I was astonished, no, mystified with the innovation displayed. Imagine driving in a congested road in sweltering heat and suddenly, a cool and almost heavenly breeze swims pass your armpits.
This guy feels that way everytime he rides his bike!

Read the Novel Before or After the Movie?

Read the novel before or after watching the adaptation movie? Here's a guideline to help you decide.

If the novel is a popular, layman friendly and plot-driven piece of work, watching the movie first and the novel afterwards is advisable because:

1. You will not be satisfied with the movie's selection of scenes, script and flow of events and will regard the movie as being 'not as good as the book'.

2. Other people who have not read the book will feel annoyed by your constant ranting on what really happened in the book. Yes, we will either hate you for being a wet blanket or be indifferent with your 'Hermione' moment.

Example of novel/movie: Harry Potter, Slumdog Millionaire, Eragon, Dan Brown's Angels and Demons, Davinci Code their sequels.

If you just found out that a movie adapted from a fantasy novel is about to be released and you haven't read the novel yet, please consider whether or not you're capable of reading high fantasy novels because it's not for everyone. If you're not a fan of high fantasy (because if you already are, you must have read the novel years before the movie) it is advisable that you don't read the novel at all and proceed watching the movie because:

1. When elves speak their kin language in movies, there will be substitles. In novels, you have to learn Elvish.

2. Something that might have taken five days to understand in high fantasy novels can be understood in 5 minutes in movies.

Example of novel/movie: Lord of the Rings, Chronicles of Narnia, The Dark is Rising, The Golden Compass

If the novel is chic lit in nature, it doesn't matter whether you've read the novel or not before the movie because:

1. The movie compliments the novel. Chic lit novels are often less expressive and are scarce with narratives so the movie will paint a better picture of the background setting, character developments and overall feel.

2. The movie will enhance reading pleasure of the following sequels. Even the authours of chic lit novels will be influenced by the first adapted movie and will fashion their sequels to be in sync with the movie.

3. The plot in the movie will always be different from the adapted novel. Sometimes the script writers even went as far as to change the ending so for those who have read the adapted novel, it's like watching an entirely different story

Example of novel/movie: The Devil Wears Prada, Confession of a Shopaholic, Twilight (yes yes, Twilight is a chic lit. It's okay if you still think it's a fantasy chronicle. We understand)

If the novel is a piece of advance literature, it is advisable to read the novel more than once before watching the movie because:

1. There is a certain expectation when a movie is made based on a work of great literature so make sure you check the reviews made by pompous assed dick warts first before reading the novel.

2. Whether or not it is produced by a big Hollywood production company or a small time art house, you will find that reading the novel first will give you more insights when you watch the film. (I don't know why but when a movie is adapted from a piece of literature, people will call it a film, not a movie)

Example of novel/film: The Trial, The Cider House Rules, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Mrs Dalloway, Atonement


At first there were a few innocent touching of the wrist and before long, I felt someone pulling me to sit up. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. "Sini cepat." I heard a familiar voice. "Kenapa? Nak pinjam duit ke?" was me being unusually nice when drowzy or sleepy. As my blurred vision adjusted itself, I searched for my handphone and checked the time. 3.05 a.m. Bloody hell.
"Cepatlah sini..."
I scratched my head for a full minute and stood up. "Apa?"
"Kejap kejap." I scratched my full head of hair for another minute, hoping that the excessive blood would pump out from my penis and into my head. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1. Flacid. "Okay, jom"
Rangga was waiting impatiently by my bedside and motioned me to follow him. We called him Rangga because he looks like Rangga, the character from Ada Apa Dengan Cinta. I followed him through the corridors and into a dark deserted study room. "Nak aku tolong buat assignment ke" I asked. Rangga said nothing. Once we're inside the study room, he locked the door behind him. Rangga twitched his glorious nose in a direction of a curiously positioned plastic chair. I then noticed that the chair is the only visible object in the room because of the hanging lamp above it. As puzzled as I was, I asked Rangga. "Kau nak aku buat monologue kehidupan ke?"
I giggled. So lame, giggling at my own jokes. I sat down on the red chair and dangled my feet like an innocent child. Rangga switched on a few fluorescent lights and a dozen silhouttes of shirtless men materialized around me. There were six people at the open balcony and another six around the parameters, as if guarding the study room. Rangga dissapeared into the darkness as another guy appeared from behind. In that moment, the initial thought that ran through my head was "Fuck". It was like a vintage BDSM movie, minus the leather and whip (oh, and the women!)
"Mu!" A short but built Kelantanese fellow stood in front of me with menacing eyes. "Mu kecek bukan-bukan minggu lepas!" I frowned. "Kecek? Kecek tu apa?"
"Mu nih!" He growled, turned his back from me and suddenly came running towards me. I didn't move a muscle thinking Que Sera Sera, whatever will be, will be. He stopped short, snorted and mumbled in heavy Kelantanese accent. "Mu nampak tu?" he pointed the balcony with his thumb. Tu ado dua belas geng kami nak bincang nga mu!"
"Pasal apa?" I asked politely.
"Mu buak jari tengah dengan geng aku." I could tell that he was trying his best to speak as KL as possible from of his escaped lisp.
I rolled my eyes when I remembered what happened. I did show my middle finger to Rangga because he disturbed me when he threw tissue balls at me during english class. "Oh tu...."
"Hok tu, hok tu...." Shorty was aggitated by my calm demenour and signalled for the whole troupe to come nearer. I maintained my posture and said out loud. "Sesiapa yang sentuh aku, masuk lock-up and kena expelled!" Fear is a funny thing. It reveals what sort of person you really are and in my case, I was exposed of my most dreadful vice: out-of-this-word authoritarian. "Bapak aku polis."
The silhouttes of men around me took a few steps back instinctively. The second most dreadful vice of mine surfaced unexpectedly. I reached for my handphone in my pockets without them noticing and switched on the recorder. "Kau nak buat apa sekarang? Nak pukul aku? Pasal hal kecik tu pun nak pukul aku?"
"Mu kurang ajar, kami dua belas orang mu sorang! Mu ingat kami takut ayah mu polih?" I stared directly at his eyes and saw a little bit of fear welling in them. "Takut?" I asked him testily.
"Hambo pukul mu nanti!" He growled, turned his back from me and did the same intimidating routine he did earlier.
"Dahlah." I made sure he caught my eyes. My eyes were red in impending rage. "Aku nak pergi toilet, sakit perut." I stood up and in a flash, I was shoved back into the chair. The whole gang came running towards me, expecting me to put on a fight. I knew it. They wanted me to start a fight so I denied them of their expectation and sat back down. "Nak pergi toilet pun tak boleh? Kang aku berak sini kang ko nak jawab ke kat makcik cleaner?" I knew by then that my only way out is to surrender and apologize.
"Okay macam nilah. Aku minta maaf aku guna jari tengah. Okay? Settle? Alright." Shorty had nothing. He kept quiet for a while and talked to some of his friends in the dark. I knew this was uncalled for. I giggled a bit, knowing they had no proper procedure to deal with people like me. "Okay? Amacam? Senang je nak settle, pastu kita semua boleh tido." I shouted.
"Oi tutup mulut mu!" Shorty looked at everyone around the study room and nodded, as if having reached a concession. "Mu pergi toilet, hambo ikut mu. Pahtu mu datang balik sini. Mu pahe?"
"Jom." Shorty unlocked and opened the door. I walked towards the door and just before I got out, I faked a fall. "Kan aku cakap tadi, belasah aku sikit pun, korang semua kena expelled!" my engine loud voice boomed across the corridor. "Let them think about that while I relief myself" I thought to myself. I spent 10 minutes in the cubicle waiting. Waiting for each of them to rethink their stupidity and its consequences. Waiting for the ring leader to lose focus. Waiting for help.
As I got out of the cubicle, Shorty asked me speed it up and when we got back to the study room, there were only three people left. Dazed, Shorty asked me sit still while he calls back his minions. I sat still and saw Rangga leaning on a nearby wall. "Kalau ko tak lepaskan aku, first aku akan bagitau Head of Architecture pasal ni so ko ngan kawan ko kena expelled, lepas tu aku bagitau bapak aku so ko kene tangkap masuk lock-up, last sekali aku akan panggil family lawyer and saman family ko sampai bankrap." I told him in a threatening tone, quiet enough to not be heard by the remaining minions but loud enough for him to digest every word. It was incumbent to me that I had to lie to seed fear in him. My father retired and we have no family lawyer but I was serious about the expulsion.
Shorty came back to the study room alone and talked to Rangga for a few minutes. Finally, Shorty told me to go back to sleep and pretend like nothing ever happened. I agreed.
Once I got back to my room, a roommate asked me what happened. I knew he knew what happened. I told him to save his crap for later and tell Rangga and his friends that all of them will be expelled and arrested by tomorrow. I also told him that I recorded what happened and will use the sound clip as proof to arrest the motherfuckers.
Half an hour later, twelve buff Kelantanese guys lined up to beg for forgiveness. I requested each of them to kneel down and apologize to me in person so I could remember their faces, just in case.
I later discovered that what happened to me is a product of a common Kelantanese culture called Gedebe.

Ketua Saintis Dunia is a Fraud?

Oh yes, no doubt about it. First of all, there is no such thing as a Ketua Saintis Dunia. That position does not exist.
He has Attention Deficit Disoder and Grandiose Delusion Disoder. Take a look at one of his 'genius' math technique:

1 = 2?

If I were to speculate, this ex-math teacher had a circuit in his brain accidentally cut off when marking hundreds of his students' math exam papers. I mean, 1 = 2?
If there's one thing I know about math, it's the only 'certain' and logical thing in the world. In the philosophical aspect of Mathematics, one is of oneness, of having one God, one earth, one person. Two deals with the concept of duality, of having good and evil, big and small, black and white.
Down to the very core of mathematics, 2 is not the equivelant of 1.
It is only possible before the big bang, before the root of creation as we know it. Before there was any movement that governs time, numbers, speed and measurement perceptible to human beings.

Mr Abdul Halim Bustaman needs help. With his math and his brain. If you think his genius math techniques are relevant in this world and would like to have him as your children's math teacher, call him up: 013-6655254. If not, don't tell me that he's not crazy because otherwise you'll contradict yourself.

And that (self-contradiction) is the first sign of being Mental!

Random Talking Pictures

Dia Ketua Saintis Dunia. He carried around heavy books and magazines and read them with magnifying glass so big that it could light a flame on a page. He's not fit for society man! Tanjung Rambutan should have their own fucking hotline.
I was driving in the middle of the night and saw a very cool plate number. I gave chase to the car so I can take a picture of the plate. The driver thought it was a hostile chase and rushed to the nearest police station. She stopped in front the police station and I followed through. Snap. I left after taking the above picture, leaving the poor woman scared shitless in her car.
I made apple crumble pie for Tok's Mother's Day celebration. Thank you Auntie Tijah for teaching me how to make this sedap-nak-mampos dessert.

I taught Suhail how to ice-skate. I'm a self-made expert mostly because I'm a competent roller blader. It was his birthday so I decided that the best gift is to teach him a useless but cool skill. A few days later I realized how gay we might have looked to curious spectators. Yelah, holding a male friend's hand and ankles around the ice rink is not exactly heterosexual-looking.

I've never been beaten in Scrabbles my whole life. Seriously. Never. I am very competitive in games like Scrabble or Sahiba that I will do anything there is to do to win including using dirty and suggestive words. Me No Shy. Check out my recent win in the picture above. Notice the word orgy, dicks (and pixie?) Yeah, tact is no longer relevant when playing scrabbles.

I cried because I had creative differences with the photographer.

They called it Sushi Tak Jadi. I don't blame them, they don't understand art.

Don't Go. Stay.

My mother and two brothers will be migrating to Australia in a few days. My mother have been fighting her whole life. Like a seasoned guerilla, fighting is all she knows how to live. Living there will not be easy, not in this economy. I personally think it's a reckless decision but who am I to tell her what to do with her life?

She taught me everything there is to know about life. She taught me how to think outside the box, how to be a good salesman and how to stand up on my own feet. The most precious life lessons she gave me was her own life: her mistakes and achievements, her ups and downs, her rise and fall and the pattern of it all. I commended her for her fiery spirit but condemned her for the coals she used to sustain that fire.

And despite everything that happened between us,

I still and will always love her.


I was watching Jamie Oliver's Pukka Tukka while translating the ingredients to Bahasa Melayu so Tok could write it down in Jawi in her recipe notebook. Young Jamie Oliver was cooking braised chicken with red peppers, mouthing 'Pukka Tukka' now and then.Tok loves watching his shows and refers him as Chef Mat Salleh Yang Cakap Macam Takdak Gigi Tu.
20 minutes passed as Jamie mixed the braised chicken with red peppers to be sauteed. I was translating the whole program like a professional Word Debate translator and Tok was writing furiously like a Jawi newspaper reporter.
"Dia campuq skali lada merah dengan ayam tadi."
"Lepah tu?"
"Lepah tu dia boh bawang yang dia goreng asing tadi."
"Lepah tu?"
"Manalah Afiq tau, dia tak buat pa lagi! Oh, lepah tu dia boh wain Chardonnay."
I looked back and saw Tok tearing a whole page.
"Awat Tok?"
"Dia guna arak, mana boleh makan. Haram."
Is it haram to add wine into sauteed dishes? In my limited experience, white wine will lose its alcohol content when sauteed. Even if there are traces of alcohol left in the sauteed dish, it will not make people drunk, not even a bit.
I never doubt myself when I eat dishes that has white wine, red wine or rum because it cannot make anyone drunk. Consumption of alcohol is haram when it is abused to cause intentional numbness of the mind. As far as I'm concerned, tapai is more likely to make me drunk than any dish mixed with wine.
Methyphobia in Malaysia is legendary. There was a time when even perfumes with alcohol is considered haram. There were even alternative 'Islamic perfumes' with no added alcohol.
It is understandable that a lot of Muslims consider using white wine in their cooking haram because having white wine in the kitchen cabinets will somehow prompt alcohol consumption. But then again, almost all toilets at home have alcohol readily available for the whole family: Listerine!

The Biggest Loser

I had difficulties breathing yesterday. It was scary. I didn't tell anyone because I don't want them to be worried and make a big fuss out of it. After dinner I had a pinching sensation in my chest. It's a sign. I'm not healthy.

I'm known to be a glutton. My friends even go as far as to call me Lubang Hitam and Perut Tujuh. But I never get myself fat so far. I've been plump, berisi and 'sihat' but never fat. This is because everytime I go back to campus, the food there is disgusting and the cafeterias serve the same bloody thing everyday so I will restrain myself from eating these unGodly abominations.

But what will happen when I graduate? When I work? Delicious food will be in abundance and I might not be able to control my weight anymore.

I weighed myself last night and discovered that I'm the heaviest I've ever been! 78kg. "Hey wait, I don't look 78kg!" I then stripped off my shirt and looked at myself in the mirror. My abs are no longer visible. My chest looks like sacks of flour. My whole physique looks sloppy and slightly mutated. The initial thought that ran through my mind was "What the Fuck?"

So I made a bet with my brother Hadi to motivate me to start leading a healthy lifestyle with exercise and nutritional diet. In two weeks, we will weigh each other and whoever lose the most weight will win. The loser has to dance to Katey Perry's Hot and Cold in front of a camera and youtube it!

(dramatic music)

Who will be The Biggest Loser?

Follow my twitter to follow my Two Weeks Biggest Loser progress.

"One Barbecue Fries Auntie, BIG"

Auntie nodded and open a packet of frozen fries with a pair of harmless children scissors. She weigh the fries with her hands and put a handful into the fryer at a time. While it fries, she folded a red tissue paper into a functional origami-ed bouquet. She wrote 'BBQ' in cursive on the tissue paper and put it in a small plastic bag, stopping every 10 seconds to stir the frying fries.
I fidgeted and smacked my lips impatiently. Ah fuck, lambatnye Auntie ni!
After the fries goldened, she lifted the strainer and let the fries cool down for 2 minutes. While waiting for the fries to cool down, she peppered salt into the plastic wrapper and jiggle the wrapper a bit. Because of the immense heat of her frying station, the salt melted onto the red tissue paper. She then hanged the wrapper near the glass display case where it is cooler so the melted salt hardened, glazing the otherwise feeble structure of the red tissue paper.
After 2 minutes of waiting for the fries to cool down, Auntie transferred the fries from the strainer into a plastic jug. She added a pinch of salt, two teaspoons of barbecue flavoured spice and half a teaspoon of MSG to stimulate the sixth taste the Japanese calls the Umami. She closed the jug with its cover and shook it diagonally and horizontally for a full minute. She opened the cover of the jug and gingerly picked up the fries with a tong and put them into the plastic wrapper. She then wore a glove and rearranged the fries so the fries were all horizontal like newly sprouted grass.
My face was literally red. I couldn't comprehend the meticulous preparation of one pack of barbecue fries. I felt that it was done purposely to annoy the living hell out of me. I mean, what if there were more customers? Surely she would speed up her whole preparation procedure. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it was because I was a new customer and this is her way to introduce me to her fries. Whatever her reason might be, I was pissed.
"Kenapa lambat sangat Auntie?" I asked testily.
"Sorry ah Ah Chai. Empat ringgit."
As I picked out four one ringgit notes from my wallet, I walked to the side of her humble stall and saw her face that was hidden all along behind her own stall.
She was crying. Oh God, what have I done?
"Auntie, kenapa Auntie menangis?" I asked nonchalantly, expecting a practical explaination like a speck of spice got into her eyes or something like that.
"Sorry ah Ah Chai, Auntie buat fries lambat sebab anak Auntie suka ini macam. Dia punya feveret BBQ fries. Tiap-tiap hari ah, Auntie buat satu BBQ fries bagi dia makan lepas dia balik tuition." She took the four ringgit.
"Owh.." I nodded. "Lepas tuition sekejap lagi dia datang makan fries Auntie la?"
"Anak Auntie sudah mati." She cleaned up her working station with a hardened face. "Lepas itu accident, Auntie mai kerja sini buat fries." A sob escaped from her. "Itu macam, bila Auntie masak fries Auntie boleh ingat sama dia."
My heart dropped. The blood from my head rushed down to the centre of my heart so fast that I had to sit down and take a breather. I closed my eyes to prevent my tearducts from working. This is a public place. I will not be caught dead crying here. Not without a valid reason like a speck of spice got into my eyes or something like that.
I stood up, shook Auntie's hands and apologized to her for being so impatient.
The fries were delicious but every bite reminded me of her story. Every bite sent a bitter aftertaste eventhough it was actually a bit salty. It was bittersalty. I can't even muster enough courage to chew the fries properly before swallowing but I knew I had to finish the fries before it becomes soggy. Soggy fries never bothered me before but I felt that Auntie poured so much love into her fries that I better eat it while it's hot like her son would've done.

Mistreated, Cheated and Exiled

I'm all for capitalism. Hariz believes in socialism.
"Happiness comes from contentment," he said. "and socialism provides equality that can only produce contentment."
I understood every word he said even though I doubt he knows the full extent of socialism. Decades ago, the Parti Komunis Malaya were Malaysia's socialism frontliners. PKM sprouted when the Japanese forces temporarily invaded Malaya and performed countless casualties on chinese in Malaya.
I visited PKM's stronghold at Thailand and saw the blood stains and debris of PKM's struggle. There were all signs of undisputed valour but it is what it is. Blood stains and debris.
When family members of chinese living in Malaya were killed and threatened, they turned to Chairman Mao and joined Parti Komunis Malaya. Chairman Mao educated them with his brand of political doctrine and urged them to fight the Japanese. The British aided PKM with weapons and just after the Japanese left Malaya, the British turned their backs on PKM and labelled them as terrorists. PKM members spent decades of their lives in tunnels like these:
They ate, slept, trained and even got married in these tunnels, only to be constantly attacked by the Japanese, British and later, the Malaysian government.
Their struggle bore nothing but despair and sadness. Chairman Mao who promised them with a sizeable pension discarded them like yesterday's newspaper. To this very day, the Malaysian government enforced a compulsary 4 years prison time for old PKM members to reenter Malaysia.
Millions of people fought for socialism. Millions of people died for socialism. Millions of people spent their whole lives to make socialism a reality, only to realize that socialism is just a worse kind of today's capitalism. Socialism is how capitalists use convenient ideologies to make profit from people's blood and sweat.
So that's what I think Hariz.
I think socialism is a big scam. Che Quevara had ADD. The revolution is just a counterculture. A temporary yet destructive counterculture.

Contoh Borang

When I passed the Thai-Malaysia border, I saw a sample form for people who uses border pass to visit Thailand. Of all people, the Malaysian immigration used Fernando Torres as the example.
What can I say? They are pretty accurate except for the birthday. But seriously, even the Thai border used Kap Sinawart, a typical Thai name.
I mean, where's our sense of nationalism? If we were to use a football player, we should've used Mokhtar Dahari!

500 Baht Only, I Give You Good Time...

My trip to Hatyai is like any other typical Malaysians' minus the sex, heavy drinking and senseless shopping. Minus the secret mistresses, elopement and cigarettes in bulk.
Malaysians in Hatyai are like Arabs in Kuala Lumpur.
It's a testing ground for young adults who are keen on experimenting the joy of travelling without their parents. It's a sex Mecca for men with middle age crisis. It's a shopping heaven for lonely housewives.
Just imagine if the whole family found each other here. Abah with his ladyboy companion, Mak with her lifetime saving spent on sacks of silver tiffins and Along who reeks of cannabis. I would pay good money to watch what happens next.

Sabah bah!

Meet Abu Bakar Ellah, the quintessential Sabahan for many semenanjung Malaysians. That's what Sabahans call people from the peninsular: Orang Semenangjung. Even though I was born in Penang, I spent most of my childhood in the Land Below the Wind.

When I first came to Sabah, the first heavily accented sabahan


Remember the Hmmm.. Hijrah video I made a few weeks ago? I submitted it to Filem Negara for a competition and was invited to the prize giving ceremony. Filem Negara did not mention whether or not I was shortlisted or anything like that so I wasn't expecting anything to happen. I was even convinced that I will only go there to have lunch and get a participation certificate before going back to Alor Setar.
I even told my cousin that I will bring along an extra pair of shoes that I could use to throw at the organizers if they didn't give me anything to bring back like the customary participation certificate and free mug.
But when I registered my name, I was informed that I was seated at the top 10 table. Ohmaigod. The gentle and harmless butterflies in my stomach evolved into wolf-vulture hybrids. I began to revised my videos and asked the other contestants about their videos.
After the speeches by VIPs, they announced the top5 and I was one of them. We were asked to stand in front of the crowd when they announce the winner. This never happens before. What are they thinking? This is not Akademi Fantasia or American Idol! Shortly after forming a line on the stage, they announced the winner.
Okay fine. I didn't win. So what did I get? 2nd? 3rd? Apparently, there were no first runner up or second runner up positions, just the top 5 title. So I thought to myself, I have to see the winner's video. He must be really really good. And then the most unexpected thing happened. The winner's trophy cracked and broke apart. Oh man, this is so typical especially for a competition organised by the government: Lack of quality and over-emphasis on the VIPs.
After the VIPs gave away the trophies, they showed the winners' video. I watched the video intently and made my own personal verdict. "What bullshit!" I thought out loud. I thought the competition is about creativity. Since when is a slide show of a university creative? But then again, it's a Filem Negara competition. I mean, I'm not being cruel when I say that RTM made the worst commercial videos in Malaysia. It's just the way it is. A stagnant and complacent environment results stagnant and complacent products and mindset.
I went home with a trophy and a scroll container containing a note that says that a certificate will be sent promptly along with a RM500 cheque by post. Segala kesulitan amat dikesali.