Our Pilgrimage to the Holy Land

Last night I met Fuzz Car for slop. We went to the Holy Land, found a slop house, and ordered frog legs porridge and fried eggs with oysters. After four months of absence, I found myself delighted to be back in the Holy Land. As we shot the shot over slop, I basked in the wonderful and vibrant sights of this hotbed of vice. Across the street a club flashed its large neon signs. In an hour – it was around seven – the working girls would turn up and entertain its patrons. Already several scantily clothed specs walked past our table. Dressed to titillate, their cleavage seemed to flash in the dim light of dusk and every stride accentuated the creamy whiteness of their slender legs. Just as we did, more than a few male glances shot their way, appraising the whores and no doubt fantasizing of ravishing them.

Seated at a table near ours was a couple. The spec had generous funbags and a hard look on her otherwise pretty face, but in terms of aesthetics her companion could not approach her. He looked like an Asian version of Wayne Rooney, a brutish specimen that should have seen the back of a Nazi gas chamber had he existed in more civilized times.

A charlatan of Chinese nationality came to our table and requested to see our fortunes. We waved him away. He went to the fake Rooney’s table and after receiving a similar reception, crossed the road, no doubt looking for easier marks. An old woman then came and tried to sell us tissue papers. She got the same treatment. Our immigration policies are abject failures. The regime allows in all kinds of dregs from regional shitholes and in doing so, deprived us of livelihoods and forced old folks to suffer the indignity of peddling tissue papers. Our country is the dump of the world, a cheap whore who spread her legs and invites invasion into her loose cunt for the price of a beer. This cuntry is a blight on the face of the earth, and as I said earlier, if we were in earlier and civilized times, this cesspit would have met the same end as the ogre at the next table.

We finished our slop and proceeded to the central business district (CBD), where the priciest merchandise are. At first we lost our way but we reoriented ourselves and soon found ourselves at the road junction leading to the CBD. A line of Indonesians or Pinoy specs - I can never really tell the two species apart, since generally speaking, they are short and unimpressive - stood at the side of the road. Few shoppers deigned to walk to look at them. The presence of these undesirable and obviously inferior products is degrading the value of the area in which they stand. It is like setting up a This Fashion shop in Orchard ion, right next to the shops offering Prada and Gucci bags. The eyesore stands ut like a sore thumb.

After Fuzz Car deposited his pail at the side of nearby building – he was carrying his carwash equipment – and we went to the Darlene Hotel to look at the specs there. One just emerged from the hotel lobby after her client and joined her sisters. The quality of the Chinese merchandise has dropped. Out of the four we saw, only one deserved the $100 price tag and even then, she barely tipped the mark. I may sound like a broken record, but we are taking in more and more rubbish. It is time to be stringent in our immigration policies and be selective of the foreigners we take in. There are way too many foreign trash than foreign talent.

My friend decided he wanted to try the spec who was worth the $100 price tag. However, he was short of funds and we had to go to the nearby automatic teller machines to retrieve some cash. Unfortunately, in the twenty minutes it took us to do this, the alert was sounded and the streets vacated. We sat at the railings in front of the Darlene Hotel and waited for the alert to clear. While we were complaining about the poodles and their spoilsport ways, four of them appeared. They took down the license plate of the illegally parked bike a few metres from us and then continued on their merry ways. It really pays to be a fuzz. No armed gangs, mafia, and terrorists to deal with, just the occasional domestic dispute to resolve - so easy to be a fuzz in this shithole.

Having gone impatient of waiting, we decided to move to the fish tanks. We went to a few houses. The majority of these establishments were peddling Thai flesh at $50 a shot/25 minutes but one in the middle offered a different product: Chinese flesh, massage and ‘full package’ at $100 for the duration of 50 minutes. We saw half a dozen cnspecs in the fish tanks. I thought 1 and 6, with their whorish looks and high (and big) breasts looked good enough, but Fuzz Car felt that the ‘teacher’ (the spec in question was wearing specs) was compelling. He decided to get on with it. I felt that he made the wrong choice but I had no chance to tell him as he just went ahead and paid the proprietor.

I have to digress for a while. The proprietors of these fish tanks know more about marketing techniques like product placement than many of our business or marketing graduates and professionals. Take this case as a case study. Six specs sitting in a fish tank. The prettiest ones will almost always be placed to the end of the line. Why is this so? Simple. When a potential mark walks in, the tendency is for him to look right at the middle (where the average or least attractive specs are placed) of the bevy of beauties. As his eyes will fall on these least marketable products first, there is a higher chance of him purchasing one of the comparatively inferiorproducts, even though superior packaged products are placed just next to them. If he buys the products, good for the proprietor because he has managed to sell a harder to sell product. If the mark dismisses the products in the middle, he will naturally look at the products at the sides (if a little cajoling from the proprietor to look more carefully if he makes a move to leave) and it is likelier that he will buy the better-looking merchandise. In either case, the proprietor will have made a sale. Show the lousy goods first (20% chance of being purchased + 1 to 10% for the ‘first impression’ factor), and then the superior goods next 30% chance + 1 to 5% for ‘contrast’ factor.) Note that if two products of different perceived quality are placed next to each other, the superior-looking product will always appear to be ‘more’ superior. By presenting his merchandise in this manner, the proprietor is essentially giving his products a second chance. If he does it the opposite way, he has only one chance, i.e., the mark, after rejecting the superior goods, will not deign to look at the inferior goods.

I wandered around in the vicinity and there was much to see. I crossed to another district where the dilapidated shophouses had long become a congregation point for all manner of cheap whores (mostly of the Indian variety). Groups of blackamoors, smelly and ugly, inspected the cheap merchandise on display. A few chatted with the specs – for all we know they could have been from the same village next to the equally smelly and dirty Ganges river.

The plump middle – age lady, whom Chicken and I dubbed ‘九阳神功’ was sitting in her chair. Wearing her customary shades, she cut a commanding figure as she watched the cheap whores in her area. She has been in the Holy Land, in the exact position, for so long that she is like figurehead. Although her best years are now behind her, one cannot deny the force of her presence, the compelling aura she radiates, and the strength of her personality. She is like a calm river, one of quiet power and still reflection.

I soon reached the crossing which would lead me in the horrible district known as 乱世 but decided not to go. I had no intention of walking into a district thronged by mobs of stinking blackamoors and the cheapest and worst whores the Holy Land has to offer. I walked on the pavement leading adjacent to whence I came. I saw a few old and ugly whores by the roadsides. Despite their reputation of fucking anything that has a hole, not even the blackamoors were interested of them. Depressing.

I soon backtracked to the $80 street. The alert had evidently been cleared, for the merchandise were back on display. I was walking back to the fish tanks when Fuzz Car called me to tell me he had had a most horrible time. I met up with him in front of the stretch of fish tanks and he was cursing and swearing away. Apparently the ‘teacher’ gave him more than he could chew. She looked quite unappealing after she removed her spectacles, and she was hostile to him. When they were in the room, she would not let him have fun and threatened him. Only after he had finished the transaction – I was surprised that he could still function – that he realized that she did not switch on the aircon. Fuzz Car said that it was the worst $100 he had spent and instead of feeling happy, he now felt frustrated. I let him rant and advised him to write a field report (FR) on Sammyboy to warn the brothers. He said he would do it and he regretted coughing up the money to be abused. I told him that I would have gone for 1 or 6 but it is purely academic now, isn’t it?

Our exertions had made us hungry and we went to a famous bean curd shop across the street. There we ordered fritters and bean curds, ate, and watched the moving scenery. We met an ex-gulag mate and exchanged pleasantries with him. He was out for supper with his wife and kid. Among those of us who are married, he appears to be the most settled. Married life agrees with him. As for the rest of our married peers, it is sometimes necessary to seek entertainment that the wife does not need to know about.

And so concluded our night. It was a pity that Chicken could not join us. Once you get married and have kids, you lose your freedom. Marriage is a contract that enriches only the female and emasculates the male. These days a married man has to be a wife: wash, iron, fuck, and etc. No more pilgrimages to the Holy Land. Most depressing.