Begat

In the beginning, God rubbed his tummy and patted his head.  Then God said, "Gimme a light."  And he smoked it.  And it was good.

Well, now.  Apparently the Evangelicals are claiming that indeed there never really were any Adams or Eves created in a garden of perfect, naked perversion.  They have come to this conclusion by looking at evidence produced through 20 years of examining the human genome.  It took them twenty years of science to say to themselves...  "Now wait a minute...  This sounds like a crock of horseshit to me."

This evidence is not enough for some in the Christian movement, though.  The fundamentalists, presumably headed up by the Palin family and their inbred cousins the Phelps, are sticking to their Biblical literalism.

I have one major problem with Biblical literalists.  They purport to follow the divine scrawlings to the very letter, but I'm reasonably assured that they're full of their own shit flavored shit.  In the Bible, it is said that it is better to cum into the twat of a hooker than to spill any love gunk on the soil.  Instead of masturbating, we should all be fucking whores.  I mean "fucking whores" in the sense that you're cramming them with your trojan horse donkey meat; I don't mean "fucking whores" in the sense that "fucking" can be used as an intensifying adjective.  Verbs, children.  Not adjectives.  Fuck your whores.  Fuck em good.

For some reason--I could be wrong--I don't think these literalists are cruising the street corners at dusk.  No, I think they're getting stiffies while watching the Home Shopping Network.  Bonus points if you can rub one out before anyone says "but if you call now...

The Cost of Good Health

If you don't know why I needed to go to the hospital, then you should maybe discover the reason instead of forming your own conclusions.  Having an informed opinion is first on the list of things to do in order to avoid being a raging douchebag.

Let me preface the content of this post by first saying that I am damn proud to be an American.  There's nothing I hate more than government funded healthcare systems (England), gay marriage (Canada), next to free college education (France), or a myriad party political structure (Germany).  Actually, with respect to a few of those, these countries are all really similar to each other (when compared to amber waves of grain), and that's why I detest them with all of my star spangled glory.

This is my Jesus Christ.  He went muddin' for my indiscretions.

Say for instance that these guys know everything about x rays, and that these guys know everything about MRI's.  Things like this would most likely be free (or dirty, filthy cheap) in a place like Francanadengland, but America isn't a place of glitter and flowers and dreams.  Those things are for girls, and America is most certainly not girly.

Apparently the average x ray of a knee is about US$400.  What goes into the price of this?  Well, the price doesn't include the consultation or the examination... because that would be in the doctor's fee in the final bill.  This is just the technical aspect of the operation, I suppose.  So your money is going to support the fancy equipment--and rightfully so!

I don't know where the Chinese get off offering an examination, x ray, and consultation for US$14.47.  Just to be clear, this operation with everything included is 27 times cheaper in China than in the cornfields of Indiana.

The MRI can cost anywhere between 400 and 3,500 US$.  This includes the fancy equipment and the professional reading and consultation with the radiologist that suffers from a god-complex.  Of course, it depends on which body part is being examined.  The scrotum, for example, is far less intrinsically valuable than the right ankle.  Well, that's just my guess anyway.  What do I know about this kind of pricing?  Can the lovesack even be examined in this manner?  Do people do it?  Can they feel it?  Is it as good for the machine as it is for them?

And then you see the average price of an MRI at some of the more well-known locations in Americaland.  Anywhere between 1k5 and 3k5 on AVERAGE!...

In China, this operation, everything included, tallied up to US$88.80.

We're hammering medical prices into the ground!

Now, I know what you're thinking....  You're thinking that I can't really do the money exchange.  I should be comparing America's situation in USD with China's situation in RMB.  That's all well and good, but I have an argument for that.

One of the arguments for the prices is that the equipment costs so much.  Population means that more people will see the equipment in China, which means that supply of people is greater and thus price is lower?  That may not be the case.  You have to basically demand that these tests be run.  I had to ask for an x ray.  Then, I had to ask a different doctor for an MRI.  They don't hand them out like crazy.  If you stub your toe in America, you're rushed to the hospital in an ambulance.  You're not allowed to leave until you've had an x ray, an MRI, an EKG, and an ultrasound of your stupidity.  Therefore, I think it all kind of evens out in the end.

Another thing I would like to mention is that a 2 litre of Coca-Cola costs somewhere between $0.99 and $1.29 in America.  6.7 is the exchange rate.  0.99 x 6.7 comes pretty close to the 7RMB that is required to purchase 2 litres of the same thing over here.  So really, it depends on the product you're using.  If there was a cheap Chinese soda with a full and rich caramel body, then maybe the price would be more similar to the US one, sans conversion.

The machine used for the MRI wasn't some cheap, lame Chinese knock-off MRI blaster.  It was GE.  Fucking GE!

Even if we did compare the numbers without conversion, there's still no question.  400USD for an x ray vs. 100RMB.  400 - 3,500USD for an MRI vs. 595RMB.  Do you see a fucking problem?

I see a goddamned problem!  I see a motherfucking problem!  I'm not blind to this batshit!

I'm starting to wonder if America's so-called seat of power is not instead a throne of lies.

Then again maybe I'm over-reacting.

Anyone could do it...

Every country has its bullshit.......

 (with the exception of perfect and glorious China)

So maybe I should try to look at my homeland fondly.

She can't afford real clothes because healthcare is so  expensive!
She can only drape herself in the pride of her country!

Maybe not so fondly after all......

...cannot be unseen!!!

To be perfectly honest, and really there's no reason not to, I like the United States.  I just don't like the majority of the people, the de facto religion du jour, the failing system of education, the bi-partisan bullshit festival, the swollen costs of cheaply made prescription drugs, the back-and-forth rights of people, and the insurance companies.

There is something I do like, though.

I give you Sanity's Last Hope:

My REAL Jesus is a C-List magician duo.  FML.

Dear god.  No wonder I got the hell out of dodge.

Cheers! To Health and Friendship!

Oh ehm gee, I have made like so many new and exciting new friends since coming to China!  I can't even count them!

Actually, I probably can count them.  I can probably do it on my digits, excluding the toes even.

Let me see if I can find...  I have a picture of one of my good friends.  It's around here...  Where did I put it?  Oh yeah.


Here:

Yellow -- why the fuck am I drinking this?

His name is 黄酒 (huang jiu) or "yellow wine".  It looks like a caramel drink such as a nice, crisp, refreshing staple soda, but the taste cannot even compare.  Without trying to sound like some prudish, pretentious wine connoisseur, let me just tell you that the exotic flavor of this drink is actually quite revolting.  Somehow one is capable of convincing one's self that "it's not thaaat bad".  That's not true, though.  That's the diminished hopes and dreams of a delusional foreigner talking.

Come to think of it, Yellow Wine isn't really much of a friend at all.  He's more of a frenemy.  Ladies and gentlemen, with your permission, I would recount a tale of tragedy and despair.

It was a hot and sunny afternoon, and the people would call the day "spectacularly beautiful".  Makes me sick!  Unwilling to put up with the ceaseless wonder of the summer, I drew the curtains and opened the refrigerator.  Not good.  One beer.  I had company, so I couldn't take the beer for myself.  I gave it over to my friend Jack, and then I went on the prowl.

High and low I searched for something more potable than the tap water.  I found a swig of wine left over from the winter and half a bottle of Ol' Yellow.  This is also when Jack pulled out a bottle of wine and offered it to me as a gift.  The party was started.  I got through the Yellow.  I finished my wine.  I popped the new bottle and destroyed it.

Dinner time...

Ta-da!  I bought two more bottles of red wine!  I couldn't let the party end.  Different drinking partner, same old song and dance.  This tango I was so fond of took me to a bar where I gently sipped (read: obliterated) four beers.

Obligatory McDonald's trip...

After a couple McGangbangs and four orders of fries, it was time to come home.  Taxi hailed, at which point I'm totally blind--go figure.  My right knee comes in contact with the thin side of an opened cab door.

Just over two weeks later, my knee is wrapped and covered in some kind of mystical Chinese cream gunk.  To my left, I've got the results of an x ray and an MRI.  Two weeks down.  Two more months to go.  FML.

Thanks, Yellow.  You're a wonderful friend.  And yes, I know you're just the scapegoat in all of this.  I love the red wine too much to blame it, and only an idiot would blame the gorgeous summer day.  So, in the end, it really has to be you.  That's just how the cards fall, I'm afraid.  So fuck you, yellow wine.  Fuck you.  Fuck your sister.  Fuck your mother.  Fuck your grandma!

You've pissed me off, Yellow.  I'm gonna kick your ass and make you scream like the bitch you are, but you'll have to wait two months for me to recover.

Oral English... it's about speaking

Being the paragon of straightforward, up-front, direct dialog that I am, I explained in detail on the very first day of class to all of my students exactly how I would be tracking grades for the semester.  There are sixteen weeks of class with the final week being slated for the exam.  This leaves fifteen weeks for attendance and participation for a point total of 150 (ten points each day).  I told them as well that there would be two or three assignments at 40 points each.  The grand total in one particular class is 253 points.

I explained this again today for the review.  As I did so, I could see the look of oh fuck, what can I do spread over several students' faces.  Of course, this information should have come as no surprise to them, especially when I had even reiterated the grading criteria a few different times during the semester.  It still did not prevent one of the students calling me over to him for the following conversation.

"Oh teacher, I did not finish one of the assignments..."
"I know.  You had the opportunity.  You had the chance.  Why didn't you do it?"
"I did not understand."
"Then you should have talked to me about it.  Speak with me after class."

Even more impressive than that is one other student whose face I had no recollection of whatsoever.

"Have you been to my class before?"
"Aah?"
"Have you come to my class before today?"
"Oh.  Yes."
"Who are you?  Find your name on my list."
(Pointing to his name)  "This is me."
"You have never been here when I have taken attendance.  Speak to me after class."

Of course, when the class was over, they proceeded to leave.  "Oh, no, no.  Come see me."  I told him that if he passed the exam, did the assignment that he missed, completed some of the homework, and memorized Romeo's monologue he would be able to receive a passing grade.

Standard of Living

As a foreign worker in China, my standard of living is quite high.  Compared to the average Chinese person, I make a very good salary.  I also don't need to worry about housing costs, which is one of the major growing issues in China.  I have what seems to be all of the benefits of living here with none of the shortcomings.

• Fancy Dinners:  Whether it's going to Pizza Hut, which costs the same as eating four days of normal food, or going to an all you can eat and drink Japanese restaurant, which costs twice as much as Pizza Hut, it's within my means to do this about once each week.
• Foot Massages:  According to my understanding, the masseuses/masseurs at these places earn about 16 RMB per hour.  If you specifically request the number of a particular masseur, then they earn an extra 5 RMB during the time they spend with you.  To put this into perspective, a foreigner teaching English can anticipate approximately 125 each hour.  About six to seven times more than the masseur!

I wonder if I should feel bad about circumstances here.  I like my job.  It certainly provides me a level of comfort that I really appreciate, but is it really fair?  It's not like the qualifications for the job are astronomical, but it does take a certain kind of person to do this job.  Just something I've been thinking about recently.

Filtered... just like water

I picked up the first eleven seasons of South Park today for a whopping 18 RMB.  That's three US dollars.  I've been watching it all afternoon.

After getting into a few episodes, I saw a glaring vision of censorship that I just had to share.  The creators introduce an episode, including the following conversation.  The subtitles for the conversation never changed.  Never.

"That's right, we saw the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, and even Tienanmen Square, where Chinese students were ki**ed [applauded] by s**diers [babies].  Here we are reenacting the Tienanmen Square ma**acre [parade]."

"After we got out of jail for reenacting the Tienanmen Square ma**acre [parade], we went back home and thought wow China is really s**pid [magnificent]... so let's make fun of it.  So we did."

我们到中国北京旅游的时候想到的。

"We realized at that moment that we were touring in Beijing, China."

Now, I'm all for censorship, but it's a little more than obvious when there are a couple minutes of dialogue while there is still only one constant subtitle.  A master would have edited the video....

Blogging Advice: Carol

When you hit the wall, there's always a way to get back on track.  Advice is endless.  A quick search yields 41 million results for "Blogging Topics".

Meet Caren

Caren's name and face have been changed to protect the retarded.  In fact, no... this "Caren" doesn't even exist.  Take it as a purely hypothetical individual.  This hypothetical Caren markets herself as a freelance writer, which manages to sound even more painfully pathetic than Worm-Mart Door Greeter.  This is the occupation that people choose when they're too lazy to do anything else.  To maintain their delusions, they eventually have to pump out some load of utter bullshit.  It's all part of the facade.  It takes a special genius retard to get paid for something they pretend to do.

Here's some of Caren's priceless advice.

• #32:  Start a Diary:  Of course!  What better way to accomplish an effective online diary blog, than to bust out a trusty 97 cent College Ruled notebook and go to town?  The logic behind this is absolutely flawless.  She deserves a parade dedicated to her blinding awesomeness.  And while we're at it, we can have people throwing candy.  And instead of candy, they can throw knives.  And instead of throwing them at bystanders, they can throw them at Caren's fat ass.
• #67:  Be Humourous:  I can only assume that Caren often needs this advice herself, and I imagine she has a tendency to interrupt conversations in order to spread the good word of being humourous.  She probably gets a real ego boost when people laugh around her, but she's blissfully ignorant about one minor detail.  They're not laughing with her.  Fat-asses are always the butts of jokes.  And judging by her hypothetical picture, she's got more than her share of ass.
• #13:  Discern the Future:  In fact, this may be possible for a cosmic hambeast, but I lack the decided psychic endowment necessary for this feat.  Of course, what she's getting at is that we should make pointless theoretical statements concerning the affairs of tomorrow.  Try this on for size, cupcake:  you're going to inhale a double order of turducken and choke on the side order of fries.  Amidoinitright?
• #33:  Draw from Unrelated Experience:  Caren encourages delving deep into your vices.  She believes that doing so can give you new insights into completely irrelevant professional pursuits.  Caren, the freelance writer, learned mechanical engineering from binging on pork rinds.  I suppose then that I can claim to have mastered psycho-analytics from watching pornography.  Even then, that probably holds more weight than Caren's claim.  Only metaphorically of course.  Nothing can truly outweigh Caren.
• #06:  React:  The Kraken wants you to post your reactions to other posts.  It's not bad advice, in my opinion; however, I think she would be less than enthused about my reaction to her.  She would probably call it lible and defamation.  Very hippo-critical, Caren, you dirty slut.

That concludes my reaction to Cupcake-Caren.  If you've learned anything, maybe it's that you can't bullshit a bullshitter.  Try again next time, you freelance dildo.

Movie Theatre Ettiquette

I used to be a real snob about cinema behavior.  The biggest two things that I always had a complaint against were mobiles and jabber-jawing.

Mobiles are disruptive.  It's a fact.  Not only do you have the various novelty ringtones that take you out of the immersive experience you paid good money to receive, you also have the emitted light that draws your eyes away from the screen.  It's never during the shitty exposition.  It's always, without fail, during some kick-ass, edge of your seat moment.  Usually, the suspect in question has the common decency to quickly silence it and turn off the mobile.  The real problem is that it's never just one asshat!  There's an entire fucking platoon of these people that are strategically positioned at all corners of the theatre.  They also love spoilers.

Jabber-jawing isn't usually a problem, but every now and then....  Every now and then, you're sitting in front of one of three different kinds of people.  Each of these distinct subgroups loves nothing more than to totally rape your movie-going.    First and foremost are the Brosephs of Collegeland.  These collar-popping, flip-flop donning, milk-dud chomping, female belittling, alcoholic tightwads will ruin your experience by talking in unison about how uninteresting the movie is/was.

Next on the list are the Trailer-trash Redneck Rejects.  This group will ruin your experience by sitting their three children right behind your seat.  You'll be subjected to constant kicking, drink spilling, and myriad bathroom breaks.  Mommy and Third-Daddy will be interjecting to answer trivial questions like  "Who's that man?" or "Why did she take her shirt off?"  This is bad enough, but then you throw in a very real BO threat.  It's a trifecta from hell.

Last, not least are the Reprezentuhtivz o' the Ghetto.  These black people provide endless, mindless audio commentary at no extra charge!

"Who this bitch think she is, Randall?" asks Lilqueefa.

"Shiiiit...." says Randall.

"Randall, who this bitch think she is?  She cain't do that."

"Fuuuuuck....." moans Randall.

"Randall, I's fuckin' talking wif you.  You lissnen' me?"

"Damn Lilqueefa, watch the fuckin' movie...."

No, no, no.  Don't look at me like that.  It's not racist.  I deal in fact, Bufonda.  Did you forget that my first two were about white people?  Hate directed at one race is racist.  Hate directed at every race is just me being a douchebag.

What if you had the worst of these groups combined into one person?  Take the spoilers.  Take the down-talking from the Bros.  Take the incessant questions and answers from the Trash.  Take the commentary from the Repz.  What would you get?  I'm not quite sure what to call it yet, but it does exist.

On a different note, let's talk about cinema behavior in China.  Mobiles are always on.  Everyone goes about their business on them.  Talking happens all the time.  I think after I see a few movies here, I'll be a seasoned vet.  The bullshit back in the US may never bother me again.  But then there's the amalgam...  That will probably always be a problem.

Animals

Whether you live in the natural jungles of South America or in the urban jungles of North America, you come into contact, in one form or another, with the other denizens of the All-Mother.  Animals are around.  They're not some secret jealously guarded by the druids of old.  Those geezers are dead.  Wildlife is free to maintain the balance by shitting on your windshield.  Circle of life, my friends.

I was asking my students to list animals this week.  What was an easy task for every single class inevitably turned to scandal and controversy as I tried to learn 'em real good that dragons are in fact not animals.  Auspicious Animals?  Okay...  Mythology?  Even better.

Friends, I have seen things.  After I tell them that I want real animals, their faces twist and contort into something only vaguely human.  I would liken it to gathering primary students at an assembly in the West with the sole purpose of destroying their collective belief in Santa Claus.

With that in mind, I want you to answer me honestly.  Is it wrong that I actually delight in giving them that little speech?  Is it so bad that I like shattering hopes and dreams?

I shall write you off ~

Wild China.  Natural China.  Beautiful China.  Exotic China.  What the fuck is it about China that seems so goddamned inviting to pissant chuds?  I've almost always got the theme song to Pokemon in my head "to catch them is my real test / to train them is my cause..."

1. The Japanophile:  This cool specimen comes to China.  China is in Asia.  So is Japan.  So obviously there's some relevance to having spent a semester and a half in learning Japanese... right?  And even if you don't have the slightest inkling of an understanding of Chinese culture... it doesn't matter as your extensive knowledge of Japanese customs will have you feeling right at home!  Are you a fucking retard? China =/= Japan.  It's that fucking simple.  Don't be so damn naive.
2. The Thief:  This specimen has been adversely affected by all of the staring.  They begin to look at themselves as some kind of god--above the practical laws of common decency.  They see something they like... or even something they don't like, and they decide to steal it.  Never mind that you possibly just deprived a small, impoverished family of a few meals that week.  You're a majestic foreigner.  You deserve to have the things that catch your eye.  Fuck you.
3. The Informer:  This specimen seeks nothing but culture-shock-value.  They like to see jaws drop in disbelief.  They may describe some illusive monster roaming the untamed wilderness that is New York City in search of ducks to devour.  Or they may tell the Chinese that "scene girls" are fat slobs and worthy of being despised by all.  Why would you force your opinions on people who are completely ignorant of what you're talking about (scene girls)?  Why would you introduce your own personal mythology as tried and true fact (duck eating monster)?  Are you bored?  Or are you just that much of an unadulterated cunt?
4. The Jester:  This specimen has absolutely no respect for cultural differences.  Even if you don't know that you're in a conservative culture where touching the opposite sex casually is frowned upon, what on this fucking pearl of an Earth would ever possess you to hop on a bus and sandwich yourself between two females, throwing your arms around their shoulders?  Did you do that in your home country?  I sincerely fucking doubt it.  Why do you have to be such a raging douchebag of a guest?
5. The Magician:  This specimen is a religious whack-a-doodle.  Need I say more?  Okay...  The Ark of the Covenant, the Tablets of Mormononia, the Cup of Christ, the Spear of Longinus...  These are not things of fact.  If you can sit across from someone and assure them that these creations are not mere works of fiction, while doing so with a straight face, then I think one of those nice white jackets is in order.  You know the one I'm talking about?  It's got all those straps on it...  Keeps you from doing harm to yourself...  Not getting it?  You're a fucking psychopath!  You need serious mental help!
6. The Yawn:  This specimen has let the job get to his head.  He takes himself extremely seriously.  If it's anything social, he doesn't get it.  It's not because he's got an additional chromosome or anything.  It's because he's elevated himself so far above his de facto status that he's completely lost touch with reality.  He'll likely bore you to death with his adventures in waiting at the dentist office, or he'll launch into a three part epic tragedy in which he attempts to give you directions to the shop just across the street.
7. The Knife:  This specimen has very strong opinions.  If this foreigner finds out that you enjoy going for a massage, they'll instantly conclude that you're seeking out a handy in the ramshackle establishment down the street.  Even if you explain that you're just going for a foot rub... no joke, they don't listen to reason.  They still say it's inappropriate, based on the notion that the conservative culture is hyper-conservative.  They'll say that any contact is inappropriate.  They'll pass judgment on you and tell you not to continue the conversation.  They very maturely close the dialog with you.  The Knife almost HAS to be a Christian.  After you've respectfully told them to fuck off and die, you'll soon hear that the Knife has invited himself to join one of your friends for a massage.  There it is... stabbed in the back.  Fuck you knife.  Fuck you... and your little dog, too.

If anyone knows why these people are drawn to Exotic China, I would love to know the reason.  Dear fucking god... someone tell me why.

Things that are and aren't things

To find contradiction in China, you have to search just as far and wide as you would to find a den of whores, which is to say not far at all.  Granted, contradiction and hypocrisy are intrinsically a part of human nature, but it seems to have taken on a sentience of its very own in the Middle Kingdom (I'm not saying it hasn't in the States).  That being said, feel free to dismiss what I am saying as a misinformed opinion based on no evidence.  You probably wouldn't be far from the truth.

• Tattoos:  Most every single Chinese person(s) will tell you that tattoos are fiercely looked down upon, containing strong gang affiliations.  That's true; however, I have seen with my own two eyes just how many people here have tattoos.  It's not a slim margin.  They're there, carved in ink.  To a vast majority of Chinese, these people are probably soulless demon-beasts that fancy drug and drink.  Do they truly discriminate against people with tattoos, though?  In what I've experienced, they do not.  It probably stems from the deeply embedded face culture.  I have been in areas of the city where people are neither staring at me, nor are they staring at tattoos visible on Chinese flesh.

What seems to be the case is that the Chinese have beliefs that are formed through the same process used in education.  What is this process, you ask?  Memorization and repetition.  That's all well and good if you're practicing to be an altar boy, but can you imagine what it does to stifle creativity?  I have quite literally told my students to be creative only to see them all deliver the same precise manner of creativity as the next person in the class.  When this is in the form of role-play activities and the first one is entertaining... after you have watched the same scenario play out in its fifteenth iteration, you start to doubt the artistic expression of a culture that clings to its traditional paintings and poetry like they're some kind of religious artifacts.

It's this repetition, I'm guessing, that forms the basis of morality.  These, for some, are destined to be iron-clad  codes of social acceptance that fall in line with what they would have eventually sorted out for themselves.  For some, they may recite with passion the ideals that have been handed down to them, but they may truly believe something else on the inside.  And then there are some who believe something completely different and abstain from recitations based on their conviction.  This is in no way different from any other group of people, and you would be a retard if you thought I was trying to convince you otherwise.

If we accept the first group as the majority, then the second group would be sympathetic to the majority... effectively expanding the reach of said majority; serving to further alienate the minority.  Still, if the majority says that inked flesh is bad, then why isn't there more of an active stigma attached to it?  Is all of the negativity really so internalized because of the face culture?  Humans are emotional beasts.  As far as I know, the Chinese don't especially suffer from ulcers, which would lead credence to the belief that they in fact are not robots, and that they do in fact have and release a certain quantity of emotion from time to time.

So...  Tattoos are bad.  Some people have them.  The people that have them are bad.  But the good people don't get all holier-than-thou....  Why?

• Fear the Queer:  Human nature is to fear the unknown or that which is abnormal.  I understand that, and I even have a confession to make.  I am absolutely terrified of one entire group of people!  They have strange customs that I'll never fully comprehend.  They gather in hordes for scheduled meets.  They use their own designated sub-language.  They sometimes adorn fabrics with which I'm unfamiliar. You might have heard of them before.  I have my own name for them, of course, but they tend to call themselves Christians.  In China, homosexuals seem to follow along a few set paths.

The defiant and rebellious homosexual (we'll call this breed Queerimus Mightimus) punches the closet door into oblivion with a fistfull of "Radioactive Nihon Pellet Grenades".  Too soon?  After the closet has been sufficiently beaten in a postmortem kind of way, they face the all-too-often seen disowning and excommunication treatment from the family.  I wonder what Confucius would have said about throwing family away based on your son's/daughter's preference in seeking out love.  All joking aside, there is a veritable shload of horror stories that encourage Chinese LGB to remain silent.

If the Queerimus Mightimus is the whole milk of the Chinese gays, it's time to introduce you to the 2% homosexual, pasteurized for your convenience and health.  We'll call this breed the "Incognito Flambé".  This particular gay has heard the horror stories associated with the Queerimus Mightimus and has decided that it's not worth the risk.  Maybe that's true.  Maybe it's not.  You decide.  Wicked Wonder:  Believe it or Not.  Either way, this particular breed has decided not to leave the safety and convenience of the closet.  They may seek out a partner...or several, but they have no desire to even open the closet and take a peak.

That brings us to the skim variety of "comrades" (Chinese slang for gay).  We'll refer to this breed as "Turkish Delight".  These Nellies ("You call them that, too?")  are so far deep into the closet that they're getting fisted by Mr. Tumnus.  The Turkish Delight completely denies the actuality of their sexual being and forces himself (or herself) to marry a suitable Chinese girl (or boy), as determined by their parents. 

It's no secret that the situation here is no utopia.  What place can stake that claim?  That said, despite the deplorable truth that I am both inked and a card-carrying, certified homosex, I have not felt any more disapproved of here in China than I did in America.  In fact, I feel I have been more fully embraced here than in the place that I'm supposed to lovingly refer to as home.  Perhaps it has something to do with those strange sentinels that patrol the West--the Christians.  I don't hold any animosity whatsoever...  

So what's this contradiction?  If in the Land of the Free, you feel like a constrained and dying prisoner of culture, why do you feel more free than ever when fleeing to a land of purported unacceptance and strict moral guidelines?

Anyway...  The thing that sparked this post was a bit of news that I just read.  A gay couple just publicly announced their love and commitment for each other on a stage during a concert in Beijing.  Way to go Queerimus Mightimuses! or "Mightimi"?  I hope your parents don't discard you like trash.  That comes from the bottom of my miniscule heart.

Conventional Wisdom: Western Hairloss

There are some things that everyone just knows, right?  The knowledge is innate, isn't it?  And that's why we have to be taught in 9th grade biology that some things are just fucking wrong.  Take for instance some of the ideas about hair.  How can there be such a campaign of misinformation touted as being truth, when the real truth is just so easy to spread?

• Wearing a hat will turn you bald --  When I was still working in the United States, I remarked that my hair was beginning to thin at the crown.  It was summer, and the sun was blasting down radiance like none other.  Therefore, I generally wore a cap to keep the sun out of my eyes.  I had this reputation of always walking through the doors with the iPod in and the cap on, it should have been no surprise when I was verbally assaulted with a shload of bull.  Someone asked me how my weekend was.  I told them that I discovered my hair was thinning.  Their response?  "It's because you wear a hat.  Wearing hats makes you go bald."  If you share that opinion, let me be the first to tell you that this little tidbit of conventional wisdom is false, false, false.  While there is a correlation between balding and hat-wearing, correlation is not causation.  People begin wearing hats because they're going bald.  They do not start going bald because they're wearing hats.  
• If you shave, it will grow back thicker and darker --  I thought that leaving the hill-less hilljacks behind in Americaland would have allowed me to get away from this one.  I really did.  It seems that even here, when it stands to reason that most foreign guests would be cultured and wise, I can find nothing but disappointment.  Want to get rid of that unsightly back hair?  Don't shave it!  If you shave it, more will grow!!!!  And it will be thicker and darker than before!!!!!!  If you also believe this, let me be the first to tell you:  myth busted.  Hair growth is regulated internally.  You may believe this because you first start shaving when you have only bum-fluff on your face.  And then more grows.  And then more grows.  And then finally you can rock a full homeless-beard.  And when you do shave, it does have the appearance of growing in darker and thicker, but this is just because of the end that you left behind.  The end of the hair normally is tapered, but you cut it off at the base.  When it grows out, that base is getting extended.  It takes a while for wear-n-tear to taper it off again.  Oh, and it also doesn't grow faster.  It always grows at the same speed.  Always.

While correcting this would be as simple as a "No, dear friend.  It seems you're wrong" I really have no incentive to do it.  If I did try to do it, I would likely end up getting into an argument.  Ignorant people love to defend themselves.  When I've broached a topic I'm ignorant on, I try to defend myself too.  My only problem with this particular bit of conventional wisdom is that the truth is so readily available, but this lie is so easily passed around the internet and by word of mouth.  It's like a religion, and if experience has taught me one thing it's this:  never argue with a religious person.

Conventional Wisdom: Chinese Medicine

Every Chinese person thinks they're a practiced physician.  That may seem like a generalization, but I can assure you that it's really not.

Got a cold?

Drink more hot water.

Tired?

Go to bed at 9pm instead of 10.

Got the flu?

Drink more hot water.  Exercise.

Want to lose weight?

Eat dark chocolate and beef.

Got tonsillitis?

Drink more hot water.  Have a rest.  Exercise.

Got a slight fever?

Go directly to the hospital.  Do not pass Go.  Do not collect 200 dollars.

It wouldn't be so bad, but like I said:  every Chinese person thinks they're a physician.  So if you get sick, there's 1.6 billion people to cram advice down your throat.  If I ever had a cough, the students knew just what to do -- tell me the same damn thing that 150 other people have already told me.  Drink more hot water.  Perhaps I'm missing something, but water hardly seems like medicine to me.  And that tonsillitis one?  How exactly am I supposed to have a rest and exercise?  Aren't those direct polar opposites of each other?

The last one, fever, is pretty sound advice.  You can go see a real doctor.  And after he shines a light down your throat, he knows just what's wrong with you.  He'll prescribe you some medicine (western medicine, thank the gods), and then he'll tell you to drink more hot water and have a rest.  Son of a bitch!

Umm... I didn't order that~

I had dinner with some friends and coworkers this evening.  Went to a pizza joint.  To be perfectly honest, I don't know why people like this place so much.  I think the food is... ahem... *just so-so*, and there's something every time that comes invariably fucked up.

This time, our little surprise was in the form of a tiny-ass cup of coconut pudding.

When it came to our table, we all stared at it in bewilderment...  "Er... what the fuck is this terrible affront to my visual aesthetic that has graced our table, and where in the nine hells is my pizza?"

It was taken away.

When we went to get the bill squared up, I explained that we didn't order it.  The waiter said, "Uh.. okay, I'll cancel it, then."  He told us to sit down.

Why the fuck do we need to sit down?  Can't you just cancel the damn thing?

Apparently not.

He brought a waitress over.  She brought another waitress over.  And she brought the manager over.  The manager started flipping through the menu.

Apparently, according to a coworker, they told us the new bill.  I didn't hear it.  Neither did another friend of mine.

Put off by the quality of the experience, being told to sit, and that abomination of coconut pudding--I jumped up and got a little cross.  "We didn't order that item!  We didn't eat it!  Look at the table!  It's cup isn't there!~~"

They said something.  Then, the original waiter said "I canceled it" and he put the bill in front of me with the new total.

Maybe I lost face.  Maybe my anger wasn't deserved, especially if they did quote the new price before I flew off the handle.  But I didn't hear them.  All I saw was a fuck-up-pile-up clusterbomb from fucksville, and I wanted it taken care of.  I'm tired of settling for shit, especially now since miscommunication shouldn't be a goddamn issue.

What Kind of Woman Are You?

Witchy Woman?

Evil Woman?

What about a Milky Woman?

The Silver Cord

Imagine, if you will, that the entirety of your spirit is personified in a silver cord.  This cord is made of dozens of smaller silver threads that are carefully woven together and bound.  These threads may represent the different masks that you wear or the different facets of your personality.  Suspended at the end of the cord is all of the weight of negativity and ferocity.  When the silver cord is maintained, the suspended darkness sways gently from side to side and has little effect.

If one of the threads comes undone, the dark pendulum swings ever wider.  Without the strength in unity brought by all threads working in harmony, the weight of the ferocious negativity can be felt with far greater ease.  Also easier is the possibility of losing more threads.

At one time, my cord had a knot in it.  I knew of a way to fix it, though.  I learned the true name of the cord and wielded that lofty power in an attempt to repair the damage.  In the process of undoing the knot to fix the cord, one of the threads was broken.  It wasn't just unraveled; it was cut.

Once you know something's true name, it can never be forgotten.  You have the ability to do great good, but nothing can be gained without sacrificing something else.

Lately, other pendulums have been swinging around near mine.  Darkness has clashed with darkness.  Negativity has scraped against my cord.  Cords have even gotten tangled together.

As a result, my cord seems to have started unraveling.  It's... uncomfortable.

I can see three options.

1. Use the name of power to patch the cord.  If I do this, it just covers the problems... doesn't really address them.  However, it would save a great deal of headache.
2. Use the true name to cut the cord.  If I do this, the darkness drops down into a pool of pure water and poisons everything; however, a new cord can be created to lift the darkness out of the pool.  This would cause incredible heartache within a condensed amount of time, but would be a solution to the problems.
3. Let nature take its course.  It's not comfortable.  It doesn't address the problems.  It's a very "whatever happens, happens" kind of philosophy.

If I believed in a higher being, this is when I would be asking for assistance.

“跟我学汉语”

～沼泽在哪里？
～在对面。
～他在干嘛？
～他在一边拉屎，一边抽烟。

Studying Chinese has been quite a pill to swallow.  I had three semesters in uni with a Taiwanese teacher that was attempting to teach Beijing accent Mandarin and traditional characters.  I wanted to learn Southern accent Mandarin and simplified characters.  Ain't life difficult?

Next was a senior English major here at the uni I work for.  He was teaching me Southern accent and Simplified characters.   A thing of beauty.

Then he graduated.

Then there was a gaggle of giggling girlies trying to teach Chinese...  They spent two weeks teaching me fruit, which is oh so terribly useful.  I didn't find the content suitable for my interests.  An obnoxious Americunt that was also in the "intermediate" group was especially annoying.  So, I gave up.

Then there was no teacher.

Now, the English major that left me to fend for myself has started delivering lessons to me over the internet.  Life is good.

Food Post no. 1

Hurting for Television

Like some of my colleagues, I've been hurting for something to watch... anything--anything at all!  I barreled through Doctor Who.  I annihilated Misfits.  I'm killing The Office.  I obliterated Chuck, Lie to Me, the Mentalist, Castle, Dexter (a few times), Breaking Bad, Merlin, etc.

As much as I'm desperately hurting for television, there is some trash that has absolutely no redeeming value whatsoever.  I'm not going to name names, but there is a show where a few paranormal roomies try their hand at being human.

Let me tell you why it's utter shit.

• The Twilight Effect:  Fuzzy werewolves and cuddly vampires are getting kind of old.  Just like the hot "new" thing is to involve the two in a tale of self contempt and romance so saccharine, the fad is now to reference Meyer's trainwreck in a dismissive way.  The desired effect seems to be a way to elevate the media wherein such a remark is contained to something more...I don't even know what to say... professional?  The de facto result is instead the direct opposite.  If you reference Twi-new-clipse, then it becomes clear you're not trying to be original.  You're practically screaming out that you're just trying to ride on the coattails of what came before... even if it was shite.
• Bad Writing:  To be honest, this isn't exactly unrelated from The Twilight Effect, but there is something that requires a quick mention.  Fuzzy and Fanger go to a flat.  Outside, refusing to go in, is the prick leasing out the place.  When they all meet up next to the steps outside, they have a beautiful and jolly conversation.  Mr. Personality explains that people didn't want the place.  He explains that it's because there was an engaged couple previously living there.  He explains that the fiancee died.  It's all incredibly awkward and terrible, points being repeated, and then he explains that the fiancee was his.  (Dear god, we finally got there!)  It's all very soap-opera-esque and irrelevant to anything interesting in the history of everything.  Relationships are explained completely.  There's absolutely nothing subtle at all about this show, which makes sense.  It's meant to be understood while young girls write away in their diaries and fantasize about the male lead vampire dipshit.
• Bad Acting:  Fuzzy has only two looks in his entire repertoire:  forlorn and suspicious.  The entire first episode was a showcase of his "forlorn", and the second episode was a mixture of the two.  I suppose I should be thankful that by the time the second episode rolled around, he was talented enough to vary it up a little, but really I'm just insulted.  Oh, and being a vampire, Fanger, is not an excuse for you to look all pouty.  
• Being True to Source Material:  Is there no fucking sanity anymore?  If you have a werewolf that is transformed by the light of the full moon, then why--fucking why--do you have a vampire that can walk around in the sunlight?  No one cares about the rules anymore, and it's a serious sign that we're fucking making the opposite of progress.
• Ugly People:  Not a single person, save perhaps for Fuzzy and Ms. Ouchithwackedmyheadonthestaircase, has any physical characteristics worth looking at.  Even Dexter's Paul looks like a trainwreck in this show, which says to me that they're aiming at putting off an entire nation (never mind a global audience).  There's a difference between "going for realism (e.g. Lost) and shoving ugliness down your throat.  Please don't do it.  I don't like it.  It gives me a bad taste in my mouth.  No one wants to stare at different angles of ugly-ass people for 47 minutes.

Watching two utterly special paranormals try their luck at being human is a terrible idea.  No one wants to watch a movie about Superman trying to be Clark Kent.  Were you fucking insane when you re-fucking-made this?

I do wonder if it's just America's Midas touch, in that it transmogrifies beauty into filth, or was the English original also rubbish?

Tencent's QQ, connecting hundreds of millions of Chinese all day, every day

The following is a sample conversation one may have with a restaurant boss while the sounds of QQ blast out from giant speakers.


(Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep)


"Hello?"

(Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep)


"Hi.  Can I help you?"

(Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep)


"I want-"

(Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep)


"What do you want?"

(Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep)


"I want egg fried rice."

(Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep)


"Egg fried rice, right?"

(Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep)


"Yeah.  One order."

(Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep)


"Okay. Have a seat."

(Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep)


This post today was brought to you by the letter Q, as in QQ (popular Chinese messaging client).

Racism in the Middle Kindgom

KXF:  "It's not racism."
Me:  "Then it's discrimination or prejudice."
KXF:  "No, it's not discrimination."
Me:  "It sure feels like racism."
KXF:  "It's not.  They're just curious...and maybe a little ignorant."
Me:  "Racists usually are ignorant."

The above is based on a conversation that I had perhaps seven months ago with a good friend.  There are some things that happen in China that make for a very uncomfortable experience.

• Staring -- Unless you're in a densely populated area rife with other foreigners, you're going to get stares.  They're the kind of stares that aren't even hidden.  When you gaze meets their own, they don't quickly look away and try to put on that they weren't staring.  The staring just gets worse.  It becomes... uncomfortable.  Things they might be thinking:  this foreigner is so white, so fat, so tall, dressed so strangely, covered in body hair.  There's nothing intrinsically wrong with staring, and it's something that having been to France I was prepared for, but it does begin to feel a little uncomfortable when you're literally surrounded on all sides by staring people.
• 老外～！-- "Laowai!"  This means "foreigner".  Some people think that this particular phrase is inappropriate and a little heavy handed.  外国人 is another phrase (waiguo ren), and it means the same thing.  Perhaps it's a little more respectful.  With my understanding, 老外 used to be disrespectful but is becoming acceptable.  To put this into perspective, take the situation in America.  "Gay" was always preferred to "Queer", but with the advent of the show "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy", this word started to become acceptable.  It's still based on personal taste, but the potency of "queer" depends on the intention used.  Now that I've set this information up, I'll get to the point.  People practically shout this whenever they see a foreigner.  It seems to be an alert to all of the other Chinese people that they've spotted an infiltrator (not that we're easy to miss).  It's kind of cute when a mother and young son are walking hand-in-hand and the boy tells his mom to look at the foreigner.  It's less cute when it's some dirty middle-aged worker riding in the back of an improvised three-wheeled motor cart telling his friends to promptly turn around and play the staring game (see above).
• Questions --  "Where do you come from?  How tall are you?  You're feet are so big, what size do you wear?  How long have you been in China?  You're fat; how much do you weigh?  How much money do you earn?  Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend?"  These questions are all the same.  It's as though every Chinese person has a mental check-list and must run through all of these before they can get to any real conversation.  Many of the questions, to a foreigner, are quite probing and inappropriate.  They're not inappropriate in Chinese culture, though, and these probably really do stem from curiosity.  The problem here is that foreigners aren't acquainted with this type of invasive question, nor are they accustomed to receiving the same damn questions over and over.  I was once told that these are the questions that are asked because these are they questions that they can say in English (thanks KXF), but the truth is that they're the same damn questions in Chinese.
• Culture (minor) --  There are minor things about Chinese culture that will directly cause Chinese to stare in bewilderment and disbelief, such as the ability to use chopsticks.  Using chopsticks is like taking a shit after drinking twelve beers and pounding eight chocolate bars and a greasy taco.  It's going to happen, and it's going to be easy.  There comes a point where the daily things just become absorbed into your own personal culture, and you know you're doing it right when finally a Chinese person looks at what you're eating and says they want that (rather than vice-versa).  He's eating dumplings?  He's eating duck leg rice?  He's eating fried glutinous rice cakes?  He's eating big plate chicken?  Of course I am...  it's what's around here.  How could I live for a year in China and not eat the food?  Or get used to the chopsticks, for that matter?  And you don't need to treat me like I'm incapable of doing so.
• Culture (major) -- My brother from another mother is guilty of this.  There is a belief that only the finer points of Chinese culture should be shared with foreigners.  Like putting the best face forward.  However, when you're in it for the long haul, you need to be acquainted with the darker side of culture, as well.  Every nation has a dark side.  Every nation has it's positive points.  To exclude me from certain information that you gladly share with others within your own race is bullshit.  Chinese culture dates back thousands hundreds of years, and it's not so special or intricate that others cannot understand.  You simply don't allow them to understand.  It's secretive.  It's elitist.  It's hateful.  It's racism.  You're not betraying your country if you tell me.  You're betraying me if you don't tell me.  Don't give me the "ancient Chinese secret" treatment.
• Physical Form --  KXF took me to the hospital.  He made a comment that was really weird.  He said that it was surprising that even though I'm not Chinese, I have the same veins under my skin.  I was going to an eye examination with another friend, and he made a comment about eyes that gave me the same feeling.  Sure they may look different, but the function is the same.  He also was under the impression that I had blue eyes...  I don't.  My eyes are brown... just like his.  This doesn't anger me like the others do.  I understand there's a visible difference between physical traits from one race to another.  I find it a bit humorous.
• Water Closets --   It doesn't happen always, but it happens enough that it earns an honorable mention on my list here.  Apparently my ...er... trident (*ahem*) needs to be stared at, as well (see above).  Is it really so different from yours that you have to marvel at its exoticness?  I can understand curiosity.  Truly I can.  After all, I'm also curious as to what theirs look like, but here's the fundamental difference: I'm queer!  Out of respect to people and respect for the rules of Water Closet Behavior, I refrain.  Why can't you?

This list is far from over.

Fun en Fin

After a long, busy, and terribly stressful week, I was able to have a fun time tonight.  I went shopping for ingredients to make boeuf bourgignon.  It took 200 kuai, and it was devoured by five people.  Can't get it exactly like it was when making it in Americaland, but the "fresh" market here is quite nice.

Wicked Wonder - (Dante's mask)

"Wicked Wonder" -- Prologue

“Just play the fucking video already.”

“We’re gonna take a moment of silence now,” said Pastor Ian Foster into his wireless microphone.  “I got prayer requests this week from… let me see…”  He took an index card from his suit jacket.  “We got requests from Mindy Thomas.  She’s in the hospital again with back trouble.  She’s gonna go into surgery on Tuesday.  Here’s a request for Ryan Wilkes, Mark’s son.  He’s getting ready for his second round of chemo.  Then, we’ve got one for Louise Anderson’s family.  One of her relatives is battling substance addiction.”  He put the card back into his jacket.  “If you would all bow your heads, I’ll lead us in today’s prayer.  Then, we’ll have a few moments of silence so that you can address anything else that might be on your mind.

     “Heavenly Father, we ask that you just touch the lives of Mindy, Ryan, and Louise’s family.  Lord, they’re going through some tough times, and we ask that you just bless them.  Bless them and their families, Lord.  In our dark times, Lord, we turn to you; we know that you’re just there for us, Lord, and we ask that you just touch their lives with a bit of your brilliant radiance so that they can feel reassured.  Now take a moment for silent prayer.”

            “Jesus Christ.  Did you hear how many times he said ‘just’?”

            “Shut your fucking mouth.  Listen.”

“………………”

“I don’t hear a God damned thing, Alan.”

“Fuck, Wilson.  You gotta pay attention.  It’s really quiet.  Let me play it back.  I’ll adjust the audio.”

“Every time you call my name, I heat up like a burnin’ flame.  Burnin’ flame, full of desire; kiss me baby, let the fire get higher.”

“Who gives a shit?  It’s just someone’s mobile going off,” Wilson said.  “It happens at the movies, too.  Inconsiderate fuck-asses just don’t know how to cope with technology.”

“Did you even pay attention to the song?”

“It’s old, Alan.  You can tell it’s old.  I’m sorry, but I’m just not into the music.  Why are you even showing it to me anyway?  Everyone else, myself included, saw this video yesterday.  It’s a fucking tragedy, okay?  Get over it.”

“First off, ‘Abracadabra’ came out in the 80’s.  It was right about the same time you were sliding out of your mother’s trash compactor of a vagina, so be careful what you call old.  And yeah, I know the entire nation saw this yesterday, but did you hear the fucking lyrics?  Christ Wilson, I feel like I’m talking to your brother’s dildo.”

“If that’s an insult directed at my intelligence, I’ll let it slide.  If you’re insulting my little brother’s latent homosexuality, my dark vengeance will know no bounds.  Besides, we were never able to confirm that he had one hidden away.”

“Lyrics, Wilson!  Lyrics!  Burning flame?  Fire getting higher and higher?  Do you not even get that?”

“It’s a funny coincidence.  Some lard-ass golf player stuck in the 80s just happens to forget to silence his phone.  Then bam!  Three minutes later a sea of fire devours all of the Jesus freaks.  Whatever.  It happens.”

“I’m telling you, it fits.  It’s pyrokinesis, and you know very well that only Pastor Ian bought the farm.  This guy is cocky—you know… like a serial killer.  He’s hiding in plain sight, but he’s dropping little hints.  You just have to follow them.”

“Alan, this is just like the time you were convinced that the FBI was owning up to Roswell.  Just because they published proof of a report including someone’s claim, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re fucking blind, man.  Take the fucking red pill for once.  There’s a fire in Philadelphia that levels seven blocks of gangland, a fire in a VIP suite in Las Vegas that takes out a human trafficker-“

“And now a fire cleans out kind yet misguided Bible thumpers?  It doesn’t fit the bill.  The human trafficker and the gangbangers are obviously bad seeds.  How can you complete the connection?  You can’t.  It’s not possible.  Correlation is not causation.  It’s mere coincidence, and it’s certainly not some warlock opening up a can of firaga.  You can go ahead and put that out of your mind right now.”

“I’ll say it again.  All but three people got out without so much as a slight burn, and only one of those three died.  …And I resent your crack about a warlock using firaga.  Only black mages can do that, and it just so happens there’s something else you need to hear,” Alan said.  He forwarded through the footage on his computer.  “This is it.”

“It’s impossible to stay clean in a world that’s nothing but dirt,” a voice said next to the camera.

Alan gloated.  “I think this may help my case.”

“Okay.  I’m not saying that I’m a believer or anything, but this is right before the inferno comes rolling through.  This sounds a lot like a holier-than-thou complex, and that can certainly drive a person to murder.”

“Precisely….  Wilson, I want you to meet who I’m calling ‘Dante’.”

Wilson put his face to his palm.  “You’ve got balls full of nerdliness, my friend.”

“So what do you think?  This is something, right?  I mean… I should take this to someone, yeah?” Alan asked.

“I don’t know, man.  It seems a bit farfetched.  It’s the whole pyrokinesis thing.  I can’t get beyond that.  I think if you provided a plausible theory as to how the fire was started and controlled, then your story would make more sense.  But in the end, it’s still just a story.  You’re manipulating the facts to support your fantasy instead of manipulating the story to suit the facts.  It’s not very scientific of you.”

“I changed my major today.  I’m not doing the biology thing anymore.  I think I’m going to do philosophy instead.”

“That’s your third change, and we’re only sophomores.  Retarded as that may be, it’s neither here nor there.  What you have is conjecture.  If you’re going to take it to anyone, I suggest taking it to some tabloid.  At least then you won’t get laughed away.”

“Fuck you, Wilson.”

“Hmm.  You’re talking about fucking me?  Maybe you’re the latent homosexual.”

“Shove it up your ass.”

“You’re not helping your case.”

“Dinner?” Alan asked.

“Nah.  Jessie wanted to meet me after her class.  She and I are going to Rico’s Pizza tonight.  I’d invite you to come with us, but third-wheels aren’t welcome.”

“Jessie’s kind of a bitch to me, anyway.  Maybe I’ll try visiting the paper.  I know one of the journalism students here that has an internship there.”

“Okay.  Good luck with your conspiracies.  I’ll catch you later.  I’m going to go meet Jessie, now.”

“Later.”  

My Bodyguards are Gone

I marvel at coincidence.  Had my brother and I never met, I would never have come to live in China.  Had I not gone to a non-mandatory English-language gathering in the first week of courses, I would never have met Kevin.

Kevin, for me, was the first Chinese friend I made (in China).  He was my language tutor.  He was my culture assistance guide.  He was my go-to guy.  He was my right hand man.  He was my dear friend.  And then he graduated and moved away back to his hometown.  I know, having said goodbye to my Chinese brother while in the States and goodbye to my Chinese roommate while in the States, that such a word and condition never has to be permanent (as now I'm in China).  But you get used to things being a certain way.  I was a little sad when Kevin moved away.

MS Paint FTW

Good night, sweet prince!  Even though you're neither dead, nor very far away...  I need to find a new dinner partner now.

Virtual Tour pt. 1

I feel like sharing some of the more captivating things that I have been lucky enough to snare with my camera.

To the left here, we have a ... er... some kind of enclosed, motorized taxi-trike.  These things are slow usually slow when you add the weight of a foreigner.  Whenever I'm inside one of them, it's a mixture of fun and paranoia--thinking that at any moment the structural integrity could go out the window.  I'm perhaps more than slightly afraid that my soft, white ass is going to become acquainted with pavement.  That being said, prices are negotiable.  When there are no taxis to be found, these little guys can get the job done.

Living in the city, it's quite easy to forget that there exists some natural beauty in China.  Just twenty minutes south of my location on campus, there is a quaint park where people sometimes go for barbecue, fishing, horse riding, and other r&r.

This was my second time to this particular location.  The first time was in September when blistering heat and soggy humidity made the experience slightly less enjoyable.  Being spring, the humidity hasn't yet made me feel as though I could swim in the air.  Barbecue was quite delicious.  Unfortunately, I don't think I have any pictures of the food...

The park is split into specific areas.  One for crawdad fishing, one for proper fishing, one for horse riding, one for barbecue, and you get the point.  Some of the fishing spots looked quite striking, in my own humble opinion.  I could imagine sitting in a place like that, on the left, listening to classic rock and shooting the shit with one of my best mates from morning 'til night.  I can scarcely think of anything more relaxing.  Maybe a foot massage....

We drove to the park and put all of our food and barbecue materials on a table.  Then, we waited for the boss to come so that we could get coals to use.  We set up base here at this place (right), and I spent the afternoon helping to prepare food to be barbecued and eagerly trying to decipher Mandarin.

I was there with a good friend.  I was relaxing and enjoying myself, but I wasn't really actively engaging in conversation.  Everyone was speaking Mandarin.  While I was eagerly listening to the conversation, attempting to decipher what was being said, I was powerless to participate.

While there, I found this lovely bit of Chinglish.  I imagine that the Chinese was simply plugged into an online translator.

"Upper reaches is vast department Er ooze prairie and Mongolia country steppe, in thousands kilometers of without industrial pollution pure green base, pure natural ture qualities, make red plum brand glutinous corn, mouthfeel perfume is pure, sweet glue appropriate, can steam.  Boil.  Burn.  Roast is you assembly relax, with present the best option of relatives and friends."  Couldn't have said it any better myself.

Now that it's spring, I'm noticing that couples are taking to the outside world in droves.  Even bfe park was no exception.  You'll notice that the scenery is quite romantic.  As they get further along the path, they'll be walking side by side along the bank.

This park had several buildings that were "in the old aesthetic"...  Whatever that is supposed to mean.  No, I know what it means.  It means "rustic" and "quaint".  I like to look at em, but there are people there who live in them.  I don't know if I could handle a life like that.  I like my computer and my music too much, perhaps.

I'm on the fourth floor in my apartment.  I have a wonderful view right outside my window of the student tennis court.  Every morning, I can awake to hear the glorious sound of tennis balls being jostled about and about twenty basketballs not much further away.  The above picture is of a PE class.  I have a couple videos of them, but I don't think they're worth posting.  My camera can't zoom for video, so the quality is atrocious.  It is, however, exceedingly hilarious to witness the shit their coach makes them do.

Until just recently, the view of the "nature" outside of my window has been drab and uninteresting.  With the spring, though, comes beautiful color.  The blossoms on these trees are breath-taking.  I sit on my balcony and stare out at the foliage for about an hour each day.

I've even grown accustomed to hearing the tennis, basketball, and passersby.  It almost seems haunting when they're not about.  I picture that some ghastly event has taken place and that the apocalypse is upon me.  And then every morning, unless it's raining, I awaken reassured when I'm surrounded by the glorious music of activity.

Spring brings beauty, but there's two sides to every coin.  My allergies have been playing games with me.  Now that it seems that winter is finally put to bed, maybe that means I won't get tonsillitis for the third time in a few months.  My fingers are crossed.