Ask Mr Indonesian Man: The Driving Test

Q: So what's the deal with Indonesian motorists?

A: What about them?

Q: Crazy.

A: Tsk. Tsk. Look, if you know us long enough, you'll know that we're more than just crazy.

Q: Can I not know, then?

A: Nope. You've brought down the question. So you shall reap the answers yourself. The most effective way to really know Indonesian motorists is from the driving test.

Q: You guys took driving tests to get your driving licenses, right?

A: Not really. What I mean is if we reverse-engineer a driving test from the way we behave on the road, this is what we'll get.

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THE ULTIMATE INDONESIAN DRIVING TEST

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FOR MOTORCYCLISTS

1. When a car in front of you starts flashing his left-turn signal, what will you do?
   
   
   
   1. Honk
   
   
   2. Speed up and pass it from its left
   
   
   3. Pass it from its left WITHOUT speeding up
   
   
   4. Speed up to pass from its left, brake immediately midway and HONK! HONK! HOOOOOOONK! GOD THAT FEELS GOOD!
   
   


2. When you want to change lanes from left to right, which rearview mirror do you use?
   
   
   
   1. Left one
   
   
   2. Center one
   
   
   3. What rearview mirror?
   
   
   4. Ah, you mean this thing I use to comb my hair after a ride?
   
   


3. What is the most important thing to check before picking a helmet?
   
   
   
   1. Coolness factor. It sports an awesome pair of antennas
   
   
   2. Price. It's cheap. The paint gets off after exposed to a little rain? No problem
   
   
   3. Ergonomic factor. I can throw it easily at other annoying motorists. Especially when it's cheap
   
   
   4. Stealth. Nobody's looking at you at the parking ar--Oh! You mean my OWN helmet?
   
   


4. What's the maximum allowable number of passengers on a motorcycle (including the rider)?
   
   
   
   1. Four
   
   
   2. Five
   
   
   3. As long as the motorbike still moves
   
   
   4. Does a goat count as one? Or two?
   
   


5. What should you do when your headlight's out of order?
   
   
   
   1. Take the motorcycle for a spin
   
   
   2. With passengers
   
   
   3. At night
   
   
   4. After making sure the brake's not working either
   
   
   5. All of the above
   
   

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FOR CAR DRIVERS

1. When you want to turn into an intersection and a car in your way stops to let you move first, what'll you do in return for courtesy?
   
   
   
   1. HOOOOONK! Loser!
   
   
   2. I'll blind the driver's eyes by flashing my headlights on the high beam
   
   
   3. Act like I'M the one doing him a favor
   
   
   4. All of the above
   
   


2. How loud should you set your stereo?
   
   
   
   1. Until everybody in the radius of 20 meters can hear the lyrics to Sir Mixx-A-Lot's Baby's Got Back
   
   
   2. Until I couldn't hear the police officer knocking on my window
   
   
   3. Until I see a pedestrian's ear dripping blood
   
   
   4. Until SETI contacts me to stop because aliens from Alpha Centaury have been asking what did us humans mean by "Get Outta My Dreams and Get Into My Car"?
   
   


3. On interprovincial highways, the emergency lane should only be used...
   
   
   
   1. ...at all times
   
   
   2. ...religiously
   
   
   3. ...to pass other cars
   
   
   4. ...while honking
   
   
   5. All of the above
   
   


4. Things you could do while driving (you can pick more than one):
   
   
   
   1. Eat. Drink. Be merry
   
   
   2. Apply make-up
   
   
   3. Make a phone call
   
   
   4. Text a friend so at least someone will know when I...
   
   
   5. ...have an accident
   
   


5. How many people should be in the car when you're driving into a 3-in-1 area?
   
   
   
   1. Wait! I need to see the jockey's fingers. Two fingers. Plus me, that'll be... three!
   
   
   2. Look, I can't drive, check my Blackberry and count at the same time!
   
   
   3. Okay, fine! If you won't give me a clue, I'll just circle around the small roads to get to my destination
   
   

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FOR BOTH

1. You do realize that in Indonesia, we're driving on the left lane?
   
   
   
   1. Not really. Why?
   
   
   2. My left, or your left?
   
   
   3. What's the difference?
   
   
   4. Ooh! Ooh! That's the opposite of the lane where there's a lot of vehicles going our way, right? We call it the boring lane, where everyone rarely screams. Or shouts.


2. When is it an acceptable time to honk?
   
   
   
   1. When we stop in front of our houses and wait for someone to open the gate, even though it's 2 in the morning and we're not handicapped or sufferring from heavy allergic attacks from opening gates ourselves
   
   
   2. When the vehicle in front of us stops
   
   
   3. When the vehicle in front of us moves
   
   
   4. When there's even no vehicle in front of us
   
   
   5. All of the above
   
   


3. What is the main source of traffic problems?
   
   FOR MOTORCYCLISTS:
   
   
   
   1. Cars
   
   
   2. Cars
   
   
   3. Cars
   
   
   4. Cars
   
   FOR CAR DRIVERS:
   
   
   
   1. Motorcycles
   
   
   2. Motorcycles
   
   
   3. Motorcycles
   
   
   4. Motorcycles

I Want to Ride My Bacangcycle

Many food peddlers offer their wares around my neighborhood. They usually push around a cart, carry their stuff on foot or bring them on their bikes.

One particular peddler rides around on his bicycle, selling bacangs.^[1] He shouts about his wares with a certain rhythm, like a chant, "Bacang, baaacaaaang. Caaaang, baaaacang!" He has a lot of customers in my hood. I'm not sure whether his chant works the charm or his bacangs are that good.

He got so successful, three months ago he rode in a brand new motorcycle. Yet, his sales dropped. Because then, every time a neighbor heard his "Bacang, baaa--" and came out of the house, he only saw flying dust and heard a faint "caaaaang...." somewhere.

In the distance. Out of sight.

Yesterday I saw the bacang peddler, back on his old bicycle.

___________________

[1]: A traditional Chinese food which is popular in Indonesia. Read: bah-cahng. Some people spell it as bakcang, but it's still pronounced the same way. This makes bacang a wonderful entry for a spelling bee.

Here's a nice site with its recipe.

New Amenity: Reality TV Redefined

Last week I stayed in a four-star hotel in Manado. After enjoying a huge dinner, I spent several minutes lazing around in my room, switching TV channels. Saw II was on one of the channels--people vomitting blood. Switch. Indonesian News channels showing dead bodies. Switch.

Suddenly, channel 25 caught my attention. The screen only showed one particular scene. And a familiar one at that: the hotel lobby.



I couldn't believe my eyes. It's a direct feed from the hotel's security camera! And before I could really chew it, I switched to channel 26 and whoala!--another direct feed; showing the swimming pool!

What is this? Voyeur Channel?

Maybe the management intended to include this as a special service. All they needed to do was putting a brochure in every room, saying, "Dear Esteemed Guests, should you expect a company, ask him to wait in the lobby. Let him wait a couple of minutes. If he picks his nose or scratches his crotch, be advised to wear gloves before meeting him downstairs."

What? Did I use the channel to view the pool the next day? No. I'd seen all the other guests during breakfast. Them in swimwears? I'd rather watch Saw II.

The Most Likely Reason of a First Encounter

Thinking Outside The Pants

There comes a time for every person, when he has to face the dreaded reality again. That after searching for a good pair of pants, he realizes that... none of them fits.

I have a few pairs that I only use for special occassions, like attending wedding ceremonies, public speaking, or mud-wrestling Jessica Alba. I'm going to be a keynote speaker for presentation skill next week, so yesterday, I tried all of them. I realized that while wearing one, I couldn't do one thing that a public speaker must always do: breathe.

So, it's diet time again. (Like a wise man said once, "You can't spell diet without 'die'!") And I 'm maybe among the few men who do it not for the sake of vanity. But solely because I'm cheap. Buying new pants costs money. And it means I have to give up the old ones.

Which brings us to environmental issues. Dewi Lestari, once wrote in her blog that we can help by doing little things. Such as throwing away old clothes that we no longer (or simply can't) wear.

Or maybe she didn't. Her post is so long, that I have troubles keeping notes. I think to save the environment, first we have to establish a rule that posts about environments need to be short and concise. So us readers can actually understand.

Or at least slip in a few breaks in a long post. Something equivalent of commercial breaks, but instead of making you want to go to the toilet, they will keep you interested, such as nude pictures of Jessica Alba.

Anyway, because I don't actually understand, I'll have to assume that Dewi suggested us to throw away old clothes for environmental benefits. I'm all for environmental benefits, as long as I don't have to do anything. However, I have to argue that throwing old clothes that no longer fit--at least in my case--is just like throwing our shoes when we break our legs and have to keep it in a cast.

When we get better, we can't find them. "Where the hell are my shoes?" we ask our spouses, because we know that only actors in sinetrons (Indonesian soap operas) who talk to themselves. Then, finding that they're already gone, we have no other choices but to amputate our legs.

So call me cheap and non-environmentalist, but I'm not burning bridges to pants which fit my previous waistlines. I'll instead opt to eat only celeries and carrots for the rest of the day, drink twelve glasses of water, and sleep early in the night.

Because tomorrow morning I'll surrender and buy a new pair of pants.

_______________________

PS: On a side note, Jakartass invites us to think outside the blog--sorry, box, for Indonesia (this includes important environmental issues such as: should we stop Ahmad Dhani from polluting the TV channels?) and share our thoughts there. I was going to offer this post when my partner pointed out that, "Technically, it says nothing about Indonesia or environment."

Details.

Summing Up the Year 2007

First, let's take a look back on...


January
Months before the Indonesia tourism site started attracting (unwanted) attention, I'd noticed something peculiar about their previous improvement: their copywriter apparently smoked pot on the job.


February
It took twenty years for me to get this single enlightenment: It would only take one second--to turn the damn TV off.


March
The KKK took my (newborn) baby away. But it was okay. Because I finally understood how Indonesian swearing works.


April
During the care of my second child, I realized that--ideally--a guy should undertake a Fatherhood Aptitude Test before facing the actual thing. Otherwise, these fathers might end up creating TV shows for Indonesia.


May
The World Wildlife Fund redefined the term "back to nature", when they accidentally exposed some children to porn in one of their educational events. I guess they just hadn't realized how fierce Indonesian mothers could be.

Thing to note: some children actually applauded. There's hope for Indonesia after all.


June
I realized that my childhood dreams were political. And none of it involved being a president. But it's easy for kids nowadays. If you get a C, you can be the President of the United States. And if you get an E, bright future awaits!

June also bore good news for Nielsen Media Research Indonesia.


July
Indonesians began to frequent goodreads.com, a social networking for book readers. We're easy to spot, though. And speaking of reading, even our representatives are eager to learn.

July was also the start of (Movies) in Five Minutes series, which should be a tell-tale sign of "when Isman has nothing else to do".

And don't forget: Think for future! Best for forward!


August
My eyes were opened by the perks of being a Mayor. Apparently, by being a Mayor, you can check out someone's virginity. In pure admiration, I devised a Comprehensive Virginity Test for this Mayor.


September
I was chosen as one out of thirteen Indonesian representatives in the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival 2007. We were supposed to make other participants from abroad feel welcome. And I sucessfully contributed to that, by being lost in the first day.


October
Blogger Party 2007 happened. Gladly, I wasn't a host or anything. So it went well.

Unfortunately, things didn't go well for the english section of Jakartan Higher Education Directorate site, which were supposed to be Clean, Transparent and Professional and successfully missed all three.


November
Finally some enlightenment for the ladies: an exact definition of "cool" for guys.


December
And as the presidential campaigning period grows nearer, here's a suggestion for our presidential candidates: release a smutty-titled song.


So, based on only what I wrote on The Fool Has Landed: this year has been stupid, hazardous, and enlightening.

Yes, a usual year in Indonesia. But don't let that stop us from continuing in a similar fashion for the following year.

Just like the immortalized words of Al Jarreau;

You can be what you want to
And all you need is to
Get your boogie down

Thank you for sharing the laughs of 2007.

Postcards From Gods

Suppose all mythical gods still existed today. What kind of correspondence or public announcements they'd have made?

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Dear People of Bandung,

I'm sorry about last night's power outtage because of severe thunderstrikes. I slipped while aiming for Nigeria. My mailbox is flooded by Nigerian royalties who want to endow me with their fortunes. I am Thor, Thordammit. No mortal endows me anything.

Electrifyingly,
--Thor

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Dear Single Mothers of Jakarta,

Should your baby show any idiosyncrasies, especially the capability of picking up and hurling some large objects--such as books, plates, or cars--please contact us immediately.

--Human Relationship Manager for Zeus

PS: And welcome to the family.

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Personal Ad: Centuries-mature, charming male divinity looking for young, attractive women for a temporal relationship. You don't have to be rich to be my girl. I don't have to be cool to rule your world. All it needs is my extra time and your kiss.

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To Whom It May Concern,

We're concerned about the lack of moral issues that one of the gods has demonstrated through the use of personal ads, which--and we emphasize--practiced no self-constraints of copyright infringements on our client's song.

We do not wish this brutal case of lawless behaviors to exemplify godly behaviors. Therefore we seek justice in the sum of three wishes under human contracts. No terms and conditions apply.

On behalf of the Artist Formerly Known as the Artist Formerly Known as Prince,
---Bill & Ted & Associates.

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To: divinebeings@googlegroups.com
From: numberone@godsonearth.com
Subject: Yo

Does anydivine know who and where is this formerly prince guy? I want to turn him into a newt, but I need directions. All male mortals look the same to me. Turned one's face to look like an ape. But apparently it's the wrong guy.

Divinely yours,
--Big Z

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One Reason to Attend the Next Ubud Writers and Readers Festival

You'll catch one of the festival unique highlights. Such as this.



The above incident occured during the panel titled "Something to Say", featuring four columnists: Made Wijaya, Shashi Tharoor, Nury Vittachi and Julia Suryakusuma. Deepika Shetty moderated the discussion. The audience could also enjoy a glass of complimentary arak. Enough to fire you up but far from enough to loosen up. So all happened without any chemical influences whatsoever.

In short, Made Wijaya was boring the audience with his long-winded speech and reading. Since Made wouldn't even stop after a couple of hints (Nury pretended to snore, for one), Nury went for more drastic measures with Julia.

And even after all that, Made kept reading.

For the full story, you can read the South China Post article in Nury's blog, or Deepika's post.

Nury's take on the discussion may be the ultimate conclusion of the topic, "[A column]'s not about you. It's about your readers." About the courage to represent readers, Nury himself claimed that he had been sacked six times and sued nine times. Shashi interjected, "And the tenth would be from Julia's husband."

Nury related a story in early 1997, when the Chinese people were concerned about the health of Deng Xiaoping, at the time the leader of Communist Party of China. The government issued an official statement, "Deng Xiaoping's condition is normal for a man of his age." In reaction, Nury wrote in his column, "The normal condition for a 92-year-old man is DEATH." And fate showed that it has a sense of irony. Not long after that, Deng Xiaoping passed away. And so Nury got himself into some troubles.

He finished on this note, "A column isn't just a privilege. It's something that you must use, to get sacked or sued for."

The Writers' Cabaret

Night events during the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival (UWRF) 2007 were creams of the crops. All of them are packed with high doses of fun. Even when I was one of the performers.

No, I'm not being humble. Like the Israeli politician Golda Meir said, "Don't be humble. You're not that great." Honestly, some of us write because we know that we're not good in anything else. So when I was told to perform at the Writer's Cabaret, my first natural reaction was shouting, "Are you NUTS!?"

Thank God they informed me by email.

So I read the event brief. It said, "Writers sometimes harbor secret skills..." Well, that's good, I thought. At least, after my performance, the audience will realize that some skills are better off when they remain secrets.

I reread the schedule. I was told to perform one of my flash fiction stories. A fable about a goat who became a stand-up comedian. Uh oh. Don't get me wrong. I love the story. And I enjoy speaking in public. But performing is a different kind of ball game. To make things worse, the last time I performed a story was during elementary school days. And during those times, the audience were parents, who are--by nature--easy to please.

Trust me, talk to the nearest parents. They'll squeal and smile broadly everytime they describe how their kids "can say 'poo'" or "fall over from the bed" or "stab his mother with a fork." Parents have expectations as low as sinetron audiences.

However, I'll be performing at a cafe. There will be REAL audiences. And on 20:30 at that. Those people will still be sober!

I shared my concerns to the host, Nury Vitacchi. He waved it off, saying, "Don't worry. You'll be performing in front of writers. We're like one big family."

He shouldn't have said that. I mean, it was a nice gesture. But he didn't know that I come from a Sundanese family. And Sundanese family members support each other by putting them down. We have this crazy notion that we can prepare anybody for failures, by humiliating them beforehand. And afterwards. And many years after that.

I'm not kidding. I can't speak proper Sundanese because when I wrote a Sundanese story at the age of seven, they read it out loud in front of the whole family, guffawing at every sentence. I lost interest in Sundanese and started learning English, which eventually got me here. A simple "ironic" can't describe how I feel about that.

Back to the problem at hand, I turned to Labibah Zain, an experienced theater performer, for help. She's worked with more theaters than the number of times I've performed a play. After several discussions, I finally got some confidence to do it. I've worked on the script. Practiced the expression. Even incorporated some of Miles Merrill's voice acting into the play. So I stepped into Mozaic, ready to face the challenge. Only to be told, "You're supposed to be at the Jazz Cafe."

Fortunately, every venue in Ubud is "near".

It was still forty minutes early when I got to Jazz Cafe. And that was when Nury relayed the bad news. "I think we need to scrap the play. The audience won't listen to you reading a script."

"Ohkay," was the only intelligible thing that could come from my mouth.

"How about stories?" suggested Nury. "You're a very good storyteller. Why don't you just tell some stories about being a writer or something?"

I was torn between jumping in joy, "Really? I could just do a stand-up?" and slapping my head, "With fresh materials in forty minutes?"

"Well, it's up to you, y'know," shrugged Nury. "If you prefer reading the story--"

"No, no, no," I said. That got my mind made up. So I spent the next forty minutes frantically trying to come up with a good fiver. Naturally, I spent the next thirty minutes writing rubbish. And then finally came up with the materials at the last ten.

Tara June Winch, a wonderful Wollongong-born writer who won the David Unaipon 2004 award for her short story collection, Swallow the Air, gave me a supportive company while I rehearsed my material. "I can see your nervous vapors coming out of your head," she said.

Manuka Wijesinghe went first. A talented playwright, writer, actress, dancer, teacher, Manuka's also a linguist fluent in English, Spanish and German. Thankfully, she's very down-to-earth in person and easy to talk to.

She danced the traditional Sri Lankan way with grace. (One of the crowd in the background seemed unimpressed--but I suspect that woman, who wore a pink dress, ate a fly. And not by chance.)


My turn was next. My five-minute bit was about a free, fantastic offer of cultural tourism: just crash a muslim wedding party. I focused on three traits that they could learn. Punctuality, for instance, "Suppose the wedding vows were scheduled at nine AM, to be punctual you'd have to be there exactly at ten." Upon delivering the third trait ("The success of a wedding vow depends on three things..."), I spotted a caucasian man took notes. I hope he didn't take that advice too seriously.


Afterwards, Shashi Tharoor, the charismatic diplomat and writer whom Nury introduced as one of our planet's greatest treasures, killed the audience with his stand-up jokes about UN and world issues.


Then came Cyril Wong's turn. This courageous poet and counter-tenor uses his works and performances to fight for gay rights in Singapore. He's also a practical person who isn't shy of laughing at himself. After singing his first song, he said, "Now, I'm going to do my drag-queen number." And then proceeded to sing Whitney Houston's I Will Always Love You. He managed to do it effortlessly.


Up next, was Angelo Suarez. A performing poet who loves his advertising job. No, scratch that. He's very passionate about advertising, as much as a cannibal to meat. His performances are often arts in themselves. And he likes to involve his audience in his acts. Not this time, though. He knew the audience would be impossible to involve in. And the stage was very limited, he couldn't do much with it. So he just performed one of his poems... and banged his head several times to the wooden pillar so hard, I was afraid the roof were going to collapse.


Far from least was Ann Lee and Kam Raslan, two Malaysian writers who brought along a professional comic who got onto the stage as the Malaysian Minister of Culture, Arts, and Heritage, YB Datuk Seri Utama Rais Yatim. The Minister gave a speech on why the next Ubud Writers and Festival should be held in Kualalumpur. He also gave examples how open-minded Malaysians are. He, for instance, loves to absorb other cultures. He said, "So when I visited countries like Australia and was offered beer, I absorbed it."

Afterwards, it was free-for-all dance floor. Although the Jakartan rush hour traffic was more like it. It got so crowded, somebody bumped and spilled beer on my right shoulder.

"You're awfully sweaty, Man," said somebody whom I can't recall. And it was no use explaining, as if he figured I were dancing by only flailing my right arm around. Which would've been a novel dance move. I should call it the "Crashing 'Copter."

But if you actually use it at a muslim wedding party, don't mention my name.

The Art of Satire

At Ubud Writers and Readers Festival, I was one of the panelists for "The Art of Satire." The other two was Kam Raslan and Manuka Wijesinghe. Nury Vitacchi moderated the discussion.


Since the topic involved humor writers, the room was full. All panelists started with their five to ten minutes of monologue, on how they got their satirist voice. The discussion started afterwards.

Kam told a lot of interesting stories about Malaysian politics, including snippets from his friend's book, Malaysian Politicians Say the Darnedest Things. His first novel, Confessions of an Old Boy, is also a satire look at Malaysia.

Manuka related a witty observation about Sri Lanka's culture. One example is how their Buddhist philosophies don't seem to go along with the facts that so many people ended up dead for speaking up. Her first novel, Moonsoons and Potholes, is a satire look at Sri Lankan culture, through the eyes of its characters.

While I opened with the piece about angers, goverment and politicians (transcript below).

When the topic reached the issue about government censorship, Nury joined in by telling his experiences when he was asked to speak in front of Lee Kuan Yeuw, at that time was known as the Minister who was too serious. He was warned by the ministers' aide that, "Please don't use jokes! Not good." Nury went and told some jokes anyway. By the end of the event, the aide approached him and said, "Thank you! Great jokes! Minister Lee laughed twice!"

The audience roared in laughter. But Nury convinced them that it was a bad thing. "I did 200 jokes and he only laughed twice!" However, the media, which got the news, quickly bloated it up and described Nury as, "The man who made Lee Kuan Yeuw laughed."

"Twice," I added.

The following was my opening monologue.

_________________

I may differ from the other panelists in the forms of satire I wrote. I write humor essays and flash fiction. To some of you who’re not yet familiar with flash fiction, it’s basically a shorter than short fiction. Which is why some call it short shorts, micro, mini, or bite-sized fiction.

I read somewhere that the Chinese has a name for it as well, that literally means cigar-long stories. So the story finishes at the time the cigar burns right to the stub. This is an interesting definition. Because Hemingway once wrote a flash fiction which consists of six words. We can read it in five seconds. I’d love to see someone try smoking a cigar that fast.

So how do writers find their satirist voice?

Traditionally, writers derive their satirist voice from angers (or other deep emotions). We channel these angers as source of inspirations. Jonathan Swift, for instance, used his anger to write "A Modest Proposal," in which he proposed that the poor eat their children to fight hunger while at the same time reducing the number of poor people. Two flies at one swat.

However, we need to distinguish what kind of angers that we can channel into our satirist voice. Let’s face it, if we’re furious about the time when we got a fly in our soup, writing a satire about it won’t exactly inspire any change.

With that said, we also need a vision of change. At the very least, we could envision where the current situation will lead to a major downfall. And then, we can work on the idea.

For instance, after 1998, Indonesian people suddenly got into this euphoria of freedom and democracy. After more than thirty years getting suppressed, we suddenly found ourselves able to say almost anything. In almost any kind of ways. As long as we outnumbered our opposition. So we might feel like it was democracy. When in fact it was a bit like moderated anarchy (which is a contradiction in terms). Because everyone disagreed with each other and didn’t want to listen to each other, at all.

Political parties formed. One hundred and eighty one of them. And they kept splitting on a whim. Hence we got the Indonesian Democratic Party, the Opposition of Indonesian Democratic Party, the Opposition of the Opposition of Indonesian Democratic Party, and so on.

So at that time I wrote a flash fiction story about a male human body that reaches a new height of awareness. Suddenly, every limb got tired of listening to the brain and decided to act on their own free will, autonomously. The ears would shut down anytime they didn’t like what they hear. And they disliked everything. Especially what the mouth was saying. The left hand voiced a protest, because they claimed they did all the work, while the penis got all the pleasure. This brings a new definition of "penis envy." Even the fingers decided to go separate ways. So everything was chaotic. Nobody—-no pun intended-—listened to each other or realized their common goals or even needs. Even when they were all cornered with deprivation of food, they still wouldn’t cooperate. So in the end, the whole body died.

So, usually, the type of angers that I can use to produce satire involves government and politics. Humorist Will Rogers once said that it’s easy to write humor since you have the government do the work for you.

Government officials, for instance, make my day. Just a month ago, some of you may have noticed a particular news story. The mayor of Indramayu-—a city in West Java-—was enraged when a couple of students made an amateurish porn clip, and somehow it got distributed on the net. He immediately stated that every female student in Indramayu had to undergo a virginity test. I failed to see the logic in that. I have no idea what kind of academic achievement he wanted to endorse by building a list of virgins.

At such occassions, I usually write an open letter to mass media (or at the very least in my blog). In this case, I suggested that we fully support the Mayor decision. And to help him do it, I devised a fail-safe, comprehensive Virginity Test. By way of multiple choices.

One example question:

Suppose you got lost for days in a desert. On your last bit of strength, you found an oasis. You dragged yourself to the fresh water and drank it. How did it taste?

a. Like water.
b. Like great sex.
c. Like the virginity that I’ve been keeping.

Comprehensive and fail-safe.

I’ve sent this letter to several media, but none published it. Maybe they’re still testing it to their employees. I don't know.

Oh, and I particularly love Indonesian politicians. They say the darnedest things. Next year, Indonesia will face another period of presidential election campaigns. That will be interesting for a humor writer.

I remember that one of the 2004 presidential candidates, whom I’ll refer with the codename Double-H, once told the papers that, "If you want to know how many wives I have, just check my CV."

He put the number of his wives on his curriculum vitae.

Now why didn’t I think of that? This guy is genius. I mean, he must’ve made it to the top because of it. I’d really love to do that. Not the having many wives part. I’ve got only one. And I’m happy as it is. Primarily because she’s capable enough to kill me if I say otherwise.

What I mean is putting a large number of wives as a data in my CV. I can just imagine how these will put me into the top spot in various areas. A hostage situation, for example. A group of bank robbers've got some customers on gunpoint. They demand an impossible ransom. We obviously need somebody to negotiate with them.

This is where I step in.

"Sorry, Sir," the police in charge will try to stop me. "With all due respect, but who the hell do you think you are? This is a serious matter."

I’ll just flash my CV. "Have you seen how many wives I have? Take a good look, then. Yes, that’s right. I have twenty wives. And I’m here alive and standing. If that doesn’t make me a helluva negotiator, I don’t know what will."

But let’s return to the topic at hand. In short, what I do isn’t finding the voice. The voice itself is a result of my own reaction (or emotion) towards what happen in the world around me. What I need to do is just discerning in what kind of way I can channel these emotions. Sometimes it’s satire. Other times it may be irony or sarcasm or whatever.

And I have to emphasize that it’s not an entirely conscious decision. Sometimes you’re just compelled to do something. And as a writer, my natural reaction is writing it down.

Report: The Opening Gala

Continuing from my last post, I was saved by a simple fact: the inn was actually only three buildings away from the internet cafe. I'm not kidding. When I walked out of it, I intended to return to Ubud Palace, and there it was. The sign glowered mockingly, "Yulia."

There. I wrote it. So if I ever forgot it again, I could just connect online and read it.

Back to the report. The Ubud Readers and Writers Festival Opening Gala was something. I’m still not exactly sure what. But it was definitely something.

The thing is, I couldn’t see a thing. The event was packed. I was standing about four lines behind the the rear end of the seats. And everyone in front of me was about twenty centimeters (equals to a hundred feet, or a trillion inches—-hey, if you don’t know metrics, why do you assume me knowing your system) taller. So I relied on play-by-play commentaries from the crowd.

For instance, Janet De Neefe, the Festival Director, looked fabulous in her outfit. And if the sponsorship list got any longer, they might have to cancel the entire festival, because we all would’ve still been standing there, listening to the MC pronouncing it one…
by...
one...
until the end of the week. These are, of course, the results of the Festival Manager, Finley Smith's and the Sponsorship Director, Karen McClellan's hard work.

The canapes were great. Or so they said. Because I was fasting. And by the time I broke my fast, all I could get was a bottle of Sprite and a kebab consisted of a shred of paprika, mushroom, and pineapple.

Yum.

The Minister of Culture and Tourism, Jero Wacik, finally graced the festival with his presence. From what I heard, he graciously missed the previous three. When he addressed the audience, somebody in the crowd actually shouted, "Jero!" I knew that ministers always bring (or drag) their own PR posses. But that was the first time I knew there’s a cheerleader as well—-which I think is very cultural. ("Gimme a ‘J’! Gimme an ‘E’! Gimme an... uhh, what’s that letter after ‘Q’?")

And the event peaked with the art performances of Sekala-Niskala, which is the theme of this year’s festival. It literally means The Seen and The Unseen.

Unfortunately, I’d only been able to watch the latter.

Ubud Readers and Writers Festival: Chaotic Host

This is why they shouldn't have appointed a humor writer as the ghost host: things never go well with one.

The first day I arrived here, I've already made two classic travel mistakes:

1. I forgot to adjust my watch

So when I finished examining the programme schedule and decided to rent a mountain bike to scout around, I realized that fact a bit too late. The clock showed five past four. And it was one hour late. While the gala festival opening was scheduled at five o'clock.

To put it short: whoever made the world record of changing clothes--I've beaten you down.


2. When I asked one of the locals for directions to Ubud Place--where the gala would be--she pointed right and said, "Just go straight. It's near." And I actually believed her.

Apparently, the concept of "near" around Ubud is between 100 meters and 100 gazillion kilometers. By the time I arrived there, I already qualified as an olympic torch-bearer.

So much for ghost host. It didn't help that when I got there, I knew practically nobody. And for the next half an hour, I'd only been successful at being the first part of the phrase. A ghost.

Luckily, I met Kam Raslan, who had the grace to put on his nametag. So I didn't have to make a fool of myself by greeting, "Hi, Kim!" He also brought his lovely wife, who apparently didn't have a nametag--so I'll refrain from referring her name in this post.

I told him my story and he asked a genuine question, "So where do you stay?"

"Uhhh," I blanked out. "I actually forgot."

"So how will you return there?" he asked in amazement.

"Well, it is 'near'," I said, laughing.

And once again, I had to eat those words. Because I had been secretly hoping that I could find the inn by its characteristics. It looks just like a small inn from outside, but next to the entrance, there's a car passage that leads to a broader area.

Apparently, ALL inns at Monkey Forest Ubud are like that. So I got lost. I couldn't find it. And lo and behold, I found this internet cafe' instead. So as a professional humor writer, I did what I should: asking for help online.

HELP! Please inform the committee that I'm lost around Monkey Forest Ubud street. And if they spot a trail of sweat, I must be near.

Couch Potato Workout for Guys

(Note: As requested by Vina, the self-proclaimed Crazy Doctor, here's the article I wrote in 2000 for a lifestyle site.)

Don’t you just love self-explanatory titles? A couple of gym friends and I invented a set of exercises you can do at home, in front of your TV. If you’re one of those workaholics that couldn’t sit still through your leisure time, this could help as well. Don’t forget to do some stretching first. You know the drills, you were in high school. But leave out anything that couldn’t be done while sitting down. Having fun while sitting down is the whole idea.

• Tension Cushion
  Sit upright on your couch with both feet planted together. Put a cushion between your knees and squeeze. Do three sets of 10 repetitions. This will work the inner thighs and the muscles surrounding your knees, helping to prevent tendon problems in the knees.
  
  Perfect to do while watching horror movies or comedies that put the characters in stick-up situations. We know how annoying it is to watch mindless characters srewing up their lives or girls in revealing outfits getting away from being chopped up (and, of course, failing).



• Soda Fonda
  You need at least a can of soda. Two are perfect. Hold both cans straight out and, by bending one arm; raise a can up to your shoulder. Return to original position, and then do the same with the other arm. Feel the strength of your biceps by doing three sets of 10 repetitions. For the last set do extra two or five curls.
  
  Grand Prix or badminton matches are good choices to watch. The cans would be well shaken enough for later celebrations. But don’t throw out the empty cans. You’ll need them later.



• Channeling Arms
  Hold your remote control at arms length while flicking through the boring channels. Do it for 5 minutes for the first time. Increase weight, by tying something to the remote, and duration gradually. These will work shoulder muscles.
  
  Try to do them on a Sunday Afternoon when there’s nothing to watch for hours. Having cable will be perfect. More channels to browse.



• Ball Squeeze
  It isn’t as painful as it sounds. Put a tennis ball or anything similar in the palm of your hand and squeeze for about two seconds. Do three sets of 10 repetitions, alternately between each hand. The exercise is good for your finger strength and suppleness, as well as helping relieve the stress from too much button-mashing on the remote control or your Playstation pad.
  
  Which is why it's best done right after Channeling Finger. Try flipping the channel to some irritating shows, like soap operas or Family 100 to get an extra energy to squeeze.



• Knee Lift
  Fill a small bag with weights, like books, and hang it over your ankle. Lift foot and straighten the leg at the knee. Point toes towards your body and feel the pull. To increase difficulty, put your feet together and lift both.
  
  This workout increases lower body suppleness as well as knee and hamstring flexibility. Can help reduce risk of arthritis later on. Flip on to English Premiere League, Series A, or even the national league live football matches, and feel the emotional bond with your team. You'll curse less often when you share the pain.



• Death Crush
  Here’s when your empty cans come in handy. Now place them between palms in front of your chest. Crush them. And feel the pectoral muscles in your chest building. Too bad we don’t have a recycling center. You could burn calories by dragging your butt to the center with the stash.
  
  The perfect movies to watch are any Leonardo diCaprio’s. You'll crunch the cans automatically.

Or Is It Just Me?

In one of Honda Vario TV commercials, the Indonesian singer Agnes Monica looks at the screen and says, "I'm Vario."

After that she goes on riding the bike, while texts flash on the screen showing what's a Vario like: "Stylish design," and... "Easy riding."

Is she insinuating something?

My Childhood Dreams Were Actually Political

As a kid, I used to imagine that every profession did heroic deeds. The Doctor flew to patients in needs, or accident sites. His x-ray vision scanned for injuries. And with superspeed, The Doctor treated their wounds.

He could cure people without breaking a sweat. And that made him popular.

The Doctor: Why, hello there, ladies. You all look rather famished. May I interest you all in a well-balanced diet instruction?

Slim Lady #1: No, thanks. We intentionally only eat carrots our entire lives to try for the Ms. Universe contest.

Slim Lady #2: Or die trying.

Slim Lady #3: Yeah! Would the real slim lady please stand up.

Slim Lady #4: (Falls down.)

The Doctor: Looks like one of you’s going for the second option.

Slim Ladies: NO!

The Doctor: Not to worry. (Checks her pulse.) I can do CPR.

Slim Ladies: Thank goodness!

The Doctor: Now how 'bout that diet?

Slim Ladies: My hero!

At that time, my superhero of choice is the Engineer Man. If flood came, The Engineer Man would’ve built a tall shelter. If Godzilla attacked, he’d have thrown the monster to the sky with a gigantic catapult.

People: (shouting) Help! The Leaning Tower of Pisa has collapsed!

Engineer Man: Don’t worry.
(drawing a blueprint, then nods. He then quickly constructs a huge spring bed which bounces the falling tower constantly)
Now it’s become a new landmark; The Bouncing Tower of Pisa!

People: Thank you, Engineer Man!

I can’t remember what I used to imagine about presidents. Maybe helped the elderly cross the road. President was always the profession that gave the greatest sense of power to us children. But when we were asked for details, nobody really knew what presidents could actually do. I suspect this also applies to adults now.

But I remember why I wasn't too keen on being a president. There was one thing that disturbed me the most. A superhero goes into action before calling it. The president I knew back then called actions (many of them were aired live on national television), and most of the time forgot to actually do them.

I suspect this also applies now.

Star Warsian Mother's Day

Recently, I re-watched Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back with a friend. She kept her silence until the dramatic scene when Luke faced Vader in a lightsaber combat.

Darth, of course, cut off Luke's arms and said, "Luke, in case you didn't understand Germanic, I'm your father." Luke's expression showed disbelief.

And my friend broke her silence, "I think that wasn't an expression of surprise."

"What do you mean?" I asked, more curious on how could she have read my narrative beforehand.

"Maybe he just felt lucky."

I frowned, "Lucky for what? Knowing that there will be a sequel?"

"No, knowing that Vader was just the father. Look, if someone ever raised a lightsaber against his own mother--believe me--she wouldn't have stopped at just cutting off a single arm," said the mother of two.

"Uhm, Happy Mother's Day," I said with a gulp.

Fatherhood Aptitude Test #1

1. Set your alarm clock to go off at 2 AM.


2. After waking up, put it on your arms. Swing it gently until it dies off.


3. Set the alarm to fifteen minutes after. Try to get some sleep before it goes off.


4. If the sun hasn't risen yet, return to #2

Survive for six months straight. Try considering to have a child.

Note to spouses:
Keep suicide pills away from his sight. If your partner exhibits any signs of violence on the mention of "baby", use the sleeping darts (not included).

Language Barrier: Why Stephen Spielberg George Lucas Didn't Cast Asians for Star Wars

Last month, I attended an annual, international symposium. Its theme wasn't important. Not in this blog, anyway. Because the official theme was actually twenty words long. I quickly concocted my own theme, "To stay awake for eight hours straight, three days in a row."

I almost failed.

Because these guys were professional Power Point Troopers. One speaker had only opened a single slide full of bulleted points, and I could almost hear the sound of a few heads hitting their desks. Those were the new guys. A veteran participant sitting next to me was actually sleeping while sitting straight up, as if he just swallowed a coat hanger. And--I'm not kidding--he turned out to be the next speaker.

Later, during a coffee break, I spoke to a Vietnamese speaker. His presentation had some information that I was interested in, yet I had trouble understanding what he said. "Yes," he nodded on my inquiry. "I'm the vader of the organization."

"Excuse me?" I frowned.

"I'm the vahnter," he insisted with a straight face.

It took about three seconds before it finally sank in. "You're the founder?"

"Yes," he nodded vigorously.

I would love to see Stephen SpielbergGeorge Lucas cast this guy for Star Wars. One of the most memorable scenes would've become legendary.

"Luke," said Darth Vader after trading lightsaber blows. "I'm your founder."

"What?" Skywalker frowned.

Vader snarled, "I'm your bother!"

"Can't agree more," groaned Luke.

One of the crew would've been bound to voice his protest, "StephenGeorge, why don't you ditch this guy?"

"Don't tell me what to do!" growled SpielbergLucas. "You're not my father!"

This kind of imagination was the only thing that helped me stay awake.

Washing the Warehouse!

When outlets are having stock sales, they usually put up a sign that says, "Cuci Gudang!" In Bahasa, it literally means, "Washing [the] Warehouse!"

I have no idea who came up with the term. Maybe an obsessive-compulsive owner who complained a lot everytime he inspected the warehouse. "What is all this dusty stuff doing in my warehouse!" he screamed.

"This is our inventory, Sir," replied his attendant.

The owner grunted, "Well, do something about it!"

"Like what, Sir?"

"Put it on sale or something! Then wash the whole place! I want it sparkling clean by tomorrow morning!"

The attendant nodded, "I hope you feel the same thing about your cash register."

And what if they don't have a warehouse? What signs do they put? "Cuci Toko"? (Literally: "Washing [the] Store.") Why not "Cuci Tangan"? ("Washing Hands.") Isn't that what they're actually saying? "You can buy these things for cheap prices. So don't expect anything else from me. Be they're broken, they're burnt easily, or are major cause of cancers. They're all your responsibilities now. I wash my hands of it."

Ask The Office Strategist

Q: I have problems with coworkers who keep borrowing things (like pens and stuff) and never bother to return them. Telling them nicely didn't work. What should I do?
A: Believe me, "nice" and "office" don't fit. They don't even rhyme. Sometimes you need to do unthinkable things to make a point. For instance, you can tie your pen to a twenty-meter long thread (or linked rubberbands). Then lend it to your friends. "Just a precaution," you can say to them. "Everybody seems to get amnesia after borrowing my stuff. So when I need the stuff, I can always pull it back." Pause for effect, then pat his back with a smile. "Try not to put it in your pocket. I might need it when you're in the restroom."

Q: Any extraordinary outbound suggestions, which can promote camaraderie among our colleagues?
A: Bog snorkelling.⁽¹⁾

Q: Is it just me or do the people who invented this sport sound like drunkards?
A: I'll drink to that. You can almost picture the pioneers coming up with this sport idea over a pint of beer.

Guy #1: I have a great idea for a sport.
Guy #2: What?
Guy #1: Let's get some guys to snorkel through mud.
Guy #2: What if they refuse?
Guy #1: We won't call it mud. We'll just refer it as "water with peat".
Guy #2: Peat sounds great. I bet they won't even realize it until they try to swim across.
Guy #1: (laughing) Heck, no! They won't be allowed to swim.
Guy #2: Ah, so they'll have to rely on flippers! Yes, that could work. Their legs will be strong enough for that.
Guy #1: (laughing again) Not after riding a bicycle throughout the mountains they won't.
Guy #2: You're genius!

Q: You do notice that "The Bog Snorkellers" will be a good name for an office band?
A: Of course. We're professionals.
____________
1: Thanks to Henny.