An aside: OKU versus OKS *

We came back from a regular outing in One Utama shopping centre last Saturday, almost close to Maghrib and nonetheless made a quick stop to Ampang Point to buy some grocery produce for dinner.

Since Sadia was napping, I waited in the car with her on my lap while hubby went to the Giant Supermarket located in said shopping centre. Customarily, I'd text the grocery list to his phone so as to minimise the risk of forgetting certain items or losing the piece of paper with a list on it.

Formalities aside, this particular story involves my husband's experience in the crammed supermarket. Well, it feels crammed especially with all the hypermarkets mushrooming in the Klang Valley.

Anyway, after finding said items in the narrow supermarket aisles, he was putting the stuff on the conveyor belt at the check-out cum cashier counter. While he was doing so, someone from behind flung a plastic full of oranges (or some fruits) to the front of hubby's lined items. It was as if by doing so this person had claimed a spot (or as they say it in Malay, "Chop") in the front of hubby's. What? Other people were lining up too, man!

He said in Malay by way of explaining to my husband's incredulous look, "Saya satu barang je." (I have one item only)

As if those mere words would justify his sudden turn of rude behaviour.

My husband retorted "Kalau setengah barang pun kena beratur jugak" (Even if it's half an item, one still needs to queue)

After a few seconds of silence and as the cashier scanned his item, he made a shocker of all gestures - he showed my husband his cane. "Nampak ni?" (See this?) Supposedly, this was the cue for my husband to turn contrite and be sympathetic to the man, who looked like he was in his 40s.

Still unfazed, hubby replied back, "Tak kira lah bawak roda ke, kalau dah biadab biadab jugak" (It doesn't matter if it's wheels (as in wheelchairs), when one is rude, there is no two ways about it)

After that, he mumbled to himself right until the moment he disappeared from sight. Probably he was in disbelief that hubby didn't bite his 'bait'.

Let me clarify some things:

(1) My husband wouldn't have minded if the person cut his queue had he asked nicely. "Excuse me, I have only one item here, do you mind if I go first?" Or something like that.

(2) The cashier should have been stern and said No to him cutting queue, no matter what his physical condition was.

I was laughing out loud when he related the story to me in the car. The way the person hurled his plastic package full of fruits onto the running belt as if he was participating in some Telematch show and the fact he brandished the staff to get a "Get Out of Jail Free Card" is just as surreal as it is unbelievable.

Hubby now believes that common courtesy is almost non-existent, to which I wholeheartedly concur.

And right about then, a car zoomed abruptly from the right lane into our lane without signalling.

We rest our case.


* OKU - Orang Kurang Upaya - the politically-correct term in Malay for the handicapped and elderlies.

* OKS - Orang Kurang Sopan - my own version for rude, boorish people.

Reminiscing Delft

On a blue, not to mention grey, day like today, one can't help but to reminisce about the good old times back in Delft. Carefree and uncomplicated days with my loved ones without having to worry about any single thing at all. Well, not exactly 'anything' but you get the idea. A selfish prospect, I must admit, but sometimes one just want to break free from the past which is ever eager to cast a pall over one's glimpses of happiness.

Being characteristically over-analytical doesn't help either. My thoughts will be jumbled up by a host of present problems which are usually old, unresolved issues that can morph themselves into future boiling points, and spin off into other off-tangent matters. You don't say? You've been there too? That's what you get for staying at home as opposed to channelling all that nervous energy into some cash-cow operations.

Speaking of work, anyone interested in hiring a freelance writer? I am game on writing about anything save for sports. :P

As the title of this blog suggests, I plan to allocate some electronic space for my final week in Delft, way back in mid-August 2007. Lest my memory be swallowed by the signs of time, herewith are snippets for purpose of posterity.

The last few days were the hardest. At one point or rather, I was in a state of denial that we were leaving. It was just hunky dory going along with our normal routine that I was sad that it would all come to a screeching end. Screeching in the sense because hubby had thrown the idea of going back earlier than expected at the start of the month of August. Since he was not due for work until September, I had happily thought that we could go back a few days before that fateful date.

However, that notion turned out to be both foolish and selfish. The overriding factor that changed our mind was Sadia. She had to acclimatize, so to speak, to living in Malaysia before hubby reported for duty. That would in turn give me an extra set of hands for a two-week duration to help in the adjustment process. It would simply be irresponsible for my hubby to just chuck us out at home while he went straight to work, without formulating some ground rules in case of emergency and other necessities.

Two subsets falling under the 'Sadia' reason were finances and house-cleaning. After taking into account the currency exchange, it would be more prudent to spend our remaining Euros back in Malaysia as compared to staying in the Netherlands and its relatively high cost of living. Conserving cash was uppermost in our minds. Or is it my husband's mind? Hehe.

Also, a one-year absence would make our apartment in Ampang a magnet for dust and lice, thus direly needing a through clean-up. After our arrival in KL, my husband even went back first to the apartment and left me and Sadia in Kota Damansara so that he could at least clear the bedroom mainly for Sadia's benefit. Thanks dear for doing your best.

Therefore, two weeks would give us plenty of time to readjust. Or so we thought.

Now, back to Delft, we managed to hire a shipping company to transport back a total of five items - two bags and 3 boxes. The service was reasonably priced and we had the option to insure - from a stated minimum amount of course - the goods according to our budget. The company - which is affiliated with KLM - informed us that our stuff would get to KL the latest in two weeks' time. But as I wrote here that didn't happen. The movers came on Tuesday of our final week.

Here's a recap from Monday to Friday:

(1) Monday, 13th - We hosted a makan-makan for fellow Malaysian friends - Ahmad, Ju and family with Najo and her hubby, July. We served them Laksa Sarawak and a great spot of Apple Crumble, among others.

(2) Tuesday, 14th - After the movers came that morning, we headed out the door for our last Amsterdam jaunt. Here's the entry on that trip which includes a boat ride in the canals and walking down Albert Cuyp street market.

(3) Wednesday, 15th - Tired after our Amsterdam hike the day before, we decided to stay in Delft and enjoy the day, feeding the ducks and pigeons at Delft Plaza. Of course, there was that gradual packing and re-packing. I wanted to spend some time sipping coffee on the Plaza that I sat down at one cafe while my two loved ones threw bird seeds on the cobblestones. I even took some photos of them in action from my vantage point at the cafe. As wont, we took turns having our cuppa. Oh yeah, Riza also came by earlier that morning to get some stuff that we planned to leave behind.


(4) Thursday, 16th - This was when the panic started to kick in. Albeit temporarily. We went to Schiphol to pick up our plane tickets only to find out the ticketing counter worked so efficiently that it had closed by lunchtime (That was sarcasm, by the way). We wanted to spend the day roaming around the Thursday street market so that we came back to Delft shortly before business wound down. We also bought more bird seeds but the temperamental cold weather deviated a flock of pigeons from visiting the Plaza.





5) Friday, 17th - Even though we were pressed for time, we decided to go to Schiphol again in the morning so as to avoid any unnecessary headache simultaneously checking-in and getting our flight tickets on the same day of departure - Saturday. Our route home from Schiphol passed through Den Haag that, on the spur of the moment, we hopped down to Den Haag for lunch. This was despite having said our long goodbye to the quaint city the previous weekend. We were tired and hungry from all the train commuting and wanted a quick bite. And Sadia was getting antsy from having to woken up earlier than usual. On the way back to the Den Haag station, we dropped by the park at Malieveld to watch and feed the ducks, swans and other animals.

At home, even with last minute cleaning and packing, we managed to take pics of Sadia's final bath in her faithful green tub. It was a sad moment. The reality finally sank together with Sadia's bath toys. After putting Sadia to bed, we cleaned the rest of the apartment, cooked Sadia's food and tried to squeeze whatever we could into the bags. (Oh yeah, we even bought new duffel bags in Den Haag that day for stuff that kept mounting up, but we still couldn't fit EVERYTHING!)

Good bye dear Delft! Till We Meet Again!

Brewing Trouble

Two Saturdays ago found us sitting down in the Mid-Valley ('MVM') branch of San Francisco Coffee ('SF') to take a little breather from our usual shopping jaunt whereupon we ordered Cappuccino for ourselves and a huge croissant for Sadia.

After several sips of said concoction, we were horrified to find ours to have a bitter and even burnt aftertaste.

My husband also saw that they already put aside some brewed 'black gold' in a plastic container and used that to make requested beverages. And I thought to myself: Isn't every order made from scratch?

The following Tuesday while waiting for hubby to finish work, I lolled about in SF at KLCC - Sadia sleeping on one shoulder - and had a skinny latte and a cream cheese onion bagel. The latte tasted great, unlike the one served in MVM. In fact, the coffee there has always been superb and this particular joint is a favourite amongst the foreigners (read: expats and visiting businessmen) talking shop on one of those tables with chrome chairs.

As I sat there soaking the scene, my eyes caught sight of the SF paper filler on the tray that held my drink and food. On it, SF congratulated the three winners for its annual Barista Competition for 2007. One of them is from the KLCC joint while the other two hail from the Citibank building franchise store and the Suntech branch in Singapore. In fact, I was earlier served by said KLCC winner. Does that explain why their coffee is much superior to the crappy one I got in MVM?

Almost everybody knows that I'm a coffee aficionado and thanks to the wonders of technology, the probability of people NOT knowing is close to nil. :)

And my love affair with Starbucks is legendary, with the lengths that I go to describing my amore for their robust cuppa. So when I read about this global chain's dwindling sales, specifically in the States, I was a trifle surprised.

I know some people are not happy with the fact that Starbucks has become a household name and lost its edge in terms of novelty and exoticism.

As Mr. Vuleta, a consultant put it succinctly in a related article:

“We all remember our initial encounters with Starbucks: the exoticism of new language, space, sounds and smells,” Mr. Vuleta said in an e-mail message. “Fast-forward a decade, and the first thing that jumps out is that the mystique that so thoroughly defined the initial experience is conspicuously absent — trampled in the stampede of proliferation.”

He suggests that Starbucks get back to basics, emphasizing the role of its baristas and focusing on the quality of its coffee, promoting “the theater of the craft and bold celebration of the provenance of the bean.”

I was more disturbed to find out that the US-based Starbucks features fully automated machines that take over the role of a barista (what is Starbucks without a Barista?!) and expands its range of food menu that inadvertently causes the brand to look and sound more like a fast-food joint than a café.

Like many well-known brands out there such as Coca-Cola and McDonalds, Starbucks is expected to hit the wall sooner or later and must come up with a new strategy to rejuvenate its stale image. For one, the management should stop daydreaming about reaching its lofty target of 40,000 stores worldwide and concentrate on bringing back that 'neighbourhood feeling' that conjures up whenever one utters the word Starbucks.

As the hackneyed saying goes, "Too much a good thing is never good." In the case of Starbucks, too many stores in the U.S. has diluted the Starbucks experience and caused haywire in terms of maintaining similar, refined standards in each and every store. If the relatively small fry, Malaysian-based coffee chain San Francisco Coffee can screw up my order, what can be said and expected of a corporate behemoth like Starbucks whose store counts as of 2007 stand at 15,011!

People in the States have been complaining endlessly that Starbucks is no longer cool, has lost its soul, feels commercialised and so forth. Understandably that's bound to happen to a company that has been around for more than a decade. The loss of novelty, coupled with the problem of market over-saturation, provide all the necessary ingredients for a business slump.

I have to agree with what the analysts and authors are imploring: Starbucks cannot continue to rest on its laurels and to be nostalgic about the past. The past is done and over with. There's more competition in the market now and other variables like cost, suppliers and locations figure largely in a store's lasting prospect. Starbucks has to wipe the slate clean and rethink its business model, possibly by way of competing either on price or superior, quality products.

Save and except for marriage and religion, I wouldn't be caught dead sticking only to Starbucks even after I came back from a pre-Starbucksian country, Holland. (Interestingly, as of August last year, it boasts only one Starbucks and that is INSIDE the EU departure hall of Schiphol!) Don't get me wrong. I love Starbucks through and through. Sometimes though, people need a change of scenery and in their tastebud once in a while, so that they would come back to their routine (read: Starbucks) fully recharged. Perhaps Starbucks should bear this in mind and strategise a formidable comeback plan accordingly. Believe me, after 'vacationing' in SF or Coffee Bean, I'd happily gravitate back to Starbucks.

As for over-saturation in Malaysia, I don't see it coming anytime soon especially after learning from its American counterpart's experience (putting Starbucks stores within a few radius from one another doesn't make any sense at all). I, for one, would like to see a 'neighbourhood' Starbucks in the suburbia of Ampang (read: from Pekan Ampang to Bukit Belacan onwards) so as to enable easy access to a morning picker-upper. If Dataran Sunway in my old town of Kota Damansara can house a Starbucks among its shoplots, it makes more perfect, financial sense to open a Starbucks in the high density area of Ampang?

Can anyone seriously look into this, pretty please with whipped cream on top?

Sadia the Warbler

Here's our little muffin singing the ABC before going off to bed.



She's also a big fan of In the Night Garden now, always wanting to watch the short clips on YouTube. We have already bought two books on her favourite characters at Times Bookstore - the only place that seems to carry them. We had seen In the Night Garden in the Netherlands when it made its debut on BBC. We had thought it was a boring and slow-paced children show but apparently it had captured Sadia's imagination and attention.

Let's hope Astro (or non-Astro) will carry this series soon!

Cling wrap and such

Last night, I was wrapping the cling film around the pseudo-pyrex oval container containing the gooey chocolate pudding that my husband had whipped up out of a whim. Probably it was to counteract the sour performances on AF Session 6. But I'm digressing.

As I carefully clung the transparent film, my mind was jolted to the time when I visited a good college friend of mine, Amy in New York during the summer of 2002.

My memory bank sifted to the exact point in time to the remark Amy had made after I asked her "Why do you call it that?" I was referring to the fact that she called the cellophane tape "Scotch tape" as opposed to its generic name of cellophane tape.

She matter-of-factly offered that Americans usually use the pioneering brand to refer to certain everyday, consumer items. Thus explains Scotch Tape is for cellophane tape, Saran Warap for cling wrap, and Post-it for that slip of adhesive notepaper. Other food items include Cola for carbonated drinks, Cornflake is for the typical breakfast cereal and Jell-O for gelatin-like desserts. Oh yes, there is also Xeroxing that is used to describe photocopying.

I actually look up this phenomenon on the Net and it is called genericized trademark. For more information, please go here, here and here.

Incidentally, I wonder if there is a compilation for Malaysian's version of generic trademark. Perhaps, perceptive readers out there can shed light on the matter?

Uh oh, I'm sidetracked yet again.

The New York jaunt to see Amy was a fun diversion for the primary purpose of my visit stateside. Following a rut at work and in my relationship (or lack thereof), I seriously wanted to clear my head and take it easy. The five-year reunion invite of Class of '97 provided the chance for me to ruminate on my life. Or, on the flip side, to run away from it.

Whatever it was, I was more than happy to get away from it all. It was a welcome breather seeing a close buddy of mine who was, at the time, pursuing a Masters Programme in Journalism in Columbia University. That also meant I got to bunk in with her for free! With her room mates away for the summer, we had the pad all to ourselves to catch up on things.

She showed me around the must-see tourist spots of New York like the Statue of Liberty, Wall Street, Times Square, Macy's, Rockefeller Centre and Bloomingdales. I especially love the cafes that she had brought me including Serendipity 3 (featured in the film 'Serendipity' starring John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale) and the one featured in You've Got Mail where Kathleen Kelly waited for her mysterious online friend, viz Joe Fox.

Amy, the intelligent and worldly Mid-Western, has a very impressive gift for writing and is interested in learning about other cultures and travelling the world. She is unlike most of the other college mates I'd come to know who either kept a distant with foreigners or maintained a superficial rapport with us, non-US residents.

There are many wonderful memories that I'd shared with Amy, such as going on a road trip to that theme park, Cedar Point during Senior Class Weekend and attending the JPW (Junior Parents Weekend) with her and her parents who had 'adopted' me for the night.

One funny incident involved the time when her then-boyfriend, K piggybacked me through the stairway all the way from the second floor to the ground floor of the woman dormitory where we had resided. That happened during our Sophomore year. I forgot what had actually entailed which possessed him to carry me - it was probably either a bet between him and Amy or between me and him - but it was totally unexpected and hilarious all the same. People who saw us must have thought we were high on something! But the Hawaiian K was like a brother to me that I forgave him almost immediately. It sure took the stress away from our finals!

Naturally, like all friendships, ours went through the usual periods of peak and trough. As an individualistic American, Amy is quite used to saying her piece and prefers to spend her downtime alone. I found myself having to carefully navigate these two traits so as I won't be seen as being too needy and too accommodating. I must show that I too was independent, even though at times I lapsed into a state of helplessness and loneliness.

I still remember the time when a misunderstanding ensued which I attribute to the collision of our different personalities, following a five-year period of being out of sync. She made it clear that she's Type A when it comes to being punctual and on time. The clueless me really didn't think it was a major problem since I was an old friend visiting but after several times being late, she was full of annoyance and left me in a huff.

Apart from those hiccups, our friendship has stood the test of time. We might not be communicating as often, nor are we physically there to vent out to each other. Yet, it's interesting how things have unfold in a span of more than 10 years.

And how such an ordinary and simple domestic act like Saran-wrapping could release a deluge of unexpected yet pleasant reminiscence.

Of Mice and Men

What is it with men and power? Haven't they heard that absolute power corrupts absolutely?

Be it in politics or in the corporate world, men tend to abuse their power to advance their avaricious agendas and proliferate their influence.

When we talk about power, it is always associated with an enviable position, a coveted reputation and an insanely large amount of money.

At the risk of sounding like an angry feminist and consequently cheese some males off, I'd like to qualify that my observation is based on experience and reliable third-party accounts.

As for women who indulges in unethical practices whilst in power, I've yet to meet or hear of any. Neurotic and bitchy, yes. But not to the extent of wanting to jeopardise a splendid career. The furthest she might do is to curry favour by siding with some really important people of the organisation but not without losing her own voice in the process.

Conversely, from time immemorial men are known to misuse the power that has been bestowed upon them for personal gains. This gain can be in the form of money, hedonistic pleasure, and 'hard' assets like properties, precious stones and kept women.

These men do not have any qualms about mixing business with pleasure as long as they are able to reap the benefits no matter how big or small. With immense power behind them, they are sly and ruthless in the pursuit of purely selfish, material pleasures.

Don't they know that everything has its season and it's best not to bury their heads in the sand?

For instance, a dishonorable man would use whatever measures possible to silent a vociferous opponent in an election campaign, such as scheming a way for the latter to be declared bankrupt and evicting him from the land in which he happily resides.

How about the unprofessional conduct at work in order to score points with a potential Wife Number Two? While this one is surely an interesting unravelling to watch, it is not so great when you become helplessly embroiled in the proceeding. That is, you are unwillingly instrumental in making sure that potential mistress is happy climbing up the corporate ladder. And you have thought those sort of things are stuff of legend. Doesn't that just leave a bad taste in your mouth?

Then, there is the story of an impertinent man mishandling his company's assets in order to finance a luxurious lifestyle enjoyed with a string of girlfriends, which had nearly brought him on the brink of bankruptcy.

Lastly, the current ongoing trial of one well-known political analyst for the gruesome murder of Altantuyaa cannot begin to describe the depths of corrupted power of politically-connected men.

Thankfully, there is still equally a large number of wholesome, successful and powerful men who lead others by example. They are far from being disingenuous and hold on to a firm set of principles. They are not easily swayed by cheap sentiments and fawning subordinates and compeers alike.

If only we'd know the true nature of a recipient to a powerful position, then all the unnecessary evils in the world could be thwarted. Alas, life doesn't work that way. We have to revert to our good old-fashioned faith and pray hard that our hunch (or thorough research, if you will) was right.

To purge our societies of corruption and greed, we can at least put in place a fail-safe KPI-ish benchmark that can objectively measure the amount of power an individual is entitled to. Remember my maxim at the beginning about absolute power?

Yet, it's somewhat unfair to squarely blame the men for all the world's trouble. As such, I leave you with two memorable quotes to ponder:

(1) Behind every successful man is a woman.

(2) A woman is the reason for a man's downfall.

And choose wisely. That goes for both man and woman.

It's Better Late than Never

It's probably old news by now but what the hey.

I used two different photographs for this. You too can get yours Simpsonified here.

So which one correctly portrays me? :D Since there were no takers, I'm going to put up the Simpsonized version of my family. Hehe.

A Rose By any other Name would Smell as Sweet

When you were little, did you ever remember being taunted by other children because of your name?

Well, I do. It wasn't a taunt per se. It was more of a grating background noise - a kind of a predictable, familiar refrain - almost always initiated by some obtuse boys.

"Here comes the M.A.S." with their hands animatedly mimicking a swooshing action of an airplane. Darn it! That's the lamest joke ever, as I rolled my eyes inside my head.

It was fine the first few times. After the umpteenth time, the cries just became stale. Yes, I'm a MAS, as in our Malaysian Airline carrier. So what? A new joke, please!

Like the carrier, the origin of my first name - Mas - is acronymic in nature. It's the combination of my father's and mother's names respectively - Mohammad Ali and Suriati. Also, in keeping with my mom's name, my name ends with a TI as well.

In fact, all of us siblings, regardless of gender, have the prefix Mas for our names. As a result, I prefer that people don't call me by this name since it'd cause a confusion whenever a person calls our home number (before the advent of cell phones, that is) to talk to one of us. "May I speak to Mas please?" The classic "Which one?" would promptly be given in return.

Apart from that, ironically the girls' names in my family would have turned out to be similar if it were not for the ONE letter in our names that distinguishes us from the other. The said letters are D, N, Z and L.

Save for the airline jest, I'm happy with my name on the whole. I bet there won't another of me in this world and that is strangely a comforting thought for me.

My topical interest with names arises from this online article which concludes that a horrible name doesn't necessarily equate to a bad childhood; nor does it prevent a child from growing up normal.

As explicated by Michael Sherrod and Matthew Rayback in their book "Bad Baby Names", this finding quashes some decades-old research which have suggested that individuals with bad names, such as Golden Rule, Ima Hooker and Rasp Berry, are more likely to end up either in prison or in a nuthouse.

On the contrary, these people turn out to be pretty decent folks.

“They were very proud of their names, almost overly proud,” Mr. Sherrod said. “We asked if that was a reaction to getting pummeled when they were little, but they said they didn’t get that much ribbing. They did get a little tired of hearing the same jokes, but they liked having an unusual name because it made them stand out.”

My point exactly. The litany of tiresome jokes annoys me more than anything else.

Another interesting point to ponder revolves on the fact that a person's physical attractiveness does not correlate with the name assigned to them.

Once people could see a face, they rated an Oswald, Myron, Harriet or Hazel about the same as a face with a “desirable” name like David, Gregory, Jennifer or Christine.

Not surprisingly, those given such horrendous names normally come from a disadvantaged background in terms of either money or education or both.

Martin Ford and other psychologists reported, after controlling for race and ethnicity, that children with unusual names did as well as others in school. The economists Roland Fryer and Steven Levitt reached a similar conclusion after controlling for socioeconomic variables in a study of black children with distinctive names.

However, I take exception when it comes to Hollywood celebs who are notorious for giving their kids unusual names. Yes, they are unique but are they really desirable? Take for instance, Hazel and Phinnaeus, the twin daughters of Julia Roberts and, Apple Martin, the daughter of Gwyneth Paltrow and Coldplay's frontman Chris Martin.

Also, how about names that cross gender like Leslie, Alex and Drew? Will the person has any problem fitting in? According to the psychologists, apparently not.

“They (the researchers) haven’t found anything negative — no psychological or social problems — or any correlations with either masculinity or effeminacy. But they have found one major positive factor: a better sense of self-control. It’s not that you fight more, but that you learn how to let stuff roll off your back.”

Well, echoing the writer's (who had to endure playground taunts as a kid) skepticism on this point, it's always easier said than done. Naturally, some people refuse to own up that it had caused them a problem!

On the local front, cross-gender names like Naim, Nazrin, Adi, Fairuz, and Niza come to mind. I do wonder if they had to put up with similar ridicule growing up. And there are names assigned to men that are obviously female in our culture such as Laila, Azian and Ani. In these cases, as far as sexual orientation and level of masculinity are concerned, I must say the results are inconclusive.

Like the researchers, I do agree names are just that before we add a host of other information like a physical look, educational background, personality and recreational activities. People are more susceptible to those details (and what more, sleazy gossips!) than a mere 'undesirable' name.

With that thought in mind, this Mas is taxing, I mean signing, off.

In Your Wilders Dream

Will the real Geert Wilders please stand up?

Before I jump onto any of the Kill-Geert-Wilders (not to be mistaken with the genuinely comical Gene Wilder) bandwagon or boycott Dutch-related products and companies (I so love Dutch Lady coffee-flavoured milk and fill up the tank with Shell), I want to reiterate that I will not be instigated by a nut case who sports a ridiculous platinum blond dye job which appropriately enough reveals the 'root' of his Aryan-like character.

To me, someone with a glaring hair colour has only one thing on his agenda: publicity, publicity and more publicity. I wouldn't want to trust a limelight hoarder.

Granted, his latest move of putting online the 'Fitna' short film that condemns the Holy Qur'an is an issue that must be taken seriously by 'concerned' Muslims. Instead of immobilising this looney with death threats that will only reinforce his fervent belief of Islam's supposed violent teachings, we should educate the misinformed on the correct meaning of the verses being manipulated in the short film. After all, as history has shown us anything taken out of context can be used to serve one's singular diabolical goal.

Having lived in the Netherlands for almost a year may not qualify me to make sweeping remarks about the Nederlanders; but from what I've been exposed to the Dutch are mostly peace-loving and friendly people. Sure, there were hiccups when dealing with the authorities such as the immigration but on the whole, the living experience has been great.

Probably we were lucky with respect to the locality in which we stayed in. As for travelling to the other parts of the country, again we met with people ever ready to help and flash a smile. Dutch's long-drawn history with Indonesia must have also played a part in creating an open-minded society. (Hey, they like to eat their patat (fries) with pindasaus (peanut sauce), for goodness sake!)

Also, one must also bear in mind that, despite the Dutch television networks' refusal to air his film and the entreaties of Dutch multi-national companies to drop the film, Mr. Wilders was still adamant to show his handy work to the world through the widely accessible Internet.

As this article points out:

Having failed to persuade a single Dutch television network to broadcast the film in its entirety, he said he planned to release it on the Internet by the end of this month.

He routinely equates the Koran with Hitler’s “Mein Kampf,” saying it should be banned in the Netherlands, and he declared in an interview that the Prophet Muhammad could be compared to the German dictator.

Personally, I find it funny that such remarks come from someone - pseudo-White Supremacist, if you will - who has to dye his hair a hideous shade to get noticed.

Clearly, Wilders' sentiment doesn't speak for most Nederlanders. As such, I liken the call for the ban of Dutch products as a result of the short film to saying ALL Muslims have the propensity for violence and terrorism because of the 9/11 attacks.

(This is different from the 'Danish incident' where the newspaper could have prevented the cartoons from being published.)

And I also beg to differ with this bold contention:

Framing himself as a defender of free speech, Mr. Wilders said there would not be such a fuss about his film if it were about the Bible.

A few years ago, a group of staunch Christians called for the boycott of the film 'Da Vinci Code' due to its sacrilegious premise. Even the Vatican released a strong statement against Dan Brown's bestseller and its subsequent film adaptation.

Another bizarre twist to his stance concerns his policy of hating Islam, but not its people:

“I believe the Islamic ideology is a retarded, dangerous one, but I make a distinction,” he said. “I don’t hate people. I don’t hate Muslims.

He added: “I am not saying all Muslims are wrong or are terrorists or criminals. You will never hear me say that.”

I just don't get that one. How could you separate the two entities? Religion and its devotees are intertwined. As the great late Tan Sri P.Ramlee intones "Irama dan lagu tak boleh dipisahkan" (Rhythm and music can never be kept apart).

Or plainly speaking, it's like saying you hate Jesus but you love Christians. What gives? *Hello! (knocking on the head) Is anyone in there?*

All things considered, I really don't give a hoot about what this Geert Wilders buffoon has to say about my religion. He doesn't know better. We Muslims shouldn't retaliate in a predictable manner as this will only help to vindicate his theory, however paper-thin it might be. Explaining to 'outsiders' about the true teachings of Islam paves the way for a better integration within a mixed community.

By the by, I also have this nagging suspicion that Wilders' hatred of 'Islamic ideology' is just an excuse for his acute fear of the influx of Muslim immigrants in his country. (Hence, the Aryan Race comment above).

As for the continued, impassionate call to boycott the Netherlands and its products, please let me put things in perspective. This is a nation that legalises gay sex in public park (well at least the one in Amsterdam) but will not hesitate to fine dog owners who let their dog off the leash in said park.

You have been warned.