The classic questions:

To be or not to be? 

What is the meaning of life

Does God exist?

Do you want fries with that? 

Which is more prevalent? Asian Male White Female couples or White Male Asian Female couples? 

I started my YouTube addiction when I began to ride my mechanical steedThere are endless videos that show motorcycle mishaps. I wanted to see the riders’ mistakes and hopefully learn from them. Those videos led me to babes on bikes, chics on bikes, babes and chics on bikes, which inevitably led to documentaries.

Recently, I had come across a forty-minute video from Natalie Tran, an Asian Aussie woman dating a pretty fly Aussie, for a white guy. She has a pretty big following on YouTube, and she received a lot of hateful comments due to her relationship with this white colonizer. I say colonizer with a heaping scoop of sarcasm and a sprinkling of yellow fever. Because as I was watching the documentary, I felt the anger from my younger days bubbling up. I remember talking with my fellow yellow brothahs on how white dudes were taking away our yellow sistahs. But we were no where near qualified to talk about a sensitive subject such as this, given our narrow point of view.

In Natalie's documentary, she speaks to several Asian professionals from a pick up artist to a matchmaker and a senior lecturer at the University of Sidney with a focus on Asian representation in the media. They all agree that Asian women tend to be desired as opposed to Asian males, who are not. The main factor behind both of these perspectives are the media. Asian women are hyper-sexualized. Asian males are shown as physically inferior (i.e. height challenged, meek), not engaging, nerdy, socially awkward.

The matchmaker has encountered women, even Asian women who would prefer not to date Asian men due to the above mentioned stereotypes. She's had to work extra hard to sell an Asian guy as a match, touting his many qualities that fall outside of the media fed image. When it came to selling a non-Asian male, the matchmaker didn't have to mention that he’s manly and does manly things. She realizes that the justification of Asian males is wrong, but it's become a reality of her job.

I'd recommend the video. I can't do it justice here. However, for me, the many conversations Natalie has is pretty engaging, but then I'm one of those undesirable Asian males. So I'm always open on how to grow—not height wise—and improve myself.


After I was done watching, I noticed another video, a rebuttal to Natalie's film. This Asian fellow was particularly angry and honed in on how Asian males have a severe disadvantage versus other races. That white men have white privilege, so they automatically have an advantage. And his biggest point is that he sees way more Asian women dating white men than white women dating Asian men. Data through dating sites like OkCupid seems to support this.

So what can Asian men do to combat this beast of prejudice? Here's what I've discovered that not only will tame this beast but will make Asian males more desirable in the eyes of females all around the world and Venus. What you do is NOTHING.

Get out of town, Jimmy.

First of all, I don't live in a town, I live in a city. Second, I get out of the city all the time.

Let me drop some truth on y’alls. There's nothing to combat. If anything, the issue lies within the individual man. I don't care who you is, bruh, but if you wanna be attractive to da ladies, then you gotta love yourself. And not like that. Put the lotion away.


What I mean is look in the mirror and get to know yourself. Your strengths. Weaknesses. Know your likes and things that make you go "Ew" like a valley girl. What are your core values? Are you a saver or a spender? Do you want a serious relationship, or do you just want friends with benefits? Being comfortable in your own skin will help dispel the power of your own weaknesses. In other words, they'll have little effect on you. Weaknesses don’t mean you’re weak. You may need to strengthen them if a situation calls for it.

And being open to yourself will also allow you to be vulnerable to women. That way when you talk to them, or anyone, you're not guarded. I tell women all the time that I'm a cheap date, that I attain the Asian glow drinking just one Coors Light. If a woman refuses to date me because of that, then we were never meant to be. She has no sense of humor. She may think my inability to hold my liquor is not manly. Therefore, I probably don't have the attributes she's looking for.

This leads me to another truth. Not everyone is gonna like you. Ya ain't gonna make everyone happy. If a woman doesn't want to date an Asian guy, then, as an Asian dude, why the fuck would you wanna date her? She's not worth your time.

Think of it this way. Would you want to spend time with someone who doesn't want to be your friend?

That's not to say that I didn't feel like low hanging fruit—yes, my fruit hangs low. For much of my younger years, I felt like I was inferior to other races of men. This is what I mean when I say the issue lies with the individual. I had this issue. No one planted it in me. So I decided to do something about it. I had to get out of my shell. I went out more, talked to different people, discovered that I had a pretty sick sense of humor, which I love. I slowly got to know me. Sure. There are things that I don’t like. But there’s a lot that I do.


I decided to try an experiment. I switched my point of view and looked for Asian men dating non-Asian females. BLAM! My nephew had a black girlfriend, married her. I saw an old acquaintance of mine who had married a blonde. Saw a Chinese dude walk around in the gym with his Caucasian girlfriend. Actually, I don't know if he was Chinese or not. I can't tell the difference between the Asian races. AMWF couples were showing up everywhere. I was shocked.

So, instead of focusing on the issue that women don't like you for some strange reason, open your eyes to women who can handle your strangeness. From experience, going for what you want is way easier than being angry at the world.

There's one more point I want to hit on. Angry Asian harps on the fact that a lot of these Asian women only want to date white guys. He named several celebrities to prove his point. And their social media accounts show they all have white boyfriends. However, all of these women had railed against yellow fever, that they want to be seen and be wanted for who they are and not for what they look like. He then states that yellow fever doesn't really exist because guys don't care what race the girl is.

First of all Asian women can date whomever they want. Man, woman, dog, cactus. They are not obligated to date within their own race. Second, men do have their preferences. OkCupid and FaceBook had published a study that showed black women to have substantially fewer likes than other races of women. Third, Asian women can prefer white guys and still argue against yellow fever. Is it a double standard? Most certainly. But life is full of them. Notably slut-shaming. Society has taught women that it's bad for them to have many sexual partners. But it's fine if men do. I'm a dude. Even I think that's stupid. This brings me to my last point.

If you’re a woman and wanna sleep with someone and not be slut-shamed, then here's my contact page.

To live a happier life, remove the filter that the world hates you. Instead filter out people that don’t like you. It may feel like you're losing a lot of people, but you can't lose what you've never had in the first place.

The Rabbit, the Nasty Woman, and the Tight Shirt

There has been a huge focus lately on inequality. Women are paid less than men as an example. I was listening to Joe Rogan's podcast. He had a specialist that stated men get paid more when we look at the average pay of both genders because men tend to hold higher positions in the corporate world and are also the ones to own their own businesses, skewering the numbers.

But even in the highest positions, the gap in pay between the genders can be huge. Or that women may not have access to those opportunities.

The women's march that took place over the weekend where Ashley Judd used Nina Donavan's Nasty Woman poem as an epic rant had shed some light on some of the deeper issues. All of which I agreed with, and the march was a good first step.

Coincidentally, my Facebook page had also been ladened with how unfair Asian men are treated. And how we're seen as the least desired race in men.

Tangent much? I know. Just come with me into the rabbit hole.

There was an OKCupid study that showed the largest percentage of likes going to Caucasian men and Asian women, while the least went to Asian men and black women. I've experienced this myself. My white counterpart seemed to have a much easier time lining up dates, while I can barely get someone to peek into my online profile.

The issue of equal pay is important. That issue can be fixed, difficult as it may be. At least regulations can be formed to address this. But creating laws to make women check out my online profile is a bit much, crazy.

Let's assume there's nothing wrong with my online profile. Then let's assume women aren't jumping for joy when they see my stats because I ain't considered tall, I'm Asian, and I dance like this:

In the online market, there are men with better stats. I can't control that, except to learn to dance better. So what's a guy to do?

Jump off a cliff. NO. Joking.

For me I've found that meeting women in person works well. Lucky for me, men are idiots. More so in person. So as long as I avoid being too much of an idiot, I'm half way there. And being out in the open where stats cannot follow me, I can use humor, charm, insights, passions, and a tight shirt to open the door to a lady's heart. Or other desirable parts. Shit. Idiot!

The point is to not take on someone's limitations, or the results of a study, as your own. Does that mean I have to give up? No. Go forth. If something isn't working, then find another way. The path may be difficult. But do it anyways.

Don't Be You

In the Asian culture, being yourself isn't something that is advocated. If anything, Asian parents want their children to fill some sort of picture perfect checklist of academic accomplishments so they can someday go to an excellent college and get an excellent paying job. Anything less is failure, and things like affection and self esteem are useless. The book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, written by Amy Chua is a perfect example of an Asian mother attempting this very thing.

To be fair, not all Asian parents are like this. But my family were.

For a long time growing up, I tried to fulfill this image of a smart Asian kid. To say I had mixed results is putting it kindly. School was something that I just didn't appreciate, though I loved learning. Still do. School didn't teach the stuff that I really liked. Nor did it nor my family really encourage me to find what I liked. I joined the varsity volleyball team in my sophomore year of high school. That was an accomplishment. To say I was the shortest member was putting it kindly. But my grades were slipping, so my brother tried to get me kicked off the team. I loved it too much to quit.

As I started my college career, I declared to be a business major, which I hated, but being a doctor or a lawyer was not in the cards. I wanted to do something creative, so I began to study acting and delved into martial arts. I wrote stories, did pencil drawings, and lived in my imagination. All were deemed a waste of time by my family. Still...I continued my double life of a dutiful college student while exploring my artistic side, rebelling against this stereotypical Asian image.

What I've learned is that I'm not that image, but then, nor am I a rebel. In swinging from one aspect to the other, I've found who I am, which is a person who tends to be introspective with a lot to say, having found a vehicle through this site, but more importantly, through my novel.

There are times when I'm very loud and lewd. Other times I'm very quiet and shy.

So my girlfriend wants to hang out with her conservative friends this weekend. And I asked why am I not included. Basically, she's afraid that my loud lewd side will come out, as it always does in groups, and will offend her conservative friends. She's asked me before to be less Jimmy and more "normal".

What the fuck does that mean?

Here's what my ego said, "She cares more about what other people think, and is ashamed of who I am." Even though who I am is not that loud lewd person.

She deeply cares about what other people think. She doesn't understand that she has no control over other peoples' opinions, nor do they affect her in reality.

In other words, if someone thinks she's stupid, they thinking that won't make her stupid. Just like when comedians joke that Asian guys have small dicks, I don't go around showing people my dick. Plus, it'd be flaccid, and that's not impressive.

She didn't like my Superman wallet. She doesn't like my loud lewd side. She wants to hang out with her conservative friends. So why the fuck is she with me?


When I first started to develop the characters of my book, Nightfall, I knew one of the subjects I was going to be exploring was ego, and how ego weaves its ugly opinions into their lives and shape their world. And the startling thing I've found was that part of the development wrote itself. It's character arc, how a person moves from who they are today to who they should be tomorrow. 

The story of Scrooge is a great example. When the story begins, Scrooge is greedy, hoarding his riches. Through spiritual enlightenment, namely the three ghosts, Scrooge evolves into a person who is giving and caring.

I was like that. Being Asian, I was raised to save, save, save. Before I was born, my family of six lived in a bedroom-sized apartment. My mother is a huge saver. So I grew up to be very cheap. I had an argument with an ex one time because she asked me to buy her a three-dollar bottle of water at a movie theater. I bought it, but then we fought about it because I was upset at having to spend that much money for water. Safeway sells it for less than a buck. Common!

But I realized that I wasn't poor anymore. I was earning more than enough money to live on, my savings was healthy, and I wasn't living from paycheck to paycheck. But I was still in the mental space of being poor. Luckily for the woman in my life today, I'm not in that head space anymore.

Recently, I asked a friend if I can get a ride to a dinner event. I would take Bart, a public transit system, and get off at the 16th Street station that was literally a five minute drive to the restaurant. He wanted me to get off several stations passed that because it was closer to where he lived. So I reiterated that the restaurant was only a five minute drive from the 16th station.

He then went off and said, "You're the one who needs a ride, dude. Not me, dude. Just meet us at Balboa. I don't mean to be rude, dude!"

Hmm. OK. I can understand if I was asking for rides all the time, but we hadn't hung out for a couple months, so I wasn't sure what his problem was.

Dude. Deeeoooood. Dewd. Dood. Diud. Dhude (the H is silent).

Then I remembered an incident. He had liked this girl for a while and was stalking her online. He asked her a question about a conversation she and I had had. We were talking about FOBs (fresh off the boat) and traded our experiences with them. He then asked her if he was an FOB and she said yes. He took offense to that and might have blamed me for that classification. It wasn't I who had turned him down for a date. But I think he started using the word 'dude' a lot to further himself from being a FOBby dude.

A friend and I met up with a girl one Friday evening to watch a group of bands play. I'm not a huge fan of live music, but I went because I'm always trying to break old habits and thinking. The girl was late, Asian time, and the first thing she said was, "San Francisco is so pretentious."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because the restaurants and bars are very douchery." Translation: they charged a lot. "I've been to a lot of them and they're all like that."

"How many restaurants have you been to?" I asked.


There are over 4,000 restaurants in San Francisco. It's a foodie town that houses everything from food trucks to Michelin rated establishments (Translation: hella good grub). So for her to make a determination that the city is douchery from a sample size of thirty restaurants is kinda small, especially when the variability seemed to be non-existent because she's choosing expensive places, obviously.

Thinking that you deserve to eat well versus just eating good food is egotistical. Personally, I love hole-in-the-walls (not glory holes) just as much as Michelin rated restaurants.

I've always hated the corporate world. I work in it because it's just a paycheck to me. And that's what is so soul-sucking, that the work has no meaning to me. Think of a woman having sex for money, so she can eat, shade herself from the rain, feed her children. Sex should be pleasurable, be an intimate communication of the bodies, and/or maybe, depending on who came first, to procreate.

I look at everyone who seems to love the corporate world and ask myself, "Don't you all want more out of life?" I hear from old corporate execs that they should have spent more time with friends and family. And if I were to get laid off, I don't think I'd mind it so much. I would be shocked at first, but then I'd be free of my voluntary jail sentence to my 6X6 cubicle. 

All of this thinking, of course, is egotistical, like I'm too good for the corporate world. And me spending all this time writing isn't taking away from friends and family, that my writing is more important than the job that affords me to write. Well, yes, to me. But it's still ego. Knowing this truth doesn't change how I feel, but it helps take me off of my high horse. And get on a smaller one. What? It's not a bad joke!

Saturday Morning Quips: DWA - Driving While Asian

Lounging around a small round table in a tea cafe, drinking taro milk tea with pearls - my favorite, I was explaining to someone why an Asian woman was the worst driver ever. He had heard some people talk about this, so I explained why: From an American perspective, Asians are the worst drivers (DWA as they say, driving while Asian), stereotypically speaking, along with owning dry cleaning establishments, knowing martial arts, being really smart, and having no social skills whatsoever, such as men being incompetent with women. There's billions of Asians in the world, y'all. We know what we're doin'. And I won't even mention the old standby that Asian men have small penises. Dammit! (Couldn't I have just delete that?)

Then I explained, from the same perspective, that female drivers are worse than male drivers. So when you have an Asian female driver, you're combining the worse of both worlds. And sometimes I feel like a bad driver because I'll make make a U-turn where it's not allowed (wink, wink). Oh, that's what a red slash through a U-turn symbol means? Then I found illegal street racing in Hong Kong on youtube. Say what? Now you gotta be thinkin' these guys are the slowest freakin' racers who can't handle a turn let alone a woman. But check this out:

In another post I had mentioned that I had bought my midlife crisis caR. I bought a set of new tires, BF Goodrich Sport Comp-2's that were engineered specifically do I say this...driving like a psycho. After getting them mounted, I thought I'd go and give my new tires a try, break them in, drive the hell outta my caR. I'd been driving for about ten minutes and felt the tires were warm enough to push the tachometer into red line. And, yeah, for an econo-sports caR, the engine revs to 8600 RPM, and if it wasn't for the rev limiter, I'd be able to touch nine grand. It's one of the things this particular caR is known for. 

Stopped at a single lane stoplight, I felt a little antsy. And the silver Mercedes in front of me had been driving slow for most of my warm up. So, when the light blinked from red to green, I slammed the pedal to the metal - well to the carpeted floor - and I swerved into the right shoulder. My caR's engine screamed passed the Mercedes and into redline. I yanked the shifter into second gear before I hit the rev limiter, popped the clutch, and my caR jerked forward as the hot BF's soft rubber compound seemed to melt into the ground, giving me grip like a desperate man hanging onto a hot woman. Then as if that woman told you to stop after you're hot and bothered, the approaching light turned red. The Mercedes stopped next to me, and the old man shook his head with disapproval. Aw. Did he think I was some young rice-drivin' punk? Hell naw. I'm a middle-aged rice-drivin' punk!


One morning I was driving to work on a long straightaway, and a car had cut me off. For some reason, I just wasn't in the turn-the-other-cheek mood. So I cut off another car to go into the next lane, mashed my gas pedal, and pulled up next to the offending car. How dare he cut me off! Do I ever cut people off? On purpose?

One of the things I do when I see someone make a mistake driving is see if they're Asian. When they are, I shake my head because it only perpetuates that myth. However, if they're white, then I punch my fist in the air, defending my slanty-eyed pride.

So as I was pulling up next to the car that had cut me off, I was going to do an unspeakable act. So I won't say what it is, but I'll type it: mean mug. I know. I'm tough, mean-mugging someone in the safety of my car, protected by the moving road between us. As I get a better glimpse of who it was, I lurched forward, turned my head and...say what! That was my sister! She cut me off! Facepalm. I slink back into my seat, shake my head, and decide never to mention this to her. She'll never know, unless she reads this post.


Saturday Morning Quips

Is that a gold dumbbell?

Is that a gold dumbbell?

On a camping trip in the dark and scary woods, about ten of us started talking about what we looked for in the opposite sex. So the women went first because we were gentlemen and were more curious, or, more accurately, eager and desperate. One woman looked at me through sleepy eyes, slanty maybe, no, for sure, and straight up said, "I don't like guys with muscles."

Let me be clear: I go to the gym and workout. I don't take supplements, nor do I workout to try and get big. I'm not an intimidating kind of guy, since I don't care to try and prove my ego's manliness. Staying fit to extend the quality of life is my real goal.

My eyes flicked to her man. What does this say about him? That he was meek? Weak? Miserly? I mean, everyone has muscles, or else how the hell does anyone walk? Everyone fell silent because she was looking right at me. I'd never hit on her because I knew she was dating someone else. And weren't we discussing what we wanted, not what we don't?


When it came to my turn, I simply stated that I wanted a connection. I told them that physical attraction is important, but that connection or that chemistry is really what I'm looking for. The ladies cawed and wanted details like boob size, hair color, fit or fat. They wouldn't accept my simple answer. To each their own.

You talkin' to me?

You talkin' to me?

A group of us slanty-eyed people had met up for dinner. Someone asked the group if we were to work as an assistant to anyone, who would that person be? The most popular answer was Hugh Hefner. Yes, ladies, that came from the guys. Mature weren't we? One born again Christian stated she'd assist anyone at the table, proving that service to her fellow man was the most important thing in her life.

My answer was Bruce Lee, and I explained that he had pursued acting during the time when racism against Asians in Hollywood was pretty high, still is if you consider the media's views of Asian women and Asian men (Beauty and the Geek). Most people don't understand the racial struggles Bruce had gone through on both sides of the river. One girl said white people can't do martial arts (I raised my eyebrows), and Bruce Lee created a niche. No and yes. 

Bruce had his first big break playing Kato, a man who wore a mask for most of his appearance. He also created the idea for Kung Fu, the TV show he was to star in and instead the main part went to white actor David Carradine.

What interested me was why Bruce persevered, despite the immovable road blocks. Simply put, he knew this was his path. How he'd get there was beyond him, which meant that the belief in himself was very important. He always said, "Honestly express yourself." Just do you. Ya know?

Then the guy next to me stated racism against Asians in American cinema didn't start until after Japanese silent film actor Sessue Hayakawa. He didn't know why but mentioned that Sessue was a heartthrob. So I asked him if Sessue was good looking. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "To each their own."

I raised my eyebrows again. 

Further down the conversation, he'd talked about taking acting classes and the time he lived in New York. So I asked if he was pursuing an acting career. He paused for a moment. "I'm gonna keep mum about that."


Unless he got raped or beat up, why would this guy be so closed? What am I going to do? Write about him on my site?


A group of us decided to eat HongKongese food, food that was derived from Hong Kong cuisine. Thanks Captain Obvious, or Oblivious. A buddy of mine and I were standing by the men's bathroom, don't ask me why. He shook his head, complaining that the woman he was talking to was boring him. Why? She just talks about work, he answered. Understandable. I hadn't seen him in a while and asked what he'd been up to? He shook his head and said he'd been dating girls every day of the week. Anyone peaked his interest, I inquired. He shook his head again. Why not? He shrugged his shoulders.

Who's boring?

At the end of the night, he asked if I saw anyone I was interested in, and I shook my head because no one had caught my eye nor my ear. Then he complained that he didn't find anyone attractive, but was upset he hadn't gotten a number. Why do you need a number?

"It's a numbers game," he said.


Here's the thing: a baseball player doesn't go up to bat with the intention to strike out, so he can statically move closer to his next hit. He goes up to bat with the only goal of hitting that ball, a home run even. It's only after striking out does he put his mind at ease by thinking that he's now closer to that next hit.


Several of us the other night talked about our worst dates. A woman recalled a blind date that hadn't gone well. They met at a coffee shop and she called him to see if he had arrived. He confirmed, but she couldn't spot him. She kept asking him where he was, what he wore, and realized he was right behind her. When she turned around, she was shocked by the sight of him. This peaked my interest. Was he too tall? Too short? Had a third eye that was actually open? A twin brother attached to the hip?

"He looked like my father," she said, recoiling. He was old, in other words. She didn't want to be impolite and leave immediately, despite wanting to.

So I asked if she let him down easy at the end of the date. She said no, unable to break his heart. "Did he call you afterward?" I said.

She thought about it for a few moments.

Crud, I thought deeply. "How many times did he call you?"

Not only had he called many times, but she didn't answer, which meant that he was interested but also had to go through the pain of wondering if she was. I advised her that she should have stated her non-interest when they parted, but she couldn't do it because she didn't want to hurt him. I'm sorry, but that's an inconsiderate bitch. Several of us tried to explain why letting this man go in the beginning would be like ripping off a bandaid, letting him know to move on, instead of peeling it off slowly and painfully, pulling at pieces of the bloody wound, as he tried to set a second date. She didn't get it. Unfortunately, I found this to be pretty common among both men and women. 

Pyramid Scheme of Writing: God's Not Dead


Ever been brought into a room where a presenter greets you and welcomes you and thanks you and invites you to open your mind? The presenter says, "I will show you how to make more money than you need, how to help your family financially, how you'll never have to work a day in your life again, and how to have all the ladies you want. This will change your life forever."

And then you think deeply to yourself, "What the fuck did I get myself into? Cuz Death can change my life forever, too, but I ain't goin' around wishin' for it."

I'd written my take on God's Not Dead, and how Harold Cronk, the director, had forced his hand on the movie by vilifying characters who weren't Christian to the tenth degree. His hand was so heavy he might as well have been masturbating. This is my example of being heavy handed, which of course sounds stupid. See Cronk?

And Rotten Tomatoes' rating at 17% reflects his efforts.

I'd heard many established writers talk about manipulative writing, and I don't completely understand what that is. But like anything else, I knew it when I saw Cronk's movie.

The premise of the film begins when a philosophy professor states God's dead. A Christian student disagrees, and the professor challenges him to convince the class otherwise. The student has three 20-minute sessions to do this over the course of the semester.

In my initial post, I had spared you the details of how the student manipulates scientific evidence to serve his purpose in his second session. I'm here to show what the student, ultimately Cronk, did.


The student uses evolution to help support the existence of God (imagine my slanty eyes wide open like the size of half dollars, round-eye. Didn't think science and religion mixed.). In class, the student introduces us to Darwin (the antichrist) and explains that Darwin's theory of evolution detailed what happens with life, but not where it came from. The student goes on to say that Darwin surmised that lightning struck a pool of chemicals, and, shabam, life. Astutely, the student smirks and states it's not that simple.

Now my round-eyes are the size of silver dollars. For you youngens, that's twice as much as a half dollar and it ain't made of silver.

The student explains that Darwin claimed all life came from a simple celled organism. The padowan then quotes one of Darwin's famous statements, "Nature does not jump", meaning it takes a long time for evolution to happen.


The wise student shows an analog clock, for you youngens that's a non-digital clock with needles that point to numbers, and asks the class to imagine 3.8 billion years, the time life existed on Earth, condensed down to a 24-hour period. He illustrates life as we know it had exploded onto the scene within the last ninety seconds and concludes that Nature does make a giant leap, in essence life was created instantly. This supports that God created all life in an instant.

Very clever. Or is it?

Now, let's look at the facts that the student presented, ignoring further facts that religions like Christianity put little faith in evolution, which was the first thought that came to mind when I watched this scene.

Life be on dis Earf for hella days: 3,800,000,000 years

24-hour day = 86,400 seconds

1 second = 43,981.48 years

90 seconds = 3,958,333.33 years

Don't worry. I'm Asian. I know how to do maf, I mean math. Sometimes my ghettoness comes out.

According to the student, all life as we know it came to be four million years ago, henceforth, here thereto, ala kazam, abracadabra, life came to be instantly. He didn't use the word abracadabra, but he did use the word instantly. In other words, evolution doesn't exist, Darwin is wrong, God does exist because he created life in an instant, (wave the magic wand) Nature makes a giant leap. I don't know, but 3.9 million years doesn't sound too instant to me. But, Jimmy, in the span of God, it is an instant. Geezus Kryst (facepalm). 


This is all very manipulative. First, Cronk uses Darwin and his theory of evolution as a base to start with. It makes sense at first. Back in the 1850's Darwin was highly credited and known for the idea of evolution. I'm not sure Cronk knows this, but we as a people have learned a few things since then. Maybe that's why he's so stuck on a book that was supposedly written several thousand years ago.

I'd watched a documentary series by famed American astrophysicist, Dr. Neil deGrasse Tyson, The Inexplicable Universe. He explains basic concepts of physics and the evolution of our understanding of the universe that includes Sir Isaac Newton's discoveries. Newton had given us a lot knowledge in regards to the forces at work in our universe, but even his work had to be revisited and revised to compensate for the new findings that physicists have since discovered. It's the natural order of knowledge and wisdom. Tyson even states that evolution does make jumps, scientist have discovered, eschewing the old idea that Nature does not.


Just look at the number of breeds of dogs that exist today. Due to artificial selection, the dog's ancestor, the wolf, had been bred to Chihuahua through the Great Dane.

Then, Cronk has us imagine the existence of life's timeline on Earth in a 24-hour period, shows that complex life forms came to be within the last 90 seconds, implying instantaneous life. The problem with this is he ignores the 23 hours, 58 minutes and 30 seconds that life could have taken to evolve into what they've become in the last 90 seconds. Miss something there, pal?

All this masturbatory manipulation coats every single line, scene, and actor in the movie. And that's what I meant when I said Cronk's hand was heavy in this piece of shit, I mean work. He either didn't trust the audience to come to the conclusion that he wanted (tsk,tsk), or he made the film specifically for the converted; sorta like saying, "Hey, Jimmy. You're Asian because..."

"Ah soh, dat why my eye rook rike dat."