The truth is that the PAP doesn’t need an opposition. It needs an image revamp. That starts with its uniform

We are cinema addicts, and get our fixes of CGI and sexual glories in big screens nationwide. Today’s society is much departed from the appreciative film watchers of the yesteryears. There’s an abundance of rich media here that is being missed out on.

How watching thoughtful films bring hope for an industry which produced three sequels to Scary Movie Dyslexics face conditions that stall progress in reading, singers like Lady Gaga sing songs that impede comprehension, and artists like Damien Hirst preserve sharks that roundly foil any attempt at understanding them. Only film defies these intellectual barriers to [...]

While some artists embrace the postmodern explosion of multimedia installations and genre-defying aesthetics, others choose to head down a more retrolicious path, dredging their mother’s prints from musty drawers to relive the flowerchild fashion of the sixties.

The man was a sight to behold. With horns and flies spiralling out of his head, a turkey’s carbuncle sprouting from his chin and decked in ragged, bloodied long-johns, he looked like a Teletubby who had just stepped out of a dungeon from the Dark Ages. And oh, the ugly scowl on his face couldn’t have said it better: I hate the world; and that includes you.

Hamlet is literature’s greatest coward to kill a man. His overwrought moral scrupulousness overcomes his impetus for revenge, causing vacillation and irresolution. Hamlet, however, is not entirely original, and, in fact, has a literary ancestor: Amleth, the Scandinavian revenge-tale chronicled by Saxo Grammaticus.

If you thought that fashion exists in a vacuum devoid of rationality, worshipped by a strange cult of deluded, hypnotized individuals, then you are probably right. And wrong.

This is nothing more than a classic case of acute viral let’s-pretend-we-don’t-all-look-retarded-ivitis… more commonly understood as the ‘Emperor’s new clothes’ syndrome, but always exalted as ‘acquired tastes’.

It’s the Matrix, way before the Wachowski brothers; it’s Plato’s cave; it’s Descartes’ evil demon all over again. Their memories can’t be trusted, and neither can their senses.