Light the funeral pyres. Two, not just one. Throw in the conflagration the corpse not of man but of the basic right citizens in any sane society should be able to exercise: the right to speak, and the right to watch film.
Ablaze in the fatal flames are the anatomy of hurt, the testament of intolerance. And we hear sighs of two guillotined heads as vultures set out looking for more corpses in our sunless backyard. To quote Shakespeare in Macbeth: "And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp; is't night's predominance, or the day's shame ..."
It's darkness and shame, in that order. On Tuesday, Ampon "Uncle SMS" Tangnoppakul died in prison from liver cancer while serving his 20-year jail term for lese majeste. Eight times, the lawyer for the 62-year-old man had tried to obtain bail, but the court wouldn't hear it for fear of the inmate running away. Tell me, running away where? As his coffin was raised in a cross-town funeral procession, it was more than just Ampon that died: it was the hope that serious consideration to updating the law that was evidently used with self-righteous savagery that died with him. Denying bail to a sick old man for sending libelous text messages is not something worthy of any civilisation, because it's as good as a death sentence. Tell me again, for I didn't hear it, running away where?
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