Wo Shi Laowai – Wo Pa Shui

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

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 »

Palace Museum: Home to Many ‘Mosts’ and ‘Firsts’

Posted by MyLaowai on Thursday, May 22, 2014

Guest Post
For reference: http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/culture/2014-05/14/content_17505075_5.htm

Of course, it is high time the MyLaowai team turned its unbiased, unprejudiced but somewhat bleary eyes on the centerpiece of Chinese tourism. Unlike the propaganda promulgated by our colleagues at China Daily, that shining example of harmful harmonious reporting and a beacon of light to all lovers of suppressed free speech globally- we here at the MyLaowai newsteam have done a more thorough report on one of the world’s largest tourist traps.

First, let’s look at the claims.

1. The Forbidden City is the largest and most intact ancient building complex in the world.
Err, someone hasn’t been to the Tower of London. Size-wise, as in most important things, laowai much bigger than Chinese… It’s also older… much older… Technically speaking, the chink king brothel is listed by UNESCO as the largest collection of preserved ancient wooden structures in the world. There, if we narrow it down a lot, seeing as most smart little pigs built their houses from stone to stop the big bad wolf from burning them the fuck down… we can finally find a biggest. It’s the biggest surviving fire hazard from ancient times. Not really that ancient either. When I think of Ancient, I think of 1,000+ years, our chinky king brothel is about half that.

2. Biggest collection of old chink things.
Well, that’s a gimme, especially considering they include collections held elsewhere… and nobody, even the Palace Museum, is interested in over half the shit they have anyway…

3. The Palace Museum has been visited by the most tourists in the world.
Another gimme, seeing as Chinese can’t afford to visit other countries, even when they are granted permission to leave. What is with that, permission to leave your own country? Sigh. I can just see it now: “Let’s go visit the Louvre my honey-steeped locust” – “Sorry duck-face, we can’t get passports, Beijing ok?” Talk about a captive audience.

4. The Palace Museum was among the first batch listed as a world cultural heritage by UNESCO in China.
One of the first group of… not the first, but if we STREEEETTTTCCCCHHHHHHH the facts we can squeeze a first out of this I guess. A bit like a Chinese girl with a size-C push-up padded bra claiming to have C-size tits. No hun, they are AA’s. As in the battery…

5. The Palace Museum located in the most beautiful city central axis in the world.
WTF??!!! OMG. Excuse me while I have a martini or 60 to get over the shock. Once we wipe the pavements clean of blood, and ignore the fact it’s a giant bloody concrete pavement, how about we settle with “Located in the middle of one of the most polluted cities on the planet” and call it quits.

Hang on, there isn’t a number 6. You mean, even with including an outright lie or two, and stretching the facts until they can be plucked to accompany a mosquitoes hum, you can only find five?

There are plenty more, here’s just a few:

6: Museum with the most number of citizens slaughtered onsite in the modern era.
Argueably also true for the ancient era.

7: Most number of toilets in any museum without toilet paper!
Google ‘forbidden city toilet’ for a chuckle at reviews.

8: Least disabled-friendly museum.

http://blogs.wsj.com/chinarealtime/2014/05/02/un-forbidden-braving-beijings-biggest-tourist-attraction-in-a-wheelchair/ as one example. Let’s not forget, this is after the HUGE (Chinese huge is anything bigger than tiny) effort put in for the Olympics…

9. Museum with the most number of military police on duty.
Well, they hafta do something to keep unemployment rates down I guess…

10. Museum with the most ignored signage in the world.
From “No Spitting” to “No Photos” and “No Smoking”, I have yet to see any Chinese taking ANY notice at all of any of these signs…

That’s enough for now, but at least we made it to 10, and did it with the raw truth. MyLaowai > ChinaDaily, yet again.

Have a harmonica day!


Posted in ChinaDaily, Guest Post, History, Media, Propaganda | 8 Comments »

Little Snow-White and the Seven Runts

Posted by MyLaowai on Saturday, May 10, 2014

Guest Post

A fairy tale with harmonious Chinese characteristics, approved by the Self-Centred Cunts Committed Pricks.

Once upon a time, in a land far far away in the East, lived a KTV princess, married to a fat, rich, dickless businessman. She lived in a huge castle, over 120 squares in size. One winter’s day, when the snow was falling through the pollution like the shed skin from an epileptic leper, she was sewing a new pair of hungry shorts at her window, overlooking the open sewers and the beautiful multi-colored landscape of assorted discarded rubbish and excreta. The rooves she overlooked were of black tile, and as she was sewing she pricked her finger with her sewing needle, which was about the size of the dicks of the men she serviced daily. Three drops of blood fell into the snow, and the sight of fresh blood excited her. She thought to herself, “If only I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the rooves below.”

Soon afterwards, in accordance with State Approved Family Planning Laws, and mainly because the condoms her clients used were of Chinese Well Known Famous Brand Quality, she had a baby, whose skin was as white as snow, hair was as black as night during the frequent power outages and lips were as red as the goddamn cracker litter left everywhere everyday. They called her Little Snow White. The KTV princess then died of AIDS, see above regarding condom quality.

Within a year, the fat, rich, dickless businessman made another of his many mistresses his wife. She was a beautiful woman, but she was proud and arrogant, and she could not stand it if anyone might surpass her in beauty. She had a magic mirror called Weixin. Every morning she took a selfie before it, looked at herself, and said:

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?

To this the mirror answered:

You, my ho, are fairest of all.

Then she was satisfied, for she knew that the mirror spoke the truth.

Snow-White grew up and became ever more beautiful. Everyday she carried an umbrella to avoid changing a single pantone shade, even though the air was so polluted she couldn’t have tanned if she tried. When she was seven years old she was as beautiful as the light of day when in another country where the sun is visible, even more beautiful than the KTV princess herself. She was in huge demand at the local government offices at lunchtime.

One day, when the queen asked her question of Weixin, the mirror answered:

You, my ho, are fair; it is true.
But Snow-White is a thousand times fairer than you.

The queen took fright and her yellow skin turned green with envy. From that hour on whenever she looked at Snow-White, what passed for her heart turned over inside her body, so great was her hatred for the girl. The envy and pride grew ever greater, like a weed in her heart, until she had no peace day and night.

Then she summoned the triad boss who owned the KTV she worked at, and said to him, “Take Snow-White out into the back-streets. I never want to see her again. Kill her, and as proof that she is dead bring her lungs and her liver back to me.”

The liumang obeyed and took Snow-White into the suburbs. He took out his hunting knife and was about to stab it into her innocent heart when she began to cry, saying, “Oh, dear hooligan, let me live. I will blow a truckdriver and get a lift to the next city and never come back.”

Because she was so beautiful the huntsman took pity on her, and he said, “Run away, you poor child.”

He thought, “The locals will soon devour you anyway,” but still it was as if a stone had fallen from his heart, for he would not have to kill her.

Just then a young bore came running by. He killed it, cut out its lungs and liver, and took them back to the KTV princess as proof of Snow-White’s death. The cook had to boil them with salt and ginger, and the wicked woman ate them, supposing that she had eaten Snow-White’s lungs and liver. Hao chi!

The poor child was now all alone in the great city, and she was so afraid that she just looked at all the doors of the KTVs and did not know what to do. Then she began to run. She ran over uneven flagstones and through construction sites conveniently placed in the middle of the road, and wild officals jumped at her, but they did her no harm. She ran as far as her feet could carry her, and just as evening was about to fall she saw a little house and went inside in order to rest.

Inside the house everything was small, but so neat and clean that no one could say otherwise. There was a little table with a white tablecloth and seven little plates, and each plate had a spoon, and there were seven knives and forks and seven mugs as well. Against the wall there were seven little beds on the floor and covered with grey-white sheets.

Because she was so hungry and thirsty Snow-White ate a few vegetables and a little chicken feet from each little bowl, and from each glass she drank a drop of fake wine. Afterward, because she was so tired, she lay down on a bed and fell asleep.

After dark the masters of the house returned home. They were the seven runts who picked and dug recycleables in the mountain of rubbish the city generated daily. They lit their seven candles, and as soon as it was light in their house they saw that someone had been there, for not everything was in the same order as they had left it.

The first one said, “Who has been sitting on my stool?”

The second one, “Who has been eating from my bowl?”

The third one, “Who has been eating my delicious chicken feet?”

The fourth one, “Who has been eating my pickled vegetables?”

The fifth one, “Who has been using my chopsticks?”

The sixth one, “Who has been dipping into my sauce?”

The seventh one, “Who has been drinking from my glass?”

Then the first one saw a that there was a little imprint in his bed, and said, “Who stepped on my bed?”

The others came running up and shouted, “Someone has been lying in mine as well.”

But the seventh one, looking at his bed, found Snow-White lying there asleep. The seven dwarfs all came running up, and they cried out with amazement. They fetched their seven candles and shone the light on Snow-White. “Oh good heaven! Oh good heaven!” they cried. “This child is so beautiful!”

They jerked off for the full 30 seconds, and that did not wake her up, so they let her continue to sleep there in the bed. The seventh dwarf had to sleep with his companions, one hour with each one, with much vigourous tossing and more tossing, and then the night was done.

The next morning Snow-White woke up, and when she saw the seven runts she was frightened. But they were friendly and asked, “What is your name?”

“My name is Snow-White,” she answered.

“How did you find your way to our house?” the runts asked further.

Then she told them that her stepmother had tried to kill her, that the triad boss had spared her life, and that she had run the entire day, finally coming to their house.

The dwarfs said, “If you will keep house for us, and cook, make beds, wash, sew, and knit, and keep everything clean and orderly, then you can stay with us, and you shall have everything that you want, if everything that you want is a daily bowl of rice and a facial.”

“Yes,” said Snow-White, “with all my heart.”

So she was their maid. Every morning they went into the mountain of trash looking for whores and gold, and they would sing a little song:

“Buy Ho’s! Buy Ho’s! That’s why to work we go!”

In the evening when they came back home their meal had to be ready. During the day the girl was alone.

The runts warned her, saying, “Be careful about your stepmother. She will soon know that you are here. Do not let anyone in.”

Now the KTV princess, believing that she had eaten Snow-White’s delicious lungs and liver, could only think that she was again the first and the most beautiful woman of all. She stepped before her mirror and said:

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?

It answered:

You, my ho, are fair; it is true.
But Snow-White, beyond the mountains
With the seven runts,
Is still the one with the prettiest cunt.

This startled the queen, for she knew that the mirror did not lie, and she realized that the triad boss had deceived her, and that Snow-White was still alive. Then she thought, and thought again, how she could kill Snow-White, for as long as long as she was not the most beautiful woman in the entire land her envy would give her no rest.

At last she thought of something. Coloring her face, she disguised herself as an old peddler woman, so that no one would recognize her. In this disguise she went to the house of the seven runts. Knocking on the door she called out, “Beautiful wares for sale, for sale!”

Snow-White peered out the window and said, “Good day, dear woman, what do you have for sale?”

“Good wares, beautiful wares,” she answered. “Push-up, pull-together padded inflateable bras in all colors.” And she took out one that was braided from colorful silk. “Would you like this one?”

“I can let that honest woman in,” thought Snow-White, then unbolted the door and bought the pretty bra.

“Child,” said the old woman, “you look as if you now have a B cup! Come, let me lace you up properly.”

The unsuspecting Snow-White stood before her and let her do up the new bra, but the old woman pulled so quickly and so hard that Snow-White could not breathe.

“You used to be the most beautiful one,” said the old woman, and hurried away.

Not long afterward, in the evening time, the seven runts came home. How terrified they were when they saw their dear Snow-White lying on the ground, not moving at all, as though she were dead, knowing for sure the police would blame them and throw them into a labour camp, never to be heard from again. They lifted her up, and, seeing that she was too tightly laced, they cut the bra in two. Then she began to breathe a little, and little by little she came back to life.

When the runts heard what had happened they said, “The old peddler woman was no one else but the KTV princess. Take care and let no one in when we are not with you.”

When the wicked woman returned home she went to her mirror and asked:

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?

The mirror answered once again:

You, my ho, are fair; it is said.
But Snow-White, beyond the mountains
With the seven runts,
Is still the one that the local government officials want to fuck until they’re dead

When she heard that, she was mighty pissed off, because she knew that Snow-White had come back to life.

“This time,” she said, “I shall think of something that will destroy you.”

Then with the art of bitchcraft, which she understood, she made a poisoned comb. Then she disguised herself, taking the form of a different old woman. Thus she went across the mountains to the seven runts, knocked on the door, and called out, “Good wares for sale, for sale!”

Snow-White looked out and said, “Go on your way. I am not allowed to let anyone in.”

“You surely may take a look,” said the old woman, pulling out the poisoned comb and holding it up. The child liked it so much that she let herself be deceived, and she opened the door.

After haggling for two hours on the price, the old woman said, “Now let me comb your hair properly.”

She had barely stuck the comb into Snow-White’s hair when the poison took effect, and the girl fell down unconscious.

“You specimen of beauty,” said the wicked woman, “now you are finished.” And she walked away.

Fortunately it was almost evening, and the seven runts came home. When they saw Snow-White lying on the ground as if she were dead, they immediately suspected her stepmother. They examined her and found the poisoned comb. They had scarcely pulled it out when Snow-White came to herself again and told them what had happened. Once again they warned her to be on guard and not to open the door for anyone.

Back at home the queen stepped before her mirror and said:

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?

The mirror answered:

You, my ho, are fair; it is known.
But Snow-White, beyond the mountains
With the seven runts,
Is still the one the local police want to use to be blown.

When the queen heard Weixin saying this, she shook and trembled with anger, “Snow-White shall die,” she shouted, “if it costs me my life!”

Then she went into her most secret room and made a poisoned Apple iPhone 88s. From the outside it was beautiful, white with red trim, and anyone who saw it would want it. But anyone who might use it would die. Then, coloring her face, she disguised herself as a peasant woman, and thus went across the mountains to the seven runts. She knocked on the door.

Snow-White stuck her head out the window and said, “I am not allowed to let anyone in. The runts have forbidden me to do so.”

“That is all right with me,” answered the peasant woman. “I’ll easily get rid of my Apple iPhones. Here, I’ll give you one of them.”

“What?,” said Snow-White, “an iPhone 88s? I don’t care if it kills me, I’ll still have the latest useless fad that all my friends will envy even when I am buried.”

Snow-White longed for the beautiful Apple, and when she saw that the peasant woman was about to take a selfie, she stuck her hand out and took it. She had barely logged onto Weixin when she fell to the ground dead.

The KTV princess looked at her with a gruesome stare, laughed loudly, and said, “White as snow, red as blood, black as tiles! This time the runts cannot awaken you.”

Back at home she asked her mirror:

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?

It finally answered:

You, my ho, are fairest of all.

She was so happy she ate some delicious duck head to celebrate.

When the runts came home that evening they found Snow-White lying on the ground. She was not breathing at all. She was dead. They lifted her up and looked for something poisonous. They undressed her and inspected her deeply and frequently. They combed her hair. They washed her with water and even used soap. But nothing helped as they dare not remove the all-revered apple from her hand. The dear child was dead, and she remained dead. They laid her on a bier, and all seven sat next to her and mourned for her and cried for three days. They burned paper spirit money to buy off the ho’s in heaven. They hired Sgt Peppers to play tuneless noise to ensure the whole suburb were as upset as they. They lit crackers and skyrockets to scare away the evil spirits and keep the local businesses in ho’s. They drove around in trucks with huge round thingies in the back to… err, do whatever it is that huge round thingies do to help dead people.

They were going to bury her, but she still looked as fresh as a living person, and still had her beautiful red cheeks.

They said, “We cannot bury her in the black earth,” and they had a transparent glass coffin made, so she could be seen from all sides, just like their dear Chairman Miao. They laid her inside, and with golden letters wrote on it her name, and that she was a KTV princess. Then they put the coffin outside on a mountain of trash, and one of them always stayed with it and whacked off over her. The animals too came and mourned for Snow-white, first a mangy dog, then a flea-bitten rat, and finally a pigeon with explosive diarrhea. A dove to love with a glove.

Snow-White lay there in the coffin a long, long time, and she did not decay, but looked like she was asleep, for she was still as white as snow and as red as blood, and as black-haired as roof tiles.

Now it came to pass that a useless, spoiled, only-child superbrat entered this area and happened onto the runts’ house. He saw the coffin on the mountain of rubbish with beautiful Snow-White in it, and he read the golden letters.

Then he said to the runts, “Let me have the coffin. I will give you anything you want for it.”

But the runts answered, “We will not sell it for all the tea in China.”

Then he said, “Then give it to me, for I cannot live without being able to see Snow-White. I will honor her and respect her as my most cherished one. A dead mistress cannot cheat on me!”

As he thus spoke, the good runts felt pity for him and gave him the coffin. The brat had his servants carry it away on their shoulders. But then it happened that one of them stumbled on some uneven pavement, and this dislodged from Snow-White’s hand the poisoned apple that she had used. Not long afterward she opened her eyes, lifted the lid from her coffin, sat up, and was alive again.

“Good heavens, where am I and what’s to eat?” she cried out.

The brat said joyfully, “You are with me.” He told her what had happened, and then said, “I love you more than anything else in the world, even though I only know your name, just because I had a good look at your a-cups. Come with me to my father’s castle. You shall become my wife.” Snow-White loved his money, and she went with him. Their wedding was planned with great splendor and majesty.

Snow-White’s stepmother was also invited to the delicious feast. After putting on her beautiful clothes she stepped before her mirror and said:

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?

The mirror answered:

You, my queen, are fair; it is true.
But the young bint is a thousand times fairer than you.

The wicked woman uttered a curse, and did not know what to do, but she had to go and see the young gold-digger. When she arrived she recognized Snow-White, and terrifed, she could only stand there without moving.

So they put a pair of tiny iron shoes into burning coals. They were brought forth with tongs and placed before her. She was forced to drink delicious baijiu and then step into the red-hot shoes and dance until she fell down dead. Which one was more painful, is in doubt. This was most amusing and enjoyed by all.

– DaBizzare

Posted in Guest Post | 4 Comments »

Let Them Eat Shit

Posted by MyLaowai on Monday, May 5, 2014

Guest Post
I see it, but I don’t believe it. I thought my skin pretty thick by now, but the incessant claims that China invented everything is really starting to go too far.


Zhu Muzhi, president of the China Society for Human Rights Studies, claims the famous phrase “Let them eat cake” is an alteration of a much older, and of course Chinese, anecdote: “An ancient Chinese emperor who, being told that his subjects didn’t have enough rice to eat, replied, ‘Why don’t they eat meat?'” The phrase was attributed to Emperor Hui of Jin in Zizhi Tongjian.


In the 1700’s, there was obviously so much trade with China, that a phrase 1700 years old, and one none of us have heard in Mandarin nearly as common as the usage of the English translation of the original French meme, spread so prolifically that french peasants were repeating it. ROFLMAO!

I guess the China Society for Human Rights Studies thought if they called themselves The Society for Enforcing a China-Centric World their published works might not be so willingly consumed. Ever see My Big Fat Greek Wedding? Great film… and contains a character (the Greek father) who claims every word in the world comes from a Greek root. Reminds me of Zhu Muzhi…

It’s an unfortunate trend that is starting to pop up all over Wikipedia, now that they have decided to harmoniously unblock it from the Great Firewall. With their new requirement for disclaimers I imagine the talk page for the Eat cake entry would say something like “Zhu Muzhi: I work for the mob that requires China to be God, the one true creator of all.” Or would it? Sneaky bastards these Chinese…

This post was invented in China, just after the MyLaowai blog, 5000 years ago.

– DaBizzare

Posted in Censorship, Guest Post, History, Lies & Damned Lies | 4 Comments »


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