3. Absence

"WTF!

In Sweden a 13 year old girl gets brutally gang raped by 3 guys in their 20's who are refugees from a middle-estern country. They go to court and the guys say the girl was unconcious during the ordeal - the girl claims she was drugged. The court rules that because she was unconcious she couldn't fight back and therefore it is not considered rape - the guys are set free.

Is it just me or is this just fucking insane! What kind of a justice system is this?

I'm so infuriated I'm lost for words..."

Posted by my buddy Oliver. Reading his post (http://yelpo.blogspot.com/) , it kinda reminds of this incident that happened sometime back. This is a long rant, so be warned...

Ok, I have a friend who once got a girl drunk so he could have sex with her. When I say drunk, I mean flat-out catatonic road-kill holy shit that ain’t right lala-land drunk here. The undertaking didn’t take much, just take a sprinkling of sweet-talking, add lots of beer, a bit of whiskey here and there, and finally, some tequila shots thrown in for good measure (just to finish off the job). Flawless design really.

Right, so after a long heady night of boozing, and up to the point where she could pass for a dead trunk, he decided that it was a good time as any to take her back to his place. I guess the strenuous effort in getting her limp body into his car in the first place was just too much for him because he was pretty worn-out by the time he got there. So like the civil chap that he is, he used a, now wait for it, supermarket trolley that he kept at his place to cart her in (those darn things always come in handy, you never know when you have a unconscious chick to lug around). What happened then in his room is just too gory to detail (I still have recurring nightmares) so I’ll spare you any further psychological damage. But I can tell you that after he was done, he was even more knackered (bonking inanimate objects tend to do that, fact). So he used that handy supermarket trolley of his to cart her out back to his car and promptly sent her home. Let’s just say he doesn’t do one night stands (one hour stands were much tidier, no need to explain to his folks about the chick who’s spewing in the toilet). I guess you can call it a quick hump and dump.

Ok, before we go on, I’m sure there are many thoughts running through your mind. What a bastard! What happened next? Who in their right mind would cart a girl round in a supermarket trolley for heaven’s sake? More importantly, who the heck keeps a supermarket trolley at their homes in the first place? Well, I guess some things are just not meant to be known to man, like some ancient mystery just beyond the scope of comprehension, so close yet always unattainable. This is one of them. But that won’t stop us from lying awake in the early hours of morning, drenched in sweat and fearful in the dark as we ponder them. I mean, a supermarket trolley for Pete’s sake! What next, metro-sexual footballers? Erm, ok, let’s move on.

Well, I’m not even going to debate the rights and wrongs of his actions that night (and debating the rights may be a wee bit harder to do, let’s see, he did send her back didn’t he?). Let’s just safely assume that his deeds will not get him nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. And it’s very convenient for someone, perhaps you over there, to say “My Lord! Baby Jesus weeps! Such abhorrently wicked and sinful deeds! I for one would never go to such low depths to bed a chick! Never!” Sure you won’t. Just like you don’t masturbate and don’t watch porn. Okay, maybe committing what is akin to date rape is not something any Ali, Abu or Ah Chong would do. But most guys would absolutely do just about anything else to get laid. Lie, cheat, steal, all sorts of stuff, let’s not kid ourselves. But that’s in no way justifying what he did. If you're rightfully giving the girl the benefit of doubt, we can safely say that he violated her without her consent. And if anyone would even think that she wanted it to happen because she allowed herself to get flat-out drunk, well power to you then. You’re the type of person who’d believe that women secretly want to be raped because they have breasts or wear skimpy outfits. Ok, back to my friend. It’s a moot point now if she really wanted him to bonk her or not. All I know is that he continued to have, shall we say, special relations with that same girl over the course of a few weeks or so after that infamous incident. But still, that supermarket trolley incident happened on their very first date together. What if she wasn’t really up to it and he indeed did force himself on her? Well, I guess he’ll be calling himself Betty to someone’s Butch in the local jailhouse this very moment. Instead, he got himself a short-lived and unfulfilling relationship with a girl based purely on him satisfying himself. As for the girl, well, God knows what.

Well, being his very close friend of his and all, of course I had to talk about what he did behind his back with another close friend of his (yes, it is what we simple-minded folk do, gossip and bitch). Typically, we took the moral high ground about the whole matter. You know, expressing our righteous indignation by asking how could he do such a thing. What was he thinking and blah, blah, blah. We even hammered him about it during one of our normal meaningless mamak sessions. Don’t you feel guilty? Don’t you know that you effectively raped her? How much fun could you have when she’s unconscious? Was it even enjoyable at all? Is a drunken woman even a good fu-ah, forget it, you get the point. He just shrugged his shoulders in that nonchalant manner of his. So what? He simply said he could tell that she wanted it. How? Well, through those damn signals that chicks are supposedly sending out to guys all the time every time they wished to get drunk, bonked, and presumably, shipped out in a supermarket trolley, not necessarily in that order. Considering that he described the act in graphic detail, and that she was quite comatose during the entire sordid episode, I didn’t quite buy it. But, nothing came of it, so I guess in the end, maybe he was right. But still, it got me thinking, more on his response than the actual act itself. So what? Interesting. She wanted it. Yes, maybe. That’s also what most convicted-rapists sincerely believed their victims wanted.

In the case of the rapists, there is no doubt that what did they did, coupled with their response to it clearly indicates that all is not right in their hearts. Something is clearly lacking there, something that makes them, for lack of a better word, good. So, if they’re not good, what are they then? Bad? Nasty? Naughty? Or something much more dramatic and extravagant (cue jarring evil music chord in the background) evil? Now, in no way am I labelling my friend, whom I’ve been close friends with for more than a decade and who I’ve concluded is not going to turn out to be the next Charles Manson anytime soon, as evil. That’s just too far-fetched. And I don’t have to be seated on my moral high horse and ask if those who are guilty of raping women and little kids are evil. The answer is plainly obvious. But there’s something about that response from my friend that in a way, as the response from unrepentant rapists, that disturbs me when I think about it.

Firstly, what the heck is evil anyway? Well, let’s safely omit Dr Evil-evil from Austin Powers from this discussion. How about Adolf Hitler-evil or Ida Amin-evil? Or something more contemporary, we can say Osama bin Ladin-evil and, arguably, George Bush Jr-evil (depending on where your political allegiances lie). Okay, maybe we should go right to the beginning, not any beginning mind, but THE beginning. When a little fella, let’s call him Big, Red and Horny, fell spectacularly from Number One’s grace and decidedly to take most, if not all, of mankind with him for an eternity of endless sunburns and damnation. Now, isn’t ‘ol Big, Red and Horny the pre-requisite of how we should judge evil by? Because he is evil personified ain’t he? And isn’t it through him that all evil originates in the hearts of men? But wait, if we are to believe the story of Creation, than isn’t God the creator of all things? He created the angels, he created men, he created the universe, and he definitely did create Big, Red and Horny. And if so, surely He created evil as well, right? So, therefore what does that make Him? Is the supposedly benevolent King of Heaven the source of evil? Compelling right? That’s precisely why many reject the notion of Creation, for it’s supposedly flaws. I mean, how can we believe in a God that created all the evil in the world? Not so actually.

A couple years back, I read a good article once questioning what evil really is (I forget the author’s name but will definitely post a link if I can remember!). The article was actually a very scholarly piece written as a commentary on the nature of evil as written by Tolkien in the Lord of the Rings and personified by the main antagonist of the tale, the Dark Lord Sauron. Now, for those few who are not acquainted with the book or the films, Sauron is this bad mother who has a flaming eye and an overall bad hangover in general from being continuously beaten by the good guys. So he comes up with this evil ring thingy so that he could submit the will of men, elves, dwarves, Republicans and Democrats under his rule. To do this, he is willing to stomp, main, disembowel and torture anyone and any nation that stands in his way. Kinda sounds like George Bush right? So anyway, it’s safe to say that Sauron is a big baddie, in the classical sense of the word. There’s absolutely no good about him, he’s that guy a chick would dread to take home for a one-night stand with cause it’s all penetration and no foreplay with him and you could tell that he doesn’t do it not because he doesn’t know that the chicks dig it, but because he takes pleasure in depriving you of pleasure.

Right, so the author of the article than proceeds to talk about in great length the nature of Sauron. That Sauron was actually once a servant to a greater lord called Morgoth, the ultimate Dark Lord one might say. Now Morgoth in his origin was actually a Valar, an angel-like being that fell from the grace of the Creator, sounds familiar? So Morgoth undertakes a long battle with the good Valar for control over the world and dominion over it’s dwellers, the merry elves, dwarves and men. And he recruits other like-minded beings to his cause, Sauron being one of them. Now, Sauron himself was an angel-like being that was created to serve the good, just like Morgoth. But in his desire for dominion and order, he too strayed from that path. Then there’s everyone’s favourite evil wizard, Saruman. Now Saruman was also initially an emissary of good, but fell down the wayside upon reasoning that he had to first subjugate the people before he could lead them to a higher plateau. See a trend yet? If I’ve completely lost you the moment I mentioned the word Valar than please raise your hands. Okay, that many eh. Actually, in non-geek terms, what the author was trying to illustrate that all the great evil of Tolkien’s works were originally good in their intent and purposes. But somehow, just like Anakin Skywalker, felt that the grass was greener on the other side. I mean, the chicks dig the bad ones right?

But what made planted the seed that could turn them evil in the first place? Was it because the Creator overlooked a tiny detail in his blueprint for creation and accidentally created evil personified to torment his children? Well, not exactly, the author argues. Evil, by definition, doesn’t really exist at all. What? What’s that you say? What do you mean it doesn’t exist? Explain Posh Spice then. Well, I will, in a minute.

Right, let me digress for a bit. Firstly, what is the definition of word cold? Isn’t cold explaining the state when there is no heat present? Cold is the absence of heat and quite simply, absolute zero is when there is absolutely no heat left. We only created the term to describe how we feel when heat is not there. How about darkness? What exactly is darkness but the absence of light? Darkness is a term used to describe a situation where no light is present. So what’s the point of all of this? Simple. If you look at it, evil is the same thing. Evil doesn’t really exist. Impossible you say? What about all the rape, murders and violence in the world? What about those slow working government bureaucrats that take two months to process your passport? What about those idiots who don’t turn off their mobiles in the cinema? Well, think of it for a moment. A common theme in all these offenders is that they act and behave that way because they are lacking something, something undeniably good. Let’s say it outright shall we? What they’re actually lacking is the presence of God in their hearts. And why is that so? Well, one thing that all of us share, besides our distaste for stale beer, is that we are born with free will. God gave it to all of us, and we can choose to accept the good in our hearts or reject it. Quite simple, by rejecting it, by shunning these qualities, thus we are termed evil, for what is evil but the absence of God? Evil isn’t like truth or love, for these are virtues that exists just like heat or light. Evil is simply a state when God is not present, like cold without heat or darkness without light.

Ok, so maybe I spewing some pseudo philosophical mumbo-jumbo, but alas, there could be some truth yet hidden beneath all the bullshit. Think of it, how could any rational man commit murder. Why do they call it cold-blooded murder in the first place? Well, the word cold explains it doesn’t it? There is an absence of a virtue like heat here. And, in this case, it’s the absence of any feelings of remorse and pity for the victim. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is when evil is allowed to thrive.

2. Attrition

Tolkien once wrote that though he found many things to criticise about his magnum opus The Lord of the Rings, as the author he was under no obligation to publicly express them. Thus he wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Why give more bones to pick to those circling vultures eh? I mean it’d be like you telling your girlfriend that you’re also a premature ejaculator on top of being bad in bed when she’s nagging you about forgetting her birthday. Now how sick would that be?

Yeah, though I agree with what Tolkien said, after rereading my very first post on this blog, I found myself helpless to resist from ripping into my own work and exposing it for the fetid piece of shite it is. Yep, I am sick. But no more sick than you. And yes, I do have way too much time on my hands. In fact, I spend way too much time online for my own health. But till I start referring to my computer as a breathing life form and have meaningful conversations with it, I still consider myself just about normal (as opposed to subnormal, yes you know who you are). Also, my perverse self-inflicted disembowelment of my work would hardly be in front of a watching audience. I mean, who has the time to read other people’s blogs in the first place? I for one don’t (am too busy spending it doing aimless surfing anyway).

I’m probably one of a possible two people who’d ever read this post anyway. That’s what makes this so fascinating to me, in fact I can bloody write whatever I want without a care in the world. Let’s see. Our censorship board is made up of lonely men who wank too much and fuck too little. My firm is full of assholes and posers who only act that way because they’re insecure about their small dicks. Cats are nicer than dogs only for the reason that you can call a cat pussy while you can only call a dog a bitch. The Star Wars prequels are a load of rubbish. Beware of mutant midgets out to conquer the world. See? Point illustrated. Ok, these are dangerous waters I thread. How does one criticise one’s own work on being self-indulgent and pretentious without coming off as being self-indulgent and pretentious? Ah, therein lies the predicament. But thread we must, for the truth must be known. Strike one on trying not to be self-indulgent.

You know, reading through my first post, it feels as if I was trapped in some space-time-continuum thingy and where somehow, all the bullshit from the future was warped to the present and downloaded directly into my brain. I dunno if the tears that were streaming down from my eyes as I read were actually caused by my screaming brain dying or the fact that it was the weeping from all the bullshit that mankind would suffer in the future. Either way, the catalyst for that time warp was that putrid piece. Well actually, I was torn on whether to delete the post and spare humanity the horror. But somehow, deep down inside, a part of me (my inner Satan) yearned to give payback to the world for all the wrongs it’s done me (‘specially that bastard who cut me off without signalling on the highway this morning). So I gleefully wait the day when someone wastes five minutes of his life that could be spent trimming his armpit hair into the shape of a bonsai plant on reading that post. And may that day come soon. Also, I felt that the indescribable evil of it all was too great a thing to be forever erased from the memory of time, and therefore chose to preserve it as a warning to future writers out there, a sort of monument of pain that says: See! This is what happens when bad ideas are combined with even worse writing! Behold and beware! For one day, it may be you who follows that path down to damnation! Muahahahaha!

Strike two. Actually, I don’t really know what self-indulgent or pretentious writing is. But I figure I’m pretty much close to doing it now. Just because I hated what I wrote doesn’t really mean it’s a pile of Beckham. I always hate what I write. That’s why I write and re-write it continuously till it ceases to exist as a completed piece of work and turns into some infinite work-in-progress that’d never see the light of day. That’s why I was so compelled just to post it for once as I wrote it, to see if it’d look and sit pretty on my blog. Heck, I don’t know why I even bother to blog in the first place. God knows. I mean, who the hell wants to know about some obscure person’s thoughts and opinions at all? Everyone has an opinion. Heck, we live in a world where we have no choice but to hear someone’s opinion on something. I look in the paper and I read about some politician’s opinion that watching uncensored movies will make us all turn into Ted Bundy-like sex fiends and rape our household pets. I go to work and I hear some asshole express his views on how rising oil prices and interest rates would affect economic growth for Q2 2005 as if it’s the most important thing in the world (like I give a flying fuck). I hang out with my friends and I hear differing opinions on what’s the best blowjob technique a girl could give (well at least that’s interesting). Fucking hell, even when I go home to watch football on ESPN I have to listen to that ass Shebby “Whiny Voice” Singh talking about some guy’s atrocious defending (if there was ever a time when the pot called the kettle black, then this would be it). Even now, I’m freaking writing my opinion on people’s opinions. Pretty sick right? Well, it’s a sick world we live in. We’re talking about a world where a George Bush can get re-elected, where the news is dominated by who wore what at the christening of the Beckhams’ newborn (for the love of God, I mean, come off it already!), where locals speak with foreign accents though they’ve never even been to a foreign country and worse of all, where Natalie Portman’s nude scenes get cut out from the final version of Closer.

So why bother right? Why? Why do I do it at all? Well, I guess maybe, like the rest of us, I have some self-indulgent voice inside me that needs to be, ahem, shall we say indulged? Let’s just say it’s a form of self-gratification that doesn’t involve lubricants. But that’s not to say that all writing is self-indulgent. All I’m saying that my posts here will be nothing but that. And I must say, I will not apologise for it. Don’t say you weren’t warned. So back to my review of my very first post, I must say I hated it. I cringe every time I read it. But at the same time, I love it. It’s how I felt when I wrote it, bad language and all. And if it offends or the writing sucks, ah, who gives a shit write? I mean everyone has an opinion. Strike three and you’re out baby!

1. Pretension?

Just about a week ago, I attended this party thrown together for some colleagues of mine who were lucky enough to have been promoted at the end of the last review period. Not surprisingly, it involved much heavy drinking, lots of bull-talking and macho posturing, and a dose of heady flirting for good measure (more on that later).

Now these sorts of parties are the norm at the firm I work, it’s like an unwritten rule that every time you move up the ladder, so too have you got to give back a little to the less fortunate of us out there. And the way you give back is to open a few bottles of whiskey (quantity usually dependent on the level of seniority in the firm). It’s a nice system actually, as everyone will be buying drinks at one point or another.

Well anyway, I for one never miss these firm get-togethers, partly because I hardly need a reason to go out to party (yep, it’s rather sad when you have nothing to look forward to then get sloshed ain’t it?). It’s also partly due to the fascination of meeting up with the office folk once in awhile and observing these guys outside the normally formal office environment. You know how it is right, you find out that the quiet guy everyone picks on can actually drink anyone over and under the table or that meek associate nobody notices suddenly transforming into a saucy vixen. But mostly, and it’s no shame to admit it, it’s because of the free drinks (somehow it always taste better when you’re not the unlucky sod having to pay for it).

Ok, before I go on, some of you may be thinking that in light of all’s that happened in the region, it’s pretty much trivial and even downright obscene to be talking about parties and such. What more, it’s even worse to be the one actually doing the partying. To that, all I can say is maybe. Perhaps there is some moral implication to all of this, but if there is, it eludes me at this point of time. All I know is that I was out during New Year’s Eve at a club (this was a little less than a week after the waves hit). I must say I didn’t really have that a good time, but I was glad I was out with my closest friends. I also know that by me being at a club didn’t in any way make a difference to those affected by the disaster. You could say that I could’ve volunteered and flown out over there. Yeah, I’m sure you would’ve done the same, no? But then again, maybe I’d have thought differently if I was the one who lost everything and so happened saw a bunch of people out partying live on the telly.

But I digress, I’m not actually trying to justify or defend my actions. I just wanted to put my thoughts on this matter down in writing because it’s my damn blog and I can do whatever I want. So what I’ve come up with is that people have their own moral standards and people have their own opinions. Some may call off all festivities and call on for a time of reflection and prayer, some may light candles, and others like me may carry on partying but at the same time, being not entirely oblivious to what’s transpired.

It’s not me to say who’s right or wrong, and I believe that events like this should force us to share a thought on those unfortunate who suffered such unbearable loss and reflect on how lucky we are. Does it mean that we carry on as usual that we don’t care or are insensitive? Maybe, but what I certainly know that tragedy happens every single day, every hour, and maybe even every minute. Just because we don’t read or hear about it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. And you know what I really hate? I hate it when people only take up the more well known and seemingly fashionable causes and neglect others that are not really in the limelight. I hate it when people do the right thing only when the media spotlight is on the issue.

Ok, now that’s off my chest. Let’s move on. Like I said, I did go to the party (this was held just a week into the New Year). And I was supposed to be enjoying myself. But I really didn’t. In fact, I had a miserable time. I couldn’t even get in the mood for it. Maybe it’s because I had just recovered from the fever at that point of time and was still dazed from all the medication (prescribed of course) that I was on. Somehow, it felt like New Year’s Eve again. All the ingredients were there to have fun, booze, friends, good music and scantily clad chicks. But something didn’t just click. The answer was, funnily enough, very easy. I was depressed, really, really depressed. Watching hours and hours of CNN had taken its toll on me.

Let me stop myself now and spare you another mindless rant (this time of a more sappy variety), all I can say is that I couldn’t somehow see myself getting wasted after watching all that. I may be sounding hypocritical here after what I just wrote earlier but there you go. And, for just a second or two, I questioned how the people at the party could be out enjoying themselves whilst others were suffering. I hated myself for thinking that way and hated myself even more that I was being so judgemental and self-righteous, but I did and I was. Ah well, no one’s perfect, least of all me. But I can honestly say that as quick as that hateful thought came, it disappeared. So instead of thinking too much, I did the only other thing that a sober guy at a party could do, I sat slumped on the sofa and observed. And boy, did I really observe a lot.

You know, staying sober and sitting round doing nothing in a party not all that good a thing, mainly because everyone except you seems to be having a good time. But the interesting about it is that it gives you the opportunity to actually view all that transpires during drunken and rowdy nights like this one with a level-headedness that wouldn’t have been possible with alcohol flowing in your blood-stream. You sort of feel like an outsider sitting on the edge of their world, like a documentary crew observing an interesting species of animal in its natural habitat for the first time.

More on this later...

0. The Journey Begins

This is the obligatory first post where every new blogger writes about it being his/her first post. Interesting.

Nothing much to say now. Not much mood to write either, considering the full extent of what's happened in the region being more and more apparent with each passing day has made things harder to think about anything else. Everything else seems trivial eh. Maybe, but someone once told me that nothing is trivial. Everything and every moment counts.

The new year is here. There goes my twenties. Gone in a flash. Not complaining, but just thinking about how life can go on in such a flash when you're too busy living it. Biggest cliche in the universe, but damn true. Strange, it's just like how time flies too quickly when you're sharing those altogether too rare and precious moments with that one person you love and how it passes all too slowly when she's not around.

New year resolutions have not been made. They never are every year actually. No resolutions, just hopes and prayers to all those caught in the eye of nature's fury. Just wished that I had something more to offer other than old clothes and donations. Hope that whatever wave of aide and donations last till the very end, and not only when the cameras are around.

Ok, that's all for this first post. Actually not really a first post. But a pre-first post. Am I making any sense yet? Nope, I didn't think so.

Some acknowledgements before signing off, many thanks to that mixed breed (half Swede, half Chinese, all crap) friend of mine Olie for introducing me to this site. A good outlet as any to vent out my frustrations as a writer who never was. To my best mate from back then (no names here), thanks for providing me with loads of experiences to write home about, you crazy bastard you. I'll do my best to do you justice, but since you don't read anything non-porn related, well, you'll just have to take my word for it.

And most of all, the biggest thanks to an absent friend (wherever she is, hope she's always happy and sunny). Thank you for always believing when none did. The promise of Timeless beckons to be kept. It will be.