The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny

For the whole of the last week till this moment, my pride in calling myself a Malaysian was renewed.

Yes, we have fucked up politicians and politics.

Yes, we have screwball theologians and theologies.

And yes, the fatness of our city rats, both literal and proverbial, disgusts the living hell out of me.

But the week leading up to the 14th of February 2010 filled me with nothing but pride. 

It was the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny, as Neil Cicierega would say. The Eastern Metal Tiger was up against the Western Homicidal Flying Baby. 

Just imagine.

A ring where the two combatants fight, thirsty for each other's blood. Metal Tiger, equipped with nought but its claws and fangs, pacing the arena. Its eyes never left the smug look on Homicidal Baby's face. Its throat thirsts for Homicidal Baby's blood.

Homicidal Baby is not worried. He can fly. To counter Metal Tiger's primitive claws, he has the all-new and latest equipments of Archery. Why, he could fly to dizzying height and rain death upon the silly feline. He could zip around the tiger, tiring it before delivering the coup de grace. He could...

... be Metal Tiger's dinner. In fact, now, he is.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, lords and dames, children of all ages, Oriental Imperialism trumped over Western Imperialism this year! 

All over Malaysia, the malls were bathed in Red, the symbol of prosperity and, I imagine, the blood of the dead baby. People were deafened by the Dong Dong Dong Chang, instead of being fatally nauseated by over-sweetness of cliche love songs. 

In short, we won.

Congratulations, Malaysians. You make me proud.