Wednesday, May 09, 2012

the myth of sadim

In a time where people became myths there was a King who turned everything he touched into gold. The tale’s dramatic ending served to educate the people about the punishment of the greedy: Midas eventually starved to death on the account of his enviable power.

Modern times are calling out for legends more than ever. In an age where religion no longer controls society, what undeniable truth can we trust?
Advertising. Because advertising shapes our desires, our aspirations, our fears and passions, our lifestyle and moral codes; advertising shapes us.

And like every religion, it needs gods to be worshiped. And creative directors have taken that upon themselves. Some times – or should I say most times – without having performed any better miracle than sucking up to the right people or being in the right place at the right time.

Occasionally it happens that a CD or a team of them - advertising is obviously a polytheist religion – can also perform amazing miracles, capable of bewildering everything and everyone around them. Not always in a good way.

Today, I’ll recount the fabulous tale of Sadim, a god that turned everything he touched shit – to be exact, Sadim was a collective of gods and demi-gods that functioned like ants in a colony, blindly following the power-pheromone, all trying to become the queen. But, for the sake of argument, they’ll be considered as one entity, a god made of ants who turned all he touched into shit.
‘Sadim’ is simply ‘Midas’ spilled backwards, even though both tales will probably have similar endings as men are equally incapable of surviving on shit as they are on gold.

One day, Sadim was woken from his slumber. "Who dares interrupt my sleep, I was dreaming of the French Riviera, stages and red carpets, gold awards and glass flutes filled with champagne?" He steps outside to see what the rumble is about. And there is it. A shinny fist-size rock. “It’s pure gold” someone said. And they all stared in awe for they had actually never seen gold before.

“What should we do with it?”

“A statue”, some shouted. “A cup, as thick as an elephant’s penis”, others suggested. “Jewellery, never goes old”, said the old, and the young frowned. “What if we glue the gold rock to the sky and use it as a sun?”, two pitched. “Everyone could see it and love it and share it.”

“Good idea” said Sadim. He reached for the rock, a massive 24carats, 25-kilos piece of pure stunning gold to do the throwing himself. “I shall be worshipped as the god of light until the end of times”, he thought. But, as soon as he touched it, the golden rock turned into a pile of putrid faeces, slimy and smelly. And as he threw it high in the air, the shit spread and everyone in Sadim’s Olympus was covered, head to toe, with the light-brown hue of a sick baby’s diarrhea. 

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