destruction of dreams...

There is no wake up call better.

Pls do not blame me for the following act of cruelty that I most ecstatically inflicted upon a fellow human being. I'm pretty sure it was due to that movie Inglourious Basterds - watching brad pitt's smug look and seeing german nazis getting killed and burned alive and shit - shit being that some of them got beaten to death with a baseball bat.

Therapeutic cinema at its best. And the extended conversations between characters was perhaps the best i have seen in a long time. THANK GOD FOR QUENTIN TARANTINO - I would like to vote the character of Hans Landa as the character of the year. Its been a while since I've seen a villian so insidiously comedic and yet surgically analytical in his dissection of the good guys. Brilliant stuff. Go watch it, or find some scenes on youtube - surely they have some.

Anyway, I spoke about the destruction of dreams.

As i told a few of my friends, i beat 4 club players at the country club over the weekend, 4 OLD GUYS - probably about 40 plus, but i know one of them was in his mid-30s.

But the part I left out was when I was hitting with this young guy, after my parents left to go to the gym. This guy was Federer reincarnate.

He had the bandanna, the shirt, the pants, the socks, the shoes, the wristband, the racquet, even god-damn-it, even the STRINGS. The only he didnt get frm the GOAT, was god-given TALENT.

They say the clothes make the man. Well they did. His clothes made the man in me UBER FUCKING PISSED for some reason. And so, wearing a snake-like grin, I ask the guy, who was free, to play a set. He says YES. He starts telling me about his "kick" serve... and his follow-thru on the forehand and why hits like Federer. "Because its a more reliable shot"... PLS LAH...

The set lasted about 12-15min tops. And of course, when the dust settled, the smell of freshly baked bagels filled the air. I hit 5 aces in that set, 5 return-of-serve winners, and 3 return-of-serve drop shot winners. And i won all my serve-&-volley points. I almost laughed out loud when I sliced a ball low and he scrapped his BELOVED K-90 on the floor. He missed the shot and immediately checked the racquet.

And when the set was done, as if on CUE, it began to drizzle. I shook the guy's hand and thanked him for letting me kick his ass and then grabbed my stuff and ran for the gym. Didnt look back. Maybe he was standing there in the cold raining crying his heart out and letting his gut strings turn mushy.

Yeah whatever. Events like this CHANGE people. Hopefully, for the better.

In other news, I encountered a RHINO today. Had a rhino fight.

Now, a RHINO FIGHT is similar to a bull fight. The only difference is in a bull fight, you GET OUT OF THE WAY OF BULL. In a RHINO FIGHT, you take the RHINO head on, and see who manages to own the other.

Encountered this rhino in the wilderness of Singapore, the heart of untamed animals, parasites and an abundance of food - where herds of wildebeests roam free, feeding and spreading their bullshit everywhere.

I'm talking, of course, about Raffles Place MRT.

I was getting off the train from Marina Bay to alight and board a train for Paya Lebar. Of course, he wildebeests were crowding at the train door, snorting and peering thru the glass like they've never seen a man before.

But as the glass door opened, the sea of wildebeests parted. And i tot for a second - "holy shit, they're actually CIVILIZED!" But i was wrong. They werent giving way to me. They were actually giving way to a RAMPAGING FEMALE BITCH OF A RHINOCEROS.

This rhinoceros-bitch was obviously very experienced, which made her all the more dangerous. The crocs on her feet indicated a certain LACK-OF-FASHION, meaning that she didnt care how messy she got, so long as she got into the train first. Her cheap T-shirt was from a 2001 JC Sports Day. And dear gawd... the HAIR... It looked like a blowdryer went postal on it with a lawnmower and a cheese grater. Barbaric.

And she smelled of socks, ammonia, and death, obviously. The jade bangle on her hand was also a weapon to avoid.

But this was RHINO FIGHT, nevertheless.

And everyone knows - real men dont back away from a RHINO FIGHT.

Thankfully, im pretty experienced in Rhino Fights, having taken out a few old man rhinos, auntie rhinos and sometimes, the young-dressed-up-man-on-the-phone rhinos.

The keys to a RHINO FIGHT are similar to tennis:
- Keep your feet moving
- Weight off the front foot
- Eyes on the target
- Lean into the motion

And just like that, in a textbook tackle, my shoulder collided with hers and she barreled into the nearby herd of wildebeests, who ran helter-skelter from her ammonia rich stench. By the time she realized what had happened, I was already on the next train.

See ya, sucker.

Dont be a RHINO, be a RHINO FIGHTER. Fight the good fight.