Wo Shi Laowai – Wo Pa Shui

This Blog was Invented in Xi'an 5,000 Years Ago

Blame Game

Posted by MyLaowai on Wednesday, July 1, 2015

From the Vault
Sinocidal Banner

Blame Game
By ChouChou

Exhibit A: A small innocent young boy sits in the casualty department of his local hospital with a saucepan stuck on his head. His howling cries can be heard throughout the hospital, and the doctors try desperately to calm him down, lest the flow of tears should build up within the pan and cause the young boy to drown within his own misery.

Who is to blame? Whose negligence or greed caused an innocent per-pubescent child to suffer the humiliation and pain of getting a saucepan stuck on his head? Let’s follow the trail of how this saucepan arrived on the boy’s head, and see if we can assess who is to blame.

Scene One: A dingy living room.
Mrs. Woman sits on her fat arse watching Trisha on Channel 5 on a 68 inch plasma screen TV and waiting for this month’s giro cheque to pop through the letterbox. As she lights up another Benson and Hedges, she contemplates how many Lucky Lotto scratchcards she can buy and still have enough money left over for a three litre bottle of cider. All of a sudden, her son – dressed in the latest designer sports gear thanks to a winning claim against the council for emotional damage caused by too many streetlamps – runs into the living room in a state of agitation.

“Mum, Mum! Can I have one of those new Sega Nintendo Saucepans please? Please Mum, all the other kids have one! Pleeeeeaassssee!”

“Can you fuck, you little shit,” Mrs. Woman grunts between puffs. “What do you think I am? Made of money? These high definition tellies don’t pay for themselves, you know.”

“Awwwwww, please Mum. I promise that I’ll tell the court Dad tried to touch my cock once, that way you can get more benefit from him.”

Mrs. Woman sucks thoughtfully on her coffin nail. “Well alright,” she replies, “But you can’t have a Sega Nintendo Saucepan. We’ll pop down the Pound Shop tomorrow and see what they’ve got.”

Scene Two: The HQ of Global Pound Shops Incorporated.
The elderly gentleman has come a long way for this meeting. Patiently, he explains to the Board members how his hand-crafted saucepans come from a long tradition of indigenous Scottish saucepan production. Only the finest materials are used in order to create the highest quality saucepans imaginable. The gentleman personally travels around the world looking for wood gathered during the Winter Solstice by fresh-faced Vestal Virgins, and only purchases aluminium with a shininess equal to the sun. Their saucepan factory is small, but it employs a team of skilled craftsmen whose families have been loyal to the company for countless generations. As the elderly gentleman concludes his presentation, he briefly mentions the prestige and well-deserved good reputation that his saucepans enjoy. The Queen herself uses his pans to fry her chips in.
The Board members of Global Pound Shops Incorporated stare in silence.

“How much is this going to cost?”

Again, the elderly gentleman explains that although his prices are slightly higher, this only reflects the exceptional quality of his product.

“Fuck that,” exclaims the CEO. “How am I going to maintain my crack cocaine habit if I’m only making ten pounds profit off each of your pans? Geoff, give ASS a call. We’ll buy from China.”

The elderly gentleman is hit by a car on the way out and dies on the way to hospital.

Scene Three: A Sordid KTV Room.
(Davey Five Times – Managing Director of Asian Supplies Solutions – sits with two prostitutes on either side of him. Mr. Wan Ke – boss of the I Can’t Believe It’s Only One Dollar Aluminium Products Factory – is sat opposite getting sucked off by a twelve year old dressed as a bottle of Chivas. Davey Five Times’ long suffering assistant, JoJo, stares miserably at his own feet.)

Wan Ke: So, Mr. Five Times. Thank you very much for the order for fifty million billion saucepans. Even though we have agreed to a price of just one penny, our factory promises to supply a good quality product!

Davey Five Times: No worries there, my friend. That ISO9001 certificate I just signed for you should allay any of the customer’s fears.

JoJo: Erm, boss. Haven’t we been here before? You know the last time we placed an order with this company they just sent us two containers filled with soiled bandages. Why are we working with them again? Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Industrial Products offered us a reasonable price, and we know they have the necessary control checks.

Davey Five Times: Are you fucking stupid? If we go with Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Industrial Products, ASS will only get a 200% profit margin, and then I can’t buy that new lime green Jaguar sportscar. And anyway, if we seal this deal, you’ll benefit as well. Based on a 0.2% commission basis, you should be making 14 dollars next December!

Wan Ke: Hey, Mr. Five Times, why has your assistant just shot himself? No matter: Waitress! New whores please!

Scene Four: The I Can’t Believe It’s Only One Dollar Aluminium Products Factory.
Imagine the worst place in the world. A nightmare fusion of a Nazi concentration camp, a Hieronymus Bosch painting, and Rhyl on a Bank Holiday Monday. Increase the horror and despair of that scene by eleven, and you are still not even close to picturing the true terror of the I Can’t Believe It’s Only One Dollar Aluminium Products Factory. Row after row of mindless worker bashes away at crude saucepans with chipped rocks, all to the rhythm of a naked fat man sat on the podium above slowly banging on a drum.

Carelessly scattered across the floor are bags of material. At first glance they appear to say “ALUMINIUM”, but a closer look reveals that this has hastily been drawn over the top of the original title that originally read “HUMAN SHIT: DISCARD IMMEDIATELY”. Laughing cheerfully, Mr. Wan Ke and the other managers take it in turns to throw cigarette butts and bottles of piss into the material mix, seemingly unaware of the stench emitting from the five dead bodies lying in the Quality Control Room. All is well in the world, and business between East and West carries on as normal…

Well, readers? You’ve seen the evidence. Who do you think is to blame?

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The Final Countdown

Posted by MyLaowai on Saturday, June 13, 2015

From the Vault
Sinocidal Banner
The Final Countdown
By ChouChou

The Scene: The underground overground Wombling free base of an evil megalomaniac bent on world domination; complete with men in shiny suits driving golf buggies and sharks fitted with laser beam helmets. Our hero, James Surname, knocks out an underling (with scant regard for the consequences or the guard’s medical insurance package) and strides nonchalantly into the control room.

Cunty McBreasts: James! I thought you would never make it!

James: Traffic was bad.

Dr. Stereotype: So, Mr. Surname, you made it past my ingenious labyrinth of pitfalls and traps. Most impressive. But tell me, how did you know the password to the secret door in the Burmese bath house?

James: Let’s just say… the news just fell into my lap.

Dr. Stereotype: What do you mean?

James: I mean I had penetrative sex with one of your female employees and she told me the password. Duuuhhh… don’t you know anything? Are you new to this, or what?

Dr. Stereotype: As you can see from the fact that I have dyed my pubic hair white in order to have collar and cuffs match with the white pussy resting on my knee, you can see that I am not. Now! Tell me the Pentagon’s secret missile plans!

James: Do you expect me to talk?

Dr. Stereotype: No, Mr. Surname, I expect you to shave my head bald and paint it blue for only $9.95. Of course I do; especially when you see this! (Dr. Stereotype pulls his chair back to reveal…)

Dr. Stereotype: A ticking clock! Ahahahahaha!

James: ONOZ!!! TOTALLY PWNED!!!!!! :-( LOL!!!!!

Sometimes, living in China is a bit like living in a bad James Bond film. Not because all the bad guys are Communists, but because one’s life is always overshadowed by a ticking clock.

In every Chinese city and in every Chinese town, there will always be a ticking clock counting down to something or other. Normally these ticking clocks are placed on large podiums in the main square, so that everybody can gather round in unity and wait for the glorious day to arrive. Both intimate and awe-inspiring. A bit like sex with a monarch.

It doesn’t matter how many times the clock reaches its goal; there will always be another insignificant event to count down to next, touching the inner child within us all (but not in that way). In the last ten years, the countdown clock in Hangzhou’s Wulin Square has counted down to the following events with no pause at all:
The Glorious Return of Hong Kong to the Motherland.
The Glorious Return of Macao to the Motherland.
The Glorious Millennium.
The Glorious Result of Beijing’s 2008 Olympic Bid.
The Glorious Date of China’s Entry into the WTO.
The Glorious Exit of the Mitchell Brothers from BBC’s Eastenders.
The Glorious 2006 Hangzhou Leisure Expo.
The Glorious 2007 Women’s World Cup in Hangzhou.
The Glorious Fucking Olympics.

And it will never end. After the Olympics it will be the Special Olympics. After the Special Olympics it will be the 2010 Shanghai International Expo. Then the 18th Party Congress, then the reclamation of Taiwan, then the invention of Salt and Vinegar cars… On and on it will go forever and ever like a fucking rerun of all eleven seasons of MASH. The people of China will always be forced to look forward to something, and never ever be given a moment’s rest.

Thus, Sinocidal wishes to present to the people of China a very special gift. Enjoy it lads, because you will never see this ever again. Here we go…


Now go out and live your lives already.
(There are 2 days remaining until the next Sinocidal post)

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Land of the Free

Posted by MyLaowai on Saturday, June 13, 2015

150615 Murcans

So yeah, the folks who live there call it the “Land of the Free”, for reasons that I’m sure make sense to them, though pretty much everyone else in the world calls it the “Land of the Oppressors”. But whatever.

No-one ever called it the “Land of the Smart”. Obviously. Because while Yanks are generally pretty nice people, they sure be dumb. And, unlike the Chinese, who are so dumb that they make two short planks look like quantum mainframes by comparison, Yanks don’t even have an excuse for their appalling tardness.

I leave it to you to make your own judgements, but I refer to you exhibit ‘A’ above.

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Symbol of the Republic

Posted by MyLaowai on Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Chinese Communist Party

Posted in China | 1 Comment »

Sinocidal – Fuck Yourself Whore

Posted by MyLaowai on Friday, March 13, 2015

From the Vault
Sinocidal Banner
Fuck Yourself Whore
By ChouChou
Or: It really hits the fan.

Fuck you. No, really, fuck you. If I had my way in this world I would have long ago buried you neck deep in a pile of rotting donkey manure and then pissed all over your fat face as your tears mingle with the maggots that slowly crawl up your face to wriggle in your eyes.

You know I’m talking to you, Laughing Girl, you insignificant waste of a One Child Policy. I see you in many places, and in every place you are still the human equivalent of the type of dried up smegma found beneath the foreskin of Gandhi. Sometimes you’re in KFC serving my latest portion of tasteless white filth; sometimes you’re sat giggling behind some other fuckwitted colleague in the China Mobile shop losing my business; and sometimes you’re sat behind me on the bus going through your stupid ringtones again and again like some demented Pavlovian experiment gone wrong. No matter where I am in China, I’m guaranteed to bump into your retarded face at least once every fucking day. By the rusty nail that impaled Christ’s right hand to that wooden cross one day; I hate you so very fucking much.
And why do I hate your cunting face so much? Why, even though in the grand scale of things you amount to slightly less than a cockroach’s fart, do I hate you so much?

Your laugh.

Your stupid inane laugh that sums up everything that is wrong and ignorant about this massive East Asian dung heap that masquerades as a “country”.

Do not fucking laugh at me for nothing. If I have made a witty allusion between the tragedy of World War One and the works of George Bernard Shaw, perhaps including a paradoxical epigram or two that highlights the absurdity of human existance with reference to early Greek theatre, then please feel free to laugh. Again, if I decided to perform for your entertainment one of the more whimsical scenes from a Shakespeareian comedy, please allow your laughter to flow until you are as bereft of ribs as an invertebrate. However, and I will say this loud and clear because just by looking at you it is obvious you have all the wit and intelligence of afterbirth, DO NOT LAUGH AT ME FOR NOTHING.

Do not burst in hysterics because I have just ordered a chicken sandwich. You work in KFC for fuck’s sake – it’s your job.

Do not turn around and giggle because I have just asked you in flawless Mandarin for a bank transfer form – if your lowly bank position was in a proper bank in a proper country, I would have had you fired a long time ago.

Do not write “Ha Ha Ha :-)” in an email when I have just written to you asking why your company has suddenly decided to increase the price of our F-Max delivery by 250%.

And most of all: do not laugh loudly and point me out to all your friends just because I happen to be foreign and I happen to have walked past you. Bitch.

If the People’s Republic of Filth is as full of ignorant and selfish women like yourself as it sometimes seems, then you really don’t deserve a woman’s rights movement. Everytime you greet my presence with a peal of racist laughter, I silently wish that you didn’t have the vote. Oh, you don’t have the vote, do you? Looks like my wish came true then.

I don’t like your country, so when the triumphant day comes when I finally take your advice and “go home”, I swear to you Laughing Girl that I will throw a pan of hot oil in your vapid face and wipe that sneering grin off once and for all. And if by some fiendish plot by HE WHO WALKS BACKWARDS HIMSELF you somehow manage to set foot upon my Green and Pleasant Land, I promise that everytime you approach me and say “I sorree, my Engerlish no very good good”, I will just laugh in your face and walk off.

And by the way you stupid whore, here’s some advice: Covering your mouth with one hand so that you can whisper something inane and ignorant to your friend doesn’t mean I don’t know that you are talking about me.


It just means that you’re a cunt.

Posted in Guest Post, Sinocidal | 3 Comments »

Sinocidal – The V Girls

Posted by MyLaowai on Saturday, January 17, 2015

From the Vault

Sinocidal Banner

Note from ML: Some images missing, my apologies

By ChouChou

Lightning crashed to a roll of ear-splitting thunder. As the demonic sparks flashed across the heavens, the hooded figure ran beneath the torrential rain and glanced at the words “SINOCIDAL TOWERS” as the tempest briefly illuminated the otherwise pitch-black sky. Glancing nervously behind him, the trembling figure unlocked the tall wooden doors and pulled them open just as a roar of wind sent a tree branch falling to the ground he had just momentarily been standing on. The great doors of Sinocidal Towers slammed closed with a bang almost as loud as the hammers of Thor being thrown above across the celestial tapestry.

Safe, maybe, at last; the figure ran into the main hall and ripped off the rain-sodden hood that clung to his manic face. Once pulled back, the hood revealed the anxious rolling eyes of a man who truly knew the fear and torture of the world. Darting back and forth, the eyes finally settled on the two gentlemen sat waiting patiently behind a grim metallic desk. Like a joyless moon, a single solitary lamp swung dimly over the sharp desk, casting an eerie luminance over the two waiting men. Slowly putting out his cigarette, the taller of the two figures finally addressed the sudden visitor.

“It is late,” exclaimed PiPi – for it was none other than he. One of the Mighty Sinocidal Ones known throughout the land and upholder of all that is true. In a rough Scottish accent that could make an Argentinean surrender at fifty paces, he continued to address the trembling figure. “Myself and Mr. TaiTai have been waiting for you for some time now. Your absence has been noticeable, ChouChou. What business requires our attention so suddenly and at so late an hour?”

ChouChou, still looking nervously behind himself, limped towards the desk and took a seat. Gone were the young and carefree looks that had once earned him the enviable title of Mr. Qingdao 2005. Instead they had been replaced with a crazed and manic look that strangely seemed to swing between hunger and fear. “I’ve found them!” His voice was the voice of a madman. “I’ve finally found them – and I have proof this time! Now there can be no question of their existence!”

Fingering his lucky rabbit’s head necklace, TaiTai stared coolly at his colleague and smiled slightly. “Found who, ChouChou? You’ve been talking about some mad theory for ages now, but you still haven’t made yourself any clearer.”

ChouChou slammed a large folder onto the desk. “I’ve found THEM! The ones that control everything! At first I thought it was crazy; a mad conspiracy theory for fools and knaves, but the farther I went back the more I saw how true it all was. They’re real, and they’re in control. They’re everywhere!” He leaned forward towards his two friends and whispered in hushed tones. “The V Girls.”

“All it took was some simple research,” ChouChou continued, ecstatic at the chance to finally reveal his secret. “I went through the newspaper archives as far back as I could. This was the first one I found.”

[image missing]

“It’s the Hindenburg disaster,” replied PiPi after glancing at the newspaper for some time. “What does that prove?”

ChouChou sighed. “Look at the girl! She’s making the peace sign! Somehow, these V Girls are involved in every major disaster or upheaval in human history. If something happens, the V Girls are always there: lurking in the background, pulling all the strings. Once I found the first one it was easy. Just look carefully at these photographs. I’m telling you – they’re omnipresent!”

[image missing]

“It goes back even further than this!” ChouChou pulled out even more papers from the folder. “There are records of mysterious Oriental women spotted making the peace sign as far back as the Fall of Rome. We must do something! They’ve already taken LaoLao, and who knows which one of us they’ll come after next. Alert LangLang and try to stop this. Please Brothers – we must do something!”

[image missing]

Breathless and exhausted, ChouChou looked from PiPi to TaiTai and back to PiPi again. Slowly, and with an air of sadness, PiPi and TaiTai both shook their heads.

“I’m sorry ChouChou,” said PiPi, “I’m sure you believe what you have shown us is true, but I’m afraid I can’t believe anything so outlandish. Why not get a good night’s rest and we’ll talk about this again in the morning?”

TaiTai smiled sympathetically. “Come on ChouChou. I’ll even wake you up with a special can of F-Max: The Lightly Sparkling Fish Flavoured Drink from Aquavite.”

ChouChou backed away. “No, no! You must believe me!” he yelled. “The V Girls must be stopped. If you won’t help me – I’ll do it alone, God help me!” Grabbing his folder, ChouChou ran back through the main gate of Sinocidal Towers, as PiPi and TaiTai shook their heads in bewilderment.

ChouChou ran and ran through the pouring rain and the biting wind. He had the proof that the V Girls were slowly taking over, and he would let the whole world know if necessary. However, as ChouChou ran down the winding path that led away from Sinocidal Towers, a great dark shadow began to fall on him from behind…

…A shadow in the shape of the letter V!


Or is it? Or is it? Or is it? OR is it?

Posted in Guest Post, Sinocidal | Leave a Comment »

I am not Charlie

Posted by MyLaowai on Thursday, January 15, 2015

150115 I Am Not Charlie
A great many people have recently come out in support of the publication Charlie Hebdo, with the declaration “Je Suis Charlie,” or “I Am Charlie”. That’s fine with me, and I totally understand those sentiments. I share some of them. But MyLaowai is not Charlie; it is MyLaowai.

To put things into sharp focus, it is the policy of Team MyLaowai to support criticism of Islam. And Christianity. And Judaism. And any of the other weird and wonderful ‘beliefs’ people sometimes have.

Also, whenever possible, dictators and elected representatives, the police, the military (including the men and women who serve under arms). Parents are not given a free pass, nor are schoolteachers. Presidents and Kings and Queens and Generals are fair and legitimate targets. In fact, anyone in a position of power or authority can and should be open to criticism.

When you are in a position of power or authority, it is free and open and above all public criticism that helps keep you honest. The Chinese Communist Party doesn’t allow that, nor does Kim Jong-Un, to give a couple of examples. But what about the people who feel offended by criticism, direct or implied? Don’t those people have a right to not be offended?

No. In places where human expression is a value that is valued, if you don’t like what someone is saying, you have a whole slew of options available to you – you can simply not listen, you can make counter-arguments, or you can even try to persuade people to change their minds. And you can certainly harden the fuck up and grow a thicker skin. Hearing things you don’t like is a part of life in any sane society, it can even be educational at times, and the sooner you learn to deal with it in a mature fashion, the better and happier you and your society will be. And if you are in any way a civilised person, you will step in to support the underdog in almost every situation.

Well, what about so-called ‘hate speech’? Should Neo-Nazi’s and Communists and Tea Party spokespeople and anti-abortionists and anti-gay marriage activists and other dribbling idiots be allowed to preach violence at all and sundry? That’s not where we should automatically draw the line, but it is precisely the place where we need to examine where lines might be drawn. You might think that’s an easy one, that preaching violence against a group is clearly wrong, but what about the oppressed peoples of the world who live until the heel of a powerful and dictatorial regime and who have tried unsuccessfully for decades to win their freedom by peaceful dialogue? I wouldn’t draw the line against them, though I’d understand it if you did. A better way to look at it, would be to look at who has power and who does not, and in general terms I think most reasonable folks would say that those without power have a greater right to express themselves against those who do. And what is the difference between saying that you support people who commit violence, and actually committing that violence yourself? A big one. I should very much like Tibet and East Tukestan to be freed, and on this point you may agree or differ. But not many of you would argue that it was morally wrong to free the oppressed peoples of France in 1943, for example. And from this we can see that the exact same lines have been drawn in different places, because they were politically or practically expedient to do so. That is morally wrong, but it is a geopolitical reality that I can’t change.

I wouldn’t want to be the guy who drew up the laws that define precisely where the lines are, though, which is one reason why I’d rather criticise a politician than be one myself. The best I can do is draw my own lines, try to persuade you that they are drawn correctly, and be open to you changing my mind instead. It has happened before.

So what I can, perhaps, change, are my own beliefs, and the beliefs of the people I speak with. I know people who actually believe that the current Emperor of China is a good guy. Wow, I’m as opposed to that point of view as it’s possible to be, but rather than get all hot under the collar, I try to talk them around. Sometimes I am successful and sometimes I am not, but they remain people all the same. I know people who criticise my country. Fine with me – if you say something I disagree with I shall do my best to set you straight, just as I do when someone criticises your country in a manner that I feel is unjustified.

So, my personal line is drawn in a personal position, and that is a position you may share or not. I shan’t burst into tears if yours is different. But I will say this: be very careful when you feel a sense of outrage or wish to support someone out of a sense that is not your own, because that is when you are most likely to overreact and, in so doing, actually reduce the rights of the powerless to free speech.

MyLaowai is not Charlie, because the lines here are drawn differently. We do, however, support Charlie Hebdo’s absolute right to say the things they wish to say, as well as the absolute right of anyone to not agree with them. But not to pick up a gun as a way of winning the argument.

I hope you think about this issue, and think on it long and hard. Not because you should share the view here, but because the better people understand the issues and the more they have thought about their own positions and why they hold them, the less likely they are to pick up that gun themselves, except in extremis.

Thank you. Normal programming will now resume.

Posted in Ask MyLaowai, Censorship, Democracy | 1 Comment »

History, Gentlemen

Posted by MyLaowai on Saturday, January 3, 2015

From the Vault

Sinocidal Banner
From ChouChou:
WHEN – ON DECEMBER 31ST 2099 – DICKIE DAVIES is doing a lavish, television spectacular charting the cultural history of the 21st Century and he moves solemnly among the celebrity audience asking “And where were you when you heard the news that Sinocidal was closing..?” you will all doubtless bite your lips as your own memories of the event resurface. You, the masses who only came to China in the first place so that you’d have an excuse to comment on Sinocidal, are changed. Changed forever. I realise that you’re all still in shock from the news. In the coming weeks some of you will try to pick up the pieces of your lives, others will turn to drugs; but I ask you all to see beyond your pain for one moment. Yes, Sinocidal was the highlight of your lives – for more than one person in Qingdao it WAS their lives – but there are those who will lose even more than you will. It’s easy to forget… what was I saying? (Joking to hide the tears, there. British tradition.) It’s easy to forget that Sinocidal is (OR SHOULD THAT BE WAS? Thanatos take me now.) the nipple which succored a very nearly talented team of writers. Okay, one of us disappeared, and the rest of us towards the end just posted when we bloody well felt like it, but we always knew Sinocidal was there; an oasis in the ocean. Imagine your parents suddenly disappeared when you went to university – where would you take your laundry then, eh? Spare a thought then, for the new Sinocidal orphans as I knew them:

PiPi: Where will he rant now? PiPi has “opinionated” written all the way through him like a little stick of Blackpool Rock, and vented and raved and occasionally mentioned something vaguely connected to China. But where will tiny PiPi go now? Yes, yes, he’s sick – but who of us is without fault? Loud and aggressive, PiPi tried so hard to fight against the stereotypical image of a Scot, yet how long now, we wonder, before he descends to a shuffling, drunken itinerant wandering the London Underground like 75% of his nation?

LaoLao: Former teen idol LaoLao turned his back on Sinocidal’s glittering round of showbiz parties to study chemistry. A man driven by altruism, he had dreamt as a small LaoLao of discovering the elusive secret behind the correct temperature water should be drank at. He wrote for Sinocidal purely to gain money off the ad revenue (currently 75 cents) in order to fund his ground-breaking water boiling experiments. LaoLao will be devastated by Sinocidal’s demise not simply for its own sake, but because of its knock-on effects too. Who will fund his research now? What might he have discovered if Sinocidal were still there to throw money at him? How many who might have lived will die for want of the tepid water LaoLao can now never make? What colour are your hands, China? Eh? WHAT COLOUR ARE THEY?

TaiTai: Brave, brave TaiTai. The Dalai Lama of China blogging. Sensitive little TaiTai; childlike elfish face, but the heart of a lion. TaiTai fought for Sinocidal with the fervour of a mother rabbit protecting her kittens. The tragedy is that TaiTai cared TOO much. Always a nervous, highly strung character, fighting Sinocidal’s corner on the Peking Duck, suffering abuse from cruel rabbit torturers, and working well into the night to get LangLang’s posts on time finally took its toll. He had been under the doctor for some time before BJD reincarnate started commenting, but that pushed him completely over the edge. TaiTai still writes brilliant posts in his lucid moments, yet these moments are fewer and fewer, the gaps between them longer and longer. The doctors can do nothing. But this is China so that shouldn’t surprise anyone.

LangLang: One might think that someone with an American accent and a career in English teaching would be stoned to death at Sinocidal’s door. You might think he could do with a proper haircut too. Yet the Lone Wolf was an integral part of the Sinocidal team when “team” actually meant “a bunch of pissed-off expats who occasionally emailed each other”. PiPi’s proselytizing, Proto-Christ LaoLao, elfin TaiTai and my own gentlemanly mien were set off perfectly by the muscle-bound Metallica fan with the secret desire to write about death metal. As a website which always provided a haven for free spirits, it’s fitting that LangLang conducts Sinocidal’s band as she sinks beneath the waves. What will he do next? Well, only time, and most probably his own personal statement, will tell…

ChouChou: Not worth writing about.

Now go outside and do something meaningful for a change, y’all.

Reproduced with the kind permission of at least one member of Sinocidal. More Sinocidal / Yellow Wings posts to follow this year, for the sake of History – MyLaowai

Posted in Sinocidal | Tagged: | 9 Comments »

2015, Hurry Up!

Posted by MyLaowai on Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Well, it’s been a busy year. And it was a busy December for myself and Team MyLaowai as well. The rest of them have all buggered off to more civilized parts for Christmas, so it’s just me left to run things for now. And although I’ve been busy, the factory has been a bit quiet so I even gave the dregs of humanity that call themselves my “workers” a day off for Christmas – well, a mere six hour shift, with an extra bowl of rice for lunch.

We did have a visit last week from a Japanese client, whose company is also a supplier for various parts we use. The “workers” were given clear instructions as to how to behave when he arrived for the obligatory factory tour, but I’d gotten wind that a potential rebellion was in the works, so I went prepared. Upon his approach, they were to take two paces back from their workbenches, bow to him, and stand respectfully and in silence until he had passed by. The first one didn’t bow, so she immediately joined the unemployed. The second one also didn’t bow, so he joined his former colleague in the walk of shame to the front gate. By the time we got to the third workbench, discipline had been restored, and my client had had his faith in me renewed. And the shift leader bowed so far he almost bloody nearly hit his head on the floor, so he got a Christmas bonus. So, a job well done.

Now, you may think that tough. But it isn’t all roses for me, you know. For instance, the Aston has been in the shop for a service and new tyres, but the tyres have so far taken over two weeks to arrive and they aren’t here yet. Oh yes, sure, I have a loan car (the shop owner’s Jag), but it just isn’t the same, and for the first couple of days I actually had to use the company van to get to work! So, don’t come moaning to me about how hard my employees have it.

Anyway, the MLHQ girls are also off on their Christmas Hols, so I didn’t have a picture for you this year. Sorry about that, but I did manage to find this one of Julia. She’s a single Russian girl on a dating website, and she looks to me to be just the sort of stocking filler you are all no doubt wishing Santa had given you instead of that pair of socks from your mother.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of you from me, and the entire MyLaowai Team.


Posted in China, Festivals et al | 9 Comments »

You’re Fucked: an A to Z of Horrible Places

Posted by MyLaowai on Friday, October 31, 2014

I don’t write here often enough. I know it, and I am reminded of it too often by some of you. But I make no apologies for the fact that beating my workers with a bamboo stick in order to get them to do anything productive takes up a lot of my time, and with what’s left of my day… well, let’s just say that gin and tonic doesn’t drink itself.

I had it in mind to give a lengthy definition of what a Retard is. And, given the vast numbers of them in China, that didn’t pose much of a problem. After all, virtually all Chinese are Retards; that’s just a Fact. But then it occurred to me that there are in fact Retards in other countries as well – the most common are the ones that confuse definitions even in the light of context. So, for the benefit of those nipple-biters, here is a clear definition of what I mean when I write about the Chinese:

Chinese (Adjective)
of or pertaining to China, the country
of or pertaining to Chinese people, by citizenship
of or pertaining to Chinese people, by ethnicity
of or pertaining to the Chinese language, which is actually only the language of Peking
of or pertaining to the hieroglyphs that make up the writing

Chinese (Noun)
the hieroglyphs that make up the writing
a person whose ancestors were Han, and are thus Chinese by ethnicity alone
a person who is Han and who was born in China, grew up in China, who is thus almost certainly Chinese by culture, who probably loves the Fat Chairman, who is superstitious and thinks that flying fucking Kung Fu wankers are real, who sees no harm in digging up a female corpse for a ‘Ghost Wedding’ and is is thus a fucking Retard.

Can you guess which definition I am referring to when I use the word “Chinese”? I hope that’s clear now.

And so yes, there are Retards everywhere in world, but in very few places do you find that they represent such a significant percentage of the population. Except perhaps Vatican City, where you sort of have to be a Retard by definition, even if you are just a tourist.

With all that in mind, I know there will still be some wanksocks who think I am too harsh on the Chinese. Well, if you are one of those people, then today is your lucky day. Fuck you anyway, but at least today you don’t go away empty-handed. Team MyLaowai are a loose coalition of right-minded folks who don’t discriminate when it comes to calling a spade a spade, and a cunt a cunt. And today we prove it, with our A to Z of Also Fucked Up Countries. And if you don’t like it, bite your own nipples for a change.

A. Argentina. Actually, a nice country that has been ruined by people who think they can steal islands belonging to other people, said islands that belonged to other people since before Argentina even existed. Yes, I know your women are damned attractive and your beef industry is the envy of the meat-eating world, but your National Dish is stew with potatoes and white Argentinian girls think they are better than brown Argentinian girls, which is just plainly bollocks. Fuck you, Argentina.

B. Belgium. Because it’s Belgium. Smoking your pipe is considered an exciting pastime, and sixty percent of the people speak Flemish, which isn’t even an official language. Hell, even most Belgians reckon their country is fucked. Who am I to argue?

C. You thought I’d say China, didn’t you? Too easy. Let’s shit on Croatia instead. No, on second thoughts, let’s not. Croats hold looong fucking grudges and I don’t want my nth generation of descendants ethnically cleansed. How about the Coral Sea Islands instead? They cover about a million square kilometers, or at least they did until 1969 when they were annexed by those evil Australians. Mind you, there were no complaints at the time, because the place was so fucking miserable that not one person lived there. I’m told that today there are four residents, who all work on wind gauges or whatever. Sounds cheery.

D. Djibouti. The place where three tectonic plates collide, where the landscape looks like Hell on a bad day, where the main and probably only resource is salt, and which was the first place in Africa to embrace Islam, way back when Mohammad himself was telling people not to do the things they enjoyed doing. Also the only place in sub-Saharan Africa to host a U.S. military base, which I find ironic. Fuck, what a shit hole.

E. Egypt. Lots of flies, lots of sand, lots of living in the distant past. Add a few stone buildings and that’s about it, really. Though it must be pointed out that some of the most beautiful women on the planet come from here. And it must further be pointed out that many of those women hide their faces behind a rag, so it seems a bit of a waste, really. The country boasts the world’s tenth largest military power, and they still got their hides whooped by a handful of Israelis who were attacked without warning. Twice.

F. Fiji. Used to be a nice place, but a long series of coups and dictators have basically ruined the joint. Also known as the Cannibal Isles, which must cut down on the tourist trade, if the Colonels haven’t already. Also the fourth fattest nation in the world, with the average Fijian being even larger than an average American. Oh, and Fiji Water? Isn’t from Fiji.

G. There’s a few easy targets here. Gaza, which is a country governed by Palestine, must surely be one of the most fucked up places imaginable, but that’s partly the fault of their used-to-hate-Nazis-but-now-act-like-them neighbors. And Gibraltar, which is actually a great place where you can get a proper pint and pay for it with proper money, but again the neighbors ruin it for the people who live there. So I’m going with Guam which is a fucked up abortion of a country and manages that with no help from any neighbors whatsoever, and even though the Yanks claim it, it manages to be a hellhole even without their help. The main business is Japanese tourism, apparently.

H. Holy See, a.k.a. Vatican City, a.k.a. Godbotherer Land. Covered that already.

I. Only one serious contender for this one, and it’s obviously Ireland. Imagine living in a country where your beer has a shamrock drawn on the top because “it’s der craic”. A country populated by people so blindingly dense that they rely entirely on a food source that grows underground, and who then blame the English when they can’t find their food. If you can afford to emigrate, you can afford to eat in a restaurant. Fuck the Irish; no wonder most of them got deported to America and Australia.

J. Jan Mayen. Look it up. Not even a proper country, really, because if even the Norwegians manage to annex you, you must be fairly fucking hopeless. Just be glad you don’t live here, is all I’m saying.

K. Korea. The one to the North, obviously. If you don’t know why, then go and have a look – but be aware that all arriving foreigners are put in detention for three weeks to ‘prevent the spread of Ebola’, but also because, why not? Official name: Choson-minjujuui-inmin-konghwaguk.

L. This one is hard, because as far as I can tell, there are no countries beginning with L that are not completely fucked up. So, here’s one chosen at random: Luxembourg. Surrounded by Germany, France, and Belgium, which is never a good start, with French being the official written language, but German and something laughably referred to as ‘Luxembourgish’ being the languages that people actually use to speak with. In the news recently: A helicopter crash in a cemetery near the town of Diekirch has had rescue crews reporting over three hundred bodies recovered.

M. Montserrat. The name is just so funny. I like to imagine that the people there are all two-foot tall and wear leather trousers. This might not actually be true, and I will never know, because I will never go there, because it was colonized by Irish Catholics who today celebrate the failed slave uprising of 1768. Plus, yeah, the capital keeps being rebuilt due to the all-too-regular eruptions from the freaking volcano. Bugger that for a lark.

N. Actually, most of the N countries seem fairly nice, but New Zealand makes the cut because of all the sheep shagging that goes on there. I know a lot of it’s probably just jokes, but where there’s smoke there’s fire, and man oh man, there’s a lot of smoke here. Plus the women are more akin to rottweilers wearing lipstick, and frankly any people so naive as to believe that they are not being spied upon by the yanks must have Irish blood in there somewhere. I also read that their number one source for immigration is China, and none of them speak English properly. And, y’know, Hobbits.

O. Oman. No other choice, mainly because I couldn’t think of any other country starting with O, and actually I’m sort of ashamed to be ragging on a country that’s really pretty awesome. Yeah, my bad, sorry Oman, but really it’s your own fault for being the only country starting with O.

P. Philippines. Easy. Take a bunch of islands with about a million different languages, and with people who all live on ‘Island Time’ and who choose to build villages alongside – or sometimes even inside – active volcanoes. Take those islands and those people, and make life so easy – apart from the volcanoes, that is – that all you have to do is throw some rice on the ground and hey Presto! you have a crop, and you get supreme idleness; really these folks are so laid back they sometimes fall over. Now, introduce the Spanish, and if that isn’t bad enough, their horrible brand of guilt-and-ignorance Christianity too. Congratulations, you have just fucked up the minds of millions of dipshits, and encouraged them to have more babies than they can feed. But wait, because we ain’t done yet. Now bring in American values, which essentially consist of foolish flag-waving and worship of the almighty dollar. That, my friends, is a potent combination. It’s hard to say what’s most fucked up about the Philippines, and in fact we don’t need to. It’s just a mess.

Q. Qatar. Yeah, Qatar. The biggest debate seems to be how to pronounce the name of the country during the World Cup. So, really, not much to see here. Let’s move on.

R. Russia and Rwanda both rank high. I’m sure you can fill in the blanks yourself.

S. Here we have a lot of countries that only are notable for being pretty much unknown. So I’m going to go with the Spratly Islands, which are actually owned by the Philippines, but which are being gradually annexed by the Chinese, and if that isn’t a mightily fucked up combination, I don’t know what is. Lot’s of really interesting and rare wildlife, which is being rapidly wiped out by soldiers and illegal fishermen using explosives and potassium cyanide. The first people there were from Borneo, but the only people there now are those soldiers and illegal fishermen. Despite that, the Philippines built a mobile phone tower there in 2005. Then in 2011 the Chinese built a tower of their own and claimed that made them the owners of the entire West Philippine Sea. Or something. All-in-all, a shitty place to live, even if you are a soldier or an illegal fisherman.

T. Tibet is a country I wouldn’t want to live in. Religion and animal husbandry figures prominently in the lives of the citizens, while KTV’s and exploiting natural resources figure prominently in the lives of the Han Chinese who live there illegally, having been resettled there by the Red Army following the Chinese invasion in 1950. And that’s really a shame, because Tibet used to be a huge empire that spanned most of Central Asia, with even what is now the Bay of Bengal known as Tibetan Sea. Tibetan Emperors actually ruled most of what is now China. Anyone else spot the irony? Anyway, these days the country has been carved up and is ruled by the Red Army, and anyone who is dumb enough to complain gets dead. So again, really glad I don’t live there.

U. Ukraine. Because, mainly, their neighbors are cunts. But also because they actually believed that voluntarily giving up their nuclear weapons in exchange for a security guarantee from Russia and the U.S. wouldn’t work out badly in the long term, which was fairly idiotic thinking when you get right down to it. The women are gorgeous, the men are away in the army, and that’s great, but only until you remember that the women are descended from people who survived the Nazi and Communist regimes, which makes them as hard as nails and really scary. Really, really, scary.

V. Vietnam. Because, whilst Pho is nice and all, it’s not something you’d want to eat every day for the rest of your life, and your only other choice is sticky rice. The national airline is affectionately known as Plummet Airways, the entire country and all it’s maritime territory is claimed by China, there’s fuck-all infrastructure to speak of, everyone is corrupt, and the Government is Communist. Shoulda just nuked ’em when we had the chance.

W. You’re probably thinking I’ll say Wales, but I won’t, because I’ve heard of this desolate shithole called Wallis and Futuna. Don’t bother looking for it on a map, because it’s so fucking remote that it might as well be on Mars. Google Maps just shows a vast expanse of blue, which is the ocean. There’s nothing to do there, not many already-inbred people to do it with, and anyway why would you bother? If I lived there, I’d amuse myself by shooting dolphins for the hell of it. Mind you, I like their flag.

X. You probably think there are no countries starting with X. If so, you are wrong. The Philippines used to be called Xanadu, so not only is there a country that starts with X, it is a genuinely fucked up country as well. So there, disbelievers.

Y. Yemen. I’d like to say something about Yemen, but I can’t, because it seems that nobody actually knows very much about it. One imagines turbans and Godbotherers and oil, but in fact all I can really find out for sure is that they have nice coffee. I like a nice cup of mocha, but if that’s all you’ve got going for you as a country, then frankly you aren’t trying hard enough. Pull up your socks, Yemen!

Z. No contest, it has to be Zimbabwe. Which is wrong, because it’s actually called Rhodesia, but whatever. There are few places on the face of this ball of rock that are as fucked up as Zimbabwe, but if you’re interested you go and do your own legwork. All I’m going to say is that my mates who come from there refer to a visit to the toilet as “going for a Mugabe”. And also that the country has one of the lowest life expectancy rates and one of the highest HIV/AIDS rates on Earth. Pretty sad for what used to be one of the richest countries in Africa.

That’s the A to Z. If I haven’t managed to upset you, and you feel left out, feel free to email Team MyLaowai with your complaint, shortly before walking east until your head floats. And should you need clarification on any point, remember: there are no stupid questions, only stupid people.

Posted in China | 7 Comments »


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