As Suanie Sees It

Seeing that it was the Buddha’s birthday and all, I would like to share my favourite sutra, The Kalama Sutra. Since young I figured that if I needed faith, at least let it be something I have certain control over.

So the Buddha was tripping along the dusty roads of India with his disciples in tow when He reached Kesaputta. The people of Kesaputta were called the Kalamas, like how the people of San Francisco were called hippies and people of KL jakun.

Now the Kalamas were a confused bunch, not unlike drivers today who can’t make up their minds whether to turn left, turn right, go straight or not go at all. They asked the Buddha,

“Dude, you look so smart and enlightened and shiny and all. Maybe you could show us the light on an issue that has been bothering us?

You see, there have been many other teachers, monks and what-not here in our town before you. Each tells us that their teachings are the real Haagen Daaz and the others are plain Walls. If they were from Amway or Cosway selling detergent we could easily slam the door in their faces, for we know that Dynamo is the best. But we figured that since we take our lives quite seriously, maybe we should not dismiss all these preachers condemning other preachers.

So who among them are telling the truth? Who among them are lying? Is it true that the one that shouts the loudest screams no lies?”

To which the Buddha replied,

“Yo listen up! It is true that the powers of marketing and branding are strong. Yet thou shalt not unnecessarily waste your hard earned money on inferior products. Who said that Dynamo was the best? Did you? Did you? Have you tried all the other detergent available in the market?

Myself, I prefer Attack.

Likewise in life, it is easy to be misguided by the mindless dribble frothing at the crooked mouths of unscrupulous agents. All of them want a commission in some manner or the other. But what has it got to do with you, O Kalamas?

Here forth I shall spout a few chosen words, which after I die shall be known as the basis of the Kalama Sutra.

Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it.
Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations.
Do not believe anything because it is spoken and rumored by many.
Do not believe in anything because it is written in your religious books.
Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders.
Rely not on the teacher or person, but on the teaching.
Rely not on the words of the teaching, but on the spirit of the words.
Rely not on theory, but on experience.

But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and the benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.

So my young padawans, what think you?”

The only thought that was formed in the Kalamas’ minds was, “Damn Dynamo”.

.::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::.

What is the point of this story being told the way it was?

My point of view is that people being people will continuously hold on to something for the sole reason of it being baseless.

Emotions, facades and so on; you believe just because you want to believe.

Even in Malaysia, a lot of people still hate the Japanese for their past atrocities. Children are taught to hate with passion; your grandmother/father/mother was brutally raped/killed/humiliated, it robbed you of someone you could have known, never mind that s/he would probably die of diabetes/cancer/heart attack long before you were born.

Similarly on home ground, a lot of kids were not allowed to play outside their own races. “The Malays are perverts, the Chinese are uncouth, the Indians are dirty, and everyone else is a bad bad bad stranger who would do unspeakable things to do because you are a Malay/ Chinese/ Indian/ Lain-lain.”

And so the cycle continues.

Tolerance is a virtue, understanding is a necessity.

Feel free to expound on this.

In the beginning the Internet was created. This has made a lot of people excited and been widely regarded as a ticket to fill the gaping holes in their much unsatisfactory lives, and thus generally a bad move.

It begins with a blog.

Tucked away in bloglivion is a sniping teeth-baring underpaid overworked scribbler who somehow makes a difference to Blogtopia Zone 92’s education system. For the sake of what is temporarily called an argument in… oh for the fun of it let’s call it the name-dropping plugging, we shall call the sniping teeth-baring underpaid overworked scribbler The Shorts-Wearing Elf.

The Blogger’s Guide to Blogtopia has this to say about Elves, “Mostly harmless”.

“This must be a Tuesday,’ said The Shorts-Wearing Elf to herself, sinking low over the grammatical mistake overload and bombastical-happy lines, “‘I never could get the hang of Tuesdays.”

Zpp zpp zpp.

Enter the most miserable of all miserable cowboys, The Cowboy, way past his gun-totting prime into the inevitable beckoning slums of saggy beer belly and wrinkly tits.

“Elf, we need to talk.”

“Talk.”

“I’ve been talking to the receptionist.”

“And?”

“She refused to have sex with me.”

“Nooooooo,” The Elf sniffed impassively.

“Just thought you would like to know.”

The Blogger’s Guide to Blogtopia has a few things to say on the subject of sex. Sex, it says, is about the most massively consequential act of communication between two, three or more Earthlings. Partly it fulfils a certain physical need; you can have sex on your couch, in your kitchen, in the toilet, at a foam party; you can have sex with just about anyone of the same or opposite sex; you can have sex at anytime of the day or night, all year long if you like.

More importantly, sex has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a stud or slut has more sex than what is deemed necessary for overall health reasons, the Earthling would automatically be regarded as also be in possesion of various tricks, styles, techniques and methods pertaining to foreplay, fellatio, penetration and the aftermath. Furthermore, the Earthling will then hailed as a successful hustler and will make new friends of all sorts, further increasing his or her chances of getting laid. What the ordinary Earthling will think is that any hustler worth his salt and knows where, when, what and how to poke is clearly an Earthling to be reckoned with.

Hence a phrase which has passed into sex slang, as in “Hey, you banged that batang keras hustler? There’s a force who really knows how to dispose the condom after.” (banged: make love, batang keras: desirable, dispose: courtesy, condom: necessary.)

For newbie Earthlings still in learning, guidance comes in the form of a teenage counselor.

“Not even when I told her that I am a lesbian.”

Resistance to a conversation is useless. Might as well pack up and go home.

The Cowboy sighed, “This is the end of my life as I know it. She was Teh One. Now I shall have to glue my heavy self onto a chair and download porn from Kara’s Playground.”

“No way, your beauty knows no bounds.”

“You think?”

“Chances for you to find Miss Right is pretty slim for everyone are but pitiful shadows next to your glowing image.”

“You really mean this don’t you? You are not saying all this because you feel sorry for me?”

“I feel sorry for all the rest of mankind. Jealousy will flood through the male population once you inevitably rise to fame.”

With that, The Elf left.

Blabber Bimbo Bambo the receptionist bears the sweet angelic smile of a hopeful innocent, the last remaining glitter of virtue in this Shangri-la of sin. That which means a sickening countenence to the rest of the lost sheep, almost simpering as she silently prays to be chosen. Chosen as what? Chosen by whom?

The Blogger’s Guide to Blogtopia has this to say about Being Chosen, “It will never happen to you.”

But the Blabber Bimbo Bambo was not to know of this. And so flashing her nauseating pearly whites like the guinea pig who does not know what was about to eat hit her, happily chirps,

“Good Tuesday!”

With a swift turn of the head, The Shorts -Wearing Elf glared sharply at Blabber Bimbo Bambo.

“What is so good about Tuesday?”

“Errr… ”

The Elf continued, “Is it just this Tuesday? Or is it every Tuesday? Does that mean Wednesday is better? What about Friday? Is that the best? How do you know Tuesday is good? Who says? Did you?”

“Well, I guess..” What she guessed in her limited supply of grey matter we would never know, for The Elf cuts in again.

“Does that mean you only do good things on good Tuesday? Or does bad things become good? Does that mean if I do all my bad stuff on good Tuesday, I will still go to heaven?”

Shocked into momentarily enlightenment, Blabber Bimbo Bambo had only one thing to say,

“Cheesin.”

The Shorts-Wearing Elf took another look at the pitiful whimpering lump cowering before her then slowly walked away, certain in the satisfying knowledge that yet another person’s life would never again be the same.

The original which I did using MS Paint was basically crap. So I smiled at Nic and he being so nice and lovely re-made it and now it’s all real pweetty and professional!

He also did this on his own accord, I thought it was freaking hilarious.

Ah well for RM 9 million, they can take a joke