Trust Deficit

This Kassim guy!! Oh my. Grievously tedious; in the extreme. Sputtering conversation from the get-go finally had the man asking whether he could have a look at the front part of the paper. Of course, of course. Flipping pages. The failed Summit that was scheduled to take place here gave pause. That Kim Jong-un fellow in the photo couldn’t be trusted. Shaking of head like a disappointed parent over a child. What? And Trump can be? Pompeo? In the photo Pompeo was shaking the former’s hand at their meeting the week before in Pyongyang. Too late for the old gangster flicks for Pompeo. Real life had overtaken all creative brain-storming in Hollywood. Parody was out in the US, side-lined and made redundant, it had been declared some months before. Mr. Kassim wasn’t ready for any broadsides. Drawing in of lips, cheeks as he struggled with the challenge. The man would not own he had been a Najib supporter exactly, but sodomite Anwar had always given trouble. Was it really a politically trumped-up charge?... At least it was good to hear a ring of sincerity in the disowning of the conservative mullahs of PAS over there in the north of the peninsular. Not to Mr. Kassim’s liking. Kassim’s style was more quiet contemplation, patient focus on Allah and his received word. Those loud PAS granddads were too much. One previously unknown addition to the store on Islam was delivered by Mr. Kassim before he finally left for his shopping. Apart from the obligatory Friday, ordinarily Kassim did not attend the mosque. Occasionally if the mood took Kassim then maybe another additional day. In the last week of Ramadan there was a particular attendance at the mosque that was especially beneficial to worshippers. Attendance for the sermon and prayer on that particular day in fact assured a worshipper all his sins of the past year would be absolved, no less. All sins absolved for the attendee until the following year, when presumably the same recourse might be taken. Only thing was the particular day of absolution in that last week of the month of Ramadan was unknown. It was one of the last days of the seven day cycle: that much was clear. In the last stretch before Eid and the New Year people would rush around shopping and whatnot, slipping in their focus. This was a useful measure to return worshipers to proper contemplation, Mr. K. explained. Thank god and all the angels Mr. Kassim had not really been double-barrel blasted. Just a little explosion at the judgment on these politico supremos. No one would claim Jong-un was an oil painting either—certified killer, fratricide what’s more. But fat Pompeo in his suit jacket, one of Trumpet’s cabal was a fright to behold. Trumpet for heaven’s sake, Mr. Kassim. Where are your bearings?... There had been far too many heads of ghastly corrupt operators and thugs paraded on Malaysiakini recently claiming one thing and another in their rear guard denials & subterfuge. One after another lughead in their smart attire, years of arrogant power evident in all their utterance and bearing. Even in the stills one could immediately see it. The faces of new reformers could immediately be picked and distinguished from the disgusting old crew that had brought such shame to the Malays and almost ruined the country. Kassim popping by to opine on the North Korean scion was exceedingly bad timing. An old Raffles Boy Kass. Most of those anointed old boys of that generation were of a piece: collars without fail, shoes never sandals, square-head hair-cuts and in every case not muddying the waters with any tufts no matter how stout in belief. The male version of the Goody two-shoes teacher’s pet back in the day. No animus intended, truly. Just, you know, certain days & certain topics. The voicing of uninformed ignorance got one’s goat some days. The conditioning was a concern more than anything. One could hit flat rock bottom thinking about societal pressures and process, the development of judgment & critical thinking in a body politic. Some skerrick of independent standpoint and courage would not go astray.