Squid Soap

Squid Soap. It’s soap that contains a small amount of vegetable dye on it that can be (relatively) easily washed off with water that this company is touting as an educational tool to teach kids how to wash their hands properly.

Personally, I feel its a little silly and you’d be better off hovering over your kids whilst they wash their hands, a big stick in your hands and a menacing sneer on your face. Personally, I learnt to wash my hands properly from watching that scene in Macbeth where Lady Macbeth washes her hands repeatedly and I thought she was so cool and counter-culture. But the website is so bright and colourful and the mascot so cute it did bring a smile to my eyes (I guess Lady Macbeth wouldn’t have been such a good choice – Macbeth Soap! Tech your kids the importance of washing their hands properly!).

Am thinking of buying a bottle for fellow programmer colleagues, whom I have noticed have poor hand-washing habits, which would not normally bother me, except that they then come over to my cubicle and, whilst demonstrating some code-failure, use my mouse and keyboard.

Cockolded? Sue!

Penal code should be updated to avoid gender biasness.

Surprise! I just learnt:

It is currently an offence for a man to entice a married woman away from her husband.

MP for Pasir Ris-Punggol GRC Mr Charles Chong said:

However, a woman who entices a married man away from his wife, which I think is more often the case, committed no crime.

Perhaps she might have earned a bad reputation, but she is not guilty of any offence under the Penal Code.

The law no doubt harkens back to the good old days when women were much too weak to protect themselves against the seductive advances of Men, and lawmakers sought to protect them from their weak-willed ways (I’m being sarcastic). Men were considered to be independant, intelligent agents who could be trusted to be responsible for their own actions, so there was no need to punish women who enticed them.

I am uncertain if Mr Chong is suggesting that we strike off the offence from the books or make it illegal for women to be temptresses too. The ChannelnewsAsia article is a little vague on his stand, though given our nation’s tendency for coddling us like babies I wouldn’t be surprised if they just made it illegal to cuckold anyone.

Trying to be funny

Unskilled and Unaware of It: How Difficulties in Recognizing One’s Own
Incompetence Lead to Inflated Self-Assessments

Old study about the inability of sucky people to tell just how sucky they are, and the general tendency for humans to overestimate themselves.

I was reading Study 1 on humour, where the a bunch of students are ranked based on the correlation of their scores against the average of a bunch of comedians. What was funny about this study was that althought the majority of the comedians were agreed on what was funny, there was one who gave completely contrary answers, with a ridiculous beta.

And I thought–isn’t that just like a comedian?

Send back the lead

Nanyang schools collecting Barbie dolls for children in China – Channel NewsAsia

I must say, when I saw the article header the first thing that came to my mind was that it was some kind of terrible protest action against China’s poor quality control regulations–in an ironic twist, ship a bunch of lead-lined toys to kids in China and see how those Chinese parents like it.

That would have been a much more interesting read than the altruistic programme described in the article.

Wikipedia obviousnesses

From the Wikipedia article on Castration.

Castration prevents male pattern baldness if it is done before hair is lost, however, castration will not restore hair growth after hair has already been lost due to male pattern baldness.

And the punchline:

Castration is never recommended by medical doctors as a way to prevent or treat hair loss.

Why anyone had to put that in is beyond me.


So it’s been a while since you last went jogging, and you decide that you’d better get some training in if you want to be in any kind of shape at all, so you pull yourself out of bed and go for it, only to discover that your shorts don’t have any kind of pocket for storing your key with. So you slip the little thing into the lapel of your underwear, which you think with some satisfaction is just the right size for the key and contains an opening from which it can’t easily slip out of and how ingenious you are. And then you run (/walk) for a few kilometres before you end up feeling more winded than you’ve ever felt in months, and decide to just call it a night. So you go back to your block, and decide to take the elevator instead of the stairs like you usually do, because you’re panting and wheezing like a dog in heat. And then an old lady walks in and you ask her in your wheezing voice which floor she’d like to go to, and you press the appropriate button for her as she shrinks into the opposite corner of the elevator from you, no doubt because you’re sweating and panting like an animal. And then because you’re so tired and all you can think about is how good it would feel to finally get home and have a nice cold beverage, your mind wanders to the fact that you’ll have to get the door open, and that would have to involve the key. And, because you’re not really thinking straight, you stick a hand into your shorts to get the key, just a second too late for your brain to register the fact that there’s another human being in the lift with you, a stranger and an old lady to boot. And so your hand retracts, hoping against hope that perhaps she hadn’t seen your little obscene gesture but you realize when you hear her little gasp that she must have, and your brain is by now in a whirl from all the running and the embarrassment, and you wonder if perhaps you should just get the key out so that she’ll know you were just reaching inside for it, and not touching yourself inappropriately, which you would never do in public, especially in front of respectable little old ladies and before you know it your hand is in your shorts again and now you can hear her behind you breathing her disapproval and your mind is thinking oh god now she thinks I’m rubbing it, rubbing it! And because you’re thinking it your hand spasms in confusion in your shorts, screaming for better instructions from your brain which is running about in circles now, before your good sense retrieves it from the depths of its depravity. And then you press the door open button, because for some reason your brain has gotten the idea that repeatedly jamming it will make it open, but it doesn’t, and you can feel the stench of disgust wafting from behind you until at last the elevator door opens, and you run out, faster than you were running before, without looking back, free, free, free at last!

Note to self: buy shorts with pockets.