We live in a world which is heading toward moral decay. It used to be very peaceful and civilized. We knew no war (the story of Holy War was a well-planned hoax to be used later as an excuse Kingdom of Heaven), no barbarian, no murder between brothers (Abel and Cain were actually puppy dogs). Now we have prostitutes, women wearing short skirts, hoodlums, and riots. Blame movies for the declining values of human kind. The invention of movies is our biggest sin.

Thank God we live in Indonesia where the last noble, intelligent people gather in an institution called the Board of Censorship (LSF). They make sure we won’t see people making love on screen, and protect us from the ugliness of western culture. Read about the board here. You can also read their brilliant guidelines in censoring film there which include one point which prohibit filmmakers from portraying bad things about government officials. They are our leaders. They must be saints. Many rooms in heaven have been for them.

I remember watching this film called The Last Seduction with Linda Fiorentino some years ago in the cinema. The film tells the story of a corrupt woman named Bridget who manipulates people to get what she wants. In the end, she gets away with everything. The board makes sure we don’t get the wrong lesson so they put subtitles before the closing credits which says: “In the end, Bridget is arrested by the authority and punished for her crimes.”

I just heard the news that they didn’t pass Rudy Soedjarwo’s horror flick called Pocong because it contains the story about May 1998’s riot, among other things including violence. They told the producer that we shouldn’t remember bad things like that. The board members are the most thoughtful people.

I remember having an argument with the board’s chair woman, Mrs. Titi Said who is also a novelist, when they cut half a second of my movie Janji Joni (Joni’s Promise) for showing two people making out in the cinema. The sweet lady told me that it was for own sake. She said that if they didn’t cut it, some “militant” groups would take action on their own and attack the cinema which would play the movie. You see, they just want to protect us filmmakers. We have no law which forbids people from destroying other people’s property. So they are there to keep it from happening. Mrs. Titi Said also motherly said that she was just being a mother to us filmmakers. I was shouting and banging my head on the wall because, like talking to my own mother, we were like doing a two-way monologue.

In the end, we just sipped our tea peacefully. Just like after everytime I had a fight with my own mother. Then she said she had a wonderful story idea from her novel which should be a perfect material to be considered for a movie. The story was about a woman who, after getting gang-raped by several men, goes out for revenge. I told her we could do it twice as extreme as in I Spit on Your Grave. She just nodded. Of course she never saw that movie.

This journal is getting absurd. I’m having a headache. Excuse me, I have to end this and watch the special edition of I Spit on Your Grave again.

My country is the best country in the world. The people are the best human beings in the world, the smartest. Crime rates are so low we love to to take a walk on the street, even at midnight, in dark alleys. Nobody would try to rob you, let alone kill you. Plus, we got the best, most honest police officials in the world. We’ve never heard of corruption. Our government officials are the best managers and the best workers. We never experience natural disaster. We never experience national disaster such as bloody ethnic clash because a small group of people decide to play a little game of politics. We are all devout Muslims. We don’t have sex. Sex is bad. We don’t kiss. Kiss is bad. We ban bikinis because bikini is the source human degradation. In short, living in my country means living the most peaceful life you can possibly have on Earth.

That’s why you got to understand why suddenly our nation is shaken when one woman decides to be a contestant of Miss Universe. It’s a beauty pageant, by the way. Her English is bad. And she wears bikinis! Oh my God! And she’s supposed to represent our country, our people, our morality!

There is no one who hasn’t received an SMS saying that how bad Nadine’s English. Everybody has downloaded the video which showed Nadine answering an interview with her bad English. Everybody has showed everybody else the video. After living a peaceful life for too long without hatred, we are glad finally we got a common enemy. Her name is Nadine.

We finally have somebody to mock at. There is an article on a newspaper today that Nadine may face a jail sentence when she’s back. Ok. It’s not for her English, but for her wearing bikinis. And you know, bikinis are bad. They can make men begin to rape women, women begin to rape women, men begin to rape men. Worse, they can cause a national disaster. Oh, my mistake. They already did.

The truth is, we are glad because Nadine makes us forget about our own stupidities. If we are lucky, we can blame Nadine for disrupting our peace, for smearing our high culture. Plus, Nadine won’t strike back by paying a group of people to attack your home, your TV station. Forget those violent religious groups, those powerful mob bosses. Let’s not talk bad about them. Let’s talk bad about Nadine.

I say, Nadine is a hero. Kartini of modern times, if you may. Another former winner of Putri Indonesia (some sort of Miss Indonesia) doesn’t even dare to make comments on Nadine (presumably supporting her) because she is afraid that her fellow members of the Council of People’s Representatives would be mad at her. And she’s supposed to represent the people’s voice. Her English is bad. So what? It’s not our language. We still understand what she means. Everyday, I hear politicians talking in Indonesian and I don’t understand what they say.

Nadine should win Miss Universe. If for nothing else, for being a rebel. And that, is not plain, that is not conservative. Now I have another ambition in life, to become a member of the jury of Miss Universe. To make somebody like Nadine win.

Everyday since last week several journalists have been ringing my cellphone, asking me what I think about the new draft about anti-pornography (don’t ask me why).

“Have you read the draft?” they said. “Well, yeah, since you guys never stop asking about it.” I answered. “How do you react to it? “It’s stupid.” There was then a long pause. “And…?” they asked. Then, there was a long pause again. I was madly trying to find a more intelligent answer. I said: “It’s… stupid.” I don’t know why they kept calling me.

If the draft becomes law, it will be unlawful to portray people kissing on films. Inul may also be out of job. Since it’s ridiculous to set a standard which act makes people horny or not, we will have to be careful to do anything since it may be sexually arousing to people. I know my friends in high school got aroused when watching my biology teacher writing on the white board. She may have to quit her job. Wait. I think she already quitted and began sending women to work in an Arab country.

Why some people have problem with people kissing? It’s an act of love. It’s just love. What are they so afraid of? In fact, why some people have to have problem with pornography? Pornography’s good. If I don’t browse naked pictures or read sex stories and masturbate to them, I would go ballistic. I would want to smash things. I would want to break some glass. I would want to kick people’s asses in the office. I release my tension by jerking off. Thanks to those pornographic material, jerking off sessions feel better. So pornography’s good. It’s not like they make me want to rape somebody, or some thing. And who says Inul’s dance is sexually arousing? My straight male friends never jerk off after watching Inul (at least, not that I know of). Who says all naked pictures are pornographic? If they are, so what?

See why I can’t say that to the journalists?