Who Am I?

 

In the old way, the only way to publish is to come up with a master piece and send in your manuscript to a publisher - for a book deal that is elusive as find a needle in the hay sack.</p><p>

 Now I can publish even just a draft, edit, preview and publish or discard, at very little cost.</p><p>

 And, I can pretend I am a published writer!</p><p>

 With a click of the mouse button, I can revisit my handiworks (stories) (which Google indexed to be searched or read by thousands on the internet) anytime and to read or edit, depending on the mood.</p><p>

 Of course, it would be great to see my own book with my photo on the front cover, sitting on the bookshelf in a bookstore. Or to be an editor of a book publishing firm who reads piles of submitted manuscripts everyday, and has the final say in who gets whose novel published. Or helm a magazine or daily newspaper.</p><p>

 With this page, The Write-Way Gazette as a vehicle, I can now pretend I am: the all-powerful editor, publisher of The Write-Way Gazette periodical, magazine, or newspaper, roll into one.</p><p>

 And with that, I have qualified to join the ranks of prestigious writers known as published writers. </p><p>

 While attending college in Singapore, I discovered my true calling  telling stories. I am a storyteller by nature. Most of my life, whenever or wherever I socialized, I have been telling stories. I can't not tell stories because of the storyteller in me and by popular demands. I seemed to have a lot on my mind and they flowed freely. I could talk on any subject, and could go on and on...People called me a talkative person. I called myself a speaker, or public speaker.</p><p>

 While in Singapore, I had the fortune to land the job of assistant speakers for many renowned lecturers from Thailand. They came to Singapore by popular demands. My job was to assist the high priests by translating what they said in Thai or a smattering of English for the audience in front of us. We sometimes spoke to hundreds, if not thousands, of listeners in front of us, consisting of doctors, lawyers, government leaders and politicians and other occupations.</p><p>

They were profuse in their praises when we parted; I was natural, they said.</p><p>

 Over the years, after being exposed to the lecturing circuits and the limelight, I began to morph into a public speaker in my own right, not averse to my fifteen minutes of fame. Because of my ubiquitous appearance, and what I was capable of, I continued to receive invitations to speak every where throughout the Lion City long after the monks had left. </p><p>

 Needless to say, my public speaking, my storytelling, my talkativeness, or whatever you call it, have brought me immense benefit. They have brought nuance to my life besides opening doors and hearts you can imagine.</p><p> 

 During my heyday, I was like a Tiger Wood, sic, of love. Wood in his heyday needed to only appear (grace) a tournament to be paid millions without having to play or win! The tournament needs Wood's presence or slotted to be present at the tournament, to ensure the its success. Tackling or courting girls was like second nature to me. I could get any girl I wanted... even girls already going steady with their boyfriends. The girls didn't hesitate to leave their long time boyfriends in order to be with me after they got to know me. </p><p>

 Before you call me a heartless snob, I like to explain. I never lied to the girl that my father was a billionaire; I did not know she already had a boyfriend or married; moreover, most girls were in their teens too young to be married; so I assumed they were free. Anyway, my reputation spread like wildfire - up to England and Australia. I had friends from London and Sydney who flew thousands of miles to join our group. I had lots friends of both sexes. For the boys, because they hoped to find a girlfriend from among the pool. I have helped lots of friends – mostly boys – to find love. </p><p>

 All that they have to do was point out a girl. It can be any girl; those from my circle or even total strangers. I would start from scratch there as if I was trying to ask the pretty girl to be my girlfriend. Once done, I would do the introduction. Some parents, too, who knew me personally, would encourage their daughters to befriend me. Boys even lied about me agreeing to attend their parties in order to get girls to agree to accept their invitations. I have no idea why I was popular. It could be the same scenario as Tiger Wood getting paid to grace golf tournaments.</p><p>

 His name ensured excitement and attracted more golfers and spectators to attend, ensuring more income for the organizers.</p><p>

 At the height of his golfing careers, Tiger Woods, was one the biggest names in golf, and an essential component for making golf tournaments a sold-out. Woods got paid millions just by gracing the occasion. </p><p>

 Therefore, I can say that I am the Tiger Woods of dating. In my heyday I led an exciting life of night life and endless parties. My friends and I we literally painted the town red - nights after night. Living life to the full is an understatement. </p><p>

 By now, you may have guessed I was a sizzling looker. Not to me. I was just an ordinary looker. May be others saw me sizzling looker. Check my profile never lied. That's me. But listen to this: When I wanted to clinch a date with a very pretty girl, I would not resort to donning a suit but a white short pants and a matching color round-collar t-shirt (it showed how I really look) plus a shoe of same color. No matter how beautiful or high class my date was, she would never make me feel inadequate, or be ashamed of being seen with me in public; the opposite was actually true. For, if I wear a white T-shirt and a white short pants, and sport shoe of same color I could be a match for any girls (even girls almost half my age) </p><p>

 Try stepping into a crowded coffee shop with a young teenage girl and, if you are not matching enough for the girl, all eyes will stare at you with hatred, reproach for cheating an innocent girl. With me, no such thing happened. I was a perfect match for the girl – any girl, anytime, anywhere.</p><p>

 And weird, most of my girlfriends were much, much younger than me. If you still have doubts about me, listen to this. After going quite steady with my new girl – who as typical of most of my girls, was exceptionally beautiful and just in her teen, I came to know another girl even younger than my girlfriend, but not that pretty. My girlfriend was 16 something while the younger girl was 15; they were cousins.</p><p> 

 Anyway, long story short, we agreed to go dancing, the three of us. I was to fetch the fifteen-year-old first, then my girlfriend. </p><p>

 Anyway, what happened that made me hilarious and tickled all over, was my date’s father took the trouble to accompany his daughter to the pickup place! Upon seeing the man standing beside his daughter, I froze! The father looked like he was my younger brother. “What?! I exclaimed to myself. </p><p>

 Suddenly, I had second thoughts about the whole thing. My mind was frantic with all sorts of thoughts and my heart beat faster. No, it was not the sight of my date dressed to kill that quickened my heart beat, but her father. Upon seeing a man standing next to the girl, I almost freaked out. No! this man cannot be just waiting for his bus, as the spot was not a bus-stop. He must be waiting for me! Her father! Just then all hell broke loose, in my mind. My inner mind frantically warned me – a trap, a trap! Turn the car around and leave.</p><p>

 But I did not leave, despite feeling a bit uneasy. It was normal for an older man to feel that way when confronted with your girl’s parents for the first time. But, as a matter of fact, I had nothing to worry about. The man could not be nicer. He did not look me over, up and down. The father was apparently pleased with his daughter’s date. He was all smiles. He wished us a good time; and did not even set the back-by (midnight) rule. </p><p>

 Of course; it was nonsense, no such thing happened that evening. On the contrary, everything went well. I was a good marriage material (otherwise parents would never encouraged their daughters to date me. I believed I impressed the man. </p><p>

 Weird as it may sound, if I wanted to deter bad people back then, all I had to do was to don a sleeveless T-shirt, which exposes my big, muscular arms. I once repaired a refrigerator for customer (who I considered well-educated people). When the fridge failed again after spending quite a substantial amount of money, she became furious and called me ‘Jack of all trades, master of none. I took it in my strides and agreed to fix her refrigerator again.</p><p>

 But when she remarked she had two brothers working as Motorola technicians, and would ask them to be present when I carried out my second repair, I was uneasy. Fixing her fridge I must, but…what if the brothers (who I presumed were not little brothers), or one of them, turned out to be a hot-tempered, and started something, there could be a bloodshed.</p><p>

 So, to avoid trouble, I had to resort to donning my sleeveless T-shirt! </p><p>

  Fearing the worst, all my workers but one refused to accompany me to the customer’s house by giving all sorts of excuses. They were scared. Even the one that was a bit braver opted to sit me out in my truck outside. </p><p>

 I went in alone into the house, half expected trouble from the grown brothers of the lady. But one look at my body and the fearlessness written clearly in my face, the two brothers changed their minds about any plans they might have in mind earlier and were like how I earlier described my date’s father: couldn’t be friendlier. Of course, all went well and I returned to my shop in one piece.</p><p>

 I have more scenarios I can relate involving my business or 

partying days. In other words, if you like my stories.</p><p>

IN a nutshell, my talkativeness, my story-telling had made all the difference... they have paved the way for me like president Obama of the US did for the Muslim Brotherhood of Egypt to gain powers albeit for a very brief period of one year (but that's another story). </p><p>

But there's one problem - or shall I say question - can I replicate my storytelling like a virtuoso I used to be when telling stories, when it comes to writing?</p><p>

Anyway, I believed if I wanted to be serious about writing I am going to need a professional training to do it right. So, that's why I am taking a comprehensive writing course with The Writers Bureau of England. For no matter how much natural ability I may have, I will never reach my full potential without expert guidance, says the the Institute. Unless my talent comes into contact with an environment where it can develop and flourish, it might lie dormant forever.</p><p>

I admire editors not only because of the powers that they wield but after realizing what they have slaved themselves with before garnering that position of powers and prestige.</p><p>

An editor at a publishing firm is the key to the success or failure of any plans or ambitions of any ones aspiring for a breakthrough (a book deal) in the writing business. A word or decision can spell doom to those plans. Indeed Such is the power of an editor and she's like...'Damn! This piece is something. Hmm, an interesting piece indeed. But can I use it? Is it good enough for publication?’</p><p>

The appraisal is typical of what goes through an editor's mind when confronted with a manuscript that is way too catchy and well-written to be thrown into the dustbin.</p><p> 

The busy editor was, let us presume, holding a manuscript which belonged to, say, a school teacher whose only hobby is storytelling. The aspiring writer was sure she took care of all the nitty-gritty; the grammar being her fort in school should pose no problem; the sentences were neither too long nor passive; which left only the spelling and choice of words, her apparent weak links. But she was sure she did spend enough time to see to it they pose no problems either.</p><p>

But, as it turned, it was still not enough. In other words, the book deal was slipping away.

Apparently, she still has a long way to go. </p><p>

But, strict as she is, the good editor also acts responsibly when it comes to fairness. The lady finds it in her to include a few encouraging words for the author of the manuscript in her hand. She writes, “I am so sorry to have to return your writing. This is not a judgment that your work cannot be accepted because of poor quality; but because, we already have the same materials in our stock. So, please do not be disheartened, continue to keep writing and, hopefully, come up with another, different story we can use. You are a talented writer if judged by your work I am reading. I have thoroughly enjoyed reading your story. You may edit the returned manuscript, make changes where possible, and resubmit. Or, in case you are reluctant to disturb your good story, I will understand; but you can resubmit it as it a bit later. Good luck!'</p><p>

There are, of course, many types of editors as there are writers. </p><p>

Some editors, who deal with piles of submitted manuscripts every day, will find it hard to pause and have a second look as a particular entry, unless it is really worth a second look. Their job was to accept or reject submitted stories based on merit; they are not there to be kind. If an entry is good enough for publication, they will deal with it accordingly. </p><p>

some editors can be cruel, though, and would reject a manuscript out of hand the moment he or she finds a grammar flaw or a spelling mistake. The piece ends up in the dustbin just because of one mistake. The unkind editor stops reading the story right there even though it may hold a promise of an enjoyable journey (good read) for the rest of the novel to the end. The abrupt decision of the overworked editor is unfortunate, as it deprives a hopeful writer of a fair and thorough appraisal of her manuscript. </p><p>

So there you have it. It is never easy to be either a writer or an editor. An author has to toil and toil for hours, days, weeks, months, or years before he or she meets with success (Think of J.K. Rowling). Some writer even fails to get anything (except letters to editors of newspapers) published. Editors not only have to ensure the company's stock is full of publishable materials that can translate into regular output of good books, but also has the duty to keep a keen eye open for any submitted story that could be harbinger to a best seller.</p><p>

Anyhow, I am all for it. Whatever it takes.</p><p> 

But one thing is certain, I am going to hire a capable editor, whose job is to ensure The Write-Way Gazette is on its way to become your popular sources of insightful and compelling news and other general stuff readers have come to expect from a newspaper or a magazine: me.</p><p>

A Highly Sexed Man If I May Say So!

 A highly sexed man, if I may say so

GEORGETOWN, Penang, Malaysia. This is what happened. A thirty-five-year-old man hailed a bus; hopped on it and, because the bus was full he had to stand, settled himself behind a woman. May be it was (due to) the swaying of the bus (where bodies can collide and touch each other accidentally but innocently), or the perfume the woman was wearing, or even the size and shape of her buttock, nobody knows, but  our bus passenger suddenly became aroused (enveloped in his own lustful imagination of him having sex with a sexy woman, perhaps) and needed a relief right away, or he would go crazy (explode). Beside himself, he started masturbating right there  on the crowded bus and shot a load of sperm onto ..well ... the woman's skirt. The woman screamed as soon as she felt the warm load of the man's semen. The bus driver and some passengers then overpowered the culprit and handed him over to the police. According to the star.com.my report, the man had to spend eight years behind bars for his less than eight seconds of pleasure. Weird, isn't it? 

Meteor Apocalypse | Full Action Adventure Movie

What A Father Would Do for The Sake of His Son!

When a pair of lions - lion and lioness - went after a herd of buffalows and the lioness pounced on one particular buffalow she thought she was lucky to have cornered one but what happened next not only saddened the male lion unbearably but ended the life of the female lion! For while she sank her claws into the back of the young buffalow slightly separated fom the main herd and was about do the killing, a buffalow missed her absence and began searching! Then other buffalows became awate of what happened and joined in efforts to save the almost doomed buffalow. The lioness was attacked ferociously, gorged and killed. Her motionless body was left alone by the herd, but not exactly dead. Before she succumbed and died she gave birth to a male cub which was later called Keto and the subject of this video:

McDonald To stop Using Pork From Cruel Pig Farms

I posted this article on MSNBC Newsvine recently in a discussion about McDonald's announcement it had decided against using meat from unethical pig farms

The Chief, I am confused. Earlier in your post you you mentioned free range sows can accidentally lay on their piglets, that stronger sows will bite or bully weaker sows, or that free range pigs fight over food.

Did you or your father provide adequate food for your animals?

You sound like you and/or your father followed a strict regime for your ..okay..sows. Do you mean if a sow is slow to consume her food or is slow to react when food is supplied, she will have to go hungry as the food is quickly gone? Do you mean a sow has to go hungry because she's small and weak, as the food is supplied only in one container?

The solution to your problems is to provide enough food for your pigs, and provided in many containers so that they don't have to fight to stay alive.

I too came from a pig-rearing family. My father had up to a hundred at a time and he never caged his pigs or sows.

Pigs are always hungry and fast eater. Yes, occasionally I observed some smaller pigs got chased away by bigger pigs during meals, but nothing serious. The chased-away-pigs could and did rejoin the group to continue eating, as my father was not stingy with food for his animals.

As for the sows smothering its piglets, I also don't agree. The piglets had less, much less, a chance of being layed on by their mothers in the open than in the stalls, though the piglets can move about through the gaps at the bottom as you said. And the chances of mothers not recognising its young in the open is very rare.

Fund Raising Campaign For Stray Cats

Campaign to raise funds for cats care center. Please give a helping hand.

This is a donation drive; to raise funds for caring for about 70 cats. I am running out of money. My life saving which I have been relying on for more than a decade to run this center, to help ensure these stray cats have at least one meal per day and their medical needs attended to, is almost gone.

Welfare Home For Seventy Cats

Yes, you heard me. I am the owner and operator of the above Welfare Home For Cats.

Circumstances forced me to end up with the cats (and there were 11 dogs too).

The house was not even a properly built house when I came to own it; it's a shed of some iron frame structure covered with tarpauline roof. The reason I came to own it was because when the Lum Wah Ee hispital building was under construction, the owner was asked to vacate the shed and he tried to sell the iron frame structure and the tarpualine sheet to the highest buyer. I was one of the bidders besides Indian scrap dealers.

There were cats every where, all over the place.