2012 Stumbles to an Ignominius End

….and 2013 looks no better for the motley group of fools who continue with their dubious output of words and poorly framed photographs depicting the brothel districts of Thailand, from the disgraced professors and teachers (Big Baby Kenny Ng and Stickman), to the humdrum typists of pulp e-books which nobody purchases (Stephen Blather et. al.), to the marginally retarded (Bangkok Buddy and Kent Hammond). Normally, Saphan Loy would conduct a “blow-by-blow” analysis of the year in review, but sadly, it seems that the whole year was a washout for the barflies of Bangkok.

The holiday season in Thailand’s red light districts is a grim reminder that there are many lost souls from around the world who continue to gravitate to these places, washed up has-beens, lovelorn, hopeless, and thirsty, compelled by the biological imperatives of their unmanageable vices, motivated by the squalid reward of a short-time hotel room, a cheap sex enhancement drug, and a Thai rice farmer’s daughter or two. Or a Thai rice farmer’s son in drag who happens to possess an artificially added set of double DDs and a chemically induced uncircumcised hard-on, or a surgically altered vaginal skin-fold.

It is a time when our favourite bar girls, mamasans, and bartenders are trotted out in the cheapest of Christmas-themed lingerie and paraded around sticky barroom floors in darkened corners of cheap, third-world gin mills, enticed by a few hundred baht and the false promise of an improvement in their stations in life.

It is the time of year to drown regrets in rice whiskey, or the local non-potable lager, and to stifle the merest threat of an emerging sense of conscience, any images of domesticity that we left behind elsewhere in the developed world where we once may have had friends and family, or even the thought, “What the hell am I doing here?”

It is also the time of the year when we can imagine, although remotely and through the artifice of fiction, a character much like George Bailey, driven to despair by financial catastrophe in the timeless American classic It’s a Wonderful Life, who attempts suicide only to be shown a life without his presence in the world, followed by a dramatic, heart-warming redemption.

We can picture, for example, Professor Big Baby Kenny Ng, clinically depressed by the mistakes of his life, his failures as an economist/school teacher, his morbid obesity, his disgraceful and very public fall from grace, and his grotesque appetite for young Thai bargirls, contemplating suicide on a barstool somewhere in Saphan Khwai (yes, he has sunk this low), while drunkenly crying in his cups and muttering dark curses at his imagined enemies and the success of others. Yes, we can see him, his ego stung by the utterance of a snaggle-toothed ladyboy who has just called him a khii mao, in this Saphan Khwai hellhole, his life story spooling away from him like the sad and sordid conclusion to an old 16 mm stag film he vaguely remembers from his misspent youth witnessing the fabled Tijuana donkey show flickering on a yellowing wall in his dorm room.

And we can hope, as we watch him in this Saphan Khwai watering hole, trying to find an outlet for his laptop and arguing with the mamasan in a language he does not understand, that Ng will come to meet an angel who will put his arm around his shoulder and say, “But you have had a wonderful life, Professor Ng.” And when this dreary holiday fable comes to its conclusion in the darkened karaoke parlor, and those grim concluding words appear, “Remember, no man is a failure who has friends”, we will all sigh deeply, because, well, we know how Ng has mistreated his friends and alienated his colleagues irreparably.

My lovely assistant Lek is in tears, daubing at her almond eyes with a Kleenex, the poor thing. Ok, enough of your blubbering. Get me a drink. And put on that skimpy Father Christmas costume I purchased for you.

Similarly, we can wish at this time of year that the celebrated scribe of the red light districts, the Stickman, is visited by a Dickensian scene, the bar girl of Christmas past, who appears to him in his Bangkok high-rise bound in the chains of oppression that he has caused by stimulating a prurient interest in all things related to sex commerce. Awakened at midnight by the apparition, the Stick cowers under his mosquito net, while the bar girl of Christmas past says, “You handsome man no good man. You bad man.

Stickman is awakened at midnight by the bar girl of Christmas past.

The Stick mistakenly believes he is dreaming, and responds, “Is that Bernard Trink?”, then swallows another tranquilizer. His slumber thus returned, he is awakened soon thereafter by the bargirl of Christmas present, who shows him the horrid reality of plane-loads of elderly westerners arriving in Bangkok, all streaming into the big yellow vagina of Nana Plaza, depositing their baht along with their diseased chromosomal material, and leaving empty beer bottles and broken lives of the impoverished girls who remain behind staring hopefully at the dim glow emanating from their cellphones.

And finally, what of the bar girl of Christmas future? What tidings does she bring? Or he? And whither the red light districts in Thailand in 2013? Only the new year will tell. Lek has visited the witch doctor and received bad tidings. But I am optimistic. And rest assured gentle reader. In an ever more hostile cyber world, Saphan Loy will continue to be a “troll-free zone” and will remain a place where intelligent, adult discussion of all things Thai brothel districts is welcome, where sexpats and sex tourists can tune in for the latest deep analysis of the red light blogosphere and the bizarre bedfellows who populate it.

Therefore, may you and your bar girls or ladyboys (or donkeys) enjoy the best of the holiday season, and with hope look forward to another year of unabashed whoring and drinking and drugging all the while avoiding liver failure or cardiac arrest. And may all of your wishes at the Hindu shrines of Bangkok bring you the loves of your life, prosperity, and just enough success to continue your binges without guilt, shame, or remorse of any kind.

Happy New Year!

Yours truly, and my lovely assistant Lek.

The View from Above

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One Response to “2012 Stumbles to an Ignominius End”

  1. Ngii Ngaow Says:

    excellent!

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