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| 2008/10/05 12:23:54瀏覽1348｜回應2｜推薦8 | |
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這本是德州大哥發給我和 CW(筆名"普希金"）的私函。他看了敝人的朝三暮四集之後，也欲參一腳，將他獨家的、關於蔣介石之死的"冷凍火雞"理論供讀者品味。此文神妙，不及翻譯（我恐怕也譯不出原文的趣味），急急以原貌（i.e., barbaric language）公諸於世。 聲明： 1）中文標題及幾處中文字是我加的 2）黑體字是我加的（讀妙文而不評點者，非人也） 此文雖一仍大哥幽默的行文風格，其中涵義深矣，願諸君不僅以嬉笑怒罵視之，則國家民族幸甚！  ---------------------------------------------------------------- The Varieties of Religious Experiences I wish I had come up with that title but I didn't. Between the writing styles of the two James brothers, I really prefer that of the novelist's over the scholar's. But had William James been alive today and witnessed the drama put together by A-Bien and his followers, he would have either added a chapter to his famous series of lectures 'The Varieties of Religious Experiences,' or better still, traded in his school master's robe for pursuing a career in novel writing like his brother Henry did. I was not joking when I said the political manifestations of Taiwan, and you can probably extend it to the pan-Chinese society enclosed within a wide safe margin, really resemble these varieties of religious experiences. I have a few stories to support my theory that I will share with you. Back in the early 90s when I attended the graduate school in the East coast, President Li from Taiwan made a trip to up-state New York to visit Cornell University, his Alma Mater. A few days before his arrival, debates were going on among different Chinese communities – you know how it works: put any three Taiwanese/Chinese together, they distribute themselves across the entire political spectrum: left, middle, right, middle-to-left and middle-to-right. It is very similar to electrons occupying degenerate states - as long as no one is taking a measurement, each one of these electrons can occupy all possible states simultaneously. But not to divert your attentions away from my story with quantum mechanics, I happened to know this one guy living down stair from my apartment who chaired the local chapter of Formosa Student Organization. He and his followers got into some really hot debates (and some pretty loud ones, too) which I am sure must have been going on around every Chinese community in equal fever at the time. The battle was waged on one issue: whether they should make an appearance at the airport upon Li's arrival and if they did would such an action be interpreted as an endorsement to KMT's sovereignty over Taiwan. The mere fact that they even believed anyone gave a damn about their presence was amazing enough to me. Finally, they had reached a decision that they would not show up collectively at the airport but no member would be barred from making his own appearance at the rally to give his personal support to Li, as a gesture of hospitality from one Taiwanese to another. The mysterious way of deduction by which they persuaded themselves that logic consistency had prevailed with such deeds is still beyond me to this day. Thing went on as usual for me on the day of Li's arrival; I was never very politically motivated in my life. I had my breakfast, went into lab and did my punching on the computer keyboard and all other monkey stuffs. When I got home that afternoon, I was alarmed by a large gathering of people in front of my apartment unit and I thought "Man, is my place on fire or what?" It turned out that my neighbor down stair did go, as an individual representing himself I am very sure, and he was describing the scene to a group of housewives – when you lived in the graduate student housing community, there's always a huge flock of housewives (from Taiwan) that got together and chatted around before husbands came home for suppers, much similar to the life on the military housing compounds back in Taiwan up till the mid 80s. As to Li's visit, not only did my neighbor attend the rally but his entire family went with him, and the part that really pumped his audiences up was, get a load of this; how my neighbor, playing the role of a loving father now, grabbed the waist of his wife, the loving mom, so she could balance herself while stretching forward with every inch she could yield to place their baby boy over and beyond the police tape – all these troubles so the boy could touch Li by his sleeve! So that's what they mean when they say parents would go the whole nine yards to ensure their kid's advantage. But you should have been there to see how they glowed. All of a sudden, political agenda didn't matter any more and one Taiwanese welcoming another Taiwanese was worth less than a cliché; the entire matter was about his baby boy would be blessed from that point on by having physically touched a man with good-luck charms (or Fu-Chi, 福氣, as it is how you would say it in Mandarin) and that really cracked me up. For the entire 5,000 years (or 400 for some others) of their lousy history, everyone from that shitty culture have been looking for that dragon and somehow they found it in Li the chameleon. Like used cars, these dragons come in all varieties – you get what you want at the price you're willing to pay. Some must have theirs majestically rolling left and right between the bank of Yellow River; others may prefer one that's swimming up and down the stream of Tan-Kun river in a more amicable fashion. Special orders are also available: Back in 2000, right after Brother-Bien swore in for the office, a TV station in Taiwan that was famous for making 'native' soap operas started to put together a string of ads for its upcoming major production of the year. I think the title was called 'The Legend of Nine Dragons.' (九龍傳奇) The story was about, I vividly remember it as its outline was narrated to me by this script reader with a sensational deep powerful voice, the emperor of Ching dynasty (living in Beijing, coincidence number one) heard from his sorcerer that his sovereignty was in jeopardy by the emergence of an uprising power somewhere from the southeast. After some careful calculations the sorcerer pinned down the challenger as the incarnation of nine dragons that had already been born in Ma-Do (麻豆), Taiwan (near Tainan, coincidence number two). The emperor sent in his most trustworthy bodyguard to Taiwan to 'take care of' the business. And to fight for the continuous existence of this great lineage of Taiwanese people, a group of red-blood Taiwanese organized themselves to form the resistance ... you know the rest. But to he who considers himself/herself pan-blue, I wouldn't just start laughing yet if I were you because I have a good one for you as well. I remember well the morning CKS died; it was the 5th of April, 1975. After a really stormy night with a lot of thunders and lightening, my dad got us all off the beds and told us in the most solemn manner - I have never seen him behave like that in my life - that our great and fearless leader had left us. I felt doomed and actually thought about committing suicide. Laugh at me if you want but I was brought up believing CKS a god; I didn't go to the little shrine my grade school set up for him every year on October 31st, allegedly his birthday, simply for the sake of getting a pair of peach-shape buns (they were called Sho-Tao 壽桃). In addition to the chickenpox, the smallpox and whatever pox shots for my physical health, I was there to get a booster shot to guarantee my political purity every year. When you bowed to the picture (after his death they switched it to a black-and-white version) of a person whom you had never met, not even on TV, year in and year out, it was hard to conceive the idea that death also applies to him. It makes perfect sense; the absence of someone who has never been real to us leaves a special kind of void that can be easily re-filled by the next one coming out of the make-me-a-god manufacturing line. That probably explains why it was such a blow to my parents; he was a living god to them as they had seen him walk, talk and kill. Apparently this was no different than how the fans of 'Legend of Nine Dragons' thought of A-Bien. So what if some smart ass is going to tell me that he/she had it all figured out 30 years ago? You have not proven to me anything other than that you've turned cynical 30 years earlier than I did. I've recently been thinking that this entire thing was a scheme much bigger than it appeared to be. I am making my accusation against not just the part of his being portrayed as a living god – any one who hasn't figured that part out by now has to be an idiot, but the peculiar manner by which they ended that same lie. Think about this for a second, what was the chance of having him died on a stormy night (so sky-and-earth could mourn for him simultaneous, that was the frontline on every one of the morning papers the day after), with a very well written song (both lyric and melody) to honor his memory, immediately composed, performed, recorded, distributed and broadcasted all over the island within the 12 hours of his death? (The song was later replaced by a much shorter, simpler and tasteless one sounded just like a nursery rhyme to persuade school children to look for stop light before crossing the road.) Don't you think all these were a bit too convenient? Back in the old days, before 1911, a song (verse) like that could not be composed before an emperor actually kicked the bucket. Even the slightest attempt to link the concept of death and emperor himself while he was still alive would be a good enough reason to have your entire family wiped out. Of course, tyranny practiced to that extreme was a thing way past our time (I hope so) but I argue here that the spirit lives on. I have this funny theory: CKS probably died quite a few years prior to when they officially announced it. To cover it up during the period of time before the political power could be consolidated all they needed to do was to stuff him up like a pre-cooked Thanksgiving turkey and kept him frozen till the night before all the guests arrived. One weakness in my version of conspiracy theory is it depends on the existence of a refrigerator powerful enough to flash-freeze something of that size. Believe me, I tried it on a real turkey once without the technology and I have not had a bite of turkey ever since I witnessed what that poor frozen bird thawed into. So what am I trying to say here? That it sucks to be a Chinese because our politics functions like a bad religion? That western world does not have the same problem? I have no such intention. Of the first it was simply not true – it sucks to be a Chinese for many other reasons, this one is no more relevant than the others. As for the second, if you were totally unaware of it you must not have ever been to the South before. What I meant to express but did poorly was we as a people has never surrendered ourselves completely and unconditionally to the conventional spiritual side of any religion, be it Christianity, Buddhism, Duck-Egg or some local Voodoos. Exceptions exist of course, probably not a small number either so please don't quote such and such as counter examples to me - I am very sure some of you are truly sincere believers. I am simply saying that on a whole sale level, we the Chinese are very sophisticate in matters of this sort. Practicing an organized religion (or more than one simultaneously, someone I knew actually did that) is more like buying an insurance policy to us; as long as you can afford the premium why take the chance? (I don't know how the guy who has two active policies is going to manage his affair when the time comes. I guess he will have to write one off when it's time to file the claim.) But having a pseudo-religious experience in political figures somehow settles our needs of having a real one. Thus the way of A-Bien's home folks reacted toward the outside world, news media in particular, two years ago when millions of people marched the street of Taipei to protest his involvement in money scandals, was to a large extend, a religious reaction; much similar to how my neighbor reacted toward Li's presence. I don't think every one of them (A-Bien's hometown folks) loved him on a personal level; having a little harmless private grudge against a political figure always elevates your status among your fellow populists. During the supporting rally they had for him in his home province, the pitchforks and scythes used to drive the outsiders away served the same symbolic meanings as apparatuses used in any religious ritual – something to proclaim that we are a tribe, these are our totems and don't you mess with our medicine man. That probably also explain why until 2 years ago, my parents still had CKS's picture hung in my old house. The road to immortality starts with your belief in the god they made you. So as shit is now hitting the fan for A-Bien and his cohorts, while CKS's baldy photo in my old house had been junked away with the rest of the stuff when the house was sold, will A-Bien's ex-followers and people like my parents become lost souls wandering the spiritual wasteland from this point on? We all know the answer so let's just drop it there. It is sufficed to say that the search for next dragon is a never ending story and whether they find it from the ivory tower of Harvard under flashing camera lights or from the provincial market by rubbing each magic lantern they run into makes little difference – there will always be an endless supply of the materials from the political god production line and in the end everyone is happy with what he's got, just not all are happy at the same time. As for me, having walked the fine line of talking about religion and politics simultaneously (and waiting to be stoned to death), the only true regret that I have was not having the opportunity to watch 'The Legend of Nine Dragons'; the satellite TV I subscribed went out of business before they aired the first episode. It was such a shame: Had I done that, I would have quitted watching TV altogether long ago, just like I have stopped eating turkey years back. |
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