Archive for July, 2011

Stickmum Bangkok

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , on July 8, 2011 by สะพานลอย

In a recent column a few weeks back that featured “the lovely Jeab”, Stickman’s quote of the week came from his own mother, whom he had apparently brought to Tilac on Soi Cowboy for an evening of fun. There, in the squalor of a third-world strip bar, she asked him if he ever “bar fines” the young women who danced for their pleasure. At first, Saphan Loy was going to let this pass, thinking that his admission was maybe a joke or meant to illustrate how “progressive” his mother is. But as we ruminated on the subject (and ruminate is often the operative word here), it became clearer that this was an inherently sad admission for the Stick to make. What’s more, it calls into question the very faculty of reason that is often the first to go after long-term exposure to the red-light districts of Thailand.

Saphan Loy finds it extremely taxing to simply shepherd his own mother to Sunday mass from time to time. It is therefore beyond my abilities to imagine a scenario whereby I would take her to anything that even resembles a bar, let alone a Bangkok bar. A bingo hall, maybe. But even that’s a stretch.

An elderly woman enjoys the nightlife.

What is most sad about the apparent admission is that it indicates that perhaps his mother would like to have a meaningful relationship with the Stick, but his years of brothel reportage have impeded that relationship or degraded it to a point whereby they are unable to talk about anything other than Thai brothels. So, in the end, desperate to maintain a relationship with her son, she joins him on one of his outings to his favourite watering hole. But in the course of conversation, the Stickman felt pressured and aggravated by his mother’s questioning of his sex life. If he doesn’t bar fine these girls, what exactly is he doing in the red-light districts? There is a certain saying about a mother’s intuition, which is often spooky in its perception.

While Saphan Loy has heard of men bringing their wives to the red-light districts, and let’s face it, women can be just as curious as men in this area, we have never heard of anyone bringing their own mother to Soi Cowboy. This week’s poll, therefore, is centered around this question: Would you ever consider bringing your own mother to Soi Cowboy or Nana Plaza?

The poll is designed to determine who among you would be willing to bring your mother (of course if she is still among the living) into a brothel/bar in Bangkok. Please don’t be shy: we are all adults here.

 

The View from Above

The Internet: A Penny Arcade of Perversity

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 5, 2011 by สะพานลอย

The red light blogosphere has fallen into a state of disrepair much like the about-to-be demolished Washington Square: that anachronistic and motley assembly of cheap bars that once was home to the Vietnam War veteran hold-outs who never got the hint and went home to Dubuque or Paducah, and bar stool type-writers like Dean Barrett, who clung to cheap memories, bad food, stale beer, war trauma, and an occasional out-to-pasture Thai prostitute, and watched from the dim confines of a bar while the late tropical afternoons slipped by one after the other in some kind of sordid calendar of depravity. In reality, Washington Square has been nothing more than a toxic dumpster for the past twenty years, if not longer. At the very least.

The reality of the Internet has been equally depressing this past week for Saphan Loy, who has found no inspiration in the usual places. This happens from time to time, as we begin to understand that the red-light blogosphere is filled with perversity, lunacy and moronic content cobbled together by freaks palsied by drugs and drink. Any Tom, Dick or Harry can set up an email account and create a rudimentary blog whereby they can express semi-literate and poorly formed ideas, typed up in half-assed unpunctuated prose, then transmit them around the world with all of the authority of the village idiot, whose formal education is comprised merely of the number of hours they have spent on their favourite bar stool, their factoids gleaned not from books and university studies, but from other alcoholics, perverts, sex tourists and misfits. And so it is with the red light blogosphere of Thailand, where increasingly the subject matter has devolved into a nothingness, including micro-penises and the like, that is becoming increasingly intolerable: a source of grave mental retardation and little in the way of entertainment. Excepting, of course, the highly depressing car-crash that is Jimmy Smithers, the landscape of the Thai blogosphere is as blighted as ever and does not promise to improve any time soon.

An early version of the Internet.

Some examples follow. Stickman Bangkok, the website that produces pointless gossip about the red light districts of Thailand, is now essentially unreadable. Each week when his column is produced, we can no longer read it in its entirety, because they are nearly all identical. Instead, we quickly scan the block of text and antiquated banner advertisements for anything that approaches something of interest. Occasionally, we’ll click one of the links to the better-written  professional mainstream articles that he links to. It is sadly time for him to pack up the laptop and go gently into that good night, and see what kind of life he might be able to salvage in New Zealand before he gets too old to find a more productive and potentially honourable career. Although of course we remain interested in whatever blather the TEFL International clown has to say if only because it is so totally offensive.

Sukhumvit Psycho. Jimmy Smithers tells me that on more than one occasion, he has contacted the “guest friendly” hotels that Sukhumvit Psycho has endorsed, enquiring about both the feasibility of bringing two ladyboys into his room, but also to find out about their pet policies, for some odd reasons that must be entirely his own. He even posted on the Suk blog, which is not really a blog as there are few actual comments allowed. It seems to be one of those vacuous pseudo-sites that populate the Internet (like, say Bangkok Eyes) and that piss you off every time you click on the damn thing, the only goal of which is to sell an e-guide to getting a “soapy” hand-job in Thailand, or gratifying the ego of its creator. If you need a manual to help find a place to get a hand-job in Thailand, you probably require all sorts of other assistance as well, like, perhaps, a guidebook on how to wipe one’s ass (front to back, or back to front?), how to tie your shoes, and how to remove mucous from your nostrils. Saphan Loy’s advice to Sukhumvit Psycho readers: contact the hotels he is endorsing and ask them directly about their guest policies. And hell, when in doubt or when confronted by an embarrassed hotel employee in a cheap dress-shirt, fork over whatever money the concierge demands. Jesus Christ. How much simpler can the whole process be? If you are so cheap and/or poor that you need a detailed guidebook to massage prices in Thailand, or need to find ways to avoid paying a hotel to make allowances for your special “guest”, then maybe you should find a new hobby, one that doesn’t require any money whatsoever: like collecting seashells on the beach. For Jimmy Smithers, and his Mongoloid partner-in-crime Poppa Percocet, it is more complicated than paying off concerned parties, since they often bring multiple sex partners into their rooms, but we will let them describe those tales in greater detail.

Another casualty to mention. The once prolific Werewolf, whose new blog called appropriately enough, mundane Bangkok (no link will be provided), has begun to cover Thai politics in earnest, as though he fancies himself some kind of political pundit. But in reality he is simply cutting and pasting content from New Mandala, which is the foremost authority on all things political in Thailand, but with its own painfully clear populist political agenda. There is only one natural conclusion to this kind of writing on the Internet: imminent deportation. Saphan Loy, for this reason, has removed all links to the Werewolf site. If the political views of a sex tourist interest you, especially ones that seek to interfere in another nation’s internal politics thereby unsettling domestic Thai security and violating Thailand’s Computer Crimes Act, then he’s your man. We wish him continued success in his patently offensive endeavors, and hope that his rapid deportation will be the very least form of punishment he incurs for meddling in Thai internal politics.

What else? Oh right. For the past several weeks, Saphan Loy has been experimenting with Twitter, and here are some observations. First, it provides a sanctuary for those who suffer from an impoverishment of actual thoughts, inner resources, or interesting observations, and attempt to compensate for this deficit by typing short sentences about the weather, what they are consuming, or some reference to popcorn culture in general. It certainly is fine for promoting a website, or pitching whatever products one has for sale. But for anything else, it is a general chaos of nonsense, blasphemy, and gibberish. If you are interested in the colourful characters of Thailand, both political and otherwise, then by all means “follow” whomever strikes your fancy, but don’t expect much in 140 characters or less. One of the most remarkable effects of the Internet it is that it reveals the abject poverty of public school systems in the instruction of grammar, syntax and vocabulary. The Internet has, unfortunately, forced everyone to attempt to type in complete sentences. This obstacle shows the impoverished resources that nations dedicate to instructing their students on how to communicate effectively. Just have a look at Twitter, and you will see all sorts of evidence of this poverty.

There, in the NitTwit-ter Zone, you will find endless streams of nonsense by people like Chris Coles (@KrisKoles), whose nearly constant harrassment of the US Ambassador in Thailand, The Honorable Kristie A. Kenney (@KristieKenney) likely constitutes some kind of digital stalking, the content of which is useful possibly to Coles’s psychotherapists, but embarrassing to read for anyone else. The fact that she never responds to him is encouraging enough, because his poorly formed, half-articulated political ideations are born of the occlusion of the brain produced by alcohol abuse, a compromised blood-flow to the brain, and tertiary syphilis. Plus, if he truly believes that Ambassador Kenney writes her own “Tweets”, his grasp of reality has all but disappeared. But if you’ve seen Coles’s artwork, you’ll understand that the man is slightly unhinged anyway.

In short, there always seems to be something lacking in the false promises of the Internet, that it is somehow going to “change the world” or that is in some ways responsible for social revolutions and the like. In reality, the Internet is a penny arcade of perversity, an advanced citizen’s band radio of obscenity, and a crude telegraph with pictures, all of which are used to link one lonely masturbating male to another. Only now, these linkages cross continents. But in the end, it is still the same: a lonely male masturbating to tawdry pictures and repellant fantasies. Sure, the Internet is also useful if you would like to look at scabrous photographs of women being horsewhipped, human beings urinating on each other, or to read about US college professors improving their micro-penis conditions overseas. But if you are interested in something, well, a little more meaningful: open a book.

The View from Above