Archive for political situation

The Year of the Sheep: Sayonara, Bangkok.

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , on January 17, 2015 by สะพานลอย

First, we need to report the following chaos that occurred recently over at SL headquarters, which is in complete disarray. We were ‘raided’ by a group of interested Thai authorities who made off with some rice liquor bottles (mostly full), two laptops, my antiquated VCR and our VHS collection of erotic films from all over Asia, including some really raunchy ones from Japan that show female newscasters getting more than they bargained for as they try to read important news summaries. Papers were strewn, tables upset. It was clear that they were looking for something. What wasn’t clear was who sent them. And why?

The aftermath of the raid on SL HQ.

The aftermath of the raid on SL HQ.

Lek has fled to the rice fields. Her relatives (if any of you morons have been reading closely) in the Thai police force are encountering difficulties of their own with the military government. She fled with great haste to her village just before SL HQ was raided. With great sadness, I put many 1k baht notes into Tuy’s purse, and told her not to spend it all in one place. She got on a bus and headed Northeast.

It has happened much quicker than any of us could have suspected. The scene is gone, and Thailand is heading toward a major disruption in every way. It is best that SL et al. exeunt stage left.

It is sad at this point in our fabled career to seek out safer havens. Where we will go I leave it for the fates, in their infinite wisdom, to decide. It may well be that SL headquarters will be reconstructed in a neighbouring country, where the beer is ice cold, the food hot as hell, and the women blessed with loose morals.

It will take courage. We will need bottles of whiskey, a bank account stuffed with the good fortune a lifetime of wise investments has provided, a local language phrase book, and the unparalleled personality of  yours truly. The Empire of the Sun is looking more and more appealing.

Nowhere is the news more exciting than in Japan.

Nowhere is the news more exciting than in Japan.

Updates may come as the proverbial shit hits the fan. All editorial inquiries may be left in the comments section below. If you seem legitimate, SL will respond.

Goodbye, for now.

The View from Above

 

 

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Sex Tourist Visas, Alcohol, Stickman: All on the Chopping Block

Posted in สะพานลอย with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 1, 2014 by สะพานลอย

If you have been following at all the deranged chatter of the Thai sex tourism blogs and sites, then you all well know that your multiple Sex Tourist Visas that fill the pages of your passports like a private stamp collection of shame and degradation will earn you something nobody had ever expected: a Thai Military exit visa.

True, these multiple sex tourist visas were meant to circumvent the laxly enforced border policies that Thailand had maintained in more promising times. However, if you have entered and reentered on these visas in the past, you were nonetheless violating the spirit of Thailand’s immigration policy and should have endeavoured to secure proper paperwork to begin with.

Sex Tourist Visas have been discontinued in the Land of Smile.

What it all boils down to, then, is economics and planning. Those who are too poor to establish themselves professionally in Thailand or who do not have the resources to prove that they are “retired” will have to vacate their bar stools in whatever blowjob bar they now call home, and find a more welcoming environment than a Thai immigration deportation cell. If the floundering sex industry of Thailand needed further help in its already sad decline, this is the nail in the coffin.

The only real solution at this point would be Thailand’s return to “democratic” representation, whatever the hell that means to anyone. However, we here at Saphan Loy headquarters believe the military occupation will last for some time.

As for the tolerance that Thais have historically shown for those living in the shadows of the Go Go circuit, the wind now blows in the opposite direction. The internet, too, has rendered what was once highly visible (albeit seedy and disgraceful), discreet and private. Yes, even in the Land of Vertical Smiles. It was a confidence game from the beginning, a dismal side note in the history of globalisation. But who didn’t love the experience while it lasted? The world is rapidly changing, and the satisfaction of crude, cheap “neo-colonial” fantasies a quickly fading thing of the past.

Now the expats of Thailand are ratcheting up tension on various fora and antiquated bulletin board services about the serious curtailment of alcoholic beverage service throughout the Kingdom. If this turns out to be the beginning of a prohibition of sorts, you may do one of two things in our book.

Pole us out of here.

One, you can enjoy the respite from alcohol that sobriety will permit you. Take a long hard look around you and see how you feel about Thailand then. Move to a small village, counsel the headman about the marriage of his stunning daughter, cultivate jackfruit, and take long boating excursions on the Mekong River. Admittedly, Lek and Tuy are giving me a look just now that suggests that they would not be happy leaving our fair city. And judging by their advanced-stage alcoholism, they are unlikely to consent to a life without alcohol.

But as the man of the house, I reminded them that during this sober interlude for all of us, they will have ample time in their new responsibilities to reflect in gratitude for all that I have given them, as the two of them, simple in appearance, graceful, strong, brown and lean beneath their straw hats, shall harmoniously pole my craft wherever the hell I tell them to.

Where to handsome man?

Or two, you can learn via your local library how to build and operate your own rice whiskey still on your soon-to-be re-nationalised property. Sure, you may get a visit from the Thai military to candidly discuss the wisdom of running a distillery, but if you have plenty of drinks on hand I would wager it would make you an honorary Thai soldier in no time.

The New Happy Hour

Finally, and perhaps most embarrassingly, the Stick has publicized an account of his complete incompetence as a business man in his latest column. Although I am not sure who is more foolish: the person who offered $150K for the site, or Stick for the offer’s refusal. Stickman’s greed, coupled with his gross overestimation of the potential of the site, have ensured that the site will likely remain unsold for years to come while the Stick hopes against hope that Thailand will revert to the land of no money, no honey.

In that time, the value of the site (now provisionally set at the outrageous $150K mark) will decline precipitously as the military occupation drags on indefinitely and harsher social conditions are imposed by the junta. Furthermore, the site requires a tremendous amount of overhaul (which Stick blithely ignored for the past 10 years) that should further reduce its attractiveness as the labour required to update the site would be onerous and mostly pointless. For the record, nobody clicks on advertisements anymore.

Last call.

Last call.

The Stick doesn’t have a lot of leverage in any case. Thailand is under military occupation, the nightlife is suffering substantially, the sex tourist visa issue has added uncertainty and risk, a policy of social prohibitions seems to be underway, and the internet now allows for the pursuit and location of one’s third-world pleasures with a greater ease and precision than a clunky HTML guide to bars could ever hope to achieve.

That and fifty cents will get you a cup of coffee.

The View from Above

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