I'm a sucker. Yes, I admit it. Why else would I spend such an unhealthy amount of time this week at war with members from a church that I used to frequent? It all started with this self-promoting e-mail sent out to church members by a deacon saying how he wanted to dress in black and stand opposite the church on a public road to hold up a placard saying, "Respect the Bible". Now, I have left this church for more than a year already (and I'm glad to have done so) but apparently I'm still in their mailing list. Hence, the unfortunate incident on Monday morning that I had to be greeted early in the day by such a vomit-inducing self-promoting e-mail. Like the sucker that I am, I responded with a mail containing only a few lines about why the Bible is really something to be read and studied rather than protested over in reaction to the trivial political maneuvers in recent times (clue in the ongoing "Alkitab" fiasco in these parts). The response from the loving church members and pastor towards this unloving idiot who write dissenting mails was staggering to say the least. First, Tomahawk girl (if she looks like one and behaves like one, then she is one) wrote me a very long mail accusing me of everything from Pharisaism (didn't she know that I flunked Hebrew?) to obnoxious and rude (sounding exactly like my Primary Three teacher) and morally dubious (a dissenter is always dubious but she's wrong: I'm not just morally dubious, I'm literally a crank!!!). The pastor wrote and said that what I wrote was "highly inappropriate" and in the true spirit of the Sanhedrin, ordered that I should refrain from doing so immediately and that I am to have a meeting with him. Whenever people speak with little or no authority (after all, authority comes from authenticity - not communal conformity), they bully with power. The latest mail from the more soft-spoken second pastor that I just read a minute ago is very reflective of the character of the writer - soft-spoken and humble but I'm still branded as a mocking alienist (which goes to show just how much this guy knows me!!!). Of course, I responded with a final mail requesting myself to be deleted from the mailing list and making a joke out of the whole episode. But like I said, I'm a sucker. Why tell jokes to people who have forgotten how to laugh and how to cry? Conformity is saintliness, disagreement is the mark of the morally dubious. The entire episode was so amusing that it gave my family and me some much-needed comedic relief. Everyone protests about *something* these days. Everyone needs to be "heard" so they find an issue that they are "struggling" with. Next, comes the black t-shirts and placards. Protesters think that they are independent thinkers when they are usually only playing into the hands of politicians (read: they are stooges or better still, "
sotong" in these parts of the world).
Michael Foley could have been my long-lost brother. In fact, I wished that he was so that I didn't need to grow up as the only boy in my family. After all, both he and I laugh at the same issues and read pretty much the same books (although I don't think he's too fond of comic books). I think it's got to do with my stupid war with the church this week. When I was in Borders with my wife, we both found this book by Foley on the absurdities of our age so apt. Foley doesn't laugh at others so much as he does at himself. Anyone who's read my mail to the church would see that I did the same. But I guess that self-deprecating humour is lost on the humourless. Ah, for the days of Voltaire or Twain again. But then, our age probably affords us far greater opportunities to point out absurdities and laugh at them. Camus and Sartre would probably not survive as long in the 21st century to philosophise about the absurdism of it all - they'd probably choke and die reading a self-promoting mail by a deacon with bad hair and facial complexion (you should see his ties!!!) carrying a placard! Anyway, Foley's book is a much needed read for people who need to develop some honest, self-deprecating sense of humour. Problem is, it's quite unlikely than the glum "reformed" folks will ever read this (after all, it's not recommended by the pastor who is a sales agent for P&R Publishing only) - and I suspect that they will fail to see the humour in comparing the size of testicles between that of a gorilla and those of chimpanzees!
And then, I ended up watching "
Sucker Punch" in between lectures and wrestling with issues on Evidence Law. I liked Zack Snyder a lot and this felt like a must-watch. It's fun, noisy and perfectly designed for the generation of idiots (namely, mine) that grew up on MTV, video games, manga, superhero comics, RPGs and other mental junk food. My friends in college asked me what it was like and I blurted out - "It's
Inception with boobs!" They then said, "Well, we liked
Inception and we absolutely LOOOOOVE boobs... so we'll definitely watch it!" Of course, you also got some added bonuses in the form of dragons, killer robots, giant samurai warriors, machine guns, Nazis, samurai swords, explosions, asylums, lobotomies, etc. :)
Oh yes, I also snagged "
Absolute Sandman Volume Two" from Borders - along with Foley's book on absurdity and several Wayside School storybooks (for the kids). My wife was holding the
Green Lantern Omnibus for me but like the sucker that I am, I went to the counter and asked to browse through the Sandman book. It felt like 1996 all over again. I fell in love with Gaiman's writing after picking up "A Game of You" in 1996. Then my wife and I read "The Doll's House" and "Seasons of Mists" (our favourite one together) but my personal favourite remained "A Game of You" (perhaps because it was my first Gaiman - kinda like your first kiss or your first marijuana or your first experience of Hendrix). Anyway, both "Seasons of Mists" and "A Game of You" are inside this huge Absolute edition. Furthermore, I gave away all my Sandman TPBs to another Gaiman-fanatic in Singapore long ago (he even stood in line amidst ugly-as-sin Goth girls to get Gaiman's signature). I flipped open the huge volume and I was enraptured by the beauty of the work again... almost like the first time. It felt different - maybe because of the larger format and recoloration. It felt authentic - unlike the lot of X-Men that I just sold off. Soon, Green Lantern was forgotten and I ended up paying for the volume of Sandman!
For reasons too profound for mortal minds, I walked away from Gaiman for the past 7-8 years. I'm really a little apprehensive about rereading his works again. It's like reading Tolkien when you're 16 and then a little scared to reread Tolkien when you're 32. Will the same magic still be there? Will I still dream of being whisked away to The Dreaming like I did in 1996? Will I still laugh and cry with Foxglove and Hazel? Will I still shed a tear for Nada, Morpheus's lover trapped in hell? In 1996, I read Clive Barker and Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Now, I read law, books on absurdism and write stupid letters to annoy church pastors. I'm a different sucker now (still a sucker but just a different sort of sucker! -
a sucker of a different sort?!?). Anyway, I'll tell you how I feel only after I finish this huge hardcover... Apprehension is still there but mixed (and overpowered) by a huge dose of excitement and anticipation... :)
