Vices we love

2011-12-12T04:05:00.001Z

I don't like people. I don't like being around them, I don't like speaking to them, I don't like- especially- listening to them. I don't like listening to the lies they tell me, the lies they tell themselves, the promises they make, the breeziness with which those promises are broken, the total meaninglessness of every syllable they utter.

True, I can be very charming and nice and polite and blah blah blah. But my heart is not in it. Nothing means anything to anyone. There are no ties. Not social, not religious, not familial. People will love you at 9:02 and hate you at 9:03. This means you are always on your guard. No compliment is ever truly complimentary. No situation is ever safe. No job, school, relationship, promise or assurance is ever assured. And living with that day after day wears you down. Alone.

This one is for all the EFL teachers out there

2010-01-03T18:13:00.003Z

What's up dirtbags?

Okay okay too harsh I know. Come on, I'm still one of you, minus the joint and the one armed prostitute with eleven toes. I haven't updated this thing in a while because the privacy of being a loner waygookin has eluded me even in New York the most isolated place on earth. I've
dabbled in blogging since but again, honesty requires anonymity.

I am presently in NY working on my Ph.D. My principal motivation is that knowledge is the one thing nobody can take away from you. If tomorrow morning the Us Dollar was declared illegal or
monetized, I would still have it.

Now, this requires money. Money, sadly requires work. (Though not anymore. See
2:16 to 2:23 here. Truest words ever spoken on television.)

As such, part time teaching jobs, ripe for exploitation, abound. One of them was supposed to start today. They had sent me a very optimistic contract that they would pay me in March when I finish teaching. I explained that this won't fly. They tried to get me to agree to payment ever 5 weeks. No thanks. So two days ago we went down to every two weeks.

Except that when I got down there, to a girls' yeshiva in Borough Park, I was informed that they do not have the authority from the bank to pay me every two weeks. Because...yanno..they need bank permission. So what did I do?

I did what anyone who spent more than 4 seconds in EFL would drool about doing. I turned around and left. I left behind the idea that any promise of a job is better than nothing. I also left behind, one more time, the idea of group loyalty. I am Jewish. They are Jewish. But I'll be fucked if I'll let that overtake my common sense. Besides, do you think they will look out for me?
5:13 to 5:17 asks the same question and it looks like the kid knows the answer already.

Forget it.

Individuality is awesome. Hold on to it.

The decider as straight arrow

2007-07-07T13:39:00.000+01:00

USA:

A Law Professor’s Inside Take on Bush's Commutation Policy

In March 2003, for the first and only time in my life, I went to the West Wing of the White House. At that time, I was representing a man who was scheduled to be executed by the federal government in less than three weeks. I had filed a request for commutation, asking the President to commute the death sentence to a sentence of life without the possibility of release. Department of Justice rules require that such a request be filed with the Office of the Pardon Attorney in DOJ. Although I had filed the request in December, we had not yet received any response.

While the commutation request was pending, I asked then White House Counsel Alberto Gonzales if he would meet with me to discuss the case. (I knew that the White House Counsel was ultimately responsible for making a recommendation to the President on my request.) To my great surprise, he agreed and invited me to a meeting in his office. We met for over an hour. I was allowed to present my argument in some detail, and I answered many questions from Judge Gonzales. I was quite impressed that Judge Gonzales had obviously read my written submissions and had already given the case some thought.

Judge Gonzales told me 3 things about President Bush’s policy in considering requests for commutation. First, that President Bush would not consider commutation if he believed that the case had already received full and fair consideration by the jury and the courts who heard the case. Second, that the President would not consider the request until he had a recommendation from the Department of Justice. Finally, he said that the President would not act on any request for commutation until all judicial avenues in the case had been exhausted.

Just thought you might be interested in what this White House claimed about the commutation process.

(source: Tim Floyd, Wall Street Journal----Tim Floyd, a law professor at Mercer University, emailed his fellow faculty members Tuesday night. )

Thoughts?

Happy M.Ed. day

2007-07-03T11:47:00.000+01:00

Yes, I just completed my degree. Where shall I go? What should I do? And crucially...though irrelevantly...

Who said romance was dead?

Custer was here

2007-06-01T22:49:00.000+01:00

One of the things I like about eastern Euro students is that they are real. With certain notable exceptions, they generally have some work and life experience. (Not as much as they think- a flaw I was reminded of when reading some snot-nosed 20 year olds plan to become a "life coach" upon graduation.) Still, they have generally held down jobs, saved, planned (not very well if what I see in class is a guide) ahead and so on. One of these wise old youngsters is Alex a crypto-Jewish Russian immigrant who dabbles in a few dozen businesses including his newest venture, a bowling alley in a village which, for the sake of anonymity starts with pies and ends with tany. Said bowling alley is set in a fake Indian restaurant that would make any Chief weep.(The menu includes Chief Red Feathers' special which has "three meets".) The most striking feature however was the canned Russian rap. Rather than to elucidate on the horrors of canned Russian rap, I'll let you sample the lyrics, which seem to have been written by a demented, world-weary Russian infant:

"I got mad musical selection
It's enough to give me an erection
Which is dope cuz I hate introspection."

Yes! My niche at last!

2007-05-31T19:42:00.000+01:00

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Talk about sending mixed messages

2007-05-29T22:31:00.001+01:00

Not minority enough part II: The hunt for green fiscal '08

2007-05-28T17:43:00.000+01:00

The school rejected my Ph.D. application. Speaking of rejection, I have a pile of thanks/no thanks letters from the U.S. Obtaining said letter is an accomplishment in itself since most simply ignore you. (I have mentioned before that Americans, descendants of Puritan Brits, are utterly incapable of human interaction unless they want something.)

With that in mind, and in a nod to an acquaintance who thinks that I should give seminars in sociology classes on the immigrant experience (thoughts?), allow moi to show you how you too can score a rejection letter.

Step one is to find a job ad. This is easy, especially online. Once you found one that's not an obvious scam, send them a cover letter and a CV. These documents will not be read, so have some fun. One of my old cover letters was something like this:

"Although my resume is geared towards education (I have only recently returned from China, where I earned my CELTA certification), I would like to introduce other pertinent aspects of my history and abilities to you.

Prior to moving to South Korea and China, I taught civil and criminal law, as well as the New York rules of Evidence at the No Standards Except Financial Community College, which is a part of the City University of New York. This was a temporary non-tenured position which I was qualified for on the basis of my extensive legal field work.

I am certified as a paralegal through the City University of New York and have worked in several large international firms, usually on a freelance basis. Some of these firms included Offices Damned Near Everywhere ( http://www.everywhere.com) and Me Wantee. ( http://www.mewantee.com). I also worked, prior to 9/11, with the World Trade Center based firm of Greed Is Good ( http://www.greed.com). At these firms I was often responsible for conducting legal research, cite checking, composing correspondance, reviewing depositions and discovery materials, as well as reviewing and filing legal documents with different courts. I also worked for several government officials, again on a free-lance basis, assisting with their campaigns, helping with constituent concerns, researching issues for them and helping to run individual campaigns or comittees. These officials included Assemblyman Greedy McFee ( http://www.legislature.state.tn.us/house/greedy.htm ), Tennessee Assembly Bigwig Guns'n'Ammo ( http://www.legislature.state.tn.us/house/guns.htm ), and, after graduating from the University of Memphis and moving to New York, New York Assemblyman Not Yet Indicted ( http://www.notyetindicted.com ) and City Councilwoman Can't Find Work So I'm Running for Office ( http://www.nyccouncil.info/constituent/member_details). I worked on all aspects of these campaigns as well as Dollar Bill 2000, including fundraising. I also have strong communication skills, fitting my background as an educator.

With regards to my education, I earned a Bachelor of Arts in 1999 at the University of Memphis (http://www.memphis.edu ) in International Relations and later completed a Paralegal Studies program at Brooklyn College, part of the umbrella system of the City University of New York ( http://www.cuny.edu) where I would later be teaching. I also earned a CELTA certification from Oxford at their Beijing branch.

Currently, I am not only teaching but doing considerable technical writing and editing work as well. My client list is confidential, but work samples are available if you would like to see them. Due to my vast experience in the law and the communication skills I possess, I believe I would be a valuable addition to your team. Please note that I look for, above all else, honesty and integrity in an business relationship. I am looking for a permanent, full-time position and can relocate and start immediately. You can reach me at 1-800-BIG-MONEY

I have attached a sample of my writing-unedited- which I produced for the Seoul Board of Education with the intent of exposing English-fluent Korean students to international events and locations. While not a finished or polished document, it does show proof of writing/communications ability. I have spent seven years as a freelance writer, working for such clients as Woori Bank of Seoul and Vault.com. In all these positions, meeting deadlines was essential.

I hope to qualify for and prove my abilities to your organization."

Almost immediately, you receive a form letter- something like...

"Dear Applicant,

Thanks for your application to be our next useless and disposable personnel. We have added your application to our database where it will never see the light of day. FOAD.

Sincerely,
Us"

Now you wait. You do not ask for updates and heaven forfend, do not call- after all, these are signs that you want something, which means they have to do something and what they will do is to drop your cv in the trash at the first sign of such uppityness.

The months go by as the person you wrote to valiantly ignores your letter.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, you will receive a form that goes like this:

"Dear Applicant,

We just recently used your CV as wallpaper. Before we start throwing darts at it, please help us find the appropriate slurs for this competition. Please check a box for your ethnicity below:

___ Transparent ___ Opaque ___ Tony Danza
___ Translucent ___ Casper ___ Jerry Seinfeld
___ George Lopez ___ One of the Jeffersons (definitely not George. Don't be afraid)

You do not have to check these boxes but if you decline to do so, you'll be considered too individualistic for employment. On the off-chance that none of these suit you, check the box(es) closest to your ethnic makeup."

I usually check opaque since I assume they want to know the color of my soul. Satisfied, I email this missive and wait once more.

About six months after applying, I get a form letter like this:

"Dear Applicant,

Did you think we read your CV? You did? Ha ha!

Sincerely,
Annie Bosses' Niece"

And the process starts anew. Anyone know of a job where I can spend the day applying for jobs? Maybe we can have a seminar about it.

I shall resist the temptation to snark

2007-05-21T14:51:00.000+01:00

Yes, I shall resist the temptation to make snarky comments.

Calling all South Carolina bloggers

2007-05-19T10:20:00.000+01:00

What say yea? Clemson, Greenville, Orangeburg? What are these places? Who lives there? What they do? And can I hitchike or will I need a car? Remember, if I need a car, you'll need armor, so answer carefully. Details, tips, threats and donations all welcome. (Unless, this being EFL, I wind up in Port Moresby instead of the Port of Charleston. And maybe even then.)

Not minority enough darn it

2007-05-15T22:06:00.000+01:00

After 400 years too disgusting to describe, the U.S. decided to atone by treating minorities, Blacks in particular, as too stupid to succeed on the merits. Hence the newfangled idea of "minority scholarships". The sticky point of course is who counts as a minority. I knew a kid whose parents were from Puerto Rico so he applied to the U of Miami as a minority since he was a non-Cuban Hispanic. And do Mexicans count? Is the War of 1812 worse than the 200 years before it? What if I'm from Paraguay, do I count as a minority? And Asians? Everybody likes Asians. Even Reagan liked them. Well, I figured that if that's how the game is played, I'd be the best minority out there, so I pulled the Heeb card. After all, Jews are 2% of the population, a statistical minority. Sadly though, that doesn't count. This confuses me to no end. If I move to Iran will I get a minority scholarship? I'll keep you posted.

Now this is my kind of shul

2007-05-03T17:33:00.000+01:00

Up the block from my grandma's apartment building is the incognito shul. Of course, being a shul, it's still about the nicest looking building on the block. Some people just can't help themselves. Anyhoo, I was fairly worn-out with respect to shuls because they tend to come in two flavors- decrepit ones with old men desperate for fresh recruits (examples include West London and most anywhere else in Europe) and ludicrously huge and affluent ones where the convo centers on who gave the most moolah to the renovation fund and where my perpetually hard-up self was as welcome as camel spit. But this place breaks new ground. Neither on the verge of bankruptcy nor filled with paper millionaires, they gather in European fashion to discuss myriad non shul related things and wrap up services in forty minutes. Head covering is optional. Pork chops may be purchased on premises.

Socializing

2007-05-02T17:28:00.001+01:00

Productive fellow, don'tcha think?

2007-04-25T21:06:00.001+01:00

I think so.

Go Stevie Ray

2007-04-21T19:52:00.000+01:00

Also known as "The Not Indicted", Steve Cohen is pushing for an official apology for slavery. Stevie Ray (the countriest Yid around) represents Memphis, which is around 60% Black so this won't hurt him. I got nothing against it mind you, but it won't give little kids fathers and nicer places to live. Still, it's nice in a limited sort of way.
Ironic, but nice.

Classify yourself right this instant!

2007-04-18T19:47:00.000+01:00

America is, in many ways, a very simple country and interacting with Americans is also dead easy. Fill in the blanks below. (Answers at the end of the post)

American: How are you?
You: (1)________________
American: That's (2)_________. Hey listen. I (3)_______________
You: What (4)________________?
American: I'll make sure you (5)_____________
You: (6)______________!
American: Cool. ________!

One reason this is so easy is because Americans love categories. New Yorker? Jew. Ohioan? Works at a steel mill. Black? Angry. Catholic? Repressed. Works at a steel mill? Football fan. Wears glasses? Nerd. And of course people love to subdivide further. Ohioan from Cleveland? Corrupt. Ohioan from Lucasville? Redneck. Jews are masters of subdivision. Hence, being interviewed by an American Jew (for the Galilee Fellowship btw) is an experience in a marathon session of non-communication.

"Hi S."
"Hi....ummm...ummmm...what's your name?"
"Zoran."
"Moron?"
"Zoooooooooooooooorannnnnnnnnnn."
"With a Z?"
"Aha."

Later....

"So would you say you are 10+ degrees kosher and attend the official synagogue of the list of officially approved synagogues?"
"Not exactly...."
"Is you is or is you ain't?"

Later....

"So how would you classify yourself on the 1001 degrees of Judaism scale, with 1 being willing to donate your entire life savings to the Israeli treasury and 1001 being exactly like me?"
"I'm more of a letters guy."
"So is that 567.293? I need to know right now within a 2 decimal point range of certitude."

I'm just no good at math...

1) Fine, good, or ok. No other answers will be heard. Attempts at other answers will be instantly ignored and will mark you as the guy who gives other answers and is to be avoided in the future.
2)Great, awesome, cool.
3)want you to do something for me/give me something.
4)Can I do for you... [Granted, you have no intention of doing anything for him, but play the game. If you don't see #1]...and what's in it for me?
5)Will get something you want. Unless I totally can't/won't do it.
6)Sounds great!
7)Catch you later (when I will want something else)!

Why vlogging may be overrated

2007-04-16T15:10:00.000+01:00

Some of you may remember my past attempt to start a vlog. However, allergies put a stop to that idea as I muttered about narcoleptically. Since then, I have came to the conclusion that vlogging may be overrated What do you think?

Guess the village of my weekend excursion

2007-04-07T10:22:00.000+01:00

The above is a map of Slovakia with the cities which supposedly have synagogues neatly, if misleadingly marked. I say misleadingly because, for example, this is ours. It's the favored type of Eastern European synagogue- namely, a deserted one.

Everysooften when the spirit hits me (which is pretty damned rare) I would like to show up at a synagogue. This is not an easy thing to do in Eastern/Mittel/whateverEurope where a classmate of mine once suggested that I can visit a cemetery on the Shabbat. (For the record, I declined.)

Anyhoo, I picked up the scent, so to speak, of a shul on the southern border. After two trains I arrived in a decidedly one horse town where the first and largest establishment to be seen was, of course the "Stein/Pivo/Sorozo". It was about 5 PM and just about time for men to file in for the amber refreshments.

The street where my elusive Hebraic destination was supposed to be was referred to, in email correspondence, as Ulica Partizanske. (Partisans Road.) MittelEurope, eversokeen on symbolism, loves renaming streets. You can take the countrys' temperature by seeing what the name of the local streets are. They change, in rapid fashion, catering to whatever political wind happens to be blowing at the time. You may find yourself on Freedom road in the morning, HitlerLuvsYou Blvd. at noon, Partisans Road in the afternoon and Freedom Road again at eventude. The address for the Temple was supposed to be Partizanske, but that has of course become Passe, and the street is now known as Ulica Zoltan Kodaly (I am rather pleased that they did not pick some pseudo-populist Anti-Semitic war hero/political leader/oligarch to name the sttreet after. Credit where credit is due.)

Anyway, Ulica Zoltan Kodaly petered out long before I could reach my supposed destiny. I mentioned this via email (cuz that's the kind of Jew I am) and they informed me that services are held in the "largest house of worship" (A Catholic Church) in town. Which sounds totally logical.

About tennish I made my way back up the dusty road, just in time to see the men file out of the Pivo/Stein/Sorozo and congregate around the bushes behind the bus station to relieve themselves while letting each other know that Joska bacsi will be there AGAIN tomorrow, so Feri is totally not missing out. They had this conversation five years ago and will have it again ten years from now.

I returned at two AM, after two equally exciting train rides that I nearly missed. I had initially considered a bus ride, but Slovak bus schedules give me the shakes. It is never just a bus schedule, but rather a conglomeration of excuses as to why buses will not run. A sample:

Hickville: 6:45 (f1), 7:50 (2-4), 8:55 (5, f2, f3), 10:45 (f2-f5, f20), 12:20 (N)

This corresponds to a series of codes listed in no special order at the bottom of the schedule. f1 may mean no service during Easter, f2 may mean no service during summer, f3 may be no service during...etc. What this boils down to is that if you come at the right time, none of the above buses will be running.

P.S.: I am listening to Tom Petty counseling me that I do not have to be a refugee. Do y'all agree or not?

Don't do me no favors old chap

2007-04-04T14:43:00.000+01:00

Am I the only one who thinks that presents just aren't the same these days? On a tangent, why hasn't Britain learned the art of chemistry yet?

The Indians are totally getting screwed. Again.

2007-04-03T19:57:00.001+01:00

Domain Name bia.edu ? (Educational)
IP Address 169.203.255.# (U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs)
ISP U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs
Location
Continent : North America
Country : United States (Facts)
State : New Mexico
City : Albuquerque
Lat/Long : 35.0757, -106.6406 (Map)
Language English (United States)
en-us
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How hookers, clowns and bad meat triumphed over Communism

2007-04-03T03:06:00.000+01:00

As Yael recently pointed out, teaching history is no longer in vague because it is oftentimes considered boring. Additionally, she reports, anti-Semitic Muslim students were offended by lessons on the Holocaust, which they believe never actually happened.

Now, as anyone who knows me can attest, I harbor a deep-seated fear of offending anti-Semitic Muslims. Hence, we're going to try and keep this short and, you know, inoffensive.

The Uni gave me a three-week vacation which I used to traipse around the neighborhood, starting off in Vienna and winding up, as of yesterday (or the day before? It's 4 AM) in Prague. Prague was perhaps the most intriguing and not only because they speak a language other than the Bad One in Vienna. Prague being in the Czech Republic uses Czech as the official language (shocking huh?) but is jammed with Americans. I have forgotten just exactly what I dislike the most about Americans and the brief conversations with the Prague contingent served as a good reminder.

"What's up?" (Vomiting)
"Not much. So what are you doing here?"
"Chillin'!"

I can't bear to transcribe any more.....retreating into my hermitude, I strolled across the Charles Bridge at night, which everyone should do at least once. Avoid the pickpockets.

Said pickpockets tend to be Gypsies (Roma if you're PC) and tend to be male. The womenfolk are more keen on prostitution. Guess how I know this.

No, not that way. Pervert. Rather, if you cross the Charles Bridge, you will, one way or another, find yourself staring at a yellow-green sign directing you to "the largest Irish pub in Prague". Located in District 1, this is the official start of Prague sleaze. (On a tangent, what east Europe needs is more Irish pubs. Alcohol is in short supply here.) It is in District One, under banners directing you to said Irish pub, that you will have to run the gauntlet of anorexic Roma hookers who, in solidarity with their Asian sisters, greet with cries of "Sucky, sucky?" There were two things I never understood about this set up- how any man would find these women- hard faces, gaunt bodies, interesting abrasions scattered about- the least bit attractive and how anybody could be drawn to cries of "Sucky, sucky"? Further, since you are at a main Prague thoroughfare, do you not die of shame even approaching these women?

Lurking nearby and keeping a watchful eye on the scene are African lads who, failing to follow the lead of the Budapest and Vienna brethren, skipped this whole "refugees seeking honest work" gambit and merely supervise. This would seem an additional disincentive, since these lads do not appear to be overly friendly and- if I may suggest- might be inclined to seek a bonus in addition to the standard hourly rate. (One fun gig in Budapest is to have fetching ladies buy you a drugged drink, watch you wake up and allow their special friend to march you off to the ATM for some extra compensation.)

Anyhoo, all of the foregoing takes place in the large shadow of McDonalds. We are talking about the biggest McDonalds ever- the supersized Donald. Donald takes up half a block and one entire floor of anotherwise dignified building which houses, on the second floor- and I am not making this up- the Museum of Communism. The Museum of Communism, which should really been seen (it's not far from the Charles Bridge) contains tons of delightful Soviet era knicknacks, like Babushka dolls dressed in red (of course.) Nobody really mentioned this, but the irony of it all is breathtaking. I recall one article where the man mentions that he became a capitalist for the sake of chocolate. This was mostly true- my family was big on orange smuggling, but to each their own. Communism didn't fail because people disagree with the ideas behind it but because people wanted a Big Mac. And hookers. So there. You don't learn stuff like this in school huh? (Tangentially, it is the biggest mystery to me that they have kept me for so long.)

Things I need to decide

2007-03-27T12:21:00.000+01:00

1. Ph.D. To get or not to get, that is the question? I lean to get.

2. To get where? Will American Unis recognize a Ph.D. earned at a European Uni?

3. To get how? Any cool fellowships on the horizon? I'm looking at Linguist List constantly. Should I be pestering others as well?

4. Should I stay or should I go? Benefits of staying: two, yes two consecutive years with a single employer. Agreeable slacker students/admin. Reliable pay and housing. Drawbacks: Imminent brain death. (Can something that has never been alive die? Philosophers take note.)

5. Should I go to...Commenters, fill in the blank. Super-duper job offers appreciated. I'm leaning to Africa, South America, Europe, N. America, Israel or India. Thoughts? Am I limiting myself geographically?

6. Super cool student activities to pass the time while waiting for tuition checks to clear. Where to find some for writing classes?

7. The fate of Peemil. Shall I go to Tasmania to investigate?

That's all for now.

Reflecting on the state of Hungarian education

2007-03-26T15:59:00.000+01:00

Email:

"Thank you for your article, to be published in the academic journal of (Super Prestigious Hungarian University). I do not wish to offend, but this article is not plagiarized from another source is it? I have to ask because we have discovered three instances of plagiarism by faculty in recent months."

Best political ad, ever*

2007-03-23T22:03:00.000Z

*please don't kill me.

Black Power! Oh...wait....

2007-03-10T10:32:00.000Z

.....not quite. But it felt good, nu? And a special appearance by Pat Buchanan. Who here does not think "Pat Buchanan" when they hear the phrase Black Power??

On a related note, I was offered a chance to teach business classes. Sure I have no business background but as I was informed, being Jewish means I don't need no experience, since "it's in your blood." Always look for hidden qualifications guys. You may be University President material and not even know it.

Pointless but amusing site of the day

2007-03-08T21:02:00.000Z

Who's the man? You're the man now, dawg.

Saudi education leaves much to be desired

2007-03-06T10:26:00.000Z

Hitching a ride on the mean streets of Riyadh

2007-03-05T18:58:00.000Z

I miss New York

2007-02-27T19:29:00.000Z

No question about it

I love nation-states

2007-02-27T10:39:00.000Z

One of my M.Ed. assignments was to create a webquest for students where they would use the internet to do educational exercises. In an uncharacteristic burst of academic effort, I decided to go beyond goat porn. (Great. Now I'll be able to see on the sitemeter how many people looked up Vices We Love in a search for hermaphrodic goat orgies.)

And so, instead of naked pictures of Condolezza Rice on a goat farm, I came up with Nation States, a great little program which offers issues of such complex nature as the rising divorce rate and the chance to implement excellent solutions such as:

"Divorce should be illegal. 'For better or worse,' anyone remember how that goes? We should return to the good old days, when you got married for life and stuck by your partner no matter how much of a drunken, abusive, adulterating disappointment they turned out to be."

No? How about...

"If couples would just call each other 'darling' once in a while, there would be far fewer relationship breakdowns. A little affection is all it takes. So the government should make it mandatory: call your spouse 'darling' at least once a day, or face a fine."

And finally, my pick....

"Abolish those arcane laws that discriminate against same-sex marriages. It's obscene to treat people differently because of their sexual preference."

Given how this game is structured, I fully expect to see something like "Gay couples from all over the galaxy come to Mipperotamia to get hitched in the Mipping chapel of love before they become intoxicated and beat each other to death with dildos. Mipperotamia's chief of police, Jay J. McJockey claims that dildo-inflicted wounds are responsible for the fact that Mipperotamia's homicide rate has quadrupled. "Them dildos sure are heavy-duty," said the chief before his untimely demise." I'll keep you bisexual goat porm addicts posted. Is Lynn from Texas still around? (Apropos nothing. It's not like I write "goat porn" and automatically think of Lynne from Texas.)

Eloquence

2007-02-25T18:13:00.000Z

I know many important things about me. Three of these things

are the most important. First is a beauty. I am so pretty.

Many men and women are interested in me. Then, I am so

intelligent. My psychologist made me psychological test and

my IQ is very high. Also, I am very friendly. I have many

friends all in the world. I get along well with other people.

I do not fight with other people. For these reasons, many

people love me. I think that I belong between perfect

people in the world. :o)

If you ever wanted to feel the author's terror....

2007-02-19T09:00:00.000Z

....leaping off the page as the words were written, check out this dandy corporate ransom note. Man, I wish my students could write with as much emotion.

My toothy Valentine

2007-02-18T22:03:00.000Z

A belated Valentine post from Vices We Love with special thanks to the incomparable Sandmonkey. He has once again enlightened me as to that special sort of romantic gesture only certain mufti's are capable of. And as a bonus feature, the comments discuss, so very appropriately, this must see gem of a movie.

Sandmonkey, I thank you. My mother thanks you. My father thanks you. Apes and pigs everywhere thank you. And I still want to woo your auntie.

Things not to do: throw your life away

2007-02-14T16:13:00.000Z

They just took J to the hospital with cancer. It's a recurrance. Odds are, I may not see him again. I have no feelings about this and that bothers me. Didn't I work with the guy for five months? Didn't I live right across the hall from him? Shouldn't I feel regret and sympathy? Maybe...but I don't and don't believe in faking it.

J is somewhere around 53. A typical EFL vagabond, he spent a year or three in the fleshpots of Thailand (that's Thighland in EFLese), ran out of dough and caught a flight up north. A charming enough fellow on the surface, he had a tendency to rag on and on about whatever subject pops into his mind. His beer intake was roughly a liter a day, with some whiskey and vodka to spice things up of course. I spent exactly one evening in his company, which ended when he nearly threw a shotglass at me and called me a sonofabitch. I tend to inspire that reaction in people.

In the five months that I have known him, J has complained endlessly and relentlessly about his surroundings, about the town, the students, the teachers and so forth in the grips of a sort of pedantic depression as he recounted the thousands of great opportunities that he had missed out on in his life and expounded on how great they were. It was almost like living in Harlem again, where numerous not-so-young men declared time and again that the reason they have been sitting on the stoop and collecting welfare for the past decade was because America is full of racist bastards who don't give them a chance. But J was worse. A White Christian American with two Masters degrees, he had all that this profession requires. (I had mentioned before that being white and spouting a few key phrases from old J.C. was all one needed to be set in EFL and I stand by that.) Hell, he had all that most people require since most are superficial bastards and only care about feeling comfortable around a person- competence is a secondary issue in most fields. But J decided to piss it away. Wandering from the oil fields of Louisiana to the sands of Oman and onto the bountiful whorehouses of southeast Asia, carrying his trusty bottle and tape recorder (which played some of the most goddamnawful zydeco music ever recorded.)

Nevertheless, out of desperation more than anything else, I asked him to take my classes for the two weeks I would spend munching pierogies. He agreed in his half-hearted way, and I paid him a week's wages upfront in a mix of currencies. I was not the least bit surprised, upon my return, to find an email from him about how ashamed he was that he had cancelled two days of class due to being ill. It was then that he told me about the cancer.

I knew nothing about it- it's a fucking awful disease but not one I know much about. The only choice I saw was to invite him over so we can talk and maybe grab dinner if he wished. I thought it was the humane thing to do. He looked worse than ever- rail thin with sunken eyes- and although I did not relish his company, I thought that I owed him at least that much. He thanked me for the invitations but did not take me up on it. I had considered knocking on his door to remind him but held back. Why? Was it his notorious sensitivity to noise? Was it because I sensed that he wanted to be alone? Was it because my sympathies competed with my dislike of his personality and did not want to be around him THAT much? After all, I am a notorious pest. Why wasn't I pestering him that night? Am I just plain bad?

I saw him again that same night as he entered the building ahead of me. His Southern accent more noticeable, J growled "I don't particularly want to talk to you" as a way of greeting while passing me by. Later still, while bringing up the laundry, I passed him again. His sunken eyes regarded me with a mix of hatred and astonishment that I have never quite seen before. Soon after that encounter, he banged on my door. Remembering my promise to him, I opened it and asked that he come in- he did not, calling me out to where the students were talking on the stairs, their voices carrying into the residences.

"I have to listen to this all night," he began again, on a running theme. I tried telling him that it was not THAT loud- that he should try to get some sleep. But the subject turned to myself. "I just wanted to tell you that you're a sonofabitch you know that? You're a fucking bastard." I excused myself at this point and ignored his knocks for the remainder of the evening. That was the last I saw of him until a few hours ago when the police broke down his door and carried him out crying to the hospital.

Not my idea of a grand finale.

Subliminally sublime

2007-02-10T19:43:00.000Z

The things I do when not blogging about you

2007-02-08T16:26:00.000Z

Okay, Masters degree time again. Two weeks of classes, eight hours of lectures a day, shared student housing, assignments, exams and the constant flow and odor of medicines all around me. (Science really is complicated. How anyone who has massacred so many brain cells can master these implements is beyond me.)

This set of courses are 1) techonology in the classroom and 2) curriculum design. Basically this means 1) making videos/powerpoints/slides/etc about OURSELVES [who loves us? We do] and 2) learning to keep Bible-thumpers out of the classroom. (Off tangent, I once worked for an alleged radio talk show host named Steve Feuerstein (a rich dilettante who pretended to be a journalist out of boredom) who interviewed Jerry Falwell while I was listening it. Fun times.

After tomorrow, I'll be 3/4th done with my M.Ed. We have started up a wiki discussing gay cows. Cuz we're professionals.

The government loves you....

2007-01-20T21:51:00.000Z

...and it's all for your best. Just accept it

that's an order

A new vlog: getting worse

2007-01-19T16:25:00.000Z

Stunning camera work, as you would expect, and a scintillating soundtrack are the hallmarks of this installment.

I like the cut of his jib

2007-01-16T21:41:00.000Z

Now here is an awesome letter of resignation.

Traubi Szoda- ode to a miserably wonderful time

2007-01-13T20:52:00.000Z

Back in the 80s the meaning of life and all that was good and decent in my world could be summed up in two little words: Traubi Szoda. It was this white grape/seltzer water mixture- basically a poor mans socialist Ginger Ale- that captured my heart. I drank it everywhere and took every excuse to do so with an obsession worthy of an obsessive like myself.

Then we packed up for the States, the Berlin Wall fell, Coca Cola appeared and Traubi was no more. I buried the memory like I did most else in my past, consigning it to the dustbin of history. Until tonight that is....

....having returned to Budapest for the weekend to bask in the company of people I can actually speak to in an actual city, I wondered about the Pest side of town, stopping by a grocer whose fridge carried....yes, the esteemed Traubi. It was not quite as I remembered- the bottle is smaller and the logo is jazzed up- but it was the same "bubbly refreshing grape drink" according to the manufacturer, its formula resurrected without changes. As is my habit, I turned the bottle around to look at the ingredients but stopped almost instantly, not wanting to spoil the reunion. Instead, I twisted off the pink cap, took a snootful of the grapey scent and poured the amber liquid down my throat.

......It was dreadful. A bitter, gummy, bubbly (truth in advertising) substance. I can still feel the acidic aftertaste. Damn it to hell. I want another one.

Make-benefit to the glorious blog of Vicetopia

2007-01-11T19:26:00.000Z

ISP Kazakhtelecom Data Network Administration
Location Continent : Asia
Country : Kazakhstan (Facts)
State/Region : West Kazakhstan
City : Karaganda
Lat/Long : 50.7167, 53.1167 (Map)

Time of Visit Jan 11 2007 9:36:59 am
Last Page View Jan 11 2007 9:37:53 am
Visit Length 54 seconds

Now Vlogging

2007-01-08T19:35:00.000Z

here ya go

The greatest lyrics ever heard

2007-01-02T20:18:00.000Z

"Ha szomoru az ember szive
jol esik egy vidam dal
Akar milyen hazug, ostoba nota
Megteszi ha vigasztal.

Ha beborul az eg folottunk
Es a barometer esore al
Jol esik azt hinni
Hogy van olyan primas aki csak nekunk muzikal.

En mondom, hulye a vilag es hulyek vagyunk mi
Higy becsapni mindig haggyuk magunkat
Mert olyan jo ha valaki hizeleg

En mondom, rovid az elet, hosszu a sir
Mindenki basszon amenyit bir, csak meg ne artson a tul sok elvezet

Ha szomoru az ember szive
jol esik egy vidam dal
Akar milyen hazug, ostoba nota
Megteszi ha vigasztal.

En mondom, hulye a vilag es hulyek vagyunk mi
Higy becsapni mindig haggyuk magunkat
Mert olyan jo ha valaki hizeleg

En mondom, legyen ez a dal a kozos dalunk,
Hogy esszunkbe vesse milyenek vagyunk
Es ne mondjuk azt hogy minden csak hegyre megy

Ha szomoru az ember szive
jol esik egy vidam dal
Akar milyen hazug, ostoba nota
Megteszi ha vigasztal.

Ha beborul az eg folottunk
Es a barometer esore al
Jol esik azt hinni
Hogy van olyan primas aki csak nekunk muzikal.

No, I'm not translating it. That's Noorster's gig.

A quick comparison

2007-01-02T11:40:00.000Z

I just got back from the Budapest-New York circuit and the best comparison between America and Europe are two conversations.

I. Overheard on a Budapest tram:
"Who is he?"
"Some fucking Jew."

II. Supermarket conversation in upstate New York:
Bagging person: "Awww are these presents?"
Me: "Yes."
Bp: "How nice. Are they Christmas or Hannukah presents?"
Me: "Oh you know, a little of both."
Bp: (noticeably dejected.) "Oh.....how nice. So, where are you from?"
Me: "Hungary but I've been here for eighteen years." (Sporadically.)
Bp: "Really? That's a long time."

Cartoons and photos

2006-12-06T13:29:00.000Z

I am almost done but grading looms. So instead of words of inspiration, find some cartoons for your....mmmm......perusal. Yeah. Perusal.

Pictures please

2006-12-02T10:35:00.000Z

I may have a contract to write something about Israel and they are asking for piccies. Send them if you want those images besmerched by being linked to my writing. Also, a list of Israeli colleges and Universities and their academic writing centers or English language prep programs would be niiiiiiice as Borat might say.

Sweet, sweet idiocy

2006-11-26T19:34:00.000Z

Politically-minded bloggers and visitors, help out this Poli Sci undergrad: my hypothesis is that he is a raging moron. Am I right? Or am I just correct?

Da boss is going, going.....

2006-11-26T10:46:00.000Z

I just found out a few days ago that my boss- who bears an uncanny resemblance to the cartoon here-is going back to Canada, undoubtedly so that he can catch some more yummy fish in Newfoundland, which, sources tell me, is about the only thing one can do in Newfoundland. This means that I must now con ANOTHER guy/gal into thinking I'm competent. Sigh.

From the 6th (!) Annual Miss Afro-Hungary beauty pageant

2006-11-25T17:35:00.000Z

A few weekends ago, after a chap informed me about this blessed event, I made the trek to Budapest's suburban 14th district. And what a sight for sore eyes it was.

Behold....

Hey, you....

2006-11-24T20:39:00.000Z

An important public service announcement

2006-11-22T20:37:00.000Z

Pictures of deserted synagogues, Madagascarian lemurs, and authoritarian statues coming soon. Until then, please be sure to protect your banana.

Closer to a triple X rating

2006-11-18T20:20:00.000Z

My laptop is alive! Alive I tell you! Many thanks to the fellows in IT for said miracle. Plum vodka awaits. Also, the big 2-9 is today. Celebrated by realizing that there are infinitely worse places and jobs for me than the current one which looks good until March '07 or so. (This means that my blog will become incredibly boring as opposed to my Korea days.)

My laptop is dead

2006-11-09T19:24:00.000Z

I consider this a bad thing. On the bright side, I did get published.

Check out Jewy McJewerson's latest exploits here.

I'm B-a-a-a-c-k

2006-11-06T22:58:00.000Z

And dirty. The building is going 0 for 2 in the washing machine department. If I weren't a bachelor I would go crazy. (-ier.)

If my computer doesn't die until then, I will tell you about the bedrock of Hungarian civilization tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Mi familia cont´d

2006-11-05T18:04:00.000Z

So am back in BP. A grey and rainy weekend spend among people I can actually quasi-understand. Clad in winter clothes and surrounded by a sort of nice warm fuzzy atmosphere. Time to get off the computer.

An ideal venue

2006-11-04T13:54:00.000Z

I have returned to Budapest for the weekend. The program, besides mx fam will be shopping at the Chinese market, eating at the Chinese market and generally making a pest of mysel- at the Chinese market....

Oh....

and attending the annual Miss Afro-Hungary beauty pageant. Pictures to follow. Not sonograms though. (I am an eternal quasi-optimist).

Satan is one sexy bitch?

2006-11-03T06:40:00.000Z

So presentation time again. To quote one:

"Today, I here to talk about Satanist. Satanist is religion, maybe...mmm...world's oldest religion. This {holding up pentagram} is Satanist symbol. Satanist people dress in black and cast ummm...spells on the not Satanist people. Their women dress in ummm sexy- sorry, sexy, so ummm very sexy outfit that is black also and very ummm tight around the body."

I did an image search for sexy satanists and this is what I got:
get thee behind me Satan

The Q and A session, or at least an excerpt:

"How do you know all this?"
"I know ummm many sexy people."

Alkeehal

2006-11-02T19:13:00.000Z

The pictures will be on tomorrow but first, ponder priorities:

Within three blocks of the Uni are five drinking holes and two restaurants.

Begin the picture show (with snarky comments)

2006-11-01T16:49:00.000Z

I am indebted to Noorster for calling the national bloggers contest to my attention. I couldn't sign up through their site but am with you in spirit. And so, starting tomorrow (this being a lazy kinda introductory post thingamajig), I will begin The Not Last Picture Show.

Can we all just say 'duh' and get it over with?

2006-10-28T20:37:00.000+01:00

Wonders never cease...

M.B.A.s: The Biggest Cheaters
MarketWatch
By Thomas Kostigen

Graduate business students take their cue from corporate scandals
(you think?)

The corporate scandals that have plagued Wall Street in recent history are setting a fine example for young students looking to make their mark in the business world: They are learning to cheat with the best of them.
(Totally what they need.)

Students seeking their masters of business administration degree admit cheating more than any other type of student, from law to liberal arts.
(You can say that again- and you did!)

"We have found that graduate students in general are cheating at an alarming rate and business-school students are cheating even more than others," concludes a study by the Academy of Management Learning and Education of 5,300 students in the U.S. and Canada.
(People do studies about this?)

Many of these students reportedly believe cheating is an accepted practice in business. More than half (56%) of M.B.A. candidates say they cheated in the past year. For the study, cheating was defined as plagiarizing, copying other students' work and bringing prohibited materials into exams.

"To us that means that business-school faculty and administrators must do something, because doing nothing simply reinforces the belief that high levels of cheating are commonplace and acceptable," say the authors of the academy report, Donald McCabe of Rutgers University, Kenneth Butterfield of Washington State University and Linda Klebe Trevino at Penn State University.
(They ARE doing something- they're letting everyone know that cheating works.)

However, what's holding many professors back from taking action on cheaters is the fear of litigation. To that end, the academic world is becoming much more like the business world where those who walk with a heavy legal stick can swat others out of the way; it may be time to impose a whistleblower statute for students and teachers.
(Alex P. Keating where are you?)

Yes, it seems to have come to that. With 54% of graduate engineering students, 50% of students in the physical sciences, 49% of medical and other health-care students, 45% of law students, 43% of graduate students in the arts and 39% of graduate students in the social sciences and humanities readily admitting to cheating, something must be done to correct course.
(Notice how the science and business guys- the ones who are the best paid and the most in demand- cheat the most? This sure sends me a message- I gotta write it down on my crib sheet so I don't forget.)

McCabe notes that many more students probably cheat than admit in the study. He and the others recommend a series of efforts based upon notions of ethical community-building be put into practice at the graduate-school level. The essence of an ethical community is that by doing wrong -- cheating in this case -- all of the stakeholders in the community are harmed, not just the wrongdoer.
(Lemme channel Middle America: "Socialist Scum!")

Curriculum and education go along with the community-building, so there is greater awareness of actions and ramifications as well.
(Commie!)

In the real business world efforts are being made to create greater transparency and show shareholders, for instance, that they are a community of stakeholders with a common vested interest. This should be obvious, but to many investors it isn't. Profit is achieved in a vacuum and the awareness of fellow shareholders (and their actions) is relatively nil.
(Ignorance, bliss, yadda yadda.)

Shareholder resolutions are items around which bands of investors can unite. But even while resolutions are on the rise only a minority of shareholders bother to vote on them.
(Excuse me. I seem to have forgotten giving a damn.)

In other words, shareholders, much like professors these days, largely choose to look the other way when it comes time to curb abuse. That is until after the fact when all those M.B.A.s get caught cheating in the real world.
(And even after that.)

Honor code

More has to be done to enforce ethical codes well before the bad act occurs. By then it is too late. Teaching graduate students that ethics matters in business should be a matter of course, not a direction to avoid.
(Business student: "If I give you $6,000 will I pass the ethics course?")

Faculty, the authors say, should "engage students in an ongoing dialogue about academic integrity that begins with recruiting, continues in orientation sessions and initiation ceremonies, and continues throughout the program." It may also include initiating an honor code, preferably one that emphasizes the promotion of integrity among students rather than the detection and punishment of dishonesty.
(Integrity? Honor? Yawn...)

Promote the good not the bad. Yet at the top of those companies most ensnared in ethical scandal sat a chief executive with an M.B.A.
(Show me the money!)

Graduate students in journalism weren't singled out in the study. Interestingly, however, last week Newsweek announced that it is teaming with Kaplan Inc., the education service provider, to offer an online business degree called Kaplan University/Newsweek MBA.
(Awesome. Plagarism should fit in nicely.)

Ethics in journalism meet ethics in business, and Styx be crossed.
(Dude, what are you smoking? 'Cuz I want some.)

Mr. Kostigen got paid to write this fresh new story. I can't believe it. In other news Greenland might get a bit chilly in January and you're advised not to go skinny-dipping in the Ganges.

Insight into the British mind

2006-10-27T19:21:00.000+01:00

So is this like sarcasm?

Asiatown for secretary of state

2006-10-23T21:31:00.000+01:00

Nationalism sucks rocks

2006-10-22T20:48:00.000+01:00

It's essay time again. But whereas my Polish students regaled me with tales of booze and extraterrestrial sex, my Slovakian pupils prefer to instruct me on what the Slovakian national meal is and why school is just too darn hard. I haven't the heart to post excerpts...perhaps this line will sum it up:

"School is hard for us, don't you think?"

Being a private Uni that the kids parents pay for (and pay LOTS), they have a certain vague notion that showing up is mighty gracious of them. But that's not the main problem- the main problem is that many essays read like "The Great Slovak Manifesto".

Slovakia only came into it's own about 15 years ago when they voted to secede from the Czech Republic (something the Czechs enthusiastically assented to, viewing their Slovak brethen pretty much the way San Diego views Tijuana) and like all new countries, especially ones who emerged from what they viewed as oppressors, Slovakia and many Slovakians are constantly telling me about how terrific Slovakia is. Now, the truth is, I like it here thus far, but this constant cheerleading reminds me of my former abode, the great state of Oklahoma, where license plates defiantly and minimalistly proclaimed that "Oklahoma is OK!" As slogans go this is somewhat akin to "Asiatown teacher only gets high on the weekends and hasn't impregnated a student at all today!" (Wordy?) Nice sentiments to be sure, but nothing to brag about. (Alabama's take on this sloganeering, "heart of Dixie" is even less ambitious- it's like proclaiming "Charles Manson puked here.")

I'm going to have to get used to all the mindless my-country-can-totally-kick-your-country-in-the-hiney nonsense though. As globalization (read- everyone must buy Coca-Cola or face being skinned alive in the Coca-Cola Stadium of Sham Democracy) goes further, people will try more and more to assert how frigging unique they are in the face of The McDonalds of Sameness. Since setting yourself apart through hard work and original ideas is just asking for too damn much, this uniqueness will be asserted through various my-country/God/race/hormonal imbalance-is-better-than-your-country/God/race/hormonal imbalance pissing matches. With tanks.

It's gonna be fun and profitable. But your Haliburton stocks now.

Where Asiatown discovers that he is totally in the wrong business

2006-10-16T19:47:00.000+01:00

I should be in politics. This realization came to me while I was reading this list of nicknames bestowed by G.W.

Consider Turd Blossom.
Reflect upon High Prophet, which is so laden with meaning I won't even get into it.

But the most fascinating fun fact is that 60,239,000 people voted for this man. This mean that 60.239 million people looked at him and said "That man is presidential timber." All this got me thinking. If I could just learn to cut some trees, say some New Testament prayers and bankrupt a few of my father's companies, I too could make it. But G.W. is more than that. He is a symbol, a human Rosarch test. To some people he is dumb and evil. To other's he is like old J.C. but way cooler. Consider the rumors that a significant portion of those 60.239 million voted for him because of his smile. Ponder that as we cross over to Slovakia....

....where we find, in a town located a mere sixty kilometers east of here, the distinguished mayor and possible presidential timber, Jan Slota. Known for, among other things, threatening to invade Budapest with tanks and drunkenly vomiting on patrons at a Bratislava restaurant, he is the pride, the gem of the region.

As for me, my writing is going well, and I must thank the gentleman who inspired me with the following reflection about his collegue:

"(He was) a ghost with a constant erection haunting a midlife crisis."

A few reasonably subtle words about my current situation

2006-10-07T18:27:00.000+01:00

Ever have those moments when you have a ton of things to say and can't get around to saying them? That's how I feel and my two books (which I am writing simultenously) are being held up because of this. Books tend to have these things called words. I gotta work on that.

In other news, I left behind my wee Hounslow flat for a two room apartment a few miles east- in north-central Slovakia. I was hired by an American University which shall remain nameless at this juncture as they seem upfront and competent and I have no reason to lambast them as yet. It's called an IEP or Intensive English Program and the idea is to prepare students (mostly Slovaks of course) to function in an English-speaking academic environment. In order to a) expand my horizons, b) keep one foot in the business world, c) rake up overtime and d) be super-helpful and indispensible, I have volunteered to teach some business courses as well and am waiting to see if they will take me up on it. (GAAP, here I come?!)

The contract is for a trimester, but I wouldn't mind sticking around until I complete the M.Ed. in July 2007. Of course if they do something like forget to pay me, all bets are off. After that (the M.Ed.), having decided that it will delay the real world and keep me from being forced to leave my home (wherever that home may be), I'm looking into a Ph.D., possibily in neuro-linguistics.

I am reminded of a lad named Terrance. Terrance and I went to the University of Memphis together- me for three years, him for twenty-three years. In that time, he racked up NUMEROUS undergraduate credits (not degrees) and had a nice life which I will never know how he managed to sustain. Still, I can't fault him for his choice of locations- Memphis is a cool town. Will I become another Terrance, stylish hat and funky overcoat billowing about my frame as I pursue life as an academic and a whoremonger? One can only hope. Said overcoat billowing will have to wait tho- it's unseasonably warm outside.

Interlude: Great moments in Humanity, Vol. I

2006-09-28T21:13:00.000+01:00

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

2006-09-25T09:28:00.000+01:00

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

2006-09-17T19:03:00.000+01:00

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

2006-09-16T16:17:00.000+01:00

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

2006-09-12T13:09:00.000+01:00

I met a girl. Lets hope she is legal.

Envy is totally awesome

2006-09-12T11:32:00.000+01:00

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

2006-09-09T15:52:00.000+01:00

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....

2006-09-07T16:09:00.000+01:00

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

2006-09-04T22:45:00.000+01:00

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

Poop on your head

2006-09-02T22:50:00.000+01:00

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.

The International Symposium on Circumcision, Genital Integrity and Human Rights

2006-08-31T20:00:00.000+01:00

It really exists.

How delightfully understated

2006-08-31T16:17:00.000+01:00

From Techshoret, a group of Israeli technical writers:

"Due to a scheduling conflict (with the opening day of school...which was
postponed due to the war)...we've decided to move the Word Macros course to
Tuesday, September 19. For more information, please contact..."

As for the queries about the pictures- here is the deal. I'm talking with the company Educational Testing Service and they are looking for people in a wide variety of jobs who can perform simple or complicated, but always interesting tasks. There may be payment involved but don't hold me to that yet. If nothing else, you'll get to meet me and will be able to tell the FBI that you have done so. That's 25K right there.

Taking pictures (no, not that kind)

2006-08-29T21:08:00.000+01:00

Announcement: Hear ye, hear ye!

Asiatown, the man, the myth, the m(something) has been retained by a world-famous publisher of EFL books to take pictures of people in various stages of work. Bring me your photocopiers, your phone picker-uppers, your teachers, doctors, lawyers, Indian chiefs. Lend me your ears and badges. Women are especially welcome, not for any perverse reasons but simply because the company would like to have more members of the fairer sex represented in its publications.

Therefore, if you are employed, live in Greater London and want to meet the world-famous Asiatown (and face it, who doesn't?)-and appear in a textbook to further the miseducation of Third World-ers, drop me a line. I have a contract and tons of contact info to prove that this is totally legit. I even have some pictures so you can see what this is all about.

Write me if you want to be featured in work-related poses, live in Greater London and don't mind a pic or five. Yes, yes, I will send you copies. So, to channel Marie Antoinette, drop me a line today, and I may just bring cake.

Must read

2006-08-26T17:48:00.000+01:00

Just a note. read this now.

Men

2006-08-26T14:56:00.000+01:00

I have often thought of putting and on craigslist where I pretended to be a woman, just so that I can revel in the depravity I know Y chromosone-carriers to be capable of. Thankfully, over at Smearm, a friend already beat me to it.

In other news, I joined Free Republic a few weeks ago just to see if American conservatives live up to their ogre stereotype. Yes. Yes, they do. Before I was banned for being a "troll", I was involved in this conversation. You really can learn wonderful things on the internet. For instance, a brief search of this literate gentleman's postings reveals the following little ditty: "You ain't seen nothing until you're down on a muffin and you're sure to be changin' your ways."

Which is as good a seagueway as anything else into my new freelance writing assignment. No, not the love letter in my last post-although I did send it to a humor mag for consideration- but rather the British mag Kinkk, which commissioned me to write an article about professional female submissives. A full report will follow.

A love letter

2006-08-26T14:32:00.000+01:00

Dear Condee:

Hellooooo! Hellloooo! Over hereeeeeeeeee! No, no, hereeeee! Next to the Tae-dong's, a little lower, a little lower...oh not that low! You make me blush like a schoolboy! Tee-hee!
But seriously Condee, I gotta tell you one thing: I'm in love. I can see you lick your lips, so luscious and yet oy so skeptical. Won't you listen to me?
This dictator thing I do, it...it was all Daddy's idea. It's not the real me. Sure, somedays its fun, like the times when the press calls me a hero and "a peerlessly great man" or eve "God-king", but it's not the real me. I'm an average guy who likes to look after his petunias, hike in the mountains and eat quality beef. Just like my fellow North Koreans you know: except for the beef part. Can you send them some?
I even have personal and family struggles. Did you know that my boy, Kim Jong-Nam, was arrested at Narita Airport in Tokyo for traveling on a forged passport when he wanted to see Tokyo Disneyland? Boy that was an embarrassment! Now, you may think that I dealt with the situation by having my boy, my own precious flesh and blood, shot for making me lose face. Condee! Is that how you see me? Some bloodthirsty monster? Of course not. We went for counseling, just like any other family. Dr. Sung taught us to communicate more openly so that we can share our hopes and dreams and yes, fears and dissapointments. You should see the letters Jongy sends me from the slave labor camp! Such a joy that precious child.
But again, let us talk about you. So strong, yet so sensual. When you open your mouth just a little bit and I hear the words "Axis of Evil" roll off your tongue, I can't help but smile. Yet you, you never smile. Why just the other day, when that man, Chris Matthews, asked on the television if you thought I was sane, you said "I don't know. I've never met the man." And it's true- you and I have never met. There is so much we could do when we do meet. I can offer you some kimchi, maybe we can listen to some music on the radio (please bring a radio) and maybe even canoodle. He-he. But you're not just some sex object to me Condi. Far from it You're a woman of grace, strength and beauty that just radiates from your essence. Perhaps the three of us- you, me and your American passport- could get to know each other better. Please say you'll visit soon. Winter is coming....

Yours with love and passion
God-King the humble

Calling out the New Jersey State Treasurer

2006-08-22T20:33:00.000+01:00

I checked sitemeter and who should visit but the NJ treasurer's office. Which is odd because once upon a time, when I was working on political campaigns in NYC, I got a call from a confused gentleman who, it seemed, wanted to run for either Jersey Governor or Jersey Assembly-he was not sure which. A Republican who supported abortion, gay marriage, and opposed the patriot act and Iraq, the lad believed that he had a lock on the "black and the Spanish vote"- a good thing too, since, in his estimation "that's all you need". It was to be his first campaign-he was an unemployed contractor.

I bring this all up because I just know that a fellow of such political acumen and mathematical genius surely works at the NJ treasurers office by now and was checking out the blog. Howya doin' Tony?

How I didn't open a bank account and almost got married on the same day

2006-08-21T14:47:00.000+01:00

I live in Hounslow, a suburb in West London. It's probably the most exclusive place I ever lived in. We're talking municipal services here people. And running water. But I digress...

The area is bounded by Osterley Park to the east and the downtown square to the west. It's predominantly Shik Indian so curry is a staple. One of the things you'll find in the UK that's rare in the US is that people generally get along and every so often may even speak to each other. This is huge. Am I right?
Since I just finished the summer camp, I (and this never happens in EFL) got paid for it. What to do with the check tho? I haven't a UK bank account, so I set out to open one.

A Ghanian neighbor of mine, an 11-year veteran of the U.K. advised me to go to the banks with my papers and ask that they open an account for me with an overdraft limit of 1000 pounds. Alfie argued that UK banks, contrary to every other bank in the universe, will gladly open an overdraft account on the spot, allowing me to waltz out with 1000 pounds the same day. This was a new concept at HSBC, National, Bank of Scotland and other establishments and they declined the proposal. Not only that, but they wouldn't even open an account for me, in spite of my passport and rental contract. What to do?

I know! Troll for women. It didn't take long. Jamaican lass- how did I know she was Jamaican? Maybe the cap with the national flag on it and the accent. I asked, in my sweetest European demeanor, if she could help. Sure she could. So off to Western Union we went. Along the way, the two of us became surprisingly intimate. This is quite rare for me and is a definite point in the U.K.'s favor. After three weeks on my own (post-summer camp and supervision), I have several phone numbers from women who are, as we speak, changing their numbers. Still, I have those numbers. It's what matters, nu?

After exploring each other in ways only Desiree could describe adequately,(hint: She actually uttered the phrase "you are being bad") my new friend invited me to her bungalow in a neighborhood adjecent to mine. She had a sister.....

....no this is not what you think. But she did have a sister who already sunk her lovely claws into a lad of Lithuanian extraction and so the four of us got to chatting. Turns out that these ladies are members of the Mormon church. The sister took the lead in socializing with me. Now, I know Mormon's liked to recruit new members, but did not know they were so dedicated. Or...well, the conversation follows.

JG's BLS (Jamaican Gal's Better Looking Sister): (loudly, each syllable excruciatingly enunciated) DO YOU GO TO CHURCH?

TM (Typical Male): No.
JG's BLS: (Eyes wide): NO?!!!!
TM: Nope.
JG's BLS: ARE YOU A VIRGIN?
TM: No.
JG's BLS: OHHHHHH YOU ARE BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD.
TM: Yup.
JG'S BLS: SO YOU HAD THE SEX???????????
TM: Aha.
JG's BLS: YOU ARE COMING TO CHURCH ON SUNDAY.
TM: Probably not.
JG's BLS: OH YOU AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEE COMING.

This was not the only bone-chilling chat I had that day.

JG: So this is where I live.
TM: Nice.
JG: And you can move into this room here. (Pointing to adjacent bedroom.)
TM: Huh. You don't say.

I wonder if moving into that room without the benefit of marriage would be BAAAAD.

Michael has returned from Lebanon

2006-08-20T19:18:00.000+01:00

News came that Michael has returned from Lebanon. Speaking of Lebanon, Yael reports that the civilians there are profoundly thankful to be rid of Hizbullah's oppressive yoke and are ready to revel in their fuzzy, warm democracy.

Finally a little charity where it counts

2006-08-17T23:15:00.000+01:00

Words fail me. Again.

Aug. 17, 2006 10:38
Sandler donates Playstations to Israel
By NATHAN BURSTEIN

Adam Sandler is doing his part to help Israel following its 34-day war with Lebanon. The 50 First Dates star announced earlier this week he would donate 400 Sony Playstations to Israelis whose homes were damaged in the fighting. The 39-year-old made the pledge during a meeting in Hollywood with Ehud Danoch, Israel's consul general in Los Angeles.

Danoch, who has cultivated relationships with a number of film industry insiders, held several meetings with actors, producers and directors over the last several days to describe damage sustained by Israel and to explain the country's position on the current cease-fire and threats posed by Hizbullah and other regional forces. Sandler spoke with Danoch at Sony Studios, where he was joined by members of his own family and several dozen studio employees.

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Wonderful. Just what the people of Israel need the most.

But can it do the chicken dance?

2006-08-17T20:56:00.000+01:00

We at Vices We Love aim to bring you the latest, the greatest, the most informative information out there. And so it that we have discovered the Holy Grail humanity has been craving all along. We thank you. Our forefathers thank you. Our (hopefully) not-yet born offspring thank you.

Look to the right...a little lower...a little lower...that's it....

2006-08-17T20:26:00.000+01:00

Oy, we're not going to start haggling, are we?

Gunboat Granola

2006-08-15T08:40:00.000+01:00

A couple of years ago- 3 of them to be exact- I was invited on a trip to Israel by a group called Birthright Israel . My Harlem landlord, an elderly black gentleman who referred to me as "my Schwartze grandson" and often talked about his mother "cleaning the railway cars with Polish Jews" took charge of the matter and offered to lend me his old navy blue bullet-proof vest. (He is a landlord in New York for goodness sakes). I turned him down, went over there and had a fine time, interrupted only by my religiously tone-deaf musings on how a ham sandwhich would hit the spot.

Anyhoo, the trip was guided by a couple of Israelis including an American-born lad named Michael. He lived on a moshav (farming community) and...well just look at his picture to get an idea for why I picked the post title. Somehow the idea of Michael armed to the teeth is a bit incogrous. I'm posting it just for that reason- it would somehow humanize the term IDF.

I figured that logo needed humanizing because a few weeks ago I was up in York and had the good fortune (from an anthropological point of view) to attend an "anti-war" rally.
I am not the rallying sort. The only time I showed up for one was when the Ku Klux Klan decided to bring their retro tour to Memphis. It pissed me off to no end because after all they did in the south they had no business showing up unless they did so in closed caskets. Anyway, that's my total rallying experience. In New York, a group of overfed white kids named ANSWER regularly tried to incite Harlemites into taking up their cause, whatever that cause may be. (As many leftists, they were terribly upset but could never cogently articulate why.) I passed but heard some pretty awesome speeches about pigs and occupiers and whatnot. Never once did I hear, for example, about fellows like the lad I met one Shabbat. We were sitting on the stairwell of his grandma's home in New York when he turned to me and asked, rather sweetly:

"Want to see my eye?"
"What???"
"I can take out my eye and show to you."
"Please don't. And why?"
"I'm from Rann'anna. You know about the bomb?" (A bus station was blow up there.)
"Aha."
"The shrapnel hit me in the eye. Wanna see?"
He was grinning the whole time like it was the coolest thing ever.

Which brings us to my newest favorite blog, that of the The Sandmonkey. For a taster, those nice ladies in York should read this little gem. A heartwarming tale about a freedom fighter, a simple man who just wants peace, freedom and harmony. And really big guns.

We close with news from the Far East. To celebrate my possible return to the Far East, lets take a peek at this heartwarming little video.

Bye-bye Holy Joe

2006-08-09T09:50:00.000+01:00

So Joe Lieberman, the so-called 'conscience of the Senate' and opportunist par excellence, a self-professed Orthodox Jew who didn't wear a yarmulke, the man who slammed violent movies and took millions from Hollywood is gone. *tear*

He is gone mostly because he supported the war in Iraq- and we all know how well THAT's going. (Disclaimer: I wanted revenge for 9-11 too, but would have preferred bombing Syria-which trains terrorists-or Saudi Arabia, which supplies them. Although I should probably watch my words since I just applied for a University post in Syria. Hmmm.....)

They....can't....read

2006-08-07T22:08:00.000+01:00

So you spend hours on your CV. You run it by dozens of people. Proofread like a mofo. And then you send it off. In the CV you make crystal clear that your M.Ed. studies are through distance and you are available full-time because of this. The best of both worlds- you have pretensions to education but can still do slave labor. Cool!

So you go to the interview.

"The M.Ed. program....." asks the thoughtful baboon...
"Yes....."
"So, you gave that up?"

DIE.

Anyway, since my cv is for illiterates anyhoo, let's have some fun:

PERPETUAL WANKER
123 Skid Row, Box #4
Contact via Police Dispatcher

Career Objective:
Filthy lucre and fornication

Education:
School of Hard Knocks
Knockology B.A.
Steeltown, Anyplace
1.2 GPA (diploma due upon receipt of payment)

Experience:
Grab the Shovel Son Ltd., Industrial Zone, Poorville
In Perpetuity

Instrumental in watching others grab the shovel.
Supervised complex digging procedures.

Hold Your Nose and Mine Too, Profitstown, D.C.
In a Dream

Grand Theft
Extortion
Infidelity
Cooking white powder
Remonstrating for morals

Moocher-rama, Homeytown
During Repressed Memories

Eating
Sleeping
Emissions

Skills:
I gotz skills

Extracurricular Activities:
I plead the Fifth

See? Took all of five seconds.

Rejection letter from an editor

2006-08-02T13:16:00.000+01:00

Im sorry your CV doesn’t match what our clients are looking for at this time, good luck in your job search

Finally what you always wanted

2006-08-01T19:37:00.000+01:00

By my counting, (or Blogger's anyhoo) 7252 people visited this site since its inception.

G-D DAMN, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?

Never mind. Because after thirteen months of morose navel-gazing, your reward has arrived.

I

HAVE

WRITTEN

AN E-BOOK.

Actually at 7 pages it is more of an e-pamphlet but who is counting, yes? Now, the laws of capitalism dictate that instead of unleashing this gem on one and all, I must recieve moolah. And after much consideration, and looking at the fancy font I used, I settled on a price of...

5 Whatchamacallits.

That's it. 5 Whatchamacallits. Call it dollars, euros, pounds, whathaveyou, 5 of them is all I ask for. So how will this work? Well, I set up an alternate email addy, huefl @ yahoo.com which is where you should send the 5 Whatchamacallits via Paypal. Once that his done, you are in receipt of the most adacious book (pamphlet!) of literature ever not plagerized. (How could someone with my style plagerize for fucks sake, when I can't even spell that word?)

So you know...get on it.

the Belles of the Ball

2006-07-31T08:19:00.000+01:00

I can honestly say my heels were killing me.

Lebanon explained

2006-07-30T09:04:00.000+01:00

Hezballah: poke-poke-poke
Israel: Cut it out!
Hezballah: poke-poke-poke
Israel: I'm serious, cut it out!
Hezballah: poke-poke-poke
[Israel hits Hezballah]
Hezballah to UN: Mom! He hit me!
UN: Stop whining. I have other things to deal with.
Iran: (whispering) don't worry, uncle is here.
Hezballah: Poke-poke-poke
[Israel slaps Hezballah again]
Hezballah: You wanna piece of me? Come and get it.
USA: Stop that fighting back there! Hezballah, try to stop poking, OK? You're bothering your mum. And you, Israel, keep your hands to yourself.
Israel: Yes, dad.
Hezballah: poke-poke-poke
[Israel slaps Hezballah again]
Hezballah: Mom! He hit me again!
UN [distracted]: mm hmm
Iran: heres a quarter, keep it up.
Hezballah: poke-poke-poke
[Israel beats Hezballah to a bloody pulp]
Hezballah, touching his nose and then staring at the blood: Oh Sh*t! What did you do that for?

My homie ain't got a ride or no loot

2006-07-10T15:42:00.000+01:00

I have no idea whatsoever what that subject line means but that song has been playing on a loop for about fifteen minutes now. I'm at a computer terminal inside Queen Ethelburga's College (seriously) in the boonies outside of York, England, where I'm teaching a 3 week summer camp. Since it's summer camp and three weeks is no long enough to get boring, it's passing by fairly well so far (on day 3 as we speak). As always, the fun part will be wether or not I'll get paid. The wages are a princely 225 pounds per week, which they have the gall to tax but the food (which is not bad) and the housing (which, after Korea and Poland, is downright majestic) are both free. Plus we're way out in the sticks so there is no place to go and nothing to buy. Think of it as a high-class interment camp. And best of all--there will be Koreans!

Yes! Starting next week, legions of kimchi-stained youth whose worldview extends as far as Dokdo, will descend upon the masses to pull their armhair and poke their bottoms. Not mine however. Oh no....

I'm teaching hormonal Italian and French teenagers. Anyhoo, camp goes until the end of the month and then I will try for another camp or maybe even a respectable job. If there is such a thing.

I am learning heaps about the most quintessential of all English traits, namely looking down on others. York and Leeds are in the north of England an area viewed by those down south as an economic and cultural wasteland populated by drunken incestous unemployed men with bad hair. Clearly those who hold this opinion have never been to Arkansas.

On another note, I am glad to see Ari has introduced himself to readers of this fine piece of literature. He, in turn, may be either glad or disturbed to know that my acting skills are being put to use at tonights' talent show where I have been selected to perform as a cross-dresser. Pictures will follow.

Taking a pierogi break

2006-07-01T21:07:00.000+01:00

Finished classes and slept about 12 hours. The train for Budapest leaves at the super-convenient time of 1:17 A.M. This means I'll be hanging out with the local homeless population and will have such stimulating conversations as:

HGWS (Homeless Guy With Shoes): Czesch, czesch. (Hello, hello.)
AHB (Autistic Hungarian Boy): Czesch. (Insert insincere smile.)
HGWS: English?
AHB: Hungarian. English little.
HGWS: Oh! (Big toothless smile.) Magyar!
AHB: Uh huh.
HGWS: (Stands there with said smile, trying to think up ways to hit me up for dough.)
AHB: (Stands there uneasy and guilt-ridden beneath super anti-social exterior.)
HGWS: My friend. Meet my friend.
HGW/OS (Homeless Guy Without Shoes): (Ambles over. Slowly.)
HGWS: (Pointing a finger in my general direction. Finger is a bit shaky due to alcohol consumption.) Magyar!
HGW/OS: Oh Magyar!

I can honestly say that I have about as much zlotys as they do, thanks to the amazing non-paying work-study job I found myself with during the last four months. Since the director of the Uni (a wisened Priestly sort) does not speak English and his chief bootlicker/assistant only speaks it when convenient, I have been unloading my tales of woe on a Polish-American lad who set up the program in the first place. We have an amazingly opportunistic relationship where he sometimes likes me and sometimes hates me, depending on his immediate goals. Currently we have an excellent fight brewing over wether my tuition will be paid as it is supposed to be under the bilingual contracts I signed. For the last four months I lived on an average income of 300 dollars per month (about 4 dollars/teaching hour) all because of the notion of a fully subsidized M.Ed. (The tuition is $1250.) At first the Uni offered to pay half. We are now up to 75%. Within time, they will surely promise 100%. Me and the lad have conversations which go like this:

PO'D&UP'd (Pissed off and underpaid): So did you guys pay the tuition?
MNLYTF (Me no like you today fella): Well the thing is...
PO'D&UP'd (Now displaying his renowned social skills): Yes or no?

Onto the good news. I am officially halfway through my M.Ed. Of course when asking about grades, the Profs took the non-committal approach, having been warned of my propensity of starting every conversation with "But if I remember correctly, you promised that...." Still, I have my fingers crossed until they are every bit as twisted as the rest of me.

Even better, the class titled "Special Education in the regular classroom" is over. For someone whose mother regularly threatened him with being institutionalized, this is excellent news. When in BP, I must find a girlfriend with a Psychology degree.

Introduce yourselves while I'm away

2006-06-21T20:56:00.000+01:00

I'm in classes until the end of the month and resolve to be a post-free scholarly wanker. That said, feel free to introduce yourselves in the comments section if you've been lurking.

This is very confusing for me

2006-06-18T21:01:00.000+01:00

From my Yahoo inbox:

Subject: Invitation to join the HearFarrakhanForYourself group

This invitation expires in 30 days. Sunday, 18 June 2006 - 3:48 PM GMT

yahyaawaahid1397@yahoo.com has invited you to join the HearFarrakhanForYourself group!

In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful.

Shalom Aleichem/Peace be unto you.

*You are invited to join this group to hear the life-giving Teachings of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad, as taught by the Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan, the National Representative of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad and the Lost-Found Nation of Islam in the West (also known as the Nation of Islam.) The Lost-Found Nation of Islam in the West believes "that Allah (God) appeared in the Person of Master W. Fard Muhammad, July, 1930; the long-awaited 'Messiah' of the Christians and the 'Mahdi' of the Muslims.

"We believe further and lastly that Allah is God and besides HIM there is no god and He will bring about a universal government of peace wherein we all can live in peace together."

At this group, you can hear the Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan first-hand, free of any possible second-hand error, or misrepresentation. If you have never heard him for yourself, and you would like to hear him, join this group and you will, God-Willing, learn the Truth about him and gain the benefit that his words can provide.

Thank you for your attention.

Shalom Aleichem/Peace be unto you.

*I am not a member of the Nation of Islam, but I do see Brother Farrakhan as the Brother of the righteous, and more than that.

Take a memo

2006-06-15T19:55:00.000+01:00

To: God, Yahweh, etc.
Cc: Satan, Language School Owner, etc.
Bcc: Various rich and amoral people who can buy off the aforementioned
Subject: The FUTURE

Hey there:

Not that I believe in, trust, or even like you, but I suppose that after 28 years we should have a chat. Early attempts to touch base have proven unsuccessful. Perhaps this one is doomed as well, but since I seem to have some skill at writing, maybe I should give it a try.

My wants are simple. I don't recall ever pestering you to become a 6 foot tall millionaire with artifically whitened teeth and a picture-perfect blonde, tanned wife with artificially enhanced hooters. Nor have I asked you to make me king of the underworld, Mr. Universe, or president of Colombia. I sort of felt that the basics- like say reasonably good health and a physically/emotionally whole family would be the sort of every day stuff you were used to. I suppose not. I must say this discovery lowered my opinion of you considerably, but it's water under the bridge right? So let us get down to the business of today and tomorrow and, if I am really lucky, Saturday.

Firstly, don't let me grow old. Fifty is cool. You're old enough to know better but young enough to still be able to fuck things up. Sixty is nice. Preparing for the sunset and whatnot. Good times. Seventy can be okay, assuming you are whole, physically and mentally. Seventy in a wheelchair or with Alzheimer's does not appeal however. Eighty is sorta pushing it, even in the best case scenario. But nonetheless, I am willing to tolerate that grim milestone. Ninety however is a no-no. Don't fuck with that shit. Imagine ninety: You can't move. You can't get it up anymore (unless you're a Texas oilman). Can't think. Can't remember...
Where was I? Hmmm...isolated. If lucky, you sit around all day, watching Colombo with a steady stream of phone calls which, as days pass by, become fewer in number. If not, you're sodomized in a nursing home with a plunger paid for by your steadfastly evaded tax dollars. Pass, okay?

Second, and despite what the spoiled rich white kids who angled legacy scholarships into Columbia and started up groups like the International Socialist Movement, poverty is not cool. It just isn't. If it were, those kids at Columbia would drop out and move into some tent city in the subway tunnel. Do they? I rest my case. Poverty is REALLY not cool if you don't spend your means on pleasures like dope and hookers. If you did, at least you would have something tangible to show for your poverty. But as is, what can you say? "I spent two dollars yesterday and I'm gonna cry."? Nah.

Third, and this is not new, my opinion of people is in a free-fall and has been since I was old enough to be an opinionated little shit. However, you seem to assume that the cause is my ornery Jewness. It is not. It is that PEOPLE ARE SHIT. The examples of their shittiness are simply too numerous to mention and are often not the sort that you can understand- often, people are shitty out of the gratiutous knowledge that THEY CAN BE. This has to change.

I think that kind of covers the basics. If you can make me thirty pounds lighter, six inches taller and slightly less autistic that would be cool but if not, I can probably spin them into assets. Who doesn't want to hang out with Danny DeVito on acid?

Toodles,
A

The Asiatown Summer Tour

2006-06-10T14:11:00.000+01:00