Interlude: Great moments in Humanity, Vol. I

Boss: Where are you from?
Moi: Hungary, but I was raised in the U.S.
Boss: Huh. You have a very strange accent.

Happy Jew Year

As part of the festivities, I wanted to see how long I could go in London with a kippah on my head without an asskicking. 36 hours. Well it could have been longer actually, but after the ever-polite British gentleman warned me that he overheard the lads in the doorway of the Syrian association "saying some very rude things", I wussed out. Wussed out!

In other news, I spent four hours in shul yesterday. FOUR. I'm done for this decade.

In still other news, Olehgirl became the first socialist Republican in modern history. I have the honor of being the first snarky Independent.

My options, as of this writing are:

-Get on the dole with the British welfare system. This is appealing, as welfare is the sole attainable goal left in most Western societies.
-Hook up with a private Christian school in Cairo, so that I may finally become a persecuted minority among persecuted minorities who, were they in the majority, would be my persecutors.
-Teach army recruits in Saudi Arabia. Oy, tempting.
-A private language school in Istanbul. Just the phrase "private language school" gives me the warm fuzzies.

I want to close this entry by giving hope to psychotics who snapped while on LSD and never recovered. While the full document I recieved will be scanned for your pleasure, an excerpt from the advertising copy reads:

"There are those media types who pride themselves on their penchant for Thinking Outside The Box. At ThamesPath PFC we dare ask Why a box and not a whippet or a pair of orthopaedic wellingtons?"

Why indeed?

Stereotypes to make your lives easier

I am often asked: "Asiatown, will you please read and abide by the terms of the restraining order?" (No.) The second query, and one almost as frequent, is: "Asiatown, what are XXX students like?" (I don't know- can I teach a porn class?) "No, I mean XXX nationality."

It is usually here that I go into my we're-all-individuals speech that makes the eyes of the audience glass over. (Assuming they weren't already.) So in order to make their lives easier, and mine more comfortable, I present to thee....

Stereotypes to make your lives easier:

-Koreans: I believe this blog has discussed South Korean students at length. In a nutshell, Korean students are still getting used to this thing called "non-Koreans" and it may well take them three or four generations to be able to resist the urge to stroke or pull out your armhair. (Whether they stroke it or pull it out depends, I suppose, on whatever you are into.) Expect a great deal of laughter that will call to mind the adage "Are they laughing at you or laughing with you?" In about one month, you too will learn the suicidally depressing answer.

-Chinese: Most of my students tended to be college-age or under and from Southern China. Unlike Koreans, they have gotten used to big noses. This is both good and bad- good, because you won't feel quite so much like the resident freak show and bad because they become bored at the drop of a hat- some have been known to sleep through class, a habit that rates a 10 on the annoyingness scale. As hard is it may be, resist your urge to commit axe-murder in class- that's what prep time is for. Also remember that the Chinese hail from an evil Communist country, but not so evil that we can't sell our lazy souls to them. The singular achievement of Communists throughout history has been to make man's lazy inner child an acceptable- nay, laudable- public persona.

-Polish: A worldly sort, assuming that the world is paved with gold, Polish students have one thing on their mind: Success. And by success, I mean marrying a rich man. If you are a MALE Polish student, you are out of luck on two counts as you are not likely to be a rich man, nor are you able to marry one. As such, male Polish students have developed a still-laudable and more achievable secondary goal: Alcoholism. A one-time Commie fiefdom, Poland has been assured for over half a century that all they need is to become more like us. And now they have, so keep your wallet surgically sewn to your body. How does this affect students? They will be pleasant to you (the rich foreigner), tolerant of your incompetent ways, and not terribly interested one way or another. A fine time will be had by all.

-Italians: Can you talk with you hands, laugh, shout and ever so often threaten to beat your students to a pulp? If so, Viva Italia! Perhaps the most talkative and agreeable bunch out there, Italians are at the distinct advantage of not NEEDING to learn English (and not really wanting to either). As such, they will spend a few non-too-ambitious hours in your agreeable company, teach you some good obscenities and feed you quality pasta. No wonder Italian schools think they can hire teachers for 900 Euros per month.

-French: Sure they get a bad rap, but that's only because of a colonialist past which led to modern-day French guilt, which in turn led to the uncontested immigration of millions of pissed off Muslims who scare the piss out of them- while, of course, still clinging to the notion that they are better than you. A quiet, some say aloof bunch, they perform competently and quietly and will, if you have some ability, throw the occassional and surprising compliment your way. A nice group if you have some clue as to how to teach, or, more importantly in EFL, some clue on how to pretend that you are teaching.

-Russians: My sample of Russian students is limited to three. One, Lolita, was a hot young thang who knew she was hot, flirted with me shamelessly and still managed to do some work in class. A ten in my book- and that's only on the academic scale. Contestant number two, Ivan, the latchkey kid, was a brilliant little fucker whose father probably perished in one of Putin's secret prisons (Ed. note- I didn't just write that) and was desperately seeking a male authority figure. A pleasant enough lad when under control. Bringing up the rear in every possible way, Richard, numero tres in my happy group was an unpleasant sort who, when not attempting to take his pants off in class, liked to give me the Hitler salute. I am sorry to say that I can't draw a properly stereotypical conclusion from these case studies except that Russian students seem to be hotties who know they are hotties, need father figures as Da is out drinking and beating and tend to do funny things with their forearms in hopes of getting a reaction.

Hope that helped.

A bet

I'm willing to bet dollars to doughnuts that this lad is going to have an unfortunate accident sometime soon.

Dollars? Doughnuts? Anybody?

Big news

I met a girl. Lets hope she is legal.

Envy is totally awesome

Starting around high school, my parents began to look at me as this overgrown leech that just won't become self-sufficient enough to suck on itself for a change. (No Clinton jokes please.) Everything came with a pricetag.

"I bought you this birthday present."
"Awww a sweater. Thanks!"
"Yes and you should thank me. It cost eleven dollars and ninety nine cents."
"Wow. That's exorbitant."

College was a blur as the Da proposed I finish in three years and collect a years' tuition as reward. In the stupidest decision of my life, I agreed and just barely made it through.

After a while I stopped asking for stuff and accepted life on the fiscal edge. I reasoned that if I do not ask and do not get, I also do not take. Still and all, its been rough going.

Which brings us to the unSphinx-like Indian. S.B., whose middle name ought to be Odell, has had, from what I can see, a life of contrast. I sped through college. He coasted, moved to Japan and dvelved in the finer points of narcotics. Two years and a prison stint later, he landed in Oman where, from what I can tell, (photo-wise) he led the easy life of an expatriate, replete with booty and sailing priviliges. Occassionally he rang the folks at home for some dough.

A life free of responsibility eventually carried him to Poland where his easy manner, big talk and constant smile obscured the fact that he has never and will never do anything he promises to. Our most recent interaction came about because of news that the lad won a trip to Venice, complete with a free vacation home and room for three or four of his closest friends. Of course (no surprise) he missed the deadline to register his pals but people can still come down on their own and roll the dice that there is more waiting in Venice than a parking lot. Interested?

And yeah. I know I'm bitter.

I finally figured out what the donation button is for

I wrote this yesterday afternoon (hence the date). Scroll down for a brief update:

Good people:

Looking at that grey donation button, your hearts filled with longing, you nevertheless wonder: Will I be contributing to Asiatown's degenerate ways if I press said button?

At long last, I can answer you in the negative. A few weeks ago I met a loqatious traffic cop born in Somalia. Ali, a secular Muslim lad, is quite the bright young thing and his idea is to open an after school learning/community center for the...well...community.

Now, I relish impossible tasks as much as the next guy, but how do I pull this off? Any suggestions? Anyone I can turn to in my time of need? Any organizations to contact? We agreed to steer clear of the local mosques, not because I have any problems with them- heck, I even visited one in Seoul- but because, as the lad charmingly put it, they are filled with "crazy, stone-age people". I never did like that Barney.

I'm writing this post on Saturday at about 4 P.M., but won't upload it until I hear back from him via email. If you are reading this, it means that you too can take part in history.

No, I am not one of those tree-hugging sorts who wants to sing kumbaya around the campfire- like Peemil, I'd rather set the entire forest ablaze. Still, isn't doing good while also doing well the ultimate high?

UPDATE:

The Somali lad, Ali, expressed mildly anti-Semitic wonder at how "the Jewish people" managed to "be so small yet conquer the world." I think that at long last I have found the answer: It's our Divine email ability.

Email, which can only be found in the Talmud, is this super-secret, coded thingamajig (I would say more but my blood is too thin for a decent matzah ball soup and don't want the Elders to have to go through all that trouble) which allows us to communicate. Like a decoder ring.
Email is closely tied to this nebulous concept called committment. Committment, a word I can't be fucked to spell, refers to the idea- all but lost in 2006- that if you open your maw and promise something, you should follow up on said promise. To marry these concepts, observe the following sentence:

"Mr. Asiatown I promise to email you tonight."-Ali, circa last night.

Here, Ali, who somehow got ahold of that email innovation (Damnation! My blood is totally up for grabs now! I'm coming Ethel!) commits to using that device to contact me within a specific timeframe. Perhaps unwittingly, he has seized upon the key.

And yet....as I sit here in my wanna-be all-controlling, not-quite-rich Yiddish glory, I see no email. How can that be? Could it be that only Jews can use this device? Or perhaps that the Jewish mind, being crafty as it is, is the only one which can grasp the idea of following up? Perhaps I and my inbred Hebrew bretheren (can't be fucked to spell bretheren either) are born with a magical organ- right above our forked tongues-that allows us to use email. Oy. Still so much to learn.

I'm on a scientific experiment to see if this is the case. Please press the donation button and follow through on it. The results will be broken down into different categories and analyzed to reveal whether in fact only Yids can get down electronically. I believe that this will benefit all of mankind, which of course I totally own. With interest.

Six of one....

We have already covered what happens when I leave my house. But what about staying in? Turns out, that isn't really an an option either, as this sixteen-year old demonstrates.

The page translates as follows:


"I made this picture and webpage of myself so that I can find a guy to take my virginity. I don't want to beat around the bush and hope nobody is afraid of what I am suggesting. I am sixteen, have never been with a boy and sometimes feel like I can't stand it! If you're the type of guy who just wants to pound me because my face is cute, don't bother with writing to me. I will only answer to people who honestly believe that there is such a thing as love at first sight. After all, I am only willing to do the deed if mutual attraction exists. I don't need pretty words, although I will likely be a little nervous when we meet. Therefore, please do not get offended if, when we meet, nothing really happens.

Maybe I'm just a stupid little slut, but sex interests and moves me and I would really like to try it sometime- after all, I think I am more than mature enough to handle it. I'm not looking to become a whore and am only looking for ONE man. Age and other things do not matter. It's likely that I will meet with many guys, but will only sleep with one of them. Afterwards, I will take this page down, so if you can still access this site, there is hope! :-) Of course you can write, but I would like to be spared from any sex maniacs, uglies and other losers. Don't send a picture at first- I just want to see your soul. At first, I just want to trust in and sympathize with your spiel, and then we will see. I spent a lot of time looking at chat.hu and went to a lot of syrup.hu parties...but didn't find the one :-( I believe that I will FIND YOU! Please grab the keyboard and look me up at szeretnem_nagyon@freemail.hu!!! :-) If I don't answer, don't write to me again!!! Thanks for reading this and if you consider yourself worthy, apply!!! Lots of luck: Dia!!! Kisssssssss!:-)"

So who is it gonna be?

Yael Special

Hey Yael, check this out. A Jewish community. In Poznan. Above ground.

Poop on your head

If news reports are to be believed, parenthood offers many benefits. It is heartwarming stories like these that stir fuzzy, warm paternal feelings within me.