soulchaser

As the great and good Eddie Izzard once said, I'm interested in Death - in a morbid kind of way. Which works well, I suppose.

Well, today, Death himself posted a comment on my blog, so it seemed the right time to address the subject:

"martin, you are a cock....seriously"

I like the image of death as a frustrated, bitter old man in a heavey black cloak with hood to match, hurriedly pacing around the world muttering obscenities under his breath, cursing the young and the inefficiencies of the public transport system. Maybe when Death started out in Life he was full of hope and ambition, he had idealistic opinions of his purpose and set out with energy and enthusiasm to make the world a bette place by killing everyone. But as time wore on, infinity took its toll on Death, his style is faded, his scythe is dated, and he's reduced to scurrying around this planetary school playground shouting at kids for having too much fun.

He's reduced to leaving petty comments on my insignificant little blog. Poor man. Of course our pity will only feed his pain but maybe that will give him the strength to carry on . I mean, what would happen if Death stopped working? If he just sat at home drinking whisky and watching Jerry Springer, getting fat and full of self hatred? What if Death killed himself?

People would still die, I suppose, but their souls wouldn´t be reaped and so we'd have zombies taking over the world (there's a film idea here.....hands off, it's mine), and everyone knows zombies are virtually impossible to kill. But maybe the zombies wouldn't be violent, they'd just stink as their flesh rotted around them, spreading disease and panic all over the world. And don't forget (like the movies do) that we'd have zombie cats and dogs, zombie birds, zombie cockroaches, even zombie trees.......This eventuality is a big enough concern for us to psycoanalyse Death based on the comment he left earlier.

First of all, it is aggressive and insulting. Why would Death feel the need to insult me? The only contact Death and I could ever have had would be, well, Death. So what possible motivation could I have given him for doing this? The only possible scenario is one where Death had laid a trap for me which I unknowingly evaded, maybe numerous times. This is our first look into his psyche: a confident hunter would simply have carried on until he caught his prey, but Death obviously feels so low and lacking in self confidence that he feels embaressed, and instead of just dropping a fridge on my head or sending some demons after me (which he must be sure I would defeat, otherwise he would have done this) he has resorted to the only form of attack he can be sure to strike with; even if it causes less damage than a warm summer breeze it's still a hit and he can take some sort of self satisfaction away with him.

Secondly, the first initial of my name is in lowercase: a gentleman remains a gentleman in battle, for winning without ones dignity is worse than losing with it. There can be no doubt that Death was a gentleman of the highest, most noble degree, a Viveroy of the Underworld, and here we see he has lowered his belly to the gound in his desire to score points, despite the shame he throws upon himself in doing so.

We can also take note of the lack of any exclamation mark or other sign that this comment hides some note of irony, or self mockery. It is entirely serious in it's nature and therefor we must treat the symptoms it reveals in its writer with a similar seriousness.

People! Hear me! Death is in need of our help! In order to maintain the natural balance of things we must make sacrifice! Ignore the no smoking signs, take drugs, have wild, uninhibited and unprotected sex with strangers! If you see an old lady about to be hit by a double decker bus, do not intervene! If you smell gas in your house, forget the lightswitch, light the oven! Stock up your arsenal and give your children the keys and instructions on school building assaults! Invade the prisons and release the inmates! START WAR WITH CHINA!!!!!

Well, you get the idea. Death be with you.

Siento, no tengo tiempo para traducir ahora. Vuelva mas tarde :-)