Best Meal For Under RM10

Can there be anything on earth for less than RM10 that tastes this good ....  Yes, back in Ipoh for the holidays, made my way to possibly the best beef noodle place on earth, Cheong Kee at 5.55pm, yeah damn early but got 4 tables eating already.,

 

The chilli sauce is to die for, their home made concoction its powderful as they say.

 

You can recognise them for the whole family operating the place are very thin.

 

Get a load of the tender tendons, strong but clear soup and melt in your mouth beef. Unlike a lot of people, I shy away from ordering hor fun, but will always go for meean (yellow noodle) with hor fun for the play in texture.

 

One of my favourite drink in Ipoh. I forgot what it is called in English but in Cantonese its sar-lei. Its highly refreshing, I have mine kosong with ice, i.e. no suenmui or sugar.

The highly sought after ngau yoke yuen, bouncy and flavoursome, awesome. Total for best beef noodle plus the beef balls = RM6.50. The drink, an expensive but worthy RM2.00. OMG ... RM8.50 for easily one of the better meals you will ever have in your life, why are we working so hard???? Yeah, its the fucking property prices and children's education ... get rid of both, and we all live happily ever after.

Sleep Paralysis - Help Page

My friend from An Undomesticated Blogspot has posted a very good article on sleep paralysis. Its something which many of us have gone through. Read through, and my dua sen prognosis is at the end:

Sleep paralysis sounds unbelievable but it is a very real but rare, experience. You wake from sleep. As you lie in bed, you feel like someone is standing over you in the darkness. You try to move your head only slightly to look, but you can't. Someone - something - is holding you down. You attempt to struggle, to thrash your arms and legs, but you are frozen in place. Sheer panic washes over you as your paralysis lingers.

The original definition of sleep paralysis was codified by Dr. Samuel Johnson in his A Dictionary of the English Language as “nightmare.” Such sleep paralysis was widely considered to be the work of demons, more specifically incubi, which were thought to sit on the chests of sleepers. In Old English the name for these beings was mare or mære.

In Swedish folklore, sleep paralysis is caused by a Mare, a supernatural creature related to the werewolf. The Mare is a damned woman, who is cursed and her body is carried mysteriously during sleep and without her noticing. In this state, she visits villagers to sit on their rib cages while they are asleep, causing them to experience nightmares. An upcoming Swedish film, Marianne (2011 film), examines the folklore surrounding sleep paralysis.

Folklore in Newfoundland, South Carolina and Georgia describe the negative figure of the Hag who leaves her physical body at night, and sits on the chest of her victim. The victim usually wakes with a feeling of terror, has difficulty breathing because of a perceived heavy invisible weight on his or her chest, and is unable to move.

In Chinese culture, sleep paralysis is widely known as "鬼壓身/鬼压身" (guǐ yā shēn) or "鬼壓床/鬼压床" (guǐ yā chuáng), which literally translate into "ghost pressing on body" or "ghost pressing on bed." A more modern term is "夢魘/梦魇" (mèng yǎn). In Japanese culture, sleep paralysis is referred to as kanashibari literally "bound or fastened in metal."  In Korean culture, sleep paralysis is called gawi nulim, literally meaning "being pressed down by a ghost". It is often associated with a superstitious belief that a ghost or spirit is lying on top of or pressing down on the sufferer.

In Fiji the experience is interpreted as “kana tevoro” being ‘eaten’ or possessed by a demon. It is believed the spirit can be a recently dead relative who has come back for some unfinished business, or has come to communicate some important news to the living.

In some African communities, sleep paralysis is referred as “the Devil on your back. In Turkey and in many of islamic beliefs, sleep paralysis is called “Karabasan” which is very similar to the classic story of a demon visiting a person in sleep, most commonly called a Djinn.

The Nightmare by Henry Fuseli (1781) is thought to be one of the classic depictions of sleep paralysis perceived as a demonic visitation.

What is sleep paralysis?
Sleep paralysis consists of a period of inability to perform voluntary movements either at sleep onset (called hypnogogic or predormital form) or upon awakening (called hypnopompic or postdormtal form).

Sleep paralysis is most often associated with narcolepsy, a neurological condition in which the person has uncontrollable naps. However, there are many people who experience sleep paralysis without having signs of narcolepsy. Sometimes it runs in families. There is no known explanation why some people experience this paralysis. It is not harmful, although most people report feeling very afraid because they do not know what is happening, and within minutes they gradually or abruptly are able to move again; the episode is often terminated by a sound or a touch on the body.

In some cases, people feel that someone is in the room with them, some experience the feeling that someone or something is sitting on their chest and they feel impending death and suffocation. That has been called the “Hag Phenomena” and has been happening to people over the centuries. These things cause people much anxiety and terror, but there is no physical harm.

What are the symptoms?A complaint of inability to move the trunk or limbs at sleep onset or upon awakening

Presence of brief episodes of partial or complete skeletal muscle paralysis

Episodes can be associated with hypnagogic hallucinations. Hypnagogic hallucinations are what happens when a person is asleep but sees, hears or feels things and experiences them as real even though he or she is asleep.

How can sleep paralysis be stopped or prevented?
You may be able to minimize the episodes by following good sleep hygiene:

• getting enough sleep



• reduce stress


• exercise regularly (but not too close to bedtime)


• keep a regular sleep schedule

sleep paralysis is common ... it has NOTHING to do with ghosts ...

why: usually when we are tired, or more tired than usual, or when we have over-exerted our mental faculties

how: its like your whole body went to sleep but your mind is still awake, but your mind is unable to tell your body otherwise ...

the stories: imagine your mind is bright n cheery n the rest of yr body is asleep (hence not following motor instructions to move your body parts) ... you can try your hardest and not one muscle will move, knowing our minds, it will try to come up with one hundred and one possibilities... hence the ghosts tradition ... when u dream anything is possible, and when u cannot move yr body yr mind will come up with the harshest possibilities

cure: just close yr eyes, relax, go back to sleep

August 29, 2011 11:34 AM

Irresistible Devils

Even as Manchester United was winning titles and cups over the last 5 years, something was missing, it was a good team but not great. This year had the same feeling as in the early 90s when the team was made up of mostly young guns. Except that I think the young guns this time is even better than Butt, Scholes, Nevilles and Beckham ... except for Giggs, no one can be better than Giggs.


All the highlights:


http://rutube.ru/tracks/4763195.html?v=f4095ab907c9229a3589b24a586ec53a


As much as I like Evra, Silvestre, Ferdinand and Vidic, they are out and out defenders, give them the ball they would only know to whack it up or pass to a midfielder. Seriously only Vidic should get back his place when he is fit. The marked difference is the number of interceptions by the backline, and the way they move the ball forward almost immediately and not just squaring it. The energy is palpable. Ashley Young was soooo goood. Cleverly is a star in the making. Smalling and the rest of the young guns were more than adequate. 


Even the petulant and greedy Nani can be forgiven as his stroke of brilliance can turn games. Berbatov will have a hard time making it back to the team.


Is United good enough to challenge Barca yet? Who is? Barca is in a world of its own.  


I really pity Arsene Wenger and Arsenal fans as they seriously don't deserve this kind of scoreline. Why 8-2 ... it was because its an open game of football, the way MU always play. You can score against us but we will score more. Love it, not pure checkbook team like the bloody City or Chelski. You can see Wenger ageing 10 years as the match progressed. He doesn't deserve this, he has been an excellent manager, the owner is just too tight with funds. No need to change manager, change the owner.

An Innocent in Brazil - Part 3

My second trip to Brazil was no less eventful than the first:



Brazil hosts a lot of congresses. You name it, however obscure, and you can just about guarantee that a major congress on that very subject has taken place in Rio or Sao Paulo. From Chiropody to Chlamydia and Brain Surgery to Brassicas they have all been discussed by earnest groups of global specialists selflessly giving up their time to spend a week in Brazil.



When working for a Brazilian airline one of my jobs was to escort large groups of such boffins from the UK to Brazil and back to ensure that their travel arrangements went smoothly enough for them to appoint us for the next congress. This task usually was quite uneventful until my number finally came up when escorting a group of ‘agricultural economists’ to their congress in Sao Paulo. I was a bit worried because I did not know what agricultural economists were but I felt reassured when I discovered neither did they.



I met them at Heathrow airport and they were very easy to spot. They looked like a blend between country yokel farmers and the university lecturers they actually were. Most dressed like they had just mucked out their pigs and most wore baggy old tweed jackets and corduroy trousers which displayed interesting stains including bull semen apparently.



One thing blindingly obvious was that they were dressed for a severe British winter and heading for the hottest season in Brazil. I mentioned this to one guy whose heavily meshed string vest was poking out of his plaid shirt and, right in front of the check in desk, he stripped his top half bare, removed his vest, tied it by its arm loops to the handle of his suitcase and off it went down that black abyss known as the baggage chute. At least I was pretty sure no one in their right mind was going to ransack his bag with that grubby mass of string vest tied around the handle.



As there were quite a few of them we were using two desks for check-in. Suddenly a loud commotion came from the other one. I got there to find two legs sticking out of the baggage chute and the sound of a West Country accent saying ‘don’t worry love I’ve got the bugger’. It turned out that a member of my group had packed his passport in his suitcase and only remembered as it tipped out of sight. He pounced like a spring lamb after it and was dragged out from between the rubber curtains brandishing his cardboard suitcase by its home made string handle. It belonged to my granny he told me afterwards. What is your name I asked? Colin he replied.



It was a long flight to Sao Paulo or ‘Sayo Payolo’ as my companions pronounced it. Fortunately most of them attacked the free drinks so fast that they sank into sleepy oblivion whereas I sat up next to Colin who was putting the world to rights on subjects ranging from crop rotation to artificial insemination which explains how I knew what the stain on his trousers was and how he got it. Oh what laughs we had, especially as he would persist in pressing my chair recline button instead of his own all night. If I had only had the slightest inkling of what was to befall me the following night I would have turned down this assignment.



We arrived at the Sao Paulo Hilton reasonably easily apart from a short delay when our friend discovered his vest had been lost in transit and insisted on filling in a lost baggage claim there and then. I am sure that to this day the offending article is causing the main baggage belt at Heathrow to break down regularly as it jambs the works. But now we were here and we were unleashing forty British farmers in full winter gear into the maelstrom that is down town Sayo Payolo. Most of the group had not left their county let alone their country and here they were, at a hotel surrounded by the most extreme flesh pots of South America. Like a fussing sheepdog I herded them into the congress centre and left them in the hands of the organisers.



After such a tiring flight of bouncing back and forward in my seat like a yoyo, courtesy of Colin I fell into my bed and a deep dreamless sleep only to be woken, what seemed to be seconds later, by the telephone. It was one of my charges and he breathlessly informed me that a fellow agriculturist from Bogota had told him about a ‘hot’ nightspot called ‘The Orchid Club’ a few streets down and he, Colin and a bunch of others were setting off from the foyer right now. Wait for me I screeched as I could only imagine what might happen to them alone in such a place, so on went my clothes and off I rushed.



We arrived about ten p.m. on an intensely hot and humid evening. I was sweating in my thin shirt and these guys were still wearing the very same gear as when I first saw them at Heathrow. It must have been the first time that anyone sat in such a club with bull semen on their trousers but you never know in Brazil. The club was full of punters, very muscular fat bouncer types and a plethora of scantily clad multicoloured ladies. After a few caipirinhas one of my flock proposed marriage to a girl who I thought was a boy, but thankfully she looked him up and down and declined. I presumed someone had warned what Norfolk is like in winter.



‘Its show-time’ screamed a loud announcement and my flock grabbed chairs and sat down about five centimetres in front of the small stage. You do not get this in Grantham announced Sid whilst busily cleaning his glasses. Colin looked visibly uncomfortable even though he had grabbed the seat nearest the stage and nervously lit his pipe. A bit strange really what with the exotic location, heady atmosphere charged with anticipation and perfume now smothered out by Colin’s ‘Old Holborn Shag’ pipe tobacco.



First on stage was our man’s ‘fiancée’. ‘Great,’ he said, ‘I will get a chance to look at the merchandise before the wedding night’ and sat back arms folded with a smug death head grin on his face. It soon faded however as his hearts desire tamely twirled and gyrated a few times, grappled herself through her clothes and marched off with a bored expression.



This was an outrage and I was dispatched to the manager to find out what it was all about. The man told me that they were complying with local ‘decency’ law which stated that the ladies could only ‘express themselves fully’ after midnight. I relayed this to my horny new friends. Drinks were ordered and the wait commenced.



Colin was silent. He was drinking too much and puffing his pipe a great deal but he said nothing. Not even about his beloved bulls. As the acts went on he got redder and redder and I had my first nagging fear that something was going to go awfully wrong. It did. Midnight came and bedlam ensued.



It was the ‘fiancée’ that started it. On to the stage she came and her ‘act’ started naked and got ruder by the second. ‘Bloody Nora’ said Sid. ‘Last time I saw a pair of bosoomers like that it was on a Jersey cow’ said another whilst Colin went crimson and his pipe glowed like the flames of hell. Seeing this shy gnome-like apparition sitting in front row the girl decided to play up to him. Down she went into a limbo dance position and started edging forward. The atmosphere was electric and I heard someone dropping their glass. By the time the ‘lady’ was about twelve inches from Colin he exploded into action with great speed and accuracy he pounced on the lady yelling something like “now then my dear” and spitting his pipe which hit and burnt her nose. There was silence for a second followed by a scream and the sound of the doormen clambering over tables to get at us.



It all became a bit of a blur. Five of the boys, including Colin, and Sid were grabbed and I was physically picked up and pinned against the wall with my feet dangling below me. The police were called and the five of us spent a night in a Sao Paulo jail along with drunks, pimps and God knows what. How do I keep this quiet I thought as I was sure my boss would not understand why I had ‘coerced’ my charges into a den of vice? I could see my future life as a travel leper opening out before me.



After the most uncomfortable and dangerous night of my life they let us out and we went back to the Hilton. Lets have a drink said Sid, I am having a bath I said. Colin said nothing except ‘How can I get my pipe back’ as it had finally ricocheted off the startled young lady and bounced off the stage. I ignored him and said that from now on they could look after themselves.



When we flew back Colin looked very uncomfortable and studiously ignored me. I had heard that he had gone in search of his favourite pipe but no more. I heard nothing for two weeks until my boss called me into his office to discuss a letter that he received from the mother of a man called Colin. She complained that he had picked up a very nasty rash on his private parts and Colin said it was my fault. Tell her to ask where he left his pipe I suggested.



We never heard from either of them again.

Things Not So Bad?

In the midst of all the gloom and doom, a couple of tables/charts seem to be indicating something else.

The Baltic Dry Index is often cited by economists as a bellwether of global economic activity.  The index, which measures the price of transporting raw materials by sea, has now risen by more than 21% from its recent lows and is also up 16% in the last week alone.  The index, however, is not immune from critics who argue that the index is extremely volatile and has often provided false alarms on both the upside and downside.  That being said, in an environment where investors are beginning to price in a global recession, the increase in the Baltic Dry Index calls that view into question.

The following is even more astounding. In light of recent events, five strategists at top houses have adjusted their year end targets for SP500 higher. Only two have adjusted down, while six have left the unchanged.

There appears to some kind of disconnect between the macro issues and the corporate realities. Are the macro an indication of things to come or can they be separate issues?

Me and Dali

 Too bad that the movie, Me and Marley came out first. Yes, people, my dog's name is Dali, an English bulldog. Unlike Marley in the movie, my dog is very well behaved and listens to instructions well enough. Since my blog is like a diary of sorts, I thought I should have at least one post of her.

The first two photos were taken right after I bought her, barely 5 weeks really, and technically a bit too young to be sold by pet shops. Was already determined to get myself a dog again, its been many years since I had a dog or two. I went to a pet fair thingee at Mid Valley and she was in a cage with two of her brothers. The way I chose my dog, I was always certain that there had to be an eye to eye connection, not a woof-woof enthusiastic jumping dog saying "take me". Its a life long thing so there has to be a deeper connection. When we met, we kinda stared at each other for more than 15 seconds, no barking (not by me anyway). Done deal there and then, all in 30 seconds. 

She was so tiny compared to her brothers. The guy manning the stall said she was very tiny because she was the last of a litter of 6. As you can see, she was no bigger than my thigh. Puppies are just like babies, they are the world's biggest lying advertising syndicate. Both just looked adorable, cute, blah, blah ... but wait till you bring one home and care for. The first 2 months were hell when it came to toilet training. First it was getting her to do it in the toilet. Then it was the usual feed in the morning and take her out for a walk 5 minutes later, same routine for the evening. Chances of success for the first two months was 50-50.

At times I was so exasperated because there would be no shit even after walking around for 30 minutes. Then go back, and get my own shower, only to come out and find nice doo-doo waiting for me. It would have been understandable if it was at places where I could see, but she liked to do it way deep underneath my bed. As my bed is heavy and against one side of the wall, it was a mammoth task to clean it up. If it was once in a blue moon, that would have been tolerable... try getting this 3-4 times a week. I was so exasperated that I seriously considered giving her away or selling her. Now, as I looked back, I can understand why I would have those thoughts but am grateful that I have the fortitude, grace and character to ride them out.

Many people think its fun to have a dog, but they forget that that they also suddenly took on an extra job as a professional shit picker. Twice a day, without fail, after a while you think to yourself if its worth it, ... but when they are  family, do you really care to count.

One of the early joys of owning a dog is when they first recognise the name you gave them. You call and they respond, guess they are a lot like babies. Next will be being properly toilet trained, I think that was after the third month. Dogs are very loyal, they greet you wildly when you come back, they snuggle up, they follow you here and there. They are so dependent on your love, affection and care. Is this the need to be needed which is why so many people rear dogs? To an extent, yes. You also form a bond, and the bond is based on how much time you put in. Some people have dogs just as guard dogs at the front porch, they don't even have time to play with them.

The bonding process comes from time spent together (not delegated to your maids): walks, playtime, bath time (very important), morning clean up, evening clean up, massages, combing and grooming, etc... The thing is if you do less, they will still be loyal, but if you put in your share, it will come back to you in multiples. People who say that they are just dogs, just really don't get it. Its like saying to your kids "they are just kids".

 trying to get into the Christmas mood and failing miserably, 

"dude where are my presents"

When all the training and repetitions are done, you think you have fully trained your dog ... actually you wonder if its you who is training the dog or you being trained. Now I am trained to feed at the right time, pick shit at the same hours, clean her at the same times, walk her at the same times ... we might be the ones actually being trained!


Once the toilet training part is done, the hardest part is over, she would no longer be willing to stay in her cage at night, barking incessantly wanting to be with me. Thats ok I guess, the need to be needed, plus I was staying at a condo 2 years back, so she got to sleep with me. The funny thing was that she had to be touching me when she sleeps, what I mean is that she needed to be in constant contact with me. Mine was a huge queen sized bed with one side against the wall. What happened was that she gets warm with her fur against me, and I would shift in my sleep, so for the first few nights when I woke up, I would be up against the wall and she right next  to me with the other 2/3 of the bed empty. I thought it was funny and ridiculous at the same time, but this went on for weeks. Nowadays, I got used to her, I have a comforter on the bed and she gets to be on  the comforter so I don't have to change the bed sheet every 3 days. Its a matter of getting used to it, now we share the bed comfortably and she still sticks her body next to mine, I just learned how not to move myself anymore.

when Dali met Lily at my mum's place

The other thing about owning bulldogs is their breathing. Owing to their makeup, they snore like a 30 year old man. I mean really snore, not like a girl's snore. You get used to that pretty fast I guess.

While the bulldog has short hair which is easier to upkeep, they also shed like crazy, some things you learn to live with. She sheds enough hair to make Telly Savalas or Yul Brynner look good within a week. Have a good maid service if you want a dog like that.

Having all those  "troubles", I would never change her, or have a different dog, because she is who she is. She is highly loyal, affectionate, friendly and clever.  Bulldogs must be the most misunderstood dog breed ever because people use bulldog images in the beware signs when they want to scare off people. The reality is that they are the worst guard dogs ever, they are so friendly, rarely barks and just need to sniff a new person to confirm that they are their new friends. Although there have been instances when I have seen Dali being ferociously angry, when the insecticide man comes over, must be something about their smell of the chemicals they use. She would be lunging at them like a Rottweiler. Other than that, she is the friendliest dog ever.

meeting a normal sized bulldog, "watcha looking at dude"

I do not like my dog to do tricks as I think it demeans them. However, she needed to learn a few basic instructions. She is good with stay, sit, roll over, go eat on her chair, move closer, finish your food.. what more do you want to ask for. My brother would try to teach her more complex stuff, which she will oblige, such as walk around, stay, lie down, play dead ... but I try to stay away from all that.

with Sidney, playing some gross "stimulation game", oh the expression is too Category 3

As in all genuine dog lovers, we still get the guilty pangs of not spending enough time with our furry friend. The thing about dogs is that they are quick to forgive. How not to love them even more. Just the fact that she now only pees and shits in the garden grass is  worthy of a Nobel Prize in my books.

At 9 months at a park

Of all the dogs in the world, people will think she is one of the luckier ones with a decent owner like me. Real dog lovers will realise that we ourselves are the lucky ones to be blessed with a furry life long trusting loyal affectionate friend like her.

One funny thing about most pet owners is that they talk to their pets. I thought that was a bit crazy at first but after a while, I find myself talking to my dog the same way as I would to my own kid. It hit upon me cause when I heard my next door granny talking to her grandchild, ...  the tone, the message, the words were all alike! "Why aren't you finishing your food", "come here, take your bath now", "I ask you to come, come right now" ..etc... 

This is her favourite pose

I love her because she doesn't bark incessantly (like my neighbour's stupid dog). She does so only when there is something really important - a person at the door, or something "new appearing in our garden" (a bird or a squirrel). Dali has this quiet persona that is hard to ruffle, a sort of nonchalant way of looking at her surroundings. It takes little to make her happy ... why can't we all be that way.

Dali as she is today, just over 2 years old 

You think you have just a dog, but sometimes she will wake up earlier than me, but will not wake me up but sit and wait for me to wake up for at least half an hour. As she probably needs to pee in the morning, she will wait till she cannot hold it anymore and paws me in bed. If I still refuse to wake up, she will use her final trick which is to lick my face, like that anyone will also wake up.


Dali would never get on the bed without me. She would wait quietly by the side of the bed waiting for me to finish my mundane stuff on the computer and internet surfing. If it goes past 1am, she cannot tahan anymore, and would paw me at my chair, asking me to go to bed. Only then would she jump into bed and snuggle next to me to sleep ... would your wife or husband do that??!!

 Here she is pondering on the meaning of a dog's life

She is lucky to have such a "nice owner" but we all know I am luckier to have her.

Are We There Yet

Naturally, friends have been asking if I am bearish now as I have not been writing about the markets of late. Well, first of all, there's nothing much to write home about. Nothing much has changed, I have said most of what I wanted to say. While I am slightly bullish on emerging markets, there is very little impetus for buyers to move in until the big boys stop being so volatile.





Then some would say if this was going to be contained or localised, i.e. much of the hurt and pain being in Europe and the USA. To a large extent, that is true. While I think emerging markets may go a bit ballistic when the dust settles, it is also a scenario which we are likely to see an overbought situation, or rather a premium valuation in store. The danger lies in the inherent inflation within emerging markets. Owing to the very low interest rates in the US, Japan and Europe, the rest of the emerging markets cannot really hike their own rates without causing a stampede for their currencies.


China has already hiked theirs a few times and their markets have suffered. Will the same happen for emerging markets? Unlikely, because with the big boys in disarray, emerging markets will have to maintain their local engines of growth even if it means higher than usual inflationary pressures.





Big Picture Issues


a) Transfer of problems - It is pretty obvious that the subprime mess and other real estate related lending excesses hav been transferred largely from the major banks to their respective governments. Much of the problem is still there. Do governments write them off without needing to care? Not really, you have to pay somehow. You can attempt to rescue as many banks and financial institutions but the mess just gets transferred to a different party. Now we are seeing the problems at the sovereign debt level. 


We wouldn't be having this crisis now if it wasn't for the subprime mess and excessive real estate lending. That was a mess because of many factors but largely because ratings firms such as Standard and Poors made unbelievably stupid mistakes, not once but throughout the last 5 years leading up to 2008. Now they have the audacity to say US ratings should be downgraded (albeit the rating should go down) ... but the gall of it all.





b) The global property scam -  A massive transfer of income to the very rich has occurred while middle class real incomes stagnated. The middle classes only tolerated this because Central Bankers created housing booms to keep the impoverished middle classes borrowing and spending to give them the illusion of prosperity and stop them from revolting. 


How do you do that? You do that by keeping interest rates very low, keep printing money, keep the system very liquid - some have gone to equities but by and large the biggest beneficiaries have been property markets throughout most of the world. Yes, you see obvious bubbles in Singapore, HK, parts of China, Canada, Australia and even certain places in Malaysia. We thank our lucky stars that our property markets did not go through the same correction as the major developed nations - but is that because we did not have a massive contraction in liquidity brought on by a financial scare? 


How is this scam hurtful? Well, you propel property prices higher and higher with low interest rates and excess liquidity. It serves to fan the flames of property prices higher, causing a bull run for the prices, causing people to chase and get some action before its too late. 


Its never a zero sum game. Much of the froth in pushing prices higher has to be in much much bigger mortgages that people are taking to participate in the run. As long as the public can pay down their mortgages, you won't see foreclosures or a major correction. You and I know that prices have basically gone out of reach of the young and working. 



However we need a boom and bust to deflate this thing. The boom will come via stock markets, which is why I believe other emerging markets which have not seen similar troubles like the US, Japan and Europe will see liquidity being funnelled there. There is the boom and there will be the bust, which I expect towards 2H 2012.

Funny Thai Commercials Part 2

Nobody's Worth It

This is a true story as published in Sydney Morning Herald, about one lady who stepped off the beautiful cliffs of The Gap @ Watson's Bay Sydney. I chose the title: Nobody's Worth It, the line from the song by Queen .. "Don't Try Suicide, Nobody's Worth It" ... seriously folks, nobody's worth it.

SMH:

It is one of those things. Sometimes you write something that seems to touch a chord with readers, and in 25 years of writing for the SMH, I don't think I have ever had a greater, nor more poignant response than this piece. All of us have been touched by the subject of suicide in some measure, and my best hope is that this story might give hope to those who contemplate it. And I am quite serious, by the way, about there being a need to have a plaque at the Gap, at the spot Nellie jumped, telling something of her story. 

It can be a place of tragedy but The Gap has witnessed miracles, too.

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Nellie Bishop is not the patron saint of those who would hurl themselves into oblivion from The Gap, there on the cruel cliffs overlooking the ocean, but she should be.

For look at her now. It is a bright, beautiful Tuesday afternoon, November 13, 1923. She is a strong, athletic young woman, in a long dress - until recently, a clerk with the railways, living with her parents at Kogarah - and there seems nothing to mark her out from the passers-by, other than the intent way she gazes at the rocks below.

And yet, suddenly, she puts down her handbag and climbs through the small fence. She does not feel afraid. Only determined.

She simply puts her hands to her face and ... leaps.

Why did she jump? It's complicated. To her family and friends, she seemed happy enough. But the misery that propelled her over the cliff was well hidden.

Certainly, a large part of it was a broken romance.

For Nellie, the love of her life had been one James William Gallagher, a fine, strapping young man whom she had grown up with. She had been so proud of him - if fearful, too - when, in 1915, he had marched away to the Great War.

Alas, although James had returned in 1919, walking, talking and with both arms intact and nary a wound visible, he was not the complete man who had left her.

Tragically, James had taken a bullet to his nether regions and so was fearful that having children was out of the question.

The shattered James tried to make the best of it, saying that, while of course he still wanted to marry her, he did not want children, anyway.

But Nellie did want children - it was the dearest desire of her life. The pain of their subsequent falling out broke her heart and also, at least momentarily, her mind.

At the instant she jumps, however, with the wind rushing around her ears and blowing up her dress, she bitterly regrets her action and decides she does want to live after all.

But it is too late! Or is it?

Through an extraordinary, once-in-a-century quirk of fate, a freak wave engulfs the rocks below with such a flood that she hits deep water instead. She's alive!

Two old Italian fishermen - the brothers Rosario and Vincent Diamente - are nearby and look over to see her hit the water. They row like mad things towards her. The brave fishermen get to her, just six yards from the cliff face, where she is furiously treading water.

In the roar of the waves, nearly dashing themselves and her on the rocks in the process, they manage to get her on their boat.

Nellie is taken to hospital, where she spends the night, and is released the next day to her astounded and relieved family.

The upshot? Despite the blackness that propelled her to jump, despite being firmly convinced that there was no way out for her, that death was better than life, she was totally, comprehensively and stunningly wrong.

For Nellie Bishop really did live happily ever after.

She fell in love again with a good man and had eight wonderful children. Five of them joined the police force and one, Bob Bradbury, became NSW's highest-ranking detective.

One of her dozens of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, Bill Bradbury, became a police negotiator and ended up spending a proportion of his life successfully talking people out of committing suicide at The Gap. He had a story to tell them ...

Nudging 90, Nellie passed away from natural causes in 1988 as the matriarch of a large and loving family. There should, at the least, be a plaque to her at The Gap, at the highest point where she jumped, telling something of her story.

With thanks to the Bradbury family and acknowledgment to The Sun (November 14, 1923) and The Daily Guardian (November 16, 1923).

Do you have a historical anecdote about a place in Sydney? Write to Peter FitzSimons at pfitzsimons@smh.com.au.

Read more: http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/miracle-at-the-gap-the-day-nellie-tried-to-end-it-and-came-out-alive-20110819-1j1m0.html#ixzz1VidFjxEL