Archive for Jimmy Smithers

Jimmy Smithers Released…in his trousers

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , , on July 19, 2014 by สะพานลอย

First, sincere apologies for not getting news out of Jimmy Smithers sooner than this. Lek was just now lounging about Saphan Loy Central with a perpetual frown, like she wanted me to get up and entertain her. I told her to run along and catch a picture show. Lately she has been jealous of Tuy. Why this is happening is quite unclear. After all, Lek has some unique qualities about her which afford her the proper place as the primary wife: she is able to drink me under the table for starters, she could probably kick my ass up and down the soi without breaking a sweat, and her Kegel muscles are so strong that she must have spent her entire adult life inserting things into her vagina for sport.

Words of wisdom to those fortunate enough to secure the affections of two Thai women simultaneously: create few conditions whereby they have an opportunity to pull each other’s hair out, and keep your cutlery under lock and key.

That said. Oh, yes. Smithers.

Turns out, he had exaggerated his purported “run in” with the Thai military. He had been drinking for several days, that much is clear from the witness statements and surveillance video. But his problems with Thai officialdom resulted in actuality from his failure to pay a much older “woman who searches for food” for her evening of “services” which included, at one very low point, the insertion of her foot into his rectum for sensory erotic purposes. When Smithers frightened her with his incoherence, his inability to achieve an erection, and his unwillingness to remit her fee, she called the Thai gendarmes, and one of them, with an embarrassed almost apologetic smile, told him to pay her what he owed her: 1,000 baht.

Regardless of his reluctant fiduciary compliance, he was unable to walk down the single flight of stairs to the soi, and therefore needed medical assistance, which was happily provided by the lovely nursing staff at a provincial Thai hospital despite the fact that one of them had to give him a sponge bath, his first hygienic experience in perhaps several weeks if discounting his bizarre fortnightly “bathing” ritual in the Gulf of Thailand.

Enter Saphan Loy, Lek, and Tuy. Mainly, we forked over the emergency funding to get him back on his feet again and hopefully to an internationally qualified physician and attendant psychiatrist, the names of which were provided by the exasperated staff at his embassy. Lek and Tuy also made a phone call to the province where he was temporarily domiciled in his grim little hospital room to have two fat ripe Durians and a bottle of whiskey (obviously against hospital policy) delivered directly to his bedside table over the timid protestations of the head nurse.

Smithers argued that he had no hand grenades at time of admission.

Smithers argued that he had no hand grenades at time of admission.

At any rate, faithful readers, my apologies. I have allowed that fat prick Jimmy to interfere with my whole plan for the last time. Now that the world is ending, or at least as illustrated by the last gasps of the dying nightlife of Thailand which, now mortally wounded, kicks its legs erratically the way an animal might after being struck by a moving vehicle, we should focus on what remains fun in the Kingdom, for those who will still remain here after the 30-day sex tourist visas wallpapered in their passports result in a sudden, military-like departure from the Kingdom, paid for in full by them or their perturbed families.

In even better news, our old companion Mobi has opened a bar on some dubious lake on the outskirts of Pattaya at what is perhaps the worst time imaginable: during a military occupation of the country’s economy, a plummeting baht, and a badly damaged tourist sector. Not surprisingly, he has recently become depressed again. And while I am not plugging his bar for sympathy reasons, Lek and Tuy (and I) strongly recommend you pay him a visit on the dark side of the lake. Mobi is keeping the fires burning, putting up the good fight, and all that, and for that we should be grateful.

Bring me my breakfast. Make sure it is ice cold please.

I am certain she will serve my English breakfast as I take it: ice cold and in the bottle.

Now, while we just admitted we were not doing this out of the pure goodness of our darkened and twisted hearts, it is our hope that we may be recompensed in kind when the three of us take a jaunt out into the countryside and require refreshing libation, tasteful music, actual conversation in properly enunciated English, a variety of food offerings, and additional female companionship (should Lek and Tuy humour an old man like me, of course.)

Is everyone wearing a seat belt?

Is everyone wearing a seat belt?

It is my hope that at the very least, the drive out there had better involve a nice long Thai back massage (more than ten minutes, or I will take away those damned cell phones, ladies!) while I thread the Saphan Loy Dream Machine through the inexplicable traffic patterns (or complete lack thereof) that suddenly confront us, the ancient Heil lorries loaded with chemicals, cement, sewerage, and God knows what else, bearing down on wobbly motorbikes, bullock carts, and sundry rattletraps that defy basic principals of mechanical engineering, as we struggle with the wisdom of such an undertaking in the first place.

And we won’t invite Jimmy Smithers. That is a promise.

 

The View from Above

Saphan Loy’s Account of the Thai Military Occupation

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 8, 2014 by สะพานลอย

Well, first some sour news for those of you wondering where we have been. Longtime readers will recall our former friend, Jimmy Smithers, who has had his fair share of problems, medical, psychological, and moral. For the longest time, he had lost touch with us, following his own downward spiral living alone in the United States, alcoholic, sexless. About eight months ago, he managed somehow (with the assistance of a minor windfall that allowed him to purchase an airline ticket) to travel back to Thailand. Occasionally, he would drunkenly call the Saphan Loy hotline, insult Lek with some choice vulgarities he had been cultivating in his imbecilic brain, and not be heard from again for weeks, sometimes months.

Let’s skip ahead to this coup d’état, which has made Thailand about as attractive of a tourist destination as North Korea in midwinter. Recently, Lek and I received a strange and garbled telephone call from the Thai-Cambodian border crossing at Poipet. And yes, it involves Jimmy Smithers, that fat fuck. The Thai military had detained him after an incident at some derelict bar on the Thai side. According to the authorities, he had been drinking for four straight days and was under the influence of a powerful barbiturate that Cambodians reserve for controlling its genetically inferior livestock.

Poipet border crossing

Poipet border crossing

What happened at the bar is unclear, and we can only surmise at this point. However, we had our lawyer (one of Lek’s family “friends”) contact the military commander in charge of Sa Kaeo province to see if this could be sorted out amicably for poor old Smithers.

Now, let me warn readers in all due seriousness. Saphan Loy is not going to sugarcoat the whole military situation the way StickmanBangkok so blithely has.

The coup d’état is real. And they mean business.

The military commanders reported that sometime around 3:00 AM on the previous Tuesday morning, Smithers launched into a political tirade, incomprehensible to most, made several rude gestures with parts of his anatomy, attempted to hoist his fat arse onto the bar itself which then precipitated a rapid structural degradation of the bar-top collapsing it like dry bamboo under his weight, which, in turn, compromised the walls of the flimsy structure that had been built to accommodate the fly-by-night watering hole. He had said some pretty offensive things, the poor old bugger. Were I there to counsel him, I would have pounced on his grotesque body and forcefully clamped his mouth shut.

The military immediately detained him and we haven’t heard from him since.

Now, all things considered, life for farang is pretty much normal in this period of dark political uncertainty, particularly in Bangkok. We can still come and go as we please as long as we observe a curfew and do not stir up the shit-pot. And yes, the bars are still open, though largely empty and depressing. However, I know I am speaking for a large contingent of resident expats (including the Bay Area Boyfriends) when I say that it could be worse.

We should all thank our lucky stars that we have not been rounded up at gunpoint and sent by railway out into the countryside to begin a “reeducated” life of collective rice farming on sprawling communes owned and operated by InTouch Holdings PLC (formerly Shin Corp) of which the largest shareholder is Singapore’s Temasak Holdings through a subsidiary called Aspen Holdings Ltd at 41.62% of the company. I ain’t gonna work on Yingluck’s farm no more!

Curfews and fear have put a major damper on my wandering of the red light districts of Bangkok. So what’s a serious hedonist to do in the city during difficult political times? Well, for one, stock up. And I don’t mean on Sri Racha sauce and pla duk. I mean on bar girls.

What started as a nuisance has become something much worse. And Lek is none too pleased. Here’s the thing. When you have one mia luang, and you want to bring mia noi into the flat, you will encounter, how do I say it with sensitivity, challenges.

My impulse was almost charitable. Lek has known about Tuy for the better part of the year and has been very tolerant of our harmless crush. Tuy hails from the metropolis of Lopburi, and she is a tad darker (maybe two tones) than Lek, and younger with beautiful long black hair, a stunning smile, and piercing eyes. I suggested to her that, because of the well-known wild monkeys in her home town, perhaps she is part sex monkey herself.

Lek's new "friend", Tuy

Lek’s new “friend”, Tuy

At any rate, Tuy was caught out by the coup. She did not have the cash-flow to go all the way back to Lopburi, and she certainly didn’t want to stay in a crowded little place with several other catty farm girls who menstruate at the same time, so I invited her to stay with us until this all blows over.

Lek, as you may suspect, was furious. But since I am the man of the house, I insisted. I warned Lek that at a time of military occupation of the country, she should listen to my commands if she knows what would be best for her long-term peace and stability. In parallel to the new military order, I have become emboldened to act like General MacArthur in my own home, in complete command of two Thai bar girls. Yes, it is a challenge. But like MacArthur, my resolve is like newly forged steel.

So there it is folks. As I write this, Tuy is watching something mindless on the television (more of the same, Thai military processions and poorly-composed patriotic anthems) while picking her nose. Lek is in our bedroom taking a nap. And to be perfectly honest, I am enjoying every minute of this military “interlude”. It’s about time we had some structure and order around here.

The View from Above

Tastes Like Chicken

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 4, 2012 by สะพานลอย

Saphan Loy has harped in the past on the gross violations of good faith that the Big Fat Baby Kenny Ng has exhibited on his ill-fated website bigbabykenny.com. He has eschewed all rational ethics (such as they are) and generally-accepted behavioural norms of self-publishing, and has demonstrated an extraordinarily rudimentary kind of schoolyard monkey-mind in his absurd treatment of other writers and bloggers (Saphan Loy included) that calls into question a few puzzling riddles about the kind of man Kenneth Ng really is. What we can glean from his sex tourism blog is that he is quite seriously mentally ill and certainly sex-addicted, with far-reaching fetishes that most likely include coprophagia, a behaviour he shares with dogs.

Generally speaking, most college professors are borderline deranged anyway, but usually in a harmless or quirky way. Perhaps they like crossword puzzles, for example. Or maybe they collect stamps, tea cozies, or antique bottles.  Not Ng. His perversions must certainly poison every classroom he enters, and he likely repels unsuspecting undergraduates with his pornographic avocation worn proudly on his sleeve without shame. Not to put too fine of a point on it, but professors, like any authority figure, should be held accountable to a standard that is elevated. For example, when Jimmy Smithers underwent a colonoscopy recently (see the article and the many interesting comments here), he would not expect that the doctor (were he a male) would be a deranged sex tourist. Indeed, were you or I to find out this information on the operating table, we would likely be dismayed and attempt to halt the procedure by abruptly pulling the IV from our veins and putting on our trousers.

Similarly, were you or I to sit down in a classroom, and the authority figure (the professor) had the reputation of an eager third world prostitute john which preceded him internationally, it would immediately colour our expectations and our feelings of comfort, which may, in turn, compel us to leave (unless of course his course were required). That the California State University of Northridge seems to be heading in the direction of purging their classrooms of deviants is an encouraging sign. In addition, the state’s impoverished university system has far too many other problems to worry about. And when the day comes when Big Baby Kenny Ng is called to the carpet, he will find his worst fears realized: directionless, he will go to Thailand, his head hanging low, where he will be forced to eke out a living there as a teacher in a mediocre university, working like a dog for a pittance of a salary, and having to deal with the indignity of “visa runs” and empty bank accounts for the rest of his natural days.

Which brings us to Ng’s latest salvo in a long campaign of misinformation: the origins of Saphan Loy. We (Lek and I) will not address Big Baby Kenny Ng’s retarded speculations regarding the ownership structure of Saphan Loy. We trust that our readers are capable of informed critical analysis and educated opinion, unlike the fat man’s bogus readership of the criminally insane.

In other news from the blogosphere, there are rumours circulating that Big Baby Kenny is now in Bangkok (see here and here), and it is our hope that he enjoys his sex holiday. After a whole semester spent looking at his unattainable and tantalizing coeds in his unendurable lectures, he needs one of two things: a cold shower or a trip to Bangkok. Teacher Tim Torkildson the Clown has returned to Stickman after a very brief hiatus. He wrote a piece last week that announced his return, and the take-down notice was removed by TEFL International. Due to the highly volatile discussions around his contract with TEFL International and the tense negotiations around his salary, it is nice to see that the details have been ironed out and we can once again enjoy Tim the Clown’s quirky take on life in a Thai classroom, and his musings on having romantic liaisons with Thai women.

On a much more serious note, Mobi over at Mobithailand.com is having open-heart surgery in Bangkok early next week. We at Saphan Loy wish him the best and a speedy recovery, and look forward to his return. I have to admit that having open-heart surgery in Thailand (or anywhere for that matter) is a courageous act of healthcare, which requires a lot of support and well-wishes. Take a moment to drop him a line.

Finally, in Stickman’s latest and greatest (a boring description of Siam Square), one of his deranged readers submitted a letter that is even more insulting than the feces that emanates from Big Baby Kenny Ng’s keyboard. In essence, the letter (reproduced below) is a horribly disrespectful analogy between fast food and Thai bar girls. It reveals a sickened mind and a non-existent moral conscience. By reproducing it here, it is Saphan Loy’s hope that it will draw appropriate levels of outrage. Who is so callous as to compare a young woman to fried chicken? I put this question to my office assistant, Lek, and she replied with a colourful expression of her own, a derogatory term that combines the words “farang” and bird-shit. In short, we were both stunned by this abortion of a letter penned by some Pattaya vagrant who prefers shirts without sleeves, his beer in tin cans, and his “fried chicken” in plastic buckets. A word of advice for this highly-evolved specimen of humanity: in future restrict the audience of your tortured similes to yourself, your psychotherapist, or your local clergyman only.

Reprinted in its entirety here:

Visiting Nana Plaza or Soi Cowboy compared to visiting McDonalds, you have a hunger, you go there for convenience, it’s gaudy, bright and trashy inside, you see what you think you want, you order it and take it away, but when you get outside you realise that what you really have is a bag in your hand that’s full of shit, you know it’s wrong and that you shouldn’t, but you have it anyway.  Temporarily you feel satisfied, you walk away leaving your trash behind!  Comparing the pay for play experience to KFC, nothing at all intellectual about the experience, once you’re done with the breast and thigh all that you’re left with is a useless greasy box to put your bone in!

As ever, we suppose it is of no surprise that there are those who think like this miscreant and who frequent Big Baby Kenny Ng’s site regularly. That Stickman, however, published this “gem” speaks to his complicity in the degradation of prostitutes (who should nonetheless be afforded some dignity and the most basic of human respect) in his adopted city. In our minds, what is far worse than the typing of this atrocity is the publishing it for the general public.

The View from Above

The Year in Review: A New Year Ahead. Observations, Predictions.

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 28, 2011 by สะพานลอย

What a sordid year it was. As we get ready to ring in the new year, Thai style with a bottle of lukewarm Singha, let’s recall some major low-lights from the year past, and look ahead to what the new year holds in store. The past year witnessed some atrocities, as usual, in the Thai redlight blogosphere. Very few gems were to be found in the roughage that comprises the palsied prose and tortured syntax of the blog-heads. In addition, we have seen that some scribblers have decided to bow out of the online scene altogether. A few comments follow. Parental discretion is advised.

Stickman Bangkok

Let’s start with the biggest and the brightest of the online luminaries, Stickman Bangkok. After teasing his audience throughout the year with hand-wringing and indecision regarding his future, he has decided, not surprisingly, to stay put in the red-light districts of Thailand, which have come to define him. His photography has devolved, and his favourite subjects still seem to be poor children and bargirls. While he unashamedly takes cold (hard) ladyboy cash, and the filthy lucre of brothels as advertising revenue, he still insists that he doesn’t partake, and that he is stupefied by changes in the country. Saphan Loy believes this is the most interesting part of his website, though he doesn’t intend it as such. He is constantly flummoxed by Thailand’s changing demographics and the demographics of the sex tourist population in general. What does the new year hold in store for the poster boy of sex tourism himself? Likely, he will find himself stuck in Thailand, a “lifer”, ping-ponging from bar to bar like some character in a Greek tragedy. Always tantalized by the offerings, but never partaking, we predict he will end up much like Dean Barrett.

One day in the new year, he will break down, step into Bar Bar or Demonia, and be offered a sound lashing from a Thai rice farmer’s daughter who will then insert an uncomfortably large sex toy into his rectum while he barks like a soi dog. Stickman will consent enthusiastically, and find it so pleasurable that he will dedicate himself to BDSM for the remainder of his natural life, never sitting comfortably again. From there, he will slip down the slippery slope and avail himself of the services of a small group of ladyboy escorts, who will treat him like a schoolgirl in the comfort of his Bangkok highrise.

Big Baby Kenny Ng

This year marked the departure from the serious blogosphere of Professor Big Baby Kenny Ng out in California. He has clearly given up the ghost, allowing the only active thread to be overwritten by the criminally insane. His brand of lunacy will be turned off in the new year, and he will likely be joining the swelling ranks of American unemployed academics, scratching out a living by tutoring semi-retarded children. But not to fear. There are plenty of openings at TEFL International, and perhaps the clown-in-chief there can teach him a thing or two about the Thais.

As of this writing, however, it appears the Ng has just published another word-fart about a cheap buffet in Bangkok. He is clearly celebrating his holiday in Bangkok, courtesy of the moronic California taxpayer, who is so immobilized by political correctness that he (or she) cannot stand up in the face of basic humanitarian atrocities.

The Chinese love all you can eat buffets. They pile their plates full of crappy fried food and rejoice in the low cost of eating it, then pass it through their intestines, then clog up the plumbing, much to the horror of the chambermaids at the cheap flophouse he calls home in the city of angels. Saphan Loy predicts that Ng’s cheap Bangkok buffets will soon turn into long lines at his local soup kitchen.

Big Baby Kenny will soon join the long lines at the soup kitchen.

Mobithailand

Our friend Mobi has been busy and, mercifully, staying sober. He has interestingly decided to post photos of his paramour, Noo, who is quite lovely indeed. We wish Mobi the best in the new year. He has been one of the few stalwarts among the blog-heads, always posting honestly and without artifice. Mobi consistently proves that a dotage spent in Thailand can be tempting, relaxing, and enjoyable all at the same time. We hope he avoids temptation of the spiritual kind, and continues to post about the darkside and all the darkies that can be found there.

The Redlight Scribblers (and Painter)

Stephen Blather et al., including the abominable Chris Coles, will likely continue to type unreadable prose, and render unspeakably offensive arts and crafts that assault the senses (unless those senses happen to be dulled by the local lager and barbiturates.) Look for hefty additions to the pulp-making machine, or network-clogging “e-books” that appeal to the inpatients at your local veteran’s home. Also in the coming new year, perhaps Coles will finally sell a neon bargirl to the half-blind, or the blind-drunk, who would like a painting to install above the commode. Or, better yet, perhaps the new year will inspire Coles to retire from his paint-making efforts, hang up his smock, and, instead, take up semi-permanent residence on a barstool on Patpong, administered to by a snaggle-toothed ladyboy.

Jimmy Smithers

So, what of that lady(boy’s) man, Jimmy Smithers? He has exciting plans for the new year. He is currently in negotiations with a major motion picture studio for the rights to his personal stories. He also has a new line of merchandise planned, including coffee mugs, tee-shirts and insulated beer holders. He is hard at work on his e-book, and is scanning his local classified sections for shemales, transvestites and ladyboys. Because he was recently fired, it is unlikely that a Bangkok trip is in the cards for the new year. Look for further depravity to escape from his keyboard, prolonged struggles with alcohol and sinus medication, and lurid accounts of his masturbation habits. He may even develop adult-onset diabetes, or have what he calls a “crap-attack” at an inopportune moment (like a job interview.) We predict great things for Jimmy Smithers. He’s one to keep your eye on. You know, by covering your other eye with your hand when the room is spinning, or you can’t navigate the Bangkok sidewalks after consuming too much Mekong Whiskey.

At any rate, Saphan Loy wishes you the best of the holidays, and a happy new year. As long as sex tourists are willing to jot down their half-formed ideas, their tawdry hopes and dreams, and their sinful encounters with third world prostitutes, we will be there. And despite all our plights and gripes, we still give them credit for trying. After all, an internet absent of their presence would be a boring place indeed.

The View from Above

“Sticks” and Stones

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 4, 2011 by สะพานลอย

This week, Stickman took aim at nearly every writer on the Thailand brothel-scene who does not plaster his site with antiquated banner ads or molly coddle sex tourists in Thailand, calling these writers, bloggers, and various forum lurkers “weirdos”, “shit-stirrers”, etc. With all of the self-righteousness of a Catholic school boy, Stickman’s attacks left Saphan Loy wondering whether he is the right man for the job of pitching to his motley collection of readers places like Demonia, Devil’s Den, Lolita’s, Ladyboy Escorts, Big Mango Bar and others. Were we an advertiser on his site, we would be somewhat concerned: someone with a foot fetish is “on another wavelength”? What does that mean? There are those of us (like Jimmy Smithers and Big Baby Kenny Ng) who adore ladyboys and have foot fetishes. I know for one that Jimmy Smithers was so profoundly offended by the Stickman’s rambling tirade that he nearly incapacitated himself with an overdose of Wild Turkey and Pepto-Bismol.

Meanwhile, when not feigning astonishment about other people’s sexual predilections (foot fetishes, ladyboys, etc.), his bleeding heart reaction to some German drifter really takes the cake. I mean, really. Freud would have a field-day with the utter irony represented by his entire website. It is clear that Michael, the German drifter, who clearly suffers from schizophrenia, was sucked into the vortex of the very kinds of places advertised on the Stick-site, then suffered the consequences of a lost mind and an empty bank account. The only way the German embassy will intervene, incidentally, is if Michael dies on the street, or is murdered, or asks for help himself. Surely, the consular officers have better things to do with their time than read the Stick site. How can you even be sure he is German? He may even be a spy whose cover is a homeless sex addict with a mental illness.

So is the Stick biting the proverbial hands that feed him? Were I an owner of Demonia and had an event like the foot fetish event (that looks quite intriguing) mocked as being perverted or, as he puts it, “on another wavelength”, or were I an owner of Big Mango Bar and had my place called the “coldest bar” in Bangkok, Saphan Loy would seek other advertising venues that were kinder and gentler.

In targeting other writers on the Thailand scene, the Stick makes it clear that anyone who diverges from the pat and glib “gosh golly” tone that he effects when dealing with a very serious subject matter (i.e., sex tourism and transnational promotion of prostitution) is thus labeled a “weirdo” or a “shit-stirrer.” It goes to show that in New Zealand, political correctness of a different sort rules the roost and the freedom of expression is but a vaporous mirage of western European and North American ideals that enshrine the right to free speech. Furthermore, we now know the following about Stickman:

  • He doesn’t bar fine.
  • He doesn’t like ladyboys.
  • He does not have a foot fetish.
  • He prefers to take his mother to Soi Cowboy.

Just who is Stickman Bangkok? And why doesn’t he start a blog about another topic, one which he is more qualified to write about? Like the homeless situation in Bangkok, or the dangers of freedom of expression on the Internet, or teaching English in a language mill, or just how perverted foot fetishes are? Better yet, how about a little blog about rugby. See how many banner ads he can sell for that project, thus avoiding the “nasty” characters that comprise his readers.

Jimmy Smithers, Big Baby Kenny Ng, and Dean Barrett love bare feet.

Because Saphan Loy was embarrassed for the Stick by his latest blunder of a column, we are listing (gratis) the Big Mango Bar (which is not the coldest bar in Bangkok) and Demonia in our Views You Can Use section. The ladies of Demonia may thank me with a solid ass-whipping and the privilege of licking their bare toes.

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

Pussy Write Letter: Poll Numbers and the Professors of Pimpology 101

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 24, 2011 by สะพานลอย

In hoping to solve the mystery of the legendary Patpong Pussy Shows once and for all, our non-scientific poll has revealed that the overwhelming majority of readers prefer ping-pong demonstrations as a vital part of their nightly pussy shows in Patpong. The poll results also show quite clearly that our readers are discriminating pussy show connoisseurs. While the great majority of readers polled enjoy the ping-pong ball aspect of the demonstrations, in second place was a preference for pyrotechnics and special effects, like the string of snapping firecrackers. It begs the simple question: Why? Never in all of the years that we have enjoyed the occasional game of table tennis have we equated the small plastic balls with anything that even vaguely resembles an erotic act. Indeed, table tennis itself seems to reek of absurdity and a whiff of misplaced Asian fanaticism and pent-up athletic frustration resulting from a lack of innate physical prowess.

Asians display a preternatural ability with table tennis.

There were two write-in responses, one of which was the simple and unqualified “No”, while the other stated that the reader “only enjoyed banana shows.”

After a perusal of the menu of options that we featured on the pussy show poll and that lists the wide-open vaginal possibilities for the pussy show-goer, I think that were Saphan Loy to enjoy a pussy show sometime soon, after, say, a light repast at the Oriental, we would most likely forego the ping-pong balls, the beer bottle demonstration, the firecrackers, the “pussy fishes in” option, and the “pussy blowing candle” trick, and would absolutely insist that the exhibited pussy performer “write [a] letter” with her vagina. Much the same way Dean Barrett can do using only the anal sphincter muscles of his asshole.

And not just any letter.

I would not be content to merely observe the model/actress/pussy showgirl scribble sloppily on some random piece of paper in an indecipherable scrawl using only her vaginal muscles and a simple pakka: I would want, pay for, indeed demand an actual formal letter, addressed to William Mahanakorn and the readers of Saphan Loy in Thai and in legible penmanship. Anything short of that would be grounds for a refund, a heated discussion with the pussy show creative director, and a scathing critique in this blog.

The pussy letter might begin thus:

Dear Saphan Loy Readers….

While you have enjoyed mocking Patpong pussy shows now for the better part of the last week, I would like to inform you that inserting objects into my vagina like live fishes for your amusement is neither fulfilling as a career option, nor is it sanitary or especially safe for the goldfish thus employed. Therefore, after tonight’s performance of “pussy fishes in”, I am hanging up my knickers and returning to Chiang Rai to work on my uncle’s rice farm, and to vend decanted Fanta in plastic bags. Thank you, Mr. Mahanakorn, for your years of kind patronage and your critical recommendations.

Regretfully,

Lek

Hot Ping Pong Action: Asian Style

In other news from the United States higher education system, “higher” becoming increasingly the operative word here, a professor from Farleigh Dickinson University in New Jersey has been arrested for running a prostitution ring when not droning on and on about physics in the classroom to bored and disaffected undergraduates. According to the latest breaking news, the investigation is widening, and professors at the University of New Mexico (including a former president and current Professor Emeritus of Political Science, F. Chris Garcia, at UNM) have been implicated and arrested. The website that Professor David Flory (of Farleigh Dickinson University) allegedly ran from his home and office in New Jersey is called Southwest Companions. It is a password-protected site that introduces men to over-priced call girls in New Mexico, who charged clients about $800 USD. As usual, the Huffington Post, who covered another infamous Thai prostitute advocate/college professor Kenny Ng from California State Univesity at Northridge, has published an article here that has the more salacious details.

In his defense, Professor Flory stated that the site was a “hobby” from which he derived no revenue. Saphan Loy has never ceased to be amazed by the bizarre fabrications, the feeble lies, and the utter disregard that professors tend to have for the public at large when they attempt to float their ridiculous and child-like justifications. It reveals two things: first, college professors, while “book-smart”, cannot figure out that by investing in a powerful attorney or public relations manager, they might be able to mount more successful defenses of their inexplicable actions, and two: they completely lack the skills to articulate cogent fictional narratives in their own defense. In other words, their lies are like those that a child might tell after being caught stepping on a toad, or trying to filch a cookie from the cookie jar.

What is happening in the US higher education system to inspire these less-than-stellar academics to write about and openly promote prostitution, whether domestic or, in Kenny Ng’s case, outsourced to the developing world? And who can forget the Northwestern University professor, John Michael Bailey, who authorised a live fuck-saw demonstration for his undergraduate psychology class? In short, what exactly has happened to universities, the once vaunted and respected ivory tower?

In our opinion, the higher educational system lost all semblance of credibility once it had been decoupled from the rigours associated with European systems of philology, philosophy and theology, and, of course, the requisite instruction of the classical languages like ancient Greek and Latin. But I suppose at this point this is merely the kind of complaint that would invite an instant and hostile accusation of academic elitism from those in higher education who would like to see their narrowly defined liberal agendas satisfied and amplified, so they can continue to exhibit fuck-saw demonstrations, write about queer and transgender “theories”, or discuss in any way shape or form such dubious French thinkers as Foucault and Lacan. After all, Dick and Jane, who grew up in the suburbs or the agrarian midwest, would fall behind miserably were they forced to learn Latin, study classical philosophy, or be otherwise forced to generate, heaven forbid, an original and actual thought shaped by concerted effort, rigorous research and logically sound argumentation.

But what is most astonishing about the latest example of “professors gone bad” is that it clearly reflects a growing trend in academia that illustrates that professors, once considered ethical and moral exempla of their societies, have abandoned such notions of responsibility, moral or otherwise, toward their students and have disrespected their own academic communities in the process. And in the broader terms of power structures, empowerment, and a socially engaged, holistic approach to the academy, these bizarre sexual “hobbies” that include prostitution, sex tourism, exploitation, sex-toy demonstrations and the like, constitute a complete misunderstanding or ignorance of power and education, and how they are intimately related. Or what’s worse, they reflect a degraded display of casual antipathy, cynicism and intellectual poverty. We won’t belabour the point here, but leave it at this. Whether the US higher educational system is bloated with miscreants, sex tourists and perverts with PhDs, or whether the intrusion of the State into academic administration has facilitated an environment whereby presidents, provosts, and Boards of Regents and the like are terrified of making what is obviously a moral stand, these dilemmas present here as difficult to answer questions.

Saphan Loy’s suggestion: write a letter.

Rice Harvest, Northeast Thailand

Which reminds us. Recently, Stickman Bangkok featured a young woman from the provinces named Jeap, whose new service in Bangkok promotes the mixing and mingling of Thai girls from the impoverished countryside with lonely and elderly farang from the West who are unable to meet women without her assistance. It was a glowing review of Jeab and her services. But keep in mind, it is not a sex service, and Jeab made it clear that she personally pre-screens all applicants lest they violate Thai cultural norms or display obvious evidence of mental illness.

Sadly, Saphan Loy received an email from Jimmy Smithers the other day, who was so charmed by Jeab and her service, Thai Eternity, that he promptly wrote an email to her. Alas, he never received a response. Out of my sympathies for Jimmy Smithers, I reprint it here should Jeab and Thai Eternity reconsider his mostly pathetic case and simple plea for help:

Hi Jeab,

Congratulations on your article on Stickman Bangkok. You are so lucky to have so much attention for your site Thailand Eternity. A few questions. I am anxious to meet Thai Ladyboys, and I would like to marry one in the United States where it is legal. I know you can help me with my dream. This dream is that one day I will be able to meet a nice Thai Ladyboy, go to her family in a village in the countryside, pay them to buy a new farm and bull for their corn fields, and hopefully bring her to the United States where she can help me with my cleaning, laundry, reminding me to take my medicines, go to ice skating rinks with me, and of course, be my special wife so my whole family can be happy too.

I hope you can help me.

A few things about me, though. I have some disabilities, and some medical problems. But nothing crazy. And I stopped doing drugs a long time ago. So, I think that will be helpful. I have a good heart, and just need a lifetime companion, a really good wife. I am not the best looking man in the universe, but I take a bath twice a week. But I am kind, helpful, and like gardening (but not in a faggy way), I own three cats, and I love learning new languages and cultures. I have studied Taiwanese also, mostly on Yahoo chat, and really love everything about Oriental culture, like suishi and old kung fu movies.

I hope you can help me.

Jimmy Smithers

The View from Above