sexiest woman room

Visitors to this blog divide into those who hang out in the comments and those who don't. I have no opinion either way but occasionally things get written in the comments that are better than whatever was on the front page. Further to that, what with the mere typing of words into a blog functioning as a summoning spell (by way of google), sometimes the things written in the comments take on a life of their own. Plug this into the meagre bits of intelligence one gets from statcounter and things can get curious.

And it's going on right now over in that Xinjiang Hooker thing I wrote a while back. (Hmm... struggling to remember what it was even about now - sex, I expect). Anyway, in the comments there I wondered at a very curious lobby group I'd found that was fighting for the emancipation of... wait for it... Buddhists and Muslims, and specifically those located in the People's Republic of China. Best I can make out, the magic summoning words seem to be 'snow lion foundation' and 'howard g fass', the name of one of the directors of the Snow Lion Foundation. Keep in mind that it's possible that Howard G Fass is the Snow Lion Foundation, but who can tell?

JULY 13, 2009 1:10 PM
nobody said...
Yeah VC, it's the same old story. Do these people really imagine that their money comes from legit sources? Have they not ever heard of the word 'proxy'? Cop a scrute at the Snow Lion Foundation. I came across it whilst looking up Rebiya Kadeer. See if you have any more luck than I did in finding a 'Who We Are' page anywhere in amongst it. In the 'Contact' page? No? Hmm... no one wants to put their name to it, it seems.

Mind you I did find one fellow on their offshoot blog. His name's Howard G Fass. Standing next to him, Rebiya Kadeer seems, I don't know... something other than 'brimming with enthusiasm'? Perhaps she'd just asked Mr Fass if he was as concerned for the occupied Muslims of Palestine as he was for the occupied Muslims of Xinjiang and gotten a curt reply? Who knows?

Otherwise, the Snow Lion foundation seems dedicated to the liberation of whomever is under the yoke of Chinese oppression, and Chinese oppression only. We're vaguely left to assume that they strongly identify with Muslims and Tibetan Buddhists. Like that makes any sense. Whilst who they're fighting for makes no sense, who they're fighting against is crystal clear.

What if I said that Howard G Fass was assigned to the destabilisation of China and he'll identify with whomever suits his cause, and whomever is stupid enough to believe that he's for real.

I could be wrong of course. Perhaps the Muslim/Buddhist cause is one that's very dear to Mr Fass's heart, and he selflessly gives his time, energy, and money not just to the Muslim/Buddhists under a Chinese boot heel, but to all Muslim/Buddhists the world over. In which case anyone thinking he's as crooked as the proverbial should hang their head in shame, apologise, and indeed lead everyone in a rousing chorus of 'For he's a jolly good fellow'.

Howard, if you do happen to pop in, feel free to tell us all that you are so too the right sort of fellow. If you get it right I absolutely promise I'll type out all the lyrics to the aforementioned as a penance for having called you out as bullshit. And you can't say fairer than that!

And then two weeks later Howard's defenders magically turn up.

SEPTEMBER 3, 2009 10:41 PM
Anonymous said...
I worked with Howard g.Fass in Taiwan during the recent typhoon disaster. You are all completely wrong about him, unlike yourselves who just sit back and complain, he actually trys his best to help people and is 100% for real. He worked tirelessly helping to clear away mud and help many people in Ling Bian in Southern Taiwan during the Morokot disaster. I saw it and was there.

Also I would not say that Howard is anti-china in any way. He just thinks the world should stand up for human rights more and challange china more and get them to stop all their terrible killings and murder. Maybe this is the best love that could be offered to the chinese by reminding them that they need to act more human with compassion and love.

Lien Bai

---

SEPTEMBER 4, 2009 2:22 PM
nobody said...
Hello Lien Bai,

How sweet you are, ha ha. As much as I'd like to take you up on this, I suspect you know nothing about Jewish people apart from what they've told you. Which is to say you have no idea.

In spite of your protestations, I resile from nothing.

I notice you didn't address why the 'Snowlion Foundation' has no names attached to it. Nor why they madly seem to be variously sticking up for Buddhists and Muslims both. Did you ever wonder who funds this 'foundation'? And who funded the tireless Mr Fass's trip to Taiwan? As for his standing up for human rights, where does Mr Fass stand on the human rights of the Muslims being oppressed and murdered by Israel and the US (with whom he has far more in common than he does with China)? Or do those countries not need his help like China does? And why might that be exactly?

Otherwise, as much as I'd like to fill you in on the part of the picture you don't understand, I've got better things to do and instead I'll just wish you well.

Thanks for dropping in Lien Bai, all the best!

---

SEPTEMBER 10, 2009 1:03 AM
Dolkar said...
I agree with Lien.

I am a Tibetan nun refugee and I can tell you that whoever works for human rights and religion freedom helps all of humanity no matter what color of skin or religion or country. I am a Buddhist nun and this is the perspective I am coming from. Others may think differently.

Rather than complain or make bad judgements we should first look at the work that is being done and look to see if there is a good heart behind it.

From my side I am grateful to the snowlion foundation and think its standing up for what is good and tries to help all sentient beings who suffer in samsara.

---

SEPTEMBER 15, 2009 3:49 PM
nobody said...
"Rather than complain or make bad judgements we should first look at the work that is being done and look to see if there is a good heart behind it. "

I'm in utter agreement. And DID you look to see if there is a good heart behind it? Just so you know, that 'stripping away' is more or less the point of the exercise at this blog. I'm only ever seeking to more nearly arrive at the truth.

Hmm... it seems that no one from the Snow Lion Foundation itself has popped in here to stick up for themselves - only proxies. Go figure - In a discussion that is as much about the role of proxies as it is about anything else, a couple of proxies turn up to say it ain't so.

I'll concede that it's possible that you two people might actually be what you say you are. If that is the case, tell those Snow Lion folks to pop in here and lay out how their resemblance to a destabilisation of China psy-op is purely coincidental, [and] that they are so too for real. And I'll stick my tuppence worth in too. And then you can just sit back, watch the to and fro, and see if I don't make you wonder at who these people are and why they appear to be helping you.

Here's something I'll tell you for free - In this wicked geopolitical world we live in, it's a cold hard certainty that dissident groups will be funded, if not founded outright, by the CIA (and Mossad and MI6 etc. etc.) in order to bring down regimes the West doesn't like. And believe it or not they'll lie about it. And yes, appear really credible while they're at it. Believe it or not, they can walk and chew gum at the same time.

But all of that is provided you are who you say you are. I have nothing to go on one way or another apart from your say-so. But these things are figure-outerable and I'm getting better at it. Feel free to pile back in and establish yourselves one way or the other.

best regards,

n

Interesting, huh? But what do we know of our two commenters? Know for sure, that is? It's poor of me I admit, but I can all too easily imagine an individual given to lying defending his rep by pretending to be other people. For a liar this would be a logical choice since it would mean: being above the fray; not having to answer any direct questions; added weight by way of appearing to be the consensus of a group; and all the time being possessed of a borrowed cloak of Buddhist unimpeachability. All stock in trade for a spook.

And sure enough our second Howard-defender's first utterances are to express solidarity with the first Howard defender. Do we roll our eyes yet?

Back to the know-for-sure: neither of these two had any opinion on anything expressed in the article; they just wanted to talk about things connected with Fass and his foundation. Which means they dropped in directly via google searches. Between the two google-able handles of 'snow lion foundation' and 'howard g fass', it's possible that the former delivered people to that blog page. It's just that I've never seen a search for it in my statcounter. (It should be kept in mind that with the free statcounter cache of 500 entries I might well have missed it).

But to hell with that, the searches for 'howard g fass' have been unmissable, beaten only by 'fuck dolls', 'dave mcgowan', and 'impossible riddle' in the popularity stakes. And all from the same address in the US. Without declaring any certainty in the matter, I reckon the person most likely to be looking up 'howard g fass' in google is Howard G Fass himself. I mean, honestly.

And so! Never mind the proxies, I reiterate my call for Howard G Fass to come on down and pile in. C'arn Howard! Make my day! I'm sure I'm not the only one here who'd love to have you explain to us how the Snow Lion's Foundation's resemblance to a CIA/Mossad destabilisation psy-op is purely coincidental. We'd also like to hear you explain to us how it does-so-too make sense for a man who shares the religious beliefs of the most anti-Muslim nation in the world to be sticking up for Muslims, albeit geographically specific ones. Feel free to include something about the long and proud tradition of organisations fighting for the interests of two religions, neither of which has a single thing in common apart from their oppressor, and that also happen to be run by a fellow who isn't a member or either of those religions. I'm sure there's been many, many.

Just to give you fair warning, all those niceties and assumed considerations you might receive in mainstream forums will be absent here. Also keep in mind that in this neck of the woods, we're pretty ofay on all things spooky. We're a tough audience and we've been doing it for years.

That being said, you might be for real. It is possible you can give an account of yourself that makes sense. And I'd love to hear it! Honestly! Watch me admit I was wrong and type out those Jolly Good Fellow lyrics. If you can pull it off, that is. As much as I'd like to see what that picture will look like, somehow I just don't think you'll be able to paint it.

But never mind - what with me being a helpful fellow, may I point out what I think your options are?

1. Stay away. This is the spook's smart money bet, mate. You tried the proxies, they got short shrift, so what are you going to do? Best you just shrug and put up with it. Not forgetting of course that the teapot for this tempest consists solely of the comments section of a weeny few-hundred-hits-a-day blog. Oh, okay, I admit it's on the front page now, what with me being spurred by the google action, but still: It is the smart money and it's never too late to ignore a thing that's only going to get uglier otherwise.

2. Pile in! Not only is this the obvious thing to do but it's exactly what they'll expect, ha ha. My advice - Do it! Defend your good name and all of that. You've got two routes here -
A) The high dudgeon thing - sputter, say it's all lies, call me an anti-Semite (I recommend double apostrophes around "nobody" to denote sneering), question my education, intelligence, and sanity, declare I'm on drugs, stomp off.
B) Adopt a measured tone and act disappointed and regretful - BYO straw men and proxies, knock down straw men, have proxies declare you are great, ignore everything else, declare victory, leave.
C) A combination of A and B, ha ha. Oh wait, is that three things? Damn.
Motivation: How would a real campaigner for Buddhist/Muslim rights feel?

And yes, I am a cocky bastard. But never mind, best just to view it as enthusiasm. And you can't blame me: I figure I've got you in a double bind - damned if you do, damned if you don't. It's good sport isn't it? But when you signed up for the spook caper you didn't think it'd be easy did you? You want to be challenged don't you?

Excellent. Here we are.

Subject - The Chinese Government's detainment of, and legal proceedings against, Australian citizen and Rio Tinto executive Stern Hu on the charges of corruption and espionage.


We have noted a somewhat hysterical campaign in the Australian media relating to China's lawful detainment of Rio Tinto executive Stern Hu. This discussion involved numerous Australian government officials, members of the opposition, academics, as well as experts from various 'foundations', all of whom theorised as to why Mr Hu had been arrested and what it all meant. In amongst this multitude of views, we noted that not a single individual raised, or even considered, the possibility that Stern Hu might actually be guilty of the crimes with which he is charged. It was as if the media brief had been: 'We must consider every angle of this story except for that one'.

We understand that the Australian people, like the Chinese people, are particularly partial to gambling. In this context, amongst all the possibilities that one might lay odds on here, the possibility that Mr Hu just might be guilty seems neither to have short odds, nor long odds, but rather not to be on the bookmakers board at all. Does this not strike anyone as curious?

We note that in the endless media coverage that crime warrants in the Australian media, discussions invariably pivot on whether the accused did or didn't do it. Keen as we are on Australian history, Schapelle Corby comes to mind. However, we were unable to find a single previous case wherein every commentator's starting position was an assumption that the charges must be false. We found many cases where guilt was assumed, such as that of Lindy Chamberlain, but none where the charged individual's innocence was so completely taken for granted that the entire discussion completely and utterly pivoted on the ulterior motives of the arresting authority.

We will admit that were Australia utterly free of corruption, the failure to consider this likelihood would not be unreasonable. And yet on the exact same newspaper front pages that refuse to consider the possibility of Mr Hu as being guilty as charged, is the story of Australian state politician Mr Gordon Nuttall, tried for high level corruption, being found 'guilty as charged'. Clearly Australian businessmen bribe Australian politicians in the hopes of receiving favourable treatment. Your own courts and royal commissions have declared this an incontrovertible fact. And yet despite this, and despite the historical precedent of Australian involvment in the Iraqi oil-for-food scandal, the Australian media utterly refuses to concede that Australian businessmen might replicate this behaviour in China.

That aside, we are not about to take any holier-than-thou stance on this issue. We freely admit that China, like Australia, suffers from the ills of corruption. And like Australia, the Chinese government arrests, tries, and punishes those involved in these pernicious acts. Indeed we punish corruption very harshly - certainly more harshly than the effective two year sentence (after time off for good behaviour) that was handed down to Mr Nuttall. Of course, Mr Nuttall's sentence is none of our business, as are all matters pertaining to the Australian legal system.

That being said, recent statements by the Queensland Premier, Anna Bligh, to the effect that the verdict in the Nuttall case was proof that the system works and also that the government and judiciary were serious in their efforts to root out corruption, could have been lifted word for word from Chinese government media releases. In many ways China and Australia have a lot in common.

Echoing this thought, as a people as proud of our country as Australians are of theirs, we also understand that the people of Australia would hold a dim view of us, or indeed any foreign government and media, wagging a collective finger at Australian legal proceedings. Keen to seek commonalities, we would consider viewing such behaviour poorly as perfectly reasonable.

With this in mind, may I say as China's Premier that China looks forward to a relationship with Australia that is free of rancour and distrust, and instead embodies harmony, well-being, and prosperity for both our countries.

It seems that Craig Murray, what with running for parliament, is unable to comment on 'Uighur independence'. Okay, so why don't I step up and fill in for him? It's funny that Craig ended up marrying an exotic dancer he met in a bar in Uzbekistan, because had my situation been ever so slightly different I might have done the same thing, albeit in Beijing. I'm in no way criticising him you understand - like I said, it could've been me.


Apropos my last piece, my laowai boss in Beijing was another of those people who would hook people up with drugs and get them laid. The single producer I cited previously wasn't the only fellow I knew like that, far from it, it's just that he was just the best at it. Meanwhile in Beijing, whilst I was happy to know someone who could score hash (indeed that first year in Beijing was such a tough gig that had I not been able to get stoned every evening, I'd have run melancholy mad. Or perhaps I did anyway, who can tell?), but that aside, being endlessly dragged off to hooker bars, like the infamous Maggie's (above), was unspeakably tedious - another reason to go home and get stoned.

But whatever! I've been back to China many, many times, mostly to Shanghai, and slowly grew to love it. The ticket is to avoid the expats. But there I was years later, back in Beijing, amongst the expats, and being dragged back to fucking Maggie's. And there, curiously, sitting amongst the tiresome local hostesses and the hard-bitten Mongolian hookers (don't ask me why but all the hookers in Beijing were Mongolian), was a gorgeous round-eye girl. No one was paying her any attention apart from yours truly - "Hello," says I, and we have a conversation. She was a Uighur from Xinjiang. I'd met Uighurs before, mostly selling shish kebab on the street (and to which I am addicted), but also socially, and I'd always gotten on with them dandy.


As I did with this girl. Turns out she was a lawyer, better educated than I was, brilliantly fluent in several languages, and here working as a prostitute. Go figure. I don't know about other people, but I'm not the sort of fellow who would automatically condemn someone for being a prostitute. It's a fucked up world and people end up doing all sorts of disagreeable things in spite of the fact that they wish it were otherwise.

And that was the case with her. In a perfectly clear-eyed fashion she explained to me that the only way she was going to get out of this fucked up country was through hard currency and she could only earn that by hooking. She didn't like it, but in one more year she'd have the $30,000 dollars she needed to get into an Australian university. And yep, I contributed to the cause. Think poorly of me if you like, I really don't care.


Anyway for that single evening, I spent hours spellbound as she told me all about herself and what life was like in Xinjiang. Her law degree, it seemed, was merely a licence to participate in corruption, and that from a position of second class citizen. It was just as bad in Beijing where Uighurs (at least the ones who weren't playing 'mein host' in the numerous Uighur restaurants) were treated like absolute shit. Not that I needed her to tell me about that. I could see it in the laneway out back of where I worked. Neither Beijingers nor Uighurs are shy and disputes and fights are public affairs.

The weirdest part was, she had no time for her own people either - a tuppence for the lot of them. Perhaps her problem was that she was too damn smart? I have no idea. And thinking about it, such sentiments don't augur well. It's my opinion that a person who cannot find happiness at home, probably won't find it anywhere else either. But you never know.

Sure enough, I was only in Beijing for a short-time gig and was on a plane back to Oz a couple of days later and I never saw her again. But had this taken place when I lived there, who knows what might have happened? She was easily the smartest, funniest, and most interesting chick I met the whole time I was in China. And gorgeous with it. In some daydream we might have gotten married and lived happily ever after. Or the whole thing might have crashed and burned. Who knows? Not me.


Anyway, from this brilliant position of having once met a hooker in a bar in Beijing I shall now render my genius and very worthy opinion on the bloody events now taking place in Xinjiang.

Whose side am I on? Whose side was the hooker on? Are there good guys and bad guys? For mine, the answer to this question is 'No'. I'll happily admit that the Han Chinese are as racist as the best of them. Just like they do with the Tibetans, the Chinese view the un-Asian, round-eye Uighurs of Xinjiang with a variety of contempt. Historical assertions aside, the Chinese are nothing more than occupiers. And never was there an occupier who didn't think that the occupied were scum. Always this way.


Have people here been keeping up over at Aangirfan's blog? The schoolgirls there have been doing a brilliant job pointing out the links between the various Uighur separatist leaders and the usual suspects who have the art of destabilisation down pat. The long and short according to nobody - all those 'leaders' who fancy themselves as Uighur versions of Ahmed Chalabi and who are taking the CIA (and their proxies) dollar are at best fooling themselves and at worst motherfuckers happy to profit from their countrymen's misery.

Whether these Uighur 'leaders' seriously believe the CIA's siren song of Uighur independence, or whether they're merely in it for the immediate prospect of filthy lucre, Chalabi-style, either way it will only end in tears. I wonder what odds Ladbrokes are offering as to the possibility of a happy outcome resulting from running amuck and splitting open the heads of the Han Chinese living in Urumqi? Let's just call it 'the bookie's delight'.


But whatever! Let's imagine the million-to-one longshot comes off, and that it all goes swimmingly with the people of Xinjiang ditching their Chinese masters, as well as their Chinese appellation, and calling themselves Uighurstan, or somesuch. Then they could all live happily ever after just like all the other Muslims in all those other Utopian something-stans. Three cheers! Perhaps they'll get their very own Karimov, he of the boiling-people-alive gag. They might even be as lucky as the Afghans where the banker's US military golem has righteously brought them the gifts of democracy, smack, and high-explosive death from above. Speaking of which, do the Uighur people get married and hold wedding parties? Let's hope not.

Sure enough, if you try combining the two sayings 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' and 'With friends like these, who needs enemies?' you end up disappearing up your own arse. Substituting hyperbole for precise accuracy, in considering the rightness of doing a deal with the CIA and other banking minions, one would be best served by viewing them as 'People Who Eat Their Own Children'. Honestly, you may as well since it's as close to the mark as any other description.


Anyway, back to the polyglot Uighur girl in the bar: imagine if my daydream came true? And since it's my daydream, there's no point being half-arsed about it. Thus we'll take the happily-ever-after as read, and add an image of her as dedicated English-to-Uighur translator of Brice Taylor's Thanks For The Memories. Then we could send it to every Uighur who has an email, with the header - 'This is the truth of the people who declare themselves your friends'.

Whilst for the Uighurs the choice between the Chinese and the 'Americans' might appear to be a no-brainer, it ain't. Or to put it another way, it is. Which is to say, the punchline to 'Better the devil you know' says as much about no-brain as it does about devils. Can you dig it? Can the Uighurs? Let's hope so.

It was twenty years ago today, that Deng Xiaoping told the band to play. Rat-a-tat-tat went the tuneless ditty.


Those bastards! Cue the fist shaking! Here we are twenty years later and the Western bloc-media is still outraged. A talking head, with his sad face on, reads the autocue to tell us of Chinese villainy. Cut to a candle-lit memorial in Hong Kong. Cut to a dissident who now lives in the West. Cut to library footage of a fellow in China who was in jail. Are you outraged yet? If you are, you should call the media. What with the complete and utter lack of interest of the part of the Chinese people themselves in embracing their victimhood, it seems it's up to everyone else to do it for them. Anyone who can think of a stunt that will make the Chinese government look bad will in all likelihood get airtime.



Weirdly, the idea of jobs being exported to China is here turned on its head. Why aren't the mainland Chinese doing this themselves? Why do we have to do it for them? Between sending film crews to Tiananmen Square for a non-musical remake of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (ha ha ha, this critic raved!), and some Chinese punter's mobile phone footage of a riot, one of them fills the brief and costs peanuts.


So where is this footage? Why aren't the Chinese people demonstrating? 'Because they're oppressed and censored,' says the Western bloc-media. 'My arse,' says I. Just so you know, I never met a Chinese person who didn't have a mobile phone with camera. All of them are on the net and they madly email each other all day long. If there were protests they would be filmed. And if they were filmed they'd be emailed out. This is simple and obvious stuff and the Western media stringers in China know this perfectly well.



The simple fact is, there are no protests in China because no one gives a shit. Not if the twentieth anniversary is anything like the tenth, that is. It just so happens that I was in Beijing for the tenth anniversary in 1999. Back then, what with me being the clever Time Magazine reading Occidental, I was curious to see what form the Chinese people's anger would take. Talk about beg the question! The anger took no form at all because there wasn't any. I couldn't find a single person whose reaction was anything beyond wondering what they were going to have for lunch. Hmm... Hunan, Xian, or Sichuan?


Dont' think that they don't get it. They get it - they were there. They know that the original protest was the most rampant shitfight imaginable. Sure it was thrilling at first, but as the weeks passed and the trains kept rolling in from the outer provinces (where our lunch cuisines came from), disgorging endless thousands, the whole thing went to hell. Lunch was one thing, but clueless, Johnny-come-lately bumpkins who didn't know the party was over was something else.



Frankly the government was damned if it did, damned if it didn't. It could talk with the leaders, make concessions, thank everyone for coming, whatever - none of the new arrivals wanted to know about it. They hadn't spent days in arduous train travel just to turn around and go home again because some what-the-hell-would-they-know Beijingers had made a deal. And yep, finally the tanks rolled down Chang'an avenue.


Not forgetting of course that more people died in Gaza lately than died in Tiananmen. And does anyone think that the religiously sanctioned, racist slaughter in Gaza will be honoured with ten-year / twenty-year commemorations? We roll our eyes - fat chance of that. It will be dissolved down to the same word-recognition level that the Nakba now gets. "The Nak-what? What is he talking about?" Exactly.


Meanwhile it seems there's two Chinas. There's the China as imagined by the Jewish bloc-media. This is a very terrible place where an oppressed and beset people lead lives of fear. And then there's the China I went to. In that China, there is no fear. None. Nor is there any oppression. None. In fact I'd declare that the people in China are freer and less fearful than the people of the West.



Okay, okay, I will admit that the majority of my time was spent in the megapolises of Beijing and Shanghai with side trips to Xian, Wuhan, and Hainan. Everyone I knew was middle class. They had been poor but they were no longer. I did encounter farmers who were poor but I never discussed their oppression with them. Really, they were more interested in the fact that I rolled my own cigarettes. Regardless of this, if anyone wants to offer counter propositions about how China is so too a terrible place, I'll happily turn the tables and compare it to the US and we'll see who trumps whom.


With the US leading the West into its jackbooted future of tazers and torture, if the wicked Oriental other didn't exist, the bloc-media would have had to have invented it anyway. And sure enough, they did invent it. And it's on TV right now. But the only thing they're telling you about is themselves. Always this way...

Following on from the last self-indulgent piece with me venting my spleen about my father, Susana said the most extraordinary thing in the comments. She put me and the word 'love' in the same sentence. When I read it, my eyebrows went up and I froze in disbelief. But only for a second. Then I tilted my head back and laughed.

Truth be known, I have no idea what love means. You don't need to take my word for it. You need merely search this site for the word 'love'. Whilst I couldn't be fagged doing it myself, I'm prepared to bet that it will only appear in the phrase 'peace, love, and understanding' which I use not so much as a banner to rally around, but rather as a cudgel to beat things with.

The word, in and of itself, as a stand-alone description, I, um... 'dismiss'. Which is to say, I dismiss it from my vocabulary. Honestly, what the hell does it mean?

Never mind love, here I'm far more interested in lies and lying. Actually the word 'lie' is just as fraught as 'love' and I tend to avoid it as well. Let's just say that I ponder the nature of misrepresentation. But regardless, if we were to take every lie ever uttered and analysed them to see which one predominated, I'd bet money that the phrase 'I love you' would win hands down.

And go figure that more than a few women have made it clear to me that, but for the want of me saying it, they'd have slept with me. I'm a strange cove, sure, but women who do this always fall in my estimation.

---

A while back in Shanghai, there was a woman I fancied. I was directing and she was my producer. She was smart, funny, and sexy. And she told me of her travails with her laowai boyfriend who came to Shanghai every couple of months for business. In between times he lived in Belgium with his wife and kids (Urgh! No one here I hope!). And once or twice a day he would send her an SMS saying some variation of 'I love you'. This made her all gooey. Me, I shook my head. Between words and actions, words are cheap. Hell! He sent these words by SMS, the cheapest means there is.


Me to her - "If I said you were just something to occupy his time when he's here in China and all it cost him was an SMS every day, would I be wrong? Forget his words, what does he do? What is there to say that this guy isn't just some bullshit artist? Men lie you know. Forget his words. What are his actions?"

Anyway, she threw him over. For me, ha ha! Well that was the theory anyway. What with assorted cultural confusions and a plot straight out of a bedroom farce, we didn't sleep with each other. But that was cool, she was going to come to Sydney for Chinese New Year and stay with me. After that I was going to go back to Shanghai and become an in-house director. Sounded good to me. But! - it all went to hell. For reasons that weren't clear she didn't come to Sydney and when I flew back to start up with the directing gig, it was if we were complete strangers.

I had failed apparently. Specifically I had failed to send her an SMS every day telling her that I loved her. God help me! What with her last boyfriend using this precise process to lie his way into her bed, here she was angry with me for not having done the same thing. I shook my head and wondered if she and her Belgian didn't deserve each other. But truth be known, my part in a mad farce aside, I was pleased. If she was that undiscerning, that incapable of distinguishing between words and actions, then she wasn't the chick for me. I never saw her again and packed in the directing caper shortly thereafter. And a good thing too.

---

The above was but a single 'I love you' anecdote from dozens. And I don't doubt that you'd all have your own. Truthfully, there are more stories of lies and lying with 'I love you' at the centre of them than there are stars wheeling in the sky. For mine, the phrase is so utterly devalued that it's worthless. There's a lot to be said for saying nothing.

Like the Japanese! The Japanese are their own variety of laconic. They are not a gushy people. Whilst the younger generation, deeply steeped in Hollywood, are changing now, the older generation do not prate on with heartfelt drivel. If you want to see a perfect example of what I'm talking about, go see 'Hana-Bi' by Beat Takeshi. He's a legendary director and Hana-Bi is arguably his masterpiece. And sure it's dotted with action and violence, but mostly it's a 'love' story. Everything that takes place in the film is an act of devotion by our hero for his dying wife. Astoundingly almost nothing is said. No speeches, no declarations. Actions are all. And the actions are unambiguous. The truth lays in what is done, not in what is said.


And if anyone does watch this film on my say-so and wonders, "What sort of a crummy 'love story' was that? No one even kissed anyone!", you'll actually be making my point for me. Your dissatisfaction will say far more about you as a Westerner than it will about the Japanese.

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And then there's the Maori and the Hawaiian people. Culturally, since they're both Polynesian, their cultures are as close as could be. Curiously they seem not to know very much about each other. In conversations I've had with Maori about Hawaiians, and vice versa, no one seemed to know anything. But whatever, they have many many things in common. As a complete dilettante I'm pretty sure I won't get in trouble for saying that the concept of 'breath as life' is central to their shared culture. In Hawaii, this breath/life is the 'ha' in 'aloha'. (It's also the 'ha' in 'haole', their word for white person. There's a fabulous story in that, but I'll sling it in the comments.)


The Maori likewise acknowledge the importance of breath in their custom of touching noses. This functions for Maori like the handshake does for white people. The handshake is an expression of 'peace' insofar as it's a demonstration that one isn't carrying a weapon. Three cheers for white people. Compare that to the Maori, who touch noses so that they might exchange the breath of life. But here's the crucial thing - the breath is always from the nose, not from the mouth. This is not because the nose is special but because the mouth is considered 'corrupt', or perhaps more correctly 'corrupting'. The stink of food is part of this but that's actually the least of it. Breath from the mouth is spurned because what comes from a person's mouth, words sure enough, cannot be trusted. In words lay falsity.

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And then there's that Brazilian chick. This is a looong story, but there I was in her marvellous ramshackle house smack dab in the middle of a picturesqe but down-at-the-heels town two hours from Sao Paolo. She was a Rudolph Steiner devotee and was in the arduous process of setting up a Rudolph Steiner school cum arts-and-craft co-op. And I was going to join her. My head was there. But that too came a cropper. Story of my life. If anyone out there is familiar with the Tora San movies (uber-famous in Japan), that's me. I never get the girl.


Whilst the whole thing was complicated with family and a boyfriend etc. a key moment came in a discussion about 'love'. She looked me in the eye, grasped my hand and told me of the most important thing there is. That being love, sure enough. She even quoted the Beatles to me. And hats off to the Beatles, but between them and my continuum (at the top of this page) with selflessness as the only thing counting, I was, ahem, dismissive. I tried to explain the distinction but got nowhere. It didn't help of course that I didn't speak Portuguese, her English left a lot to be desired, and the Japanese which we both spoke (she being sansei Japanese) was ill-suited to philosophy. But the language didn't matter. She said love and I shook my head. "No, you don't understand," I said. Yeah yeah nobody, just face it - you blew it. Time to do that Tora San thing and smile, wave, and hit the road.

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Bloody Hell! Do I have a point or am I just blathering? Both, ha ha! The point is that for me, words are worthless, with 'love' at the top of the list. And yep, I just used a thousand words to say that. The irony runs rampant.

Never mind me as cleverpants wordsmith - a blog, an audience, and a huge pile of words being put in some kind of order. Bully for that. But back at the house of geriatric indulgence, with me and the old man, it's positively Japanese. Every day is like a scene from Hana-Bi.

Perhaps I brought it with me from the temple - "shiraberi wa dame" - chit-chat is bad. And there, there was a lot to talk about. Here at home there is nothing to talk about beyond Fox Sports and doctors. And I haven't much time for either beyond needing to know what channel to change to and when the appointments are.

Here there is no love. Or certainly no declarations of it. The only thing that counts is 'doing'. For me (or perhaps for an ideal me) all my actions should be an embodiment of selflessness. And I ain't in that picture. And nor are such messy things as emotions. Like 'love' etc. If I was to start in on that, the whole thing would fall in a screaming heap. It would turn the picture into one that was about me. And if it was about me, it wouldn't be about me because I'd be gone.


But here's a picture of me. Or me as played by Vincent Cassel in the movie of my life, that is. Nothing in his head. Nothing in his heart. No thoughts, no love, no nothing - just emptiness. Dig it, it's like Camus' Stranger albeit with a happy disposition and no Arab monkey business. And when Cassel wants to know what his motivation is, he'll be told he hasn't one. "Just go through the motions. Attempt to embody selflessness. Don't ask us what that would look like since no one bloody knows. Just do your best." Says our Vincent - "But why am I happy?". Sorry Vince, no answer to that one neither. You just are.

Truth is, living with my father has been a brilliant experience. The only way anyone could cope with the old man's utter self-obsession is to let go of one's own desires. I'll admit that there's a certain 'reactionary' aspect to this. And I know that no one likes that word - to say, 'I am not that' is full of negative connotation, a thing to be avoided. But if one is seeking selflessness it's no such thing. Everything I wish to shed is here precisely depicted in the closest genetic template imaginable. It is what I am leaving behind.

And Susana, apologies for using you as a prop, ha ha. It's not you, it's just my brain turning a word around. And what a word! A word so fraught, so plugged into insecurities and self-worth, replete with uncountable meanings, stories, variations, and use and misuse, I reckon we're better off without it.

Do or don't do. Actions over words. That's where the truth lays.

Att - Messrs. Vladimir Putin, Hu Jintao, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Hugo Chavez, Hassan Nasrallah, Fidel Castro, et al,

Dear Sirs,

The Western bloc-media has declared you the villains of the world. You know as well as I do that none of you, nor your countries, nor your people, will ever get a break in the Western media. The entire media sings from the same song-sheet with a simple message. Each of you is a variation of Orwell's Emmanuel Goldstein. Collectively you are those whom we must hate.

To be honest, I don't know where your heads are at precisely. But I'm assuming that you understand how the world works. I'm assuming that you're perfectly aware that the Reserve Banks of the world are privately owned and what this means. Tie this power to the undeniable bloc nature of the media and its refusal to acknowledge this power, and it's no great feat of logic to arrive at the conclusion that the media is, in essence, a machine to cloud our minds to the nature of our subjugation.

Effectively we are all participate in a mad charade, an idiotic drunken parlour game, wherein the perpetual topic-du-jour is that old chestnut 'What's to be done?' To obey the rules of the game we must discuss this topic in every way possible but we must never mention the chief protagonists, which is to say, international banking. The entire perverse system of monetary policy, and control of the means of exchange, must be dealt with, not as a human contrivance subject to alteration, but as an act of God that may not be questioned.


I notice that you all play within the parlour game rules. And some of you do quite well occasionally. Mr Putin has had some interesting footage showing him staring down a tiger and displaying his martial arts ability. Hats off. But between these minor efforts (which, trust me, the media did its best to spin as vaguely comedic, or undignified, or otherwise as 'not quite the thing') and, say, the watertight depiction of Russia as the ogre of Ossetia, it's small potatoes. But all of you receive the same thing.


In China, never mind the tirelessness of Hu Jintao throwing himself amongst the people struck homeless in that earthquake, nor the millions of servicemen and women he then mobilised into a fearless hands-on disaster relief (which the American government could watch as a 'How to' if the welfare of their citizens was worth tuppence to them), the Western media barely batted an eyelid. Besides, their reporters were far too busy looking for Chinese citizens unhappy with their government. And they found them, sure enough, one after another. (Well, shit, eh? Like this is difficult - Pick a country, any country). With this as the perpetual template, unsurprisingly we in the West will only ever know of the Chinese as villains. And when the bankers move against China (à la David Sassoon and his opium wars) we in the deluded West will righteously cheer its destruction. And geez, you can hardly blame us - all we know is what we are told.


Perhaps you have your fingers crossed. Just like Tariq Aziz. He was the Iraqi Foreign Minister in the run up to the invasion of Iraq. It didn't matter how much he kowtowed and did as he was ordered (always scrupulously obeying the rules of the parlour game). His handing over of the complete 40,000 pages detailing the weapons programme and allowing the CIA-infested weapons inspectors to wander all over his sovereign nation was never going to make a lick of difference to Iraq's inevitable bombing. And that's the lot of anyone who plays within the rules of the parlour game. You will always be on the back foot. It's not your game and if you stay within it, you will lose. And lose big. Destruction-of-your-nation big. I'm sure you get it.

In any conflict, whoever follows the agenda set by their opponent will always be on the back foot, always reduced to defensive tactics. It stands to reason. The only way to 'win' (exactly the wrong word but let's carry on) is to seize the initiative. And the only way to do this is to Call The Game. The game isn't hidden from public view for no reason. Nor does its veiled nature add some minor degree of utility to the whole caper. This veil of delusion is the single crucial function by which the enterprise succeeds or fails. Pull away that veil and start a global public discussion on the true nature of reserve banking (and the role the media plays as its handmaiden) and the bankers (and their media monkeys) will be forced into unfamiliar territory. I expect that even wrongfooted like this they will still be formidable opponents. But at least you'll have them on the back foot.


So. Rather than stand in front of the UN and call George Bush the devil, or mouth generalities about peace amongst men of good will, why not call the game? I'm not going to say that this is easy. Packing the history of international banking and control of the world's money supply into fifteen minutes is no easy task. But it can be done. Hell, if you want a hand, for an absurdly modest fee I'm your man. The comment section is below, and world leaders are perfectly welcome, ha ha.


But forget me, I'm nobody. This will be your gig. In English 'your' can be singular and plural. Take it here as the plural. Acting in concert will be vital. Each of you must reinforce the others and put out a consistent, coordinated and coherent message. And the beauty of it is that all you will have to do is: tell the truth; not waste time on red-herrings; and stick to your guns. The last part of this will not be easy. God knows that in this bullshit world there's nothing braver than the man who tells the truth. And we all know how powerful those who control the money supply are. They whacked Kennedy and got away with it. And they can whack you too. But only if you're a singleton. Act in concert and the possibility of your silencing becomes ever more unlikely.

But if you stay silent, stay isolated, one way or another they're going to whack you anyway. You and your whole nation. The bloc-media hasn't invested all this time and capital painting each of you as the enemy for nothing. They don't do this lightly. They do this because they are the part of the machine that is going to destroy you. How about this - the media is the laser that paints the target so that the bomb knows where to go. The bomb is us, sure enough. Make no mistake, you are lit up by that laser.

Forget living in the shadows. The media-laser loves it there. The media doesn't just light things up, they actually render in the shadow also. In fact, this rendering of shadow is their primary purpose. If anything they're better at that than casting light. The only strategy for dealing with this mastery of darkness is to flood the whole place with the broad daylight of truth.

It's easy and it's hard. But the time is now, you're the men for the job, and no job was more worth doing. You know this is true.

I have a dream. I dream that you're not the servants of the bankers. I dream that you're possessed of intellect, of free will, and of big balls. I dream that you're men whose place in history will be that reserved for those who usher in an era. An era free from delusion. An era of peace and prosperity. A second Enlightenment, perhaps. It's not impossible. And all things being equal, why wouldn't you pick this dream? Who but a slave would follow someone else's dream of warfare, starvation, misery and suffering? Are you not masters of which dreams you choose? If you are serious, bold, act in concert, and stay true, this false dream, this nightmare, is yours to smash. You will be your own masters and earn the thanks of a world freed of delusion and subjugation. That's my dream. What's yours?