My Winning Communism Speech

No. 28 of 30 -- Guidance Counselor series

I know I wrung the guidance counselor many times through the wringer. And I’ll wring him out a little more today, with suspicions of ulterior motives, but for the most part this is positive about how he helped me accomplish my persuasive speech.

Have you ever given a persuasive speech? It’s very artificial in a class, since everyone knows it’s a persuasive speech. Of course they’re looking more for technique and less to be persuaded. Whereas, say I were to give my persuasive speech to a more typical crowd of indoctrinated Americans, it's likely they would’ve been repelled instead of persuaded. Almost persuaded, but lost, running dog lackies.

And who knows? I didn’t think it at the time, but maybe the guidance counselor only helped me because he thought it’d bomb and I’d look bad. As it turned out, no one was persuaded but I did OK for content and presentation. I even studied enough on Communism that for that week I was really into it.

We heard a lot about communism then, supposedly bad, blah blah blah. I thought, Give me a break. How can most of the world be Communist and Communism be bad? I was mostly thinking about China, which had people by the ton and manufactured most of the cheap things I bought. Seemed pretty capitalist to me...

OK, the guidance counselor was suddenly alive with helpfulness. I had no idea that he might be setting me up for a public hanging. But if indeed those were his evil motives, the kids in class were mostly bored and nothing I could’ve said would've yielded anything like a public hanging. Only one kid there was a radical — this was before Fox News — and I thought he had to be faking it. His hair he kept purposely short, his shirt was tucked in his pants by choice, his belt nipple-high, he carried a briefcase and identified with the word 'warmonger.' Even he didn't mind the speech.

I no longer have my notes and supporting documents except for what I have above. But you can tell what the tact was. To expose American propaganda about communism and show the actual truth that it's a good path for society. American propaganda tended to put a negative spin on communism, showing the people sad and in chains. Whereas the true teaching, communism’s testimony of itself, showed it as entirely good, the people happy, dogs breeding with each other like normal, etc. All hunky dory, the dog population proceeding apace, the people happy, dancing on the publicly held lawns, more or less a field day for everyone everyday!

I was immediately repulsed at American propaganda for not even admitting that the Communists saw things in color like us. But everything was a dingy scratchy black and white. Was that reasonable? I actually asked my dad, who was strictly anti-Communist, and he vouched for the black and white scratchy theory. I asked a guy at the Chinese restaurant, since I didn’t know any Russians not in hiding, and he said, “No talk 'bout, order pwease.” I had a crab rangoon and left, disappointed at not knowing more about worldwide governance.

One of the things that really rang true for me was some good information I got on American capitalists being pigs. That definitely rang true in my experience, letting me know I was on the right track. That went over very well in the speech. No one rebutted the point, nor did anyone produce compelling proof that we weren’t pigs. The graphic I had on American children being pigs was pleasantly received, many laughs.

The guidance counselor gave me a thumbs up on the thing and sent me forth. When I figured out his angle, that I might’ve been publicly strung up for my foreign viewpoints, I was of course disappointed. But it was par for the course for the guy, a capitalist bastard with a stupid wrestling coach mentality in a stereotypical guidance counselor’s body.

In the grand world of communism — and someday we'll see it at long last — we’ll string up guidance counselors like him. Or reeducate them, which no doubt will be a waste of time, meaning his hanging will be an hour or so later.

The Chinese Placemat Gang

If you're Chinese -- working in a restaurant or not, and if not we hope you find a job soon -- you've probably been reading with some concerns my recent posts about destroying February and reallocating its days around the calendar. Concerns because of a possible conflict between your own zodiac system (as found on a well-known Chinese restaurant placemat) and my plans for February. I had the same concerns...

I don't know what it was exactly, unless it was still the bad effects of the Chinese buffet I ate a few weeks ago, but I woke up last night, in the middle of the night, feverishly trying to work it out in my own mind, what the plan would mean for honorable placemat. Would it somehow lose its effectiveness and become unusable, even obsolete?

I love those placemats, featuring as they do the animal kingdom from a Chinese perspective. You'll recall they've got 12 animals as zodiac illustrations, relating to the year you were born, with advice for the lovelorn. "Is it good that my husband is a rat? What if my girlfriend's a cock? Should I marry her anyway? Or get her fixed?" I've actually tried its advice a few times and got some real dogs. As for me, going by my birth year (1953), I am a rat. Even though I like to think I'm a tiger.

In the middle of the night, though, I couldn't quite remember what the system was. I was thinking the illustrations pertained somehow to the particular months. So say the boar was February, and you got rid of the boar, it'd throw the whole thing out of whack. The boar's pretty virile. If it was the rabbit left out that wouldn't be so bad. But rabbits are very prolific. Not that that does the Chinese any good, since they can only have one bunny.

It might not be so bad to cut the boar out, just thinking out loud. You get rid of the more virile ones and a sneaky little rat like me starts looking better. Although if, as above, my girlfriend truly did turn out to be a cock, then whether I'm rat, rabbit, or boar, we're gonna have problems. It's not that I'm necessarily that choosy, but I like some truth in advertising.

Even though I was wrong about the system -- destroying February has no effect on the Chinese placemat -- I'm still glad I got up to check it out. China's a big place and for some reason we always associate the word "hordes" with them. They've also got some mean evildoers -- like Fu Manchu and Wicked Wang Fu -- who'd love to sink their big gnarly fingernails into a guy like me. Were I to offend the most populous nation on earth, it could be tragic. Which I would never do intentionally, and if I have done so, accidentally, just let me sincerely say, So solly.

Now that we're all friends again, if each Chinese person out there were to send me a note of support for destroying February, that would be great. And if each one of you could also enclose $1, win or lose, I'd be filthy rich.

The NSA and Baby Monitors

Welcome to the true nanny state, as our National Security Agency (NSA), with their great success at surveillance on all other fronts, turns its attention to the last frontier, baby monitors. These limited communication devices, usually with such innocent messages -- "Good baby," "Baby wet," and "Hey, Mom, get your butt in here!" -- can also be channels of deceit and intrigue, detrimental to national and international security.

They say kids are growing up faster all the time. We've all seen that's true. Kids shooting one another, kids blowing up schools, and of course, kid entrepreneurs buying up multinational companies and burning them to the ground for the insurance. With schools -- this is no laughing matter -- kids are developing a war mentality: "If I'm old enough to go to school, I'm old enough to vote and drink." It's a lot different from when I was a kid. If the teacher saw you with a knife, let's say, she gave you a thumbs up and we continued our mumblypeg game. But the downside was we couldn't vote or drink.

Now it appears, we're facing an even more insidious enemy, the innocent baby. Think of Vladimir Putin. Is there a bigger babyface than him on the international scene? There actually is, Kim Jong Un, but we've got him contained. That leaves Putin, who, with his KGB background has brought the old Soviet mindset to our shores in the most despicable manner possible, in our freshly-minted youngsters, fresh out of the womb, fresh into the party! Communists!

Look at the way they do it in hospitals. The babies are in a little commune behind glass, one big happy family, sharing and sharing alike, identifying themselves by party colors, pink and blue. I think I've got that right. Pink field, blue sickle in the corner. It's only right that the NSA would do their best to protect the homeland, gathering and massaging all the intelligence they can get. I know they even have a number of my calls by now, checking around as I have with various baby stores about monitors in researching this article. Some creeps google pressure cookers -- and not just Grandma -- I google baby devices. Both dangerous to do.

Anyway, we've always looked at these monitors as completely innocent, because Mom, and to a more limited degree Dad, thought they needed them to keep Junior or Princess protected. God forbid they soil themselves and they miss their immediate cry! They might have to lay in their own filth a few seconds. Seriously, my opinion, we've been babying babies far too long. We should let them experience life as it really is, tough. Lie in it, kid! Learn what Desitin's for! Of course we wouldn't let them suffer to the point of demanding the vote and liquor, just give them moderate toughness, of the right kind, American toughness.

But no, instead, by babying them various party apparatchiks have taken advantage and infiltrated the nursery, knowing the little buggers would reveal information via the monitor. "What's your father up to?" "Burning flags in the basement." "What's your mom doing?" "Something with a breast pump, sending milk to Russia and Red China, hoping to develop super warriors, that America be destroyed from within and without." God, that's insidious! Who was it who rued "The Enemy Within"? One of the Kennedys, Churchill, or some bigwig like that? They didn't expect the enemy within to be so young ... and apparently so helpless!

Then there's kids who aren't merely passive and accepting of outside schemes. There's the ones with brains -- probably reincarnated Cold Warriors -- who know where the grids are and what grids do and can be made to do. They're the ones who immediately know how to communicate via these obscure radio frequencies -- baby monitors -- the plans of a mastermind: "We'll meet at the docks. The soldiers are hiding in tuna barrels. You'll know them by their breath, smelling of fish. Get there by 8:00 p.m. Bring mayo."

I have to say, friends, I'm glad -- you don't know how glad! -- the NSA is on this. And patrolling neighborhoods all through our threatened land. Recording baby monitors and protecting democracy from future generations, hopefully never to be born.

The Ideograms of Ancient Chinese Orthography

I'm indulging my orthographical proclivities today, specifically relating to the evolution of Chinese writing. As with anything taking hundreds of years to develop, naturally, the process took centuries. In the interest of time, we will not be able to cover it all.

Our study isolates itself in the earliest centuries, a time way before now. The time is so long ago, and memories so poor, that we can say virtually anything and no one will be able to disprove it. In that spirit of serious inquiry, let me simply state, the ancient Chinese system of writing used ideograms as seen in the illustration, presenting concrete situations, everyday occurrences, as a way of re-presenting them for the record, for reading and passing on. This system evolved, then, into today's writing, being much more abstract and yet still all of one piece.

OK, enough blather. Let's simply look at the pictures and see what they tell of us of ancient Chinese writing.

NUMBER 1 - This is what the Chinese had to write every time they wanted to say, "A man [or name] was riding a chicken." That looks like a lot of strokes, with the saddles, the feathers, and the detailing on the reins! It'd take quite a while to write it out if it came up very often.

Think of the challenge if you had a story like this: "I am just back from the chicken riding competition. There were four riders. Lee Wong was riding a chicken, Pong Ping was riding a chicken, Ulysses S. Po was riding a chicken, and Ea Ting was riding a chicken. Right there you've got an hour's worth of writing! Then if you had to sketch out the details you'd be exhausted: Lee Wong was in the lead riding a chicken, but midway through the race he was overtaken by Ulysses S. Po riding a chicken. Not to be outdone, Ea Ting, riding a chicken, moved up on the rail and overtook the others. Then, with one lap to go, Ea Ting's chicken, which he was riding, went down, and Pong Ping flew his chicken across midfield and, by this unusual way of riding a chicken, won the race! Whew!

We want somehow to consolidate the story. Like write the Chinese character for riding a chicken and simply diagram the race by who was in the lead on the various laps.

NUMBER 2 - Finding money is probably the same in every language. I like the Chinese version, though, for the real excitement conveyed. We try to evoke the same sense when we simply add an exclamation point, "The man found money on the sidewalk!", but it's not the same. However, when pictured, then there's a human story we can share joyfully.

I have to chuckle a little at this one, at the hat springing off in the man's excitement. It's those little touches that first gave me the sense of fun needed to learn Chinese.

NUMBER 3 - This literally takes us into flights of fancy. We have a nicely plump marshmallow-like man in a turban on a magic carpet, the Chinese letter for a messenger from the gods. I think this letter shows something of the vivaciousness of Chinese orthography. You have to picture him coming down in a flash, at super sonic speeds. As in others of the world's cosmological systems, it's all downhill from the Chinese heaven. So their messengers can only build up speed.

But for all that, we see no anxiety on his part. There's no grab bars, no seat belt, and even no trouble keeping the turban affixed. The mat is perfectly straight, showing in the simplest way the complete trust of the Chinese that help is assured, that it arrives with little trouble.

It might be good to see the messenger's return trip, but, alas, there's no such ideogram. Probably because of the embarrassment of the messenger's limited thrust going up.

NUMBER 4 - The Chinese word/letter for two friends having coffee is, appropriately, the picture of two friends having coffee. Given the ancient province of these letters, the illustration is surprisingly modern. The hats seem almost to be in the style of western hats for women in the 1920s, proving that the more things change, at least for the ancient Chinese unfamiliar with recent fashions, the more they stay the same.

There's not much more to say. I have always had a few quibbles over this letter, because the friends don't have faces. That seems a terrible omission since it conveys the idea of drinking coffee. Where's the coffee going, down the hole where their necks would be? My other major quibble is the unsteadiness of the chairs, missing as they are the back legs. These should be replaced, for safety if no other reason.

NUMBER 5 is one of my sentimental favorites. Again, it's from ancient China, but it's so modern and universal as it shows us the backbreaking work of women in every era. I say it's a sentimental favorite because it reminds me so much of my own mother and grandmother. They would work till they were bent, carrying heavy pails of water and mops.

Of course, water is always heavier than it looks. If you have a small pail, as is portrayed in the letter, that's not so bad. But it all adds up if you're carrying buckets all day, as some women must do to keep their homes appropriately spic and span.

Lest we are alarmed at the backbreaking work, there's another Chinese letter that goes with this one, showing the woman's work after carrying buckets and mopping. She reaches her brooms high into the corners of rooms, literally taking hours to knock down cobwebs and dust bunnies. This has two purposes, to clean the room adequately, and also to straighten out her back, preparing her for the next day's strenuous labor.

NUMBER 6 is one, that for some mysterious, unknown reason, my eye is always drawn to. I think it has something to do with the relationship between the woman and the man, although I can't be sure. The lack of lines within the figures, as is common in many Chinese letters, in this case suggests nudity, which, it can be argued, does indeed catch people's attention.

Then there's the setting, some isolated, rural locale, where inhibitions are few. The man is comfortable, holding a bottle of heavenly nectar, and his form is splayed out suggestively. The woman, her hair decorated almost as if she is the queen of heaven, waves a palm branch over him. This could be to fan him, to cool his ardor, or could even be out of her own seductive repertoire.

Looking closer, we see what appears to be a tree in the background. Honestly, I think this should have been dropped over the course of the centuries from Chinese script. It doesn't add anything to the letter, and almost makes it look like the woman has hair trailing from her-- from her-- from her form.

What precisely does this ideogram stand for? I hate to say, except I will mention that you still see it in the titles of many Chinese adult films.

Miasmic Pepper Shrimp

I went undercover tonight in my crusade against the Chinese. It felt like backsliding, really, because I've been trying to avoid it, but it was for a good cause. I wanted to gain intelligence on their furtive, possibly evil ways. I went to eat at a Chinese restaurant.

This is usually something I regret, for obvious reasons. The food is very spicy, there's a hundred choices, about six of them taste good, and there's enough nasty looking items on the buffet to make the six seem bad.

Yet occasionally it's still a temptation I give in to, because once I had a good piece of chicken there and some kind of red pork. But that doesn't make up for the time the corn on the cob was rancid. In fact, most of the vegetables look bad enough that I scrupulously avoid them, so what do I have on my plate, about five different kinds of meat. Including lots of pepper shrimp. And a little bit of rice.

Tonight, though, as already revealed, I went with an ulterior motive, to seek out signs of Chinese espionage against America, perhaps secret trapdoors, boxes within boxes, finger traps, dripping water, fortune cookies hinting at illicit rendezvous'es (?), maybe illegal aliens serving as wait staff -- if I find something I might become known as the Lou Dobbs of Chinatown. And, who knows, if there's enough clues in this little strip mall dive I might lead a national effort, organizing a Minuteman brigade to guard the porous China/U.S. border.

But after eating there tonight, something weird happened. They must have known I was coming and did something to the food. Some kind of spice designed to overcome my will. With just a few bites of the pepper shrimp I completely mellowed out. I was in such a condition of weakened will that I believe I ate a cheese mussel still clinging to its shell. Yes, it must've been the hyper-spiced super miasmic pepper shrimp. That's my word for it, leading to the state that followed, a psychological bombasia I hadn't experienced since the Leon Russell concert in '72. But this was a salty food unlike any I've ever tasted. It was like dying and going to a potato chip factory. I felt myself becoming very lightheaded and felt a strange swaying motion. I looked over at the chandelier above the broccoli chow mein and everything seemed alive. I felt like I was staggering as I went for more shrimp.

Eating more and more, the sensation of motion left me and instead I felt a real honing of my senses; I could really think, like a computer making typewriter clicks and rings. I started taking in my surroundings. My eyes could see sharply, my sense of sound was keen. I listened to the waiters speaking Chinese and discerned their intent -- normal restaurant business. The people behind me laughed in conversation -- personal trivia with no greater meaning. I could read the lips of the folks across the way -- ordering iced tea. Even the manager and his son over by the cash register I could closely examine -- the boy was playing a game, a handheld electronic game. My senses were alive, but there wasn't a single bit of espionage. But I no longer cared.

I ate another helping of the miasmic pepper shrimp, and it took away a lot of the anxiety I've had lately. There truly was something in it that seemed to make me tolerate the Chinese more and more. I went out of that restaurant no longer caring about their Communist government that much. And everything else I criticized them for, I decided to let bygones be bygones. Shake and be friends.

Perhaps this was their evil plan all along, to make me friends with China. But I don't care a bit.

Our Assault on the Chinese

Our assault on the Chinese continues unabated.

If we could liberate the people of Chinese, we would do it in a heartbeat. But it's not an easy task.

The truth is we don't know what to do. So we're more or less floundering without a plan.

My main thought is some kind of cultural intrusion, to dilute their culture with western influences.

We're going to need the help of Hollywood to put a Chinese translation on their worst movies.

We're calling on various cable networks who are known for emitting pollution -- some of the religious broadcasters, shopping channels, and, of course, Fox News, to help in this effort. Give away your services toward bringing China down.

I'm looking for a highly placed official to serve on a blue ribbon panel on infiltration.

China -- A Nation of Fools

We have been less than impressed with China during the Olympics, to say the least. It has led us to one unmistakable, certain conclusion, that China is simply a nation of fools.

Obviously they have what it takes to get things done, if you don't mind being an automaton subservient to a slave-driving government.

The scandals in the Olympics have given them a black eye, for sure. Some of it was done for simple theatrics, some was out and out cheating. They're definitely control freaks.

Do they think they're doing themselves any favors as to how the international community sees them? Who precisely do they think they're fooling? It's been disgusting.

Maybe China "had it goin' on" at various times in their history. Like when they discovered Chinese food. But it's all been downhill ever since.

They have a nitwit leader named Mao. As far as we can tell he does little but pose for pictures -- and not 8 x 10's either, more like humongous posters the size of a double decker bus. By the way, look at that disgusting, honking wart on his chin!

We hope it's a good long while before we have to hear about China or think about China again. We have a request submitted to the Olympics committee that if China ever makes an application to host the Olympics again that they "conveniently" lose the paperwork.

The Chinese have many sins to answer for, not the least of which is the terrible pollution in their cities. And of course their Communist government sucks royally.

Let us bid a final farewell to the Chinese. Don't call, don't write, don't drop by. If you ever dig a hole in your yard don't come this far. We think you are terrible -- a veritable nation of fools -- you disgust us -- we never want to hear about you again -- you should be ashamed -- you're liars and cheaters -- your people are idiots for submitting to your Communist government -- Mao is a certifiable twit -- your fireworks are very dangerous to children -- your food has intolerable levels of MSG -- you're chronic sufferers of the China syndrome -- a bull in a China shop would be doing us all a favor -- your restaurants are cheapskates in that you can't take home food that you paid for -- Confucius was a fluke; it just so happened that one guy in your whole stinking land managed to have all his chromosomes.

In all seriousness, I am one man, just one man. My life has been pretty good but to tell the truth I've always been kind of at loose ends, drifting, without much real purpose. But all that comes to an end, starting now. From now on, I -- this one man -- bravely, courageously, and triumphantly will lead a quest, a charge, to expose, defeat, and ultimately destroy the nation of China!

Olympic Lip Synching -- Cute Girl Substituted

This hardly seems right. The Chinese substituted Lin Miaoke (that's her head on top of Grandma Slump's body) for Yang Peiyi (seen on the wall).

You might remember, it was in the Opening Ceremony of the Olympics, a segment that I happened to miss. They had a patriotic song called "Hymn to the Motherland."

Well, that was Yang Peiyi singing, but because she has buck teeth, she was bumped, and Lin Miaoke lip synched to Yang Peiyi's recorded voice.

She wasn't "cute" enough. Mr. Chen, the musical director, said she was "a little too old." And had bad teeth.

Just looking at the picture, though, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. I think Lin Miaoke's way cuter than Grandma!

"Grandma, I love your body. But the white hair, the dour expression, it's just not the ideal look I'm going for. It's been great, really it has, but I'm giving your head two weeks notice."