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.