[Phnom Penh, 10/30/23]
Barista is too fancy a word, so I’ll just call her coffee server, or caffeine wallah. Today, this plump and pretty young woman is again wearing her Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck shirt. This cheers me up so much, even my crappy coffee tastes fine. In Vietnam, low end joints mix toasted corn with coffee, so this caffeine wallah must have done the same.
Her zebra pants are also an excellent choice. Of course, the older and uglier you get, the more gorgeous everyone else becomes, so it’s a consolation, of sort, as this or that breaks down.
Yesterday, I spotted a minibus with “Banhra” as its destination. Since it means “broken apart” in Vietnamese, I immediately thought, I must go there! On Google Maps, I couldn’t find banhra, however, so maybe this village doesn’t exist. What I saw, then, was a fictional vehicle ferrying ghosts to a place buried deep in my mind or, more likely, heart. I must go to Broken Apart!
Since I’m almost there, there’s nothing to do but appreciate Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck shirts, zebra pants and lousy coffee, etc. Strolling past a cooped up cock, I nod.
After 15 years in Vietnam, my friend Harvey was evicted last December. Leaving his broken hearted monkey behind, Harvey returned to France with much bitterness, but seeing Brittany again calmed him down. There, he tagged goats, milked cows and dug up potatoes. He made paella for an ex girlfriend, held his 99-year-old grandma’s hand, spoke words he hadn’t uttered in years and even prayed at his childhood church.
Still, Harvey only stayed a few months, before escaping to Nicaragua. There, he had free room and board, in exchange for a few hours of farm work each day. Harvey sounded content, but this morning, I got news he was in Thailand, with an intention of coming to Cambodia!
I could never figure out why Harvey spent months at Damascus’ Ministry of Sports Hotel 11 years ago. There, he stopped flinching at the sounds of bombs, missiles and assault weapons. Very spooky, this man. In fact, Harvey doesn’t look French at all, not that it means anything any more.
Harvey, “I myself was called a nigger by an AshkeNAZI translation agency project manager bitch. I could have sued because it was all on file and she ripped me off, but fuck it!”
“You’re one step above an Ethiopian Jew.”
“I know! They’re being treated like less than shit in Israhell.”
“They get to wipe old asses and work the farms bordering Lebanon.”
No fool, I’m certain Harvey has been sent to kill or recruit me (into the Mossad). Fleas, we puff and talk big! I’m eager to see Harvey.
Looking up, I notice two masked girls going to school. Deprived of oxygen, their IQ will sink to minus zero. Fortunately, most Cambodian kids are breathing freely. Wearing a “FRIENDLY” shirt, a five-year-old boy is eating a slice of white bread. The non-fussy will inherit what’s left of this earth.
With a visa, I can be in Saigon by noon. On YouTube, there are all these videos showing Saigon shops shuttered and newly-built condos empty. “FOR LEASE” signs proliferate. With factories and businesses excreting workers, there’s a flood of Vietnamese fleeing back to their villages. Many, though, can’t even afford a bus ride home. Tanking Western economies mean a crash in demand for Vietnamese exports. We’re witnessing a global meltdown.
When I left Vietnam last November, everything seemed fine. Each street was teeming with thriving businesses, especially in Saigon. To get a report from someone there, I Skyped my friend, Giang. Freshmen at San Jose’s Andrew Hill, we even lived on the same street, Locke Drive, though I was much closer to the city dump facing it. I can still see and smell it!
“What are you talking about?” Giang seemed indignant. “Everything is normal! The traffic is the same. If the economy is so bad, how come there are still so many people going everywhere?!”
“I don’t know, man. That’s why I’m asking you.”
“OK, so maybe there’s a store closed here and there, but so what? Everything is normal.”
“What about that piece of land you bought near Pleiku? Has it lost value?”
“No!”
“You can still sell it for a profit?”
“Of course! I won’t sell it for twice as much, but I’ll make a profit.”
“Like what?”
“Fifty percent!”
Maybe Giang is right, but here’s a guy who got Jewjabbed thrice, after I had tried my best to dissuade him from wrecking his immune system. I’ve seen his personality changed, with weird outbursts, but his news gathering habits remain the same. He watches CNN and reads Yahoo! News.
In February of 2020, I hung out with Giang in Hanoi. When I mentioned the Temple of Literature, he had no idea what I was talking about, so I dragged him there. Dating to 1070, it’s one of Vietnam’s most significant landmarks. At its gate, Giang refused to walk in, however. All he wanted was a quick photo to prove he has been to the Temple of Literature. Since Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum was nearby, I dragged him there, too, but, again, one hasty photo was enough.
Perhaps you have a parent, spouse, sibling, child or close friend who’s more or less like Giang. Despite lockdowns, Jewjabs, wars and global depression, they will insist everything is still A-OK, or just slightly off.
American cities have always had bums, losers have always wrecked themselves with booze and drugs, crimes are mostly limited to the inner cities, so just don’t go there, and the unemployed are simply lazy. Let’s get real here, America’s poor are the fattest on earth, so no one is starving.
We’re not ruled by psychopaths and sadists. There’s always another election. As for WWIII breaking out, Giang sneered, “I don’t give a fuck about Israel or Hamas.”
Later this month, Giang will return to California. OK, so downtown San Jose is deserted, Eastridge Mall resembles a flea market and San Francisco streets are paved with human shit, but the Warriors and 49ers are doing OK, and there’s plenty to watch on Netflix. A bowl of pho now costs 16 bucks and, unlike in Vietnam, you must tip, so with a drink, that’s over $20 for just one person! Giang can afford it.
Harvey, though, shares my pessimism, “We may eventually cook fries in the fat of the deceased obese who got fat eating fries in the first place,” and that’s only if you’re among the luckiest survivors.
Ships and tanks are being arrayed. Mumbling or stumbling, Biden still shows his fangs, as commanded. Surely, we’re headed to Broken Apart, so, hopefully, I’ll see you there.
Planning our destruction, they had us arguing over Bud Lite and half-assed trannies!
1 comment:
Raytheon Gen Dynamics etc thriving
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