FAKE EGGS FROM TESCO Malaysia and the perpetuation of ignorance

29 Apr

I’m writing this post in a fit of anger so I am aware that my choice of words may not be the politest.
I also know that no one reads this anymore so I can rest assured that my rant will remain lost among the gazillions of words on the Internet.

I came across a post shared on my Facebook timeline about the supposed “FAKE EGGS OMG” (I added the capitalisations and the OMG) today and I almost scrolled past it as one of those dumb things people like to share without thinking. Something made me stop and look, and I realised Yes, it is something people share without thinking and that really, really ticks me off.

In this day and age, information is easily available at our fingertips. Sharing hyped out “information” without actually looking up sources, checking its credibility, looking up some facts and using basic logic and science is not only ludicrously ignorant, it’s plain lazy. I forgive you if you’re over 40 and technologically challenged, but honestly, anyone younger than that with access to the Internet, a high school education and a working mind should think twice or a helluva many times before sharing stupid “YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IS IN YOUR __________” or something of that ilk.

Let’s go back to those fake eggs. As far as I recall (I can’t look at that collection of photos too many times, it makes me angry), there were five reasons stated why she thought the eggs were fake.

1. “Pattern” on shell scratches off to show smooth shell.

2. Watery something something whites

3. Membrane of egg was thick and papery.



As you can see, number 4 and 5 made me the angriest so I remembered them. Has the writer really not had any egg experiences in her lifetime? Eggs are a biological product – I personally would be a little creeped out if they were the exact same shape and size.

(Aside. When I was in Melb, I did a fair bit of macaron baking as a stress relief. I used to weigh egg whites from each egg to adjust the proportions of sugar etc. and I sometimes felt weirded out when the weight of the whites would be exactly the same down to one decimal point for say, three eggs in a row. I know they grade and sort the eggs, but are the hens producing those eggs robots?? Also, I bought barn or free range eggs whenever I could afford them so it’s not the battery hen thing).

For number 1 and 2, fair enough, perhaps that’s a bit weird. Both Tesco and the egg supplier have come forward to clarify that issue (YOU go look it up if you want to know, don’t take my word for it).

For number 3, I’ve had lots of experiences with eggs with “thick” membranes and I don’t see anything unusual with anything in her picture (I don’t cook a lot. I really don’t. I baked a bit back when I had more free time and energy, but I don’t think my egg exposure is any higher than an average Malaysian).

I looked through some of the 2000 over shares from her post hoping that at least a few hundred would be people laughing over what a silly, unscientific and illogical post it was. I wanted to be fair to them before I wrote this rant, but I saw only one or two sensible people (with egg experience I reckon) who commented on the shares that all four/five of her points were off and in no way proved that the eggs were fake.

And yes, if you believe yourself to be enlightened, don’t take my words at face value. Go and investigate for yourself and then come and fight with me if you think I’m wrong. Don’t just throw out accusations/assumptions until you’ve done some research. I could be lying to you or I could be ignorant and lazy.

This might be a small thing, but this ignorance and this mindset can go into much more damaging and damning areas. You want an example? Anti-vaccination. I’m not going to tackle that in today’s rant (or ever probably) but YOU go look it up and form your own informed opinion based on LOGIC and SCIENCE after you’ve read the arguments and studies from both sides.

Note: Yes, I am aware of the fake eggs from China scare from years ago, but just because there’s been a serial killer in your county, do you share photos of shadows on your street saying that you see faces peeping out? That’s what it feels like to me, and I probably would be more sympathetic to you in the serial killer example.

Note 2: Yes the example above is really bad but it’s all my brain can come up with at the moment. I am all ranted out.

Note 3: Tesco Malaysia and the supplier, QL eggs have already responded with their own version of events here. I wasn’t going to put the link but I remembered that people are inherently lazy. I refuse to link the original post that got me angry.

To have an opinion

18 Jan

I’ve written and deleted many posts over the past few months and wondered at my inability to generate anything interesting. After some reflection, I realised my problem was that I didn’t have any opinions to call my own.

Thanks to the abundance of reviews, forums, comments and the like, I’m finding it very difficult to believe in my own originality. Of course, it is rare for a person to have completely original ideas, but in the past, you could at least half-believe that you were alone in thinking something. Such comforting self-deception is no longer viable today. It is starting to feel as if everything to be said about something already has been said, with varying degrees of eloquence and it’s hardly difficult to find.

After realising that, rather than be paralysed, I decided to be free. Yes, there may be innumerable others with the same thoughts and feelings that I have, but this blog is my own space for me to express my own thoughts as best as I can – or choose to. It’s not how my future posts will be but it’s a start.

For my first opinion to kick things off, The Lizzie Bennet Diaries is an endearing and fun adaptation of Pride and Prejudice that has been modernised but remains true to its roots. The vlog format is fresh and entertaining, the cast are perfect for their roles and the use of social media (tumblr. & Twitter especially) is innovative and this is the only version of Lydia that I actually like or can sympathise with.  If you have ever kinda liked the book or any of the other adaptations (delectable Colin Firth in the BBC1995!), I would definitely recommend it!

(Click start from the beginning after you hit the link above. And be prepared to lose many MANY hours of your life :X)

You only need to watch Lizzie’s videos, but the experiences is greatly enhanced by all the other social media (Lydia’s videos, Maria’s videos and again, I say, TWITTER AND TUMBLR!)

the LBD

Photoset of cast (missing Allison Paige), by the Meryton.

What stays with you

25 Oct

I was deeply interested in myths, legends and fairytales from a young age. My first love was Norse mythology, but I’ve dabbled in Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Japanese, Chinese, Malay and quite a few others. The stories were a little strange, and many of the original ones didn’t even have the happy endings I loved, but I couldn’t stop reading them. Some were macabre and dark; I think one of the reasons horror movies don’t really scare me is because fairy tales are far scarier, and I’ve read so many different types from many different cultures.

There was a strange line from a Scottish folk tale I could not forget, even though I couldn’t even remember the story. I haven’t been able to look it up until I got home and dug up the book.

It goes:

‘Ae gude turn deserves anither,
Tak’ ye that for being sae kind to my auld mither.’

I’m not sure why that, in a language that is almost beyond understanding, still remains in me today. However, if there’s anything I’ve learnt this year, what I’ve learnt is the things that deeply impact you, stay with you, words and images that haunt and remain – those are the roots of the stories. What I see, what stays strongly with me, these have the greatest power to move and form and shape themselves into something else altogether.

There are days and nights I sit and wonder, why write? Why subject myself to a life of uncertainties, rejection and heartache?  Then I realise, the words, the images, the things within me cannot be content until they are released, set down yet free to capture other minds that read them.

And I open my laptop and type yet another page.

Notes (that I can’t be bothered to organise into coherent paragraphs because they don’t fit in anywhere):
1) In case you’re wondering, the Scottish folktale in question is this.
2) I’ll be participating in Nanowrimo (again) this year. I’ve never been able to complete it yet, but I’m feeling optimistic!
3) I’ve also read very few Australian and African myths. I probably should fill up that gap in my knowledge.

Events and moments

13 Oct

I think writing, like photography, is perfect for capturing moments, and it is through the capturing of such moments that I can bring an event to life for the reader.

For instance, I recently attended my cousin’s wedding. I could say that it was in such-and-such a church, that about one hundred people attended, that the bride was beautiful and the groom was happy.

But just a description doesn’t bring it to life. Instead I remember moments.

I was with the bride as she was dressing up. The dress had to be pulled on, so she sat down, legs waving in the air as four of us tugged and pulled the puffy skirt up her waist and finally zipped it up (with some difficulty).

She almost sat straight onto her bridal bouquet of purple tulips as we were dressing her, drawing loud shrieks of consternation from everyone in the room.

The bride was meant to pin the corsages onto her family, but after too many failed attempts by the bride and everyone else, the photographer put down her camera and finished it in minutes, finally telling the bride :

‘I’ll take pretend photos of you pinning them on later.’

In the church, as we waited for the bride, I sat with the bride’s little brother and helped him write a congratulatory speech for his sister.

The groom cried as the bride walked down the aisle on the arm of her father.

The pastor marrying them had known them both almost all their lives, and he was almost as delighted as the respective parents to see them married.

The bride’s mother hesitated slightly before voicing her consent to give away her daughter.

During his heartfelt self-written vows, the groom declared that he would endeavour to keep their marriage bed active into their 50’s. Amidst the general amusement of the attendees, the bride asked, ‘Only fifties?’, eliciting more laughter.

That was the sort of wedding I attended, and it was funny, warm and beautiful all at the same time.

Congratulations cousin! I wish you all happiness. It was a privilege and joy to share a tiny part of your wedding moments.
(and I also hope you will never read this for too many reasons. I’m tempted not to post it, but I hope you’ll forgive me for going ahead.)

Perfect endings

8 Oct

I used to love a good happily ever after. Adequate closure was important to complete my enjoyment of any story in whatever form it took.

This year however, I’ve been reading a lot of short stories. They’re generally not known for having great endings (some don’t even fit into conventional story forms). I didn’t realise how much I’ve been influenced until after watching a movie with friends recently. All of us unanimously agreed that the movie was good, but quite a few voiced out that they were unsatisfied with the ending. I blurted out,

‘But the ambiguity is what made it perfect!’

After I said that, I realised. I’ve been changed. I still believe there’s a place for happy endings – in rom-coms and light fluffy works. Other than that, give me a ‘what happens next is up to you’ any time.

(I should have added that there was character growth and we could see the shifting of relationships, and I won’t ask for much more from a story than that.)

Places of interest: Where do you write?

5 Oct

I live in Melbourne, Australia, apparently one of the world’s most liveable cities. It’s won two years in a row despite its amazing weather (even the official government website warns: ‘be prepared for anything‘), hipster culture, obsession with coffee, and did I already mention the weather?

But this isn’t a post about what I love and love to hate about Melbourne so I’ll get to the point.

I tend to write most of my posts in my room. It has no windows, is perpetually messy and could do with more floor space. It’s good enough for blog posts and stories but I’ve never really been able to write good poetry here. I’m an inferior poet at my best times and somehow, whatever I’ve produced in my room … let’s hope they never reach your hands, or I could never face the mockery.

Last semester, when my one and only poetry class required about 200 lines of poetry as part of its final assignment, I took to wandering outdoors. I even considered sitting on the grass outside the beautiful State Library (despite my horror of dampness and assorted critters) but I settled on writing in cafes.

I know a whole slew of you will judge me when I say some of the better writings came when I was sipping some overly sweetened icy blasphemy of a coffee in Starbucks. I also put about 2-3 spoons of sugar into my (hot) coffee almost every time when I get it from more reputable establishments. Now you’ve condemned me to coffee-desecrators’ purgatory.

The two Starbucks I went into were very different despite being only about 5 odd minutes away from each other. One was filled with students feverishly preparing for exams. The other had lots of families going in and out, chatting casually and business people looking all smart in their suits, staying only for short periods of time before dashing off.

Some of the best writings (according to my tutor. I’m not judging them on my own) were written in the lobby of a church. I was sitting there for a good two hours, waiting. Perhaps being in church made me consider mortality and suffering, for two of the pieces that my tutor pronounced as ‘moving’ and ‘well expressed’ came from there.

Two poems were written in a food court where my peace was shattered by a large family. I wrote one angry poem condemning them and then another that might be the best in the collected 200 lines. I don’t know yet.

I bought a tablet so that I didn’t have to lug my computer around (though for poems, I found that actually writing them, with a pen onto paper was the most conducive way for me). Sadly (or thankfully), now that I don’t have to write poetry anymore, I don’t go out to write anymore (I play games on my tablet instead). And I lose a bit of the brilliance, rage and challenge of instantly recording in little snapshots everything around me.

when you were sleeping

5 Oct

Last night I dreamt that I was embroiled in a feud with a classmate I’ve always thought highly of and liked.

I wanted to detail it lovingly and obsessively on my blog but I’ve written before that I’m leery of posting too much of anything because it’s a potential story idea. Of course, another part of me scoffs. Any story I write or produce is going to be polished and edited and changed far from its original concept. I get ideas all the time too, and maybe 2% ever make it into a story, and about only a quarter of that tiny percentage ever gets finished.


See, now with what I’ve posted above, I could go two ways.

I could continue to talk about that dream and how it may be related to similar experiences when I was younger, where I found out people I was fond of or had no particular opinion of felt great distaste for me. I would then dramatically exaggerate the effects of this on me, leading finally to blame all my self esteem issues on those incidents.

On the other hand, I’ve thought of an interesting topic  I’d rather pursue, which is places I write in. I’d rather go with that.

Making the writer

5 Oct

I’m trying now in the height or depth of my sleeplessness to make a writerly self, to force apart the me-me and the writer-me.

The awareness that the two are getting too close, that I will soon be cut a little too deep, is pushing me.

I need to separate them. Maybe even create more than one persona, to find different voices, to become different.

I need more barriers between them, more screens to hide and to shield and to build layer upon layer upon layer to differentiate what is within.

If not… maybe one day I won’t be able to live with myself or what I’ve become.

Discard then discard then discard again

5 Oct

I think over the life of this blog, many posts have been written and instantly discarded because I don’t have the courage or inclination to allow the world to see my real thoughts.

Dare I suggest that everything on here is a construct of a fabricated persona, a carefully constructed front to hide the real me from the world?

Then again, is there really realme ?

No matter where I write, deep down I’m always fully conscious that someday the words might reach the eyes of another.
I’m some times even made hyperaware that what I think is a result of my upbringing. Society. Careful manipulation by certain parties when I was younger and even now. Influences. Expectations of others around me.



I’m rather sick of writing all the “I” “me” “I” “me” but I’m reluctant to put anything else down because..

Narcissism. Memememe.

I can’t let jrock go.

24 Sep

I currently have a one week holiday and am in a brilliant mood.

Don’t really care if no one is reading, I’ll take this as a journal I’m leaving out for the whole world to read 😉 . and I know my thoughts aren’t that interesting or controversial haha.

Was thinking about music today and thought about getting Spotify, because I heard that it is pretty good for getting to know relatively unknown artists. Only con is that is doesn’t have very much Japanese music (I checked).

I thought, ‘Maybe it’s time I let go. It’s expensive, hard to maintain and fellow fans are few and far between.’ I don’t have my sister’s energy and obsession. I just prefer Japanese (rock) music on a whole. Then on my shuffle, I heard the Gazette’s Cassis, my second favourite song from that band. This led me to look up recent releases and found Uverworld’s ‘The Over’. (another down side, song names are usually weird and a little embarrassing to name in public :X)

I love Uverworld.

First exposure to them was Colors of the heart, then Koishikute and Go-on. I adore Go-on, even if I can only sing three lines in the entire song, and they are ‘wo -oa-oa’ (can’t be bothered linking but I’m pretty sure they’re all on youtube).

The Over is everything I love about Uverworld, and Uverworld covers pretty much what I like about Jrock.

Not going back to English music anytime soon.

(I’ve been reading a lot about defamation and libel lawsuits against bloggers. Partly for fun and partly for an essay. Somehow it just makes me want to blog more instead of less. theOatmeal’s victory against funnyjunk and that lawyerCC with a name I can’t remember makes it even more compelling.)


EDIT: Gackt has a new release coming out soon. WHO CARES ABOUT ENGLISH MUSIC?

Edit 2: I’m just a little bit unreasonable about Gackt. Don’t care what he’s done or what he’s like IRL, just looooove his music. Well, most of it.

Peter Galen Massey

Haiku, Book Reviews, Commentary & The Occasional Nonsense


easy reading is damn hard writing


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