It’s 7AM in Pakse, Laos. Sitting outside Lankham, I see a ragged, dirty old man and a child, rather too chubby to be a beggar, approaching my table. After I give some money to the kid, the old man begs for more, so I point to the kid. Not relenting, he squats down, puts his hands together and makes that supplicating motion.
Ten feet away, the chubby kid stares. With a better look, I notice his clothing is much cleaner than the old man’s. This difference makes me think, for a moment, that they’re not together.
Five feet away is the manager of Lankham, Thảo, whose name means grass. An archaic Vietnamese word for zoo is thảo cầm viên, which literally translates as “grass birds and beasts garden.” Very charming. We’re in that zoo.
Seeing that persistent old beggar, Thảo gently tells him in Lao to go away. A slim lady who works from 5:30AM to 10PM, she’s a daughter-in-law of Lankham’s owner. Her kids study all day, with expensive English lessons in the evening. Thảo has a son named Dio, weirdly enough. It’s Italian for God, as derived from the Latin deus. Grass breeds God.
Finally, the old beggar joins his chubby grandson. Going to wherever people are sitting outside to eat and drink, they’ll earn enough to eat and drink, for another day.
The scabs on my knees from that mugging are almost gone. They itch. Flies like them. Lao flies also dig Beerlao, I’ve found out. The other day, I had to fish a fly from my beer glass. Gently, I rub a few flakes off my left knee.
At Lankham, I’ve gotten into the habit of chatting with a 66-year-old Irishman each day. Let’s just call him Ian. A highway engineer, Ian once made $15,000 a month in Saudi Arabia. He has a house worth half a million in Stockholm. It sits empty.
He has a girlfriend in Paksong, Laos, and another in Bangkok. He still sends money to his Thai lady, though not so much as before. They’ve been together 12 years, he tells me.
Mostly, though, I see him sitting alone, even in the worst heat, drinking Beerlao. To save 28 cents from each large bottle, he’d walk across four lanes of traffic to buy from a lady who positively hates him. I’ve seen her face tense up during each encounter with Ian. We have a running joke about this.
“She’s secretly in love with you, Ian. She’s waiting for you to make a move.”
“She’s your girlfriend.”
Sitting in her dark shop from 6AM to 10PM, this seller of beer, cigarettes, candies and not much else is actually rich, for her family sold properties on Pakse’s main strip for huge profits when Laos emerged from its Communist nadir.
When Ian forgets to return his empty bottle, she hardens her face even further. Red beams shoot from her eyes. Acknowledging his sin, Ian can only mumble, “I’ll bring you an extra one the next time.” This, he retrieves from a trash can at Lankham.
Born in County Donegal, Ian followed a girl to Sweden as a teenager. He visited Iran when the Shah was in power, and Afghanistan before the Soviets came in.
“It’s where the backpackers went.”
“So you were a hippie!”
“I had my hair down to here. We took a bus from Turkey to Iran, then went into Afghanistan, Pakistan, India. We smoke hashish mostly. You could buy it all along the way. It came in these big black cakes.”
Ian didn’t enter college until he was 25. Now, he’s a reasonably respectable old man with standard opinions. Ukraine is winning the war thanks to advanced American weapons; Putin is a Hitler; Gonzalo Lira deserves to rot in jail, for he’s a South American Communist on Putin’s payroll; the CIA is in northern Thailand to stop drug trafficking, not engage in it; ISIS is a Muslim menace threatening the West.
As for Covid, Ian has been jabbed four times, with two Sinopharm doses, then one each of Astra Zeneca and Pfizer. Had Pfizer been available in Laos early on, he’d have gotten it.
“I tried to get a fifth shot, but they wouldn’t give it to me!”
“Why?! You don’t need it. Don’t take a chance, man.”
“I love vaccines. I just got my mmr, pneumonia and rabies shots.”
“Isn’t mmr, like, for kids?”
“It’s for measles, mumps and rubella. Old people can get them now. All these diseases are coming back. They’re spreading in the world. You should get these shots.”
“No, man, I’m fine.”
“I used to get the flu twice a year, but since my Covid shots, I no longer have the flu, so it’s good for that, at least. Vaccines are good.”
As for mass immigration into Europe, Ian thinks it’s fine. He has a sister working in a Donegal supermarket. All the immigrants she’s encountered, of whatever color or nationality, were polite, family oriented people, Ian tells me.
Only once have I seen Ian veer away from his liberal orientation. Recalling the 2022 World Cup final between Argentina and France, Ian couldn’t help but explode, “Those two niggers missed their penalty shots!” Ian relished this so much, he repeated it several times.
Having spent over a month at the same hotel, Ian and I have gotten used to each other’s routine. Each morning, I expect to see him around 10:30, for that’s when he has finished watching his HBO movie.
“I watch them all. They’re all good. I’ve seen each movie three or four times. I keep my TV on 24 hours a day.”
“Wow! How do you sleep with it on?”
“It puts me to sleep. When I wake up, it’s still on.”
“You keep it on even when you’re not in the room?”
“Why not? I’m not paying for it.”
“You want to hear a voice when you enter your room.”
To this, he had no ready answer. Then, “A movie, I may see only the first 10 minutes, so the next time it comes on, I’ll see the middle part, then I’ll see the last part when it comes on again.”
“Years apart!”
“It doesn’t matter. They play the same movies, over and over again.”
On Ian’s recommendation, I visited Vida Bakery and Café. At the door, there’s a sign, “PLEASE HAVE A SHIRT ON AND TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF.” Inside were young backpackers, all white and tallish, with several sporting the coolest tattoos.
Behind the counter, the servers were shorter than even your average Lao.
On the first page of Vida’s menu, there’s this explanation, “The staff who will serve you in this café are all from rural or mountainous areas. They are from different ethnic groups—Talieng, TaOy, Nyaheun, Ngae, Katu. Each of these groups has their own first language, and Lao is their second, trade language. That means English is their third language!!! So please be kind to them and make an effort to speak clearly!!!”
I had never heard of these ethnic groups. During the Vietnam War, the Hmongs were known as ferocious fighters, though tiny. Other highland tribes, such as the Gurkhas and Montenegrin, are also famous for their martial prowess. This hides the fact they were, essentially, historical losers, for they had to run for the hills thousands of years ago.
Even with effeminate affectations, the whites in Vida’s were much better built than their tribal servers, but looks often deceive. Stripped of their cash, they won’t last two days in any feral environment. Historical winners go soft over time.
At my blog, I’ve been posting videos of America’s descent into barbarity, with shootings, stabbings, smash and grabs, flash robs and street takeovers becoming much more common, with pre-teen perpetrators no longer so unusual. With cops demonized and criminality excused endlessly and even abetted, this isn’t suprising.
This morning, an “anonymous,” of course, left a comment. “Is there a common thread running through these videos? If there is I’m having a hard time figuring it out.”
Maybe he’s joking. Everything can be amusing until it’s your turn.
For the unthinking, the War in Ukraine is to contain an insane Putin. Looking deeper, many will conclude it’s the American Empire’s last ditch effort to prevent the rise of Russia and China, but there’s another, perhaps most satisfying motive. This war in Europe is to kill off as many goyim as possible.
If you accept this hypothesis, then the Jewjab, destruction of farming, ruination of small businesses, rending of social fabric, promotion of ladyboys and allowance of street violence make perfect sense. If the ultimate aim was to fight Russia and China, why would you feminize most of your men, while encouraging a savage minority to become even more disruptive and beastly?
Obeying this script, the West won’t just stand with Ukraine, but become similarly devastated, immiserated and depopulated. Many of its women will be forced to become whores, while many men will turn to hustling, begging or stealing, and those are the lucky ones. As refugees, they’ll be flung across what’s left of this earth.
For helping Jews to destroy so many societies, including Ukraine, most ironically, the West will pay the ultimate price.
For decades, the most progressive Germans have been begging for volkstod. To atone for a trumped up crime, the West has committed many more, so volkstod it will get. It has already castrated and decaptitated itself, pretty much.
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