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Sinocidal Magazine’s September Event List

Posted by MyLaowai on Tuesday, September 1, 2015

From the Vault
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Sinocidal Magazine’s September Event List
By ChouChou

Sept 1st: Jungle is Massive Night at Club Babyface*
Find that minimal isn’t enough for your dancefloor fix? Had enough of monotonous trance synth-lines that have sold out to “The Man”? Wanna take a pill drop back to the true progressive era of sub sonic woofer house music? If you want an indication of where Gen-X dance music is going next, then join us as we invite DJ Nobody’s Ever Fucking Heard Of But His Name Ends In A “Z” all the way from Amsterdam to set off a selection of fire and car alarms as crowds of Chinese businessmen and prostitutes listen indifferently and play dice instead. Chivas and Green Tea sets start at 888 RMB and come with a complementary grape.
* Although the management of Babyface will try its utmost, Babyface can not guarantee the presence of black people at any publicised event.

September 4th: Ladies Who Lunch
The Ladies Who Lunch will this Tuesday be dining at a delightful American themed diner recently opened just off People’s Square. Serving a homemade selection of traditional American fayre in a comfortable, yet trendy, environment; this guarantees to be a welcome alternative to our usual weekly drudge of holistic therapy and alternative yoga*. This week our selected book will be the back cover of a pirated Desperate Housewives DVD, and as we complain endlessly about how difficult it is to find good service in Shanghai these days, we will consider sending the waiter’s tip this week to the Urumqi Orphanage for Christian Children, before crossing the road in order to avoid eye contact with a gang of street beggars.
* Please contact Judy for the address of the People’s Square McDonald’s Branch.

September 8th: The Shanghai Expat’s Club September Gathering
Exactly seven lonely foreign businessmen who have been in China for no longer than two months each join together in the lobby bar of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel and try and kid themselves that this is called “networking”.

September 12th: English Corner
“Can you use chopsticks?”
“Are you a Christian?”
“Can I invite you to a dinner?”
If the above questions don’t make you want to immediately stab yourself in the eye with a rusty coathanger, and if for whatever fucked up reason you’re desperate and lonely enough to even entertain the thought that being the only foreigner surrounded by a group of two hundred Chinese students could ever be anything other than a spiritual experience roughly equivalent to having a 20 foot Native American totem pole covered in faulty cheese graters forcefully penetrate your quivering anal hole, then please come along to the Number 94 Middle School English Corner.
COME.

September 15th: Hash House Harriers Fun Run
Nestled in between Chongming Island and Pudong, Hengsha Island (literally: “Clean Island”) is an unspoilt patch of paradise untouched by Shanghai’s encroaching development. Join the Drinking Club with a Running Problem (!!!!!!!!) as we spend two days running, enjoying the scenery, drinking beer out of our shoes, and finally getting into an argument with a farmer for pissing all over his crops whilst a 4 foot tall butterball from Ohio attempts to drag you away by screaming “Just leave it Brian, he ain’t fucking worth it!”

September 18th: Opening Night of a New “Western” Restaurant in a Second Tier Provincial City
Relive the classic days of Laurel & Hardy, the Keystone Cops, and The Three Stooges by paying good money to dine at the opening night of Happy Apollo Italian Westaurant in Yantai City. Chuckle as the waiters try to serve food even though the management forgot to purchase any plates, guffaw as the cashier is forced to prostitute herself in a feeble effort to get her hands on some change, and roar hysterically as the Spaghetti Bolognese turns out to be a cardboard baozi covered in sand. Then weep, weep untold tears of salty misery, as you realise you’ve been waiting three hours and still haven’t seen a menu.

September 21st: 300 and something days to the Olympics
Go about your normal daily existence and do your best to ignore yet another fucking mediocre Government sponsored pop concert in order to celebrate 300 and something more days to the fucking Olympics.

September 23rd: Sunny Hotel Dinner Buffet
Enjoy an uninspired Chinese buffet in a three star Chinese hotel with no economic discounts or benefits whatsoever in a hope that the management still decides to place their advertising with Sinocidal Magazine next year.

September 24th: Cunt Cinema
The Beijing Bookworm will present a series of mostly French independent short films made by Europe’s best respected amateur cunts. This collection’s themes revolve predominantly around freedom of speech issues, women’s rights, and cunts. All cunts welcome. English subtitles for the cunt impaired.

September 30th: Labourer Holiday
Are you aged between 12 and 80? No plans for the National Day holiday? Then why not go on a working Labourer’s Holiday?
– Learn all about carrying a bucket full of dirt!
– Earn at least 17 yuan!
– Free instant noodle and steamed bun meals!*
– Free cigarettes for all mine workers!*
– Free police supervision!*
– Complete privacy as you enjoy your Labourer’s Holiday (Road will be closed to its own residents)!
BOOKING NOW ALL ACROSS THE PRC!
*Not free.

***

Whilst Sinocidal Magazine tries its best to ensure all event listings are correct and complete at time of publication, Sinocidal Magazine cannot guarantee that locations, times, names, national boundaries, and even the laws of physics will not change before due dates. Please forward all complaints to http://web.archive.org/web/20071026154207/http://www.pekingduck.org/.

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Everything you need to know about Japan

Posted by MyLaowai on Saturday, August 1, 2015

From the Vault
Sinocidal Banner

Everything you need to know about Japan.
By ChouChou

Section A: Facts about Japan.
– The year is 4000 BC, and a small East Asian nation does nothing to prevent atrocities like the expulsion of the Jews from Babylon and forced slave labour in Imperial Egypt.
– Now it’s the time of Our Lord, and the only Son of God is nailed to a cross that could quite possibly have been made from the wood of bonsai trees.
– 1666: Fire rages through the streets of London. Coincidentally, somebody in Tokyo is found to be holding a box of firewood at the exact same time.
– And even today, efforts to create a fourth Free Willy film are repeatedly quashed by organisations sponsored directly from pro-whaling companies.

Time and time again, the Japanese have proven themselves to be a race unfit for habitation on this blessed planet we call Earth. Condemned by God to cling forever to a few miserable islands in the western Pacific, these fish-eating mini tree growers have tried repeatedly to crawl across into more civilised countries, and continue to try and recreate the world in their own twisted image.

Do you want to live in a world where perfectly innocent fat men are forced to wear nappies and fight in the name of sick entertainment? Do you want your kids to grow up in a world where it takes 45 minutes to pour a cup of tea?

No. Of course you don’t.

Take a look at the image above [image missing, but it’s That shrine – ML]. The crafty subjects of the Emperor would like you to believe that this building is nothing more than a harmless shrine devoted to honoring the dead Japanese soldiers and citizens that passed away during World War Two. However, the truth is in fact much more shocking, and will no doubt offend right-minded peoples everywhere. Glance at the photograph below if you dare to face the truth [image missing – ML].

That’s right. The Yasukuni Shrine is actually a giant computerised control centre designed to operate a fully operational Godzilla monster. Japanese military leaders plan to build an entire army of these creatures and send them across the sea to eat innocent Chinese babies. Even if the Chinese army is fortunate enough to resist these Godzilla attacks, danger could lurk within the minds of our very own children.

Insidious Japanese mind-control propaganda has already stretched its evil tentacles into every country on Earth, and is even now corrupting the way our children think. The popular Transformers movie encourages children to fear common household machinery and vehicles, thus throwing our societies back into a pre-technological stone age whilst Japanese scientists create ever more advanced methods of slaughtering millions. The words of the friendly Autobot Bumblebee may sound harmless, but they actually contain hidden subliminal messages urging children to go outside and rape squirrels. Japanese paedophiles in collaboration with the Japanese military have even been discovered disguising themselves as schools in evil attempts to ensnare our children into their clutches.

When will these demons be stopped?

The battle begins in your own home. Genetically, Japanese have more in common with spiders than they do with other human beings, although their outward appearance is cunningly deceptive. Without even knowing it, you too could be a Japanese. Surveys show that one in every ten people is Japanese; so if you’re with nine friends and you know for sure that they are not Japanese, then it is highly probable that you could be an unaware Japanese person. Take our test to see if you are Japanese or human, and then follow the guidelines provided.

It’s your duty to keep our planet a sushi-free zone.

Section B: Are you Japanese?
1. What did you have for your dinner today?
a) A nice leg of lamb and a strawberry cheesecake for afters.
b) Raw fish accompanied with wasabi and rice.
c) The still beating heart of a blind baby.

2. What do you do at weekends?
a) Enjoy a game of football with the lads and then a few pints back at the local.
b) Play the latest Playstation 3 games and then take photographs with a ridiculously small camera.
c) Imprison your own mother in a coffin filled with broken glass and throw it off the side of a cliff.

3. What kind of pornography do you enjoy watching?
a) Two lesbians with massive tits having a threesome with a black man.
b) Animated schoolgirls getting penetrated by tentacle monsters.
c) Videos of your own sister being forced to eat a mixture of blood and dogshit, interspersed with images from the Holocaust.

4. Describe your boss.
a) An ex public schoolboy who opened up his own company with his parent’s money.
b) A workaholic who makes you do morning exercises and who is planning to kill himself next Monday.
c) He Who Walks Backwards.

5. Are you from Japan?
a) No.
b) Yes.
c) Yes, although your blackened excuse for a soul actually originates from the ninth circle of Hades in a time before the coming of man.

How did you do?
Mostly A’s: There is a small possibility that you may be Japanese. Whilst you may have control over some of your evil instincts, it is probably best that you still maintain complete vigilance against signs of reverting back into Neanderthal pond life. Keep away from places like Pearl Harbour and Nanjing, and try to distance yourself from dolphin and whale shows.
Mostly B’s: You are probably Japanese. Accept your inborn guilt for all the misdeeds ever committed in the history of mankind, sell your house, leave your family, and travel across the world apologising to every single person for everything that has ever happened. However, do not even begin to think that this act will in any way bring you closer to forgiveness. Your soul is going to burn in Hell for eternity.
Mostly C’s: You are definitely Japanese and therefore the incarnation of all that is wrong in the world. Ask some friends (if you have any) to draw a chalk circle around you, and then recite psalms 12 to 81 whilst dousing yourself in holy water. Then arrange for your charred remains to be fired into the cold vacuum of outer space, where they can no longer contaminate the other peace-loving nations of the world.
Mostly D’s: We’ve done that joke before.

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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…

THERE ARE
0:00
DAYS LEFT
UNTIL SWEET FUCK ALL

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

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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.

No.

It just means that you’re a cunt.

Posted in Guest Post, Sinocidal | 6 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!

THE END.

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

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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.

6.
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!

DaBizzare.

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.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Let_them_eat_cake

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.

Right…

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 »

Chinese People Are Really Birds!

Posted by MyLaowai on Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Guest Post
Western researchers studying local populations in China are coming to the conclusion that Chinese people are not Homo Sapiens as previously thought, but actually an avian species. While correlation does not always indicate causation, the evidence gathered displays some remarkable similarities that bear further research.

1. They eat seeds, cracking them with their teeth and taking the kernel with their tongues.
2. They are happy to perch on almost any surface.
3. Very few can swim.
4. They are prone to making loud noises (especially in the morning).
5. They defecate on the road (or pretty much anywhere they feel like).
6. Their brains are very small.
7. They can’t drive.
8. Their diet consists mostly of seeds, nuts, fruit, carrion, entrails and insects.
9. They are migratory, returning to the spawning grounds in the spring.
10. Males are required to prepare a suitable nest before the female will mate.
11. Females rarely enjoy the act of mating, rather, they tolerate the situation in order to produce offspring.
12. Babies are not born live but as eggs from which the mature adult must peck their way out.
13. Like Bower Birds and Magpies, they are attracted to colourful and shiny objects.

From the behaviours observed, we can narrow the species down to either: parrot, magpie, jay or crow. Crows have the ability to solve problems, create and use tools and predict the outcome of events… so we can scratch crows off of the list. Parrot may be the best candidate. A parrot can repeat language without any conscious comprehension of what it’s actually saying. It is attracted to shiny objects, eats nuts, fruits and some species are known to eat animals and carrion. It also likes nothing more than it’s own reflection and would probably upload it’s beak to weixin daily (if it had the dexterity).

In summary, it appears that Chinese people may actually be a species of Psittacopasserae (Parrots).

Source: Collective effort from some inspired authors contributing to a thread on Reddit

– daPangzi

Posted in Guest Post | 16 Comments »