Mythbusters takes on China’s Top 10. Busted, Plausible, or Confirmed?

10. Every foreign white guy/girl in China is qualified to be an English.

9. Every foreign black guy in Beijing is a drug dealer.

8. Every Chinese person is an Atheist, anti-Christian, anti-American

7. Every white foreigner in China is rich.

6. Every Chinese person is living on 100 USD a year.

5. Every Chinese person has no sibling, except for the high-powered cadre and rich people.

4. Every Chinese person likes to eat rice.

3. Every Chinese person looks the same.

2. Every Chinese person know Kung-Fu.

1. Taiwan is and has always been an inseparable part of China.

Houhai High Noon

From the red-hot quill-tip of resident Bard BJD, Sinocidal now brings you:

Houhai High Noon


Lana: 31-years-old, from L.A., publishing executive. Feisty.
Vivien: 26-years-old, from Labrador, research student. Weight issues.
Ian: 27-years-old, Australian-born, Hong Kong raised, accountant. Twat.
Ross: 27-years-old, from Bath in the UK, embassy worker. Deluded twat.
Boris: 42-years-old, from Kent in the UK, English teacher. Closet fag.

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The One Where TaiTai’s Mama Goes to Hospital

This is not a funny post, (”no change there!” I hear you cry) there is no punchline, so please don’t expect one. I just wanted to air this situation and get people’s thoughts, experiences, advice even on something. So here’s the story:

My wife (the present Mrs TaiTai) lost both of the uncles on her mother’s side to lung cancer in recent years, which naturally has been a very traumatic time for the family. Things have slowly returned to some kind of normality – life moves on as they say.

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White Hunter

What follows is the final part of BJD’s Beijing Trilogy. A la Oliver Stone’s Vietnam Trilogy, this last offering is positively awful and should live on only in the memory of Alzheimer’s sufferers and people with massive neurological damage that only highly intrusive surgery with a whisk and a Kango can cure. So, without further ado, Sinocidal ambivalently presents…

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I just had to share this with y’all

Where last week we were moved by the guy who designed the Olympic stadium and we toyed with the idea of making him ‘Man of the Month’, but we were too lazy – this week I’ve found a Biatch who deserves to be nominated as Augusts Ms. Sinocidal Bitch of the Month. Isn’t she just your ideal babe? Be careful now, she may sue us.

(Update – I found the link, it’s easier to read City Weekend)

The One Where TaiTai’s Mate’s Dad Goes to China in 1971

A couple of years ago I was talking to a friend’s father, back in the UK, about life in China and he mentioned that he’d traveled there a couple of times in the early seventies. Naturally I was very interested to hear of his experiences, particularly as it was during a time when very few westerners were travelling to China. He was the MD of a large European steel-works at the time, and was invited to China, by the government, to negotiate the supply of steel to the country. I believe he visited twice, once in 1970 and again in 1971. He showed me some stills from the 1970 trip, but I was excited to learn that for his 1971 visit he had taken along, and had been allowed to use, a Cine camera.

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The One Where TaiTai’s Grandson Goes to Beijing in 2047

Dear GrandTaiTai,

Phew! Well I finally made it to Beijing. You were right, the teleporters are NOT instant; must have taken at least 15 seconds to get from the living room to the lobby of the Oriental Great Wall Red Dragon Yao Ming Memorial Golden Phoenix Hotel. I DLed a cyberpamphlet from the conciergebot and apparently the hotel is named after some hoopy old frood who used to play basketball, but was accidentally made president of China after some old guy, named Hu (ha!), got rinsed on Absynthe while playing top trumps. Anyway, he was only prez for a day, but had a whale of a time and abolished Communism, reunited the motherland, closed down all the coal-mines, and told everyone to stop being so bloody selfish. And it is thanks to him that we have the incredible, shiny, democratic beacon of hope that is the China of today. Pity he got run over by a taxi while crossing Chang’An Avenue that afternoon to pay his respects to some other even older frood, sorry can’t remember his name. Anyway, you probably already know all this since you were here at the time, but it’s all very new and exciting for me!

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The combined effects of Rain on Pollution, Gravity and Commonsense

The combined effects of Rain on Pollution, Gravity and Commonsense

It’s raining, again, and through empirically derived results we see once again that rain enhances stupidity. Although the subjects for analysis are based locally, the same laws will probably apply anywhere in the world to greater or lesser degrees, although I lay wager it’s mostly lesser. Now, although I say ‘empirically derived’, it’s just a nice word I like to use and I’m sure being the smart arsed, picky people that you are, you will want some sort of Sinocidal, Irrationally derived theorem. Well, here you have it.

Firstly we have the subjects, in no particular order. Most times they are selfish, self-centered and tunnel visioned with a touch of arrogance and everyone-else, cyclists, motorcyclists, car/bus/truck drivers and road sweepers with and without carts.

Secondly we have gravity. It keeps all the shit close to the ground. Everything has gravity and everything attracts everything else. The larger the mass of shit, the stronger the gravitational effects. Where I live, I’m sure we have more gravity that many other places as we sure do have a lot of shit.

Thirdly we have the pollution. Not as much as some places but a lot worse than most. On a bad day when someone farts, you can see air swirl in the nether regions. Girls with particularly air-tight stockings tend to look like they have lumpy hamstrings and knees, but that’s a story that LaoLao will tell us one day.

Now, humans need air and in particular oxygen, to function properly. Dilute or reduce the oxygen and people start to act drunk and their judgments, actions and speech are impaired. When we have high levels of pollution, we have everyday life in China – havoc with lots (and lots and lots and lots) of people walking, riding or driving about like drunks. HAVOC –Harmful And Volatile Occurring in China.

We have an open system controlled by, yet trying it’s damnest to defy, the laws of physics, especially the 2nd law of thermodynamics – but we don’t want to get too deep into that. As for the law of biogenesis – well, feel free to contemplate that at your leisure, but it’ll drive you crazy as you sit next to a pond and compare pond ‘life’ to, well, life in general.

All goes along smoothly, no doubt conforming to and constrained by some sort of laws and theories. The chaos theory fits nicely in here as well methinks. CHAOS – China Has Always had Organised Shambles.

Then, we add some external stimulus – and all Hell breaks loose. Rain – pure, unadulterated, acid rain! The physichemical formula for rain is –

R = G*(H2O+CrAp) where G is the universal gravitational constant and CrAp is the non-universal chemical coefficient of the atmospherically absorbed solids.

Now, the (simplified) law of universal gravitation states that ‘every object in the universe attracts every other object with a force that is proportional to their mass and inversely proportional to the square of their separation’ or

Fg = G(m1.m2/r^2)

Now, please bear with me. On any given non-rainy day, things work as well as we can expect. People go about their business and the chaos theory is clearly evident and in action at all places at all times. However, add some Rain and things all go away. Pedestrians walk about with umbrellas so low they can’t see where they’re going, cyclist wear capes with hoods that preclude anything but straight ahead and down vision, street sweepers walk about in the middle of traffic swinging their brushes wearing the same capes and drivers try to drive faster, accelerate, brake and change lanes even more erratically than normal – if that is possible – and still seem to get nowhere fast. I’m-getting-to-where-I’m-going attitude is intensified and the general laws of physics and sensible behavior go out the  window. So how can that be possible?

Well, the Sinocidal 4th law of chaos is, that when it rains, all the pollution is pushed lower to the ground causing a greater concentration of CrAp. This further reduces available oxygen levels and causes more drunk like behavior. At the same time, the greater mass of water in the air, combined with the concentrated crap, means that there are more objects with mass nearer to ground lever and as the gravitational influence of all these masses with CrAp affects each and every other mass then the normal and prevailing vertical gravitational affects are weakened and this in turn means less oxygen is available at these lower levels and compounds the drunk like behavior. In fact, chaos becomes more like a stag party with a few too many kegs, and now we’ve added a couple of cases of Tequila.

Because there’s less gravity, there’s less strain on the body, circulatory and respiratory systems and people get light headed. This, as you would expect, compounds even further the drunk like behavior and what we end up with is the equivalent of the stag party at 3am and heading to the red light area.

You see, life in China is like one big party and sometimes we have some really wild ones. Now, if only we had strippers then it’s a party I’d like to be invited to. Welcome to China where every day is a ‘Party’.

A pavements lot is not a happy one (Sidewalk Blues)

Sing along to the tune of ‘Dog shit on your shoes’ by the Chranquies. 

Things are changing and the times they are a’changin’ as well. They’ve widened many of the roads in town to allow the ever increasing volumes of traffic to flow better. (I should point out at this time, to those of you that are trying to sing along, this isn’t really a song, but if you’re having fun then stick with it) Knocked down all the old buildings that we knew and loved through the years and cut down the trees lining the roads that used to give me shade during the heat of summer. They replaced all the old, small shops and restaurants with,… shiny new shops, ’boutiques’ and restaurants selling the same things but only now they charge a little more.

Progress they call it and it’s the way forward for our city and our country. I suppose I shouldn’t complain really, they made me wider as well and gave me a nice new covering of yellow and red paving tiles with special ones for the blind to follow, as long as the blind don’t come out walking when it’s raining because I’m deadly when I’m wet. I suppose I’m helping play my part in making our great country more modern and helping those visually challenged folks as well – although I never see blind people walking about these days as they’re all working as ’specialists’ in back massage shops and never find time to venture out.

I used to enjoy my lot though, serving the community as a place to walk, underneath the shade of the large cypress trees as they all went about their business, walking from small shop to small shop and stopping to buy a snack in between and pass the time of day with others also out walking about. Everyone would walk on me and I’d be swept clean regularly and occasionally given a dousing with water to keep me cool – and wash away some of the lung-jam they like to hack up so much. The few cars there were in town would all drive along my close friend Mr. Road and so would the bicycles and merchants trailers. I wasn’t wide enough for cars to bother me and bicycles wouldn’t bother trying to use me either. I was designed and built to serve the pedestrian and that’s what I did. It was the great proletarian pedestrian that freed this country from it’s shackles and built it up to what it is today. In fact, that’s what I’m still designed and built to do but now I get abused in so many different ways by all those jabba’s and other capitalist dogs who own electric bicycles and other such materialistic things.

Now there’s so much traffic on the roads and so many jabbacars that park wherever they want to, that bicycles have to squeeze along between parked cars, crazy buses and pedestrians. That’s right, the pedestrians mostly walk on Mr. Road these days. Me, well I’m just used as a parking lot for bicycles since there’s no where else to park their bikes. Pedestrians can’t get walking on me because I’m full of bikes, aircon units, people washing vegetables and beggars. Sometimes, now that I’m so wide, even jabbacars drive along me with total disregard for the pedestrians. Other times, motorbikes drive along me, peeping there horns like crazy and making any brave pedestrian trying to get into a shop jump out of the way. They tried putting a bicycle lane between me and Mr. Road but that didn’t work. Jabbacars, taxis and even buses just used Mrs. Bike Lane for their own purposes every time the traffic lights caused the big junctions to back up like a toilet. Most other times, Mrs. Bike Lane was just as full of pedestrians avoiding me and motor bikes avoiding Mr. Road, that the bikes were forced to use me or dance with the traffic. It’s a crazy old world.

I used to enjoy being a pavement, I served an honest purpose and was treated with respect and consideration by the people that used me. They used to tell me things like, ‘I wish we had a few more of you on the Long Walk**, we’d have finished the job a lot quicker’. I felt wanted and needed – nowadays I feel abused, neglected and I think everyone’s forgotten what I’m really for. People these days are so damn selfish. If this is progress you can stick it up your exhaust pipe.

To everyone who’s reading this, Happy New Year. To everyone that’s not, then you should be.

** The Long Walk. Why didn’t they get it sponsored by Nike, they could have raised a fortune for charity.

Get Ugly Early

Once again I find myself navigating the labyrinth of narrow passageways between the homes in a village who’s name is unknown to me. But the smells, sounds and feel of some undefinable viscus fluid squishing beneath my shoes. These things I know. These things are familiar.

As I make my way through the twists and turns that are encased in walls of crumbling brick I go over the plan for today. The mental checklist of names, faces and phrases is gone over one more time just to make sure no detail is overlooked, no contingency not planed for.

Turning a corner I note that the sun in coming up, its light not coming to me directly but by a series of caroms off windows, windshields and car mirrors. Its light both reminding me that I need to hurry and also saving me from stepping in a puddle of liquid that is all too identifiable.

Suddenly amongst din of the background ambiance, I smell something that brings my travels to a momentary halt. Could it be? I have heard rumors that it exists here, but outside of protected havens I have not seen it among the general populace. Could it actually be cheese?

Out of a sudden nostalgic hunger I search for the source only to have my hopes dashed yet again. The cheese, the lovely fromage of which I dreamt was nothing more than the bare feet of an old man sleeping on a pile of styrofoam.

In olden days this discovery would put me off of visiting the protected haven known as Pizza Hut for at least a month, but now it is nothing more than a slight disappointment.

Picking up my pace to make up for lost time, I come to the clearing filled with Aunties doing Tai Chi. This is always one of the most perilous parts of my journey. I must pass through the crowd without being engaged in conversation, offered food, introduced to their daughters (who just happen to be with them that morning) or having my solar plexus rammed into my spine by one of these elderly genetic experiments doing the deadly “scooping water” move.

Safely past that hurdle I see the main street ahead. If I can cross that street, I will make it to sanctuary. Only a little further.

I step from the alleyway onto the main street and I cross the street with the dexterity of a 10 year old playing human frogger on their home computer. The building that is my goal is within site. Only 10 more meters.

Making my way, I deftly dodge strollers, people stopping randomly and others who just move way too slow. As I reach for the handle of the door, I hear it. I have been spotted. Today, just like every day I have once again failed in my mission to enter sanctuary unnoticed and unmolested by ‘him’.

“Hellllloooooo! You buy watch? Omega? Rolex? I sell. Cheap”, says ‘him’, AKA the obnoxious watch hawker.

I turn and scream into his face. “You stupid fuck. No, I do not want to buy any of your shitty fucking fake fucking watches. You slack jawed, in-bred, dirt farmer fuck.”

“Just like every other day for the past year and a half. I haven’t wanted to buy your damn watches then, I don’t want to buy them now. Every day, you bother me with your fuck wit fuck fuck fuck…” I sputter as I realize once again that he doesn’t understand a single word I am saying.

I stare into his blank smiling face and it dawns on me. He knows I don’t want to buy his watches. He just does it for the entertainment value of watching me explode.

With a heavy sigh I turn and enter my office without another word. But one thing still bothers me. One question still tugs at my brain like a happy ending factory. Just how much does he charge for those fake watches? Maybe I will have to ask someday.