I'm not gay. I mean, all of the readers of this blog know me, and can attest that I am a powerhouse of manly macho non-gay masculinity. If fact, I'm pretty sure that anthropologists refer to me as "The Alpha-Male of Taichung". Because I am so not gay and all.

So what in the hell is wrong with all of these internet quizzes?


or:



or:




or:

You are EXACTLY 40% GAY.

Now lets evaluate your quiz results:

Please be careful with this Valuable information as you are too young to be taking this test.

Not so good score. You are not gay, but at this point, other people start to have a hard time seeing that you aren't gay.


You know, seeing these malicious lies being put forth by some irresponsible web people makes me so angry I could weep and stamp my foot.

Here are the links to the quizzes, in case you are um.. curious:

Channel 4's Gay-O-Meter

How wicked gay are you?

The "How Gay are You" Test

The Burly Adventurer

Faxtoons.com Gay Quiz

From Fark:
Woman convicted of rape.

The man testified that he fell asleep on a sofa and woke up to find the woman performing oral sex on him.

Well, I bet that man was dressing provocatively and leading the woman on.

This post never existed. You may think that there had been a post here, but you are mistaken. And it turns out there is no such word as 'titsplitter' anyway.

Ya know, I'm not generally a big fan of Donald Rumsfeld. Someone will ask him a hardass question, and he will "Goodness gracious" and "Folksy homily" his way out of it. But let it not be said that I don't give credit where credit is due. When Daniel Inouye started political posturing by bringing up the possibility of conscription, Rumsfeld said:

"I think the only people who could conceivably be talking about a draft are people who are speaking from pinnacles of near-perfect ignorance."

Pinnacles of near-perfect ignorance. Oh Donny boy, how I wish I had said that.

And for young Americans who are concerned about the possibility of a draft, there are two key points to keep in mind. 1) Donald Rumsfeld does not want a draft. He already got in trouble last year for saying that with all the deferrals, the draft did not make an effective military force in Vietnam. Pissed a bunch of Vietnam vets off. 2) If you are a young American, go join the Air force, or the Coast Guard, or the Peace corps. Do not come to Taiwan. If you are looking to avoid war, Taiwan might not be the best place to be for the next couple of years.

A message to Lance (Of The Taichung Voice) and Paul (Previously of The Londoner and soon to be of The Londoner II?), from Dan "Master of Subtlety and Understatement" Ritco:

The longest f***ing river in North America is NOT the f***ing Mississippi River. It is the f***ing Mackenzie f***ing River in f***ing Canada. Any f***ing geographer who's f***ing degree is worth the f***ing paper it is f***ing printed on, knows that the length of a river is measured from it's source to it's mouth, without f***ing counting the f***ing tributaries. Your erroneous opinions on this matter simply demonstrate that you are a ****** ** ********* ******** ********** *****. Please research and adjust your views accordingly.

AJ and Sian have opened a branch of the My Warm Day breakfast chain. It is located at No. 111, Zi Li Street. That is near the intersections of Lin Sen and Wu Chuan Rds. Contact me if you need further directions, because it is kind of a pain to describe how to get there. Coffee is good and in big cups. I'm working through the breakfast menu and will report later.

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Remember the Anti-Japan protests in China last week? Here is a video of a Chinese woman who got caught driving a Japanese car near one of the protests. Linked from the Peking Duck, who has done a good job of following these events.

Dangerous hackers out there. Be careful.

Might even be funnier in German. Don't know. Don't speak German.

Just to show that the Taichung blogosphere has disturbing shades of Orwellianism, the news missive that was here has been replaced by this delightful link:

The Aracta Eye Police Log

Back in Taiwan from Minneapolis. Minneapolis is still better than Tampa. And Houston. I got deposed, along with my company's General Manager and our Sales Manager. I got to sit in on the other two depos, acting as a representative for our firm. By the rules we were working on, that was ok, though if I had been opposing counsel I would have insisted that the guy who is going to sit in as the corporate representative get depo'ed first.

There were three attorneys present for the opposition. The one that questioned me is The Devil. I fear The Devil, because he is about three times smarter than me. And he is smarter than me in the area where I am strongest, which is the mixing of being glib and analytical in dialogue to maximum effect. I guess that was probably for the best though- If I thought he was a dork, than I would have been more inclined to let him know what is what. And when you are geting deposed, you are not supposed to tell the questioning attorney what is what. You are supposed to shut up and answer his questions as briefly as possible.

So, I got deposed for a total of five and a half hours, and they could have had seven total. So I'll take that as a good sign.

AJ- I brought back $100 worth of Kodiak Wintergreen. Bread- I have two cartons of Camels, no wides. Ah-Di, I got the Glucosamine chondrate for Mom. It's not all that cheap in America either.

Liberty University Reprimands and Consequences

From last Friday's A & A game, during setup:

"Honey, look in this bag and find me an American submarine."

[Cynthia hands me a piece]

"That is an aircraft carrier! How can you not know the difference between a submarine and an aircraft carrier?"

Cynthia: "I don't know. How can two huge middle aged men spend so much effort playing a game that involves pushing little plastic tanks around a cardboard map?"

Me: "This is WORLD WAR II! This is IMPORTANT!"

Her: "This is the most immature thing I have ever seen in my life."

I tell ya, women just don't understand anything.

Local business check: Is it true that The Londoner has closed its doors for good? If so, where are Taichungers going to go for cricket, rugby, bad pizza, FES*, and other staples of British culture? Was it a victim of **** *** *******'s campaign to clear out the competition before opening his own pub? Wouldn't an appropriate name for such a pub be **********? Yeah it would.

Tonight, the peripatetic menace known to the world as Malv shall meet his demise over the Axis & Allies board. This is the new version, with destroyers, artillery, victory cities etc., but since neither of us have any idea how the game dynamics have changed with the new pieces and rules, there is no advantage to either side. The only important fact is that Malv has absolutely no chance of winning, evidenced by his being a bald Republican. No way am I going to lose to a bald Republican. No Way.

On this blog, I seldom talk about what books I'm reading and my thoughts on them. You don't care what I'm reading, and to be honest, I don't have that good of taste in literature anyway. I am departing from this tradition because the book I am reading right now demands special commentary. I am reading The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. Here's the commentary: It is shite. (that's a quaint English way of saying 'shit'). The fact that it made the New York Times Bestseller List is comforting only in that it tells me that there are people out there with worse taste in books than me. If I start smoking again in the next few days, I'm gonna blame this book. Or maybe Malv.







* Failed Empire Syndrome. Don't even ask.

8 days and something. How in the hell do you people go your ENTIRE LIVES without smoking? If you don't smoke, you can get bored! I haven't been bored since 1988, at least until until last night at the airport when I was waiting for our customer to arrive. Waiting for two hours is no problem with a pack of cigarettes. If I have smokes and a book, I can stretch a wait into four hours before starting to wonder: "When is this person going to get here?". Last night I had no smokes, and the book I am reading is The Davinci Code. Long wait indeed.

This weeks theology discussion will center around the growing threat of Unitarian Jihad.

We are Unitarian Jihad. There is only God, unless there is more than one God. The vote of our God subcommittee is 10-8 in favor of one God, with two abstentions. Brother Flaming Sword of Moderation noted the possibility of there being no God at all, and his objection was noted with love by the secretary.

Heh. And heh again. Reminds me of the only Unitarian joke I know:

An eccentric man purchases an expensive Lamborghini sports car and decides that such a fine car should be given a religious blessing. The guy drives around town. First he stops at a Catholic church and asks the priest to bless his Lamborghini but the priest asks, "What's a Lamborghini?" Same response from the rabbi at the synagogue and from other religious leaders at their respective houses of worship. Finally, in a last ditch effort, the man pulls into the driveway of the Unitarian Universalist church, where he chances upon the UU minister exiting from her car. "Nice Lamborghini!" the UU minister exclaims. "Thanks," says the man, "I was hoping you might give it a blessing." The UU minister replies, "What's a blessing?"

5 days, 19 hours, I don't know how many minutes because it is Sunday morning.

Disregarding Aaron's advice, I went to poker with a few Budweisers under my arm and a pack of gum in my pocket. I should have listened to Aaron. Not that I started smoking again, but I was unfortunate enough to witness our cherished poker game get utterly wrecked by the rude stupid newbie brought to the game by Pimp. Any single attribute (rude, stupid, newbieness) is acceptable in itself, but combine all three and you've got a guy who doesn't know the rules, can't understand the rules when you explain them, and insists that the way he and his friends play is the only right way and the six of you have no idea what you are doing. I left at 11:13pm. Pimp, if you brought that blockhead to chase me away from the game to make sure I didn't start smoking again, then Thank You. If not, then what in the hell were you thinking?

In the news: China Protestors Attack Japanese Targets. The government of China thinks that by allowing these protests, it can pressure Japan while at the same time letting the Chinese people direct their frustrations toward an outside target. I have seen this before, and that shit's gonna backfire.

4 days, 1 hour, 30 minutes. The Renegade grows desperate. Unable to wreak havoc on the parts of the brain which are functioning normally, with its regular vandalism mercilessly crushed by the gothic apparition that is the Dark Mage Wellbutrin, The Renegade turns to subtle trickery. "You hunger. Eat more." it whispers.
"I can't be hungry, I just ate a whole pizza." I protest.
"The flavor of the food. Savor it. How long has it been since you tasted such subtle flavors?"
"Well, maybe just some ice cream..."

The Renegade: You swelter. This oppressive heat is unbearable."
Me: "It's like this every year. Taiwan is a tropical country."
"A bead of sweat trickles down your neck. So hot... Miserably hot."
"It does kind of suck that the cool Spring we've had won't last longer. It is pretty damn hot today."
"Nicotine is a vasioconstrictor, and makes you feel cooler. You can make the terrible heat go away so easily..."

3 days, 2 hours, 4 minutes. Me and the Dark Mage are having a pretty good time hanging out. He sits upon a mound of ancient silver artifacts, precious gems and golden weaponry, while his swirling dark robes occasionally obscure his pale countenance. He carries on a muted conversation with someone called The Oneiromancer, and only pauses once every five hours to reach into my skull and silence The Renegade. I'm just chewing gum and trying not to shake.

Monday afternoon at the China Medical College, discussing Wellbutrin with Dr. Lin:

Dr. Lin: The mechanism by which it supresses the urge to smoke is not clearly understood.
Me: You're saying you don't know how it works.
Dr. Lin: Yes, but I like my way of saying it better.

I think I can shed some light on how the Dark Mage Wellbutrin accomplishes its task. You see, when you go from a pack a day to zero a day, and then hit say, the 36th hour of not smoking*, there is a part of your brain (I do not know which part) that goes insane. It smashes bottles on the parietal lobes. It runs through the frontal lobes screaming and singing We Built this City at the top of its lungs. It pees on the hypothalamus. It spray paints gang signs on the temporal lobes, then runs down the basal ganglia to throw Snap 'n Pops as far down the spine as it can.

Then Wellbutrin arrives, in a cloud of mist and with Disintegration by The Cure playing in the background. With an impossibly long arm and a chainmail sheathed hand, Wellbutrin seizes this renegade part of your brain in an icy grip, and says:
"You shall be silent."
Maybe it is an arcane majik, or simply pure terror, but the renegade portion of the brain that has been raising hell in your head shuts right up. For about 5 hours.

*Sometimes the 8th or 14th hour.

Jack McDowell is a Saint among men. All who meet him eventually come to worship the very ground upon which he treads. Jack is kind to puppies. He is a world-class eclaire chef. Jack is so moral and upstanding that he has never, ever, in his whole life, done anything that could be even remotely considered untoward.

Spent last week in Minneapolis, meeting with newer, stronger, more lethal counsel. The impending destruction of Easco Hand Tools is imminent, and I shall in all likelihood dance upon the smoldering remains of their manufacturing facilities, dispensing milling machines and forging presses to homeless shelters and orphanages around the country. In other news, Minneapolis is a much better city than Tampa. Or Houston. And the Mall of America is... very American. In both good and bad ways. I was able to buy an Axis & Allies game there, so there will soon be a great wailing and gnashing of teeths and maybe some beating of breasts as the poseur tacticians of Taichung are confronted with my strategic mastery. This is as it must be.

In world events, the pope died. Like the Ferrett, I am conflicted to see a good man, but one with whom I do not agree on a single issue, pass. (Though to be fair, both the Pope and I seem to agree that the War in Iraq sucks. Not sure the Pope said it that way.) Contraception is good, and the Pope's efforts against it were not. That's not to say the Pope was a bad guy- nobody is right all of the time. Except Harry Dean Stanton in Repo Man. He was always right.
So nobody is hatin' the Pope right? Wrong. This was posted by John Kershaw on Fark:

I'm sorry to all the Catholics on this thread, but something simply must be said. It must be said for your own good.

John Paul II was not admitted into heaven today. Today, he began his eternity elsewhere.

The Catholic Church is the church of the Deceiver. For some time I believed JPII to be the Antichrist himself. Granted, I was mistaken, and he was simply a very bad man and a false prophet. But nonetheless, he participated in and led the deception of billions here on earth. Because of his deception, billions will suffer as he will.

His participation in the destruction of Communism, and his opposition ot the Liberal Stalinist Agenda does not redeem him. Neither will good works save any of you, Catholics. Only the Blood of the Lamb can save you from the fires of hell.

Damn. And people are coming down all hard on us atheists for disrespecting systems of beliefs that we think are silly. But it takes a Theist to come along and declare that God's representative on earth is burning in hell. I'll tell ya' what: Y'all believers in God get your houses in order (and this will involve dunce caps surgically grafted to the heads of guys like John Kershaw), and when that's done I'll personally round up all the commie-pinko nonbelievers out there and put them in a big tent for a grand ole revival, barbecue and water balloon fight.
NOTE: "House in order" implies not only taking care of the kooks and moonbats, but also eliminating some of the more egregious contradictions like "I support a culture of life. And the death penalty. At the SAME TIME." 'Cause that kind of thing makes the commies take long drags on their clove cigarettes, sniff in disdain, then turn their berets away in disgust. And we'll never get them (us) under the tent with that kind of thing going on.

======================================================

Lastly, to prove that I love suffering, I am quitting smoking. Again. Yes, I know- I will fail spectacularly in about 4 days. The only difference this time is that in addition to the patch, I am taking Wellbutrin(TM). My intitial hopes that the Wellbutrin part of the cessation program might kick in the added benefit of getting me kind of high (it's an antidepressant) have gone unfulfilled. Maybe I'll take ten of the tablets, grind them up and snort them. That might make me forget about smoking for a while. In the meantime, let the cacophonous burning begin. Condoleo ergo sum.

If anyone reading this blog lived in Taichung in the early 90's, then you might remember Kristi Anderson. Funny, smart, vivacious, trilingual, practical. Blonde and beautiful and quite a sight as rode around the city on her big DT trail bike. She was my first roommate in Taiwan, and we both worked at Jordan's English School.

Kristi was in Galle, Sri Lanka on December 26, and died in the tsunami. There is a relief fund in her name managed by Give2Asia.

Typical day going on here. Today's schedule is:

7:45am- Arise from dusty crypt. Lumber. Lurch. Pick up eyeball and stick it back in socket.

8:10am- Brains! Must have brains! Groan. Shuffle.

9:30am- Chat briefly with ghoulish environmentalist from across the graveyard. Wave to hideous spectres (ACLU members) seen on the street.

9:55am- Pick up hand and stick it back on arm.

10:20am- Brains! I bet there are brains at the mall! The bodies with the living brains (Brains!) always seek refuge in the mall. I don't know why. Shuffle towards mall.

11:00am- Get run over by pickup truck driven by man wearing John Deere cap, while an overalls-wearing passenger blasts my fellow anti-life abominations into bits with a Mossberg 12-gauge. As my head pops off my body and flies up into the air, I see the back of the pickup truck filled with fuel, food and firearms. Sigh. Some brains are harder to catch than others.

12:30pm- Find my head. Put it back on.

3:00pm- Find rest of body parts and re-attach. See flames in the distance in the direction of the mall. Sigh. I need FRESH brains not cooked. Brains!

4:00pm- Write essay arguing that capital punishment is immoral because it not only violates Kant's Categorical Imperative, but fails in a practical view to achive its desired effect. Draw parallel between military ethics and intuitive morality on the treatment of war prisoners.

5:45pm- Must have brains! Eat brains to end hunger! See university. Big, bloated juicy brains at university! Stumble, shuffle and stagger towards university.

6:00pm- Curse this hated soulless existence! I went the the university's Cultural Studies department. There are no brains here! Brains!

6:05pm- Head over the the Physics department. Brains!

6:20pm- Dusk.

7:00pm- NOOOO! Horrifying blood-sucking vampires (labor lawyers) have arrived and are carrying away the last bodies with the fresh brains! Brains! Must have brains!

7:30- Return to crypt. Hunger.