Upstart Ducks

Yes trust them not: for there is an Upstart Crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his Tygers hart wrapt in a Players hyde, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blanke verse as the best of you: and beeing an absolute Johannes fac totum, is in his owne conceit the onely Shake-scene in a countrey. -Robert Greene (1592)

Greene, a minor Elizabethan playwright, was Shakespeare's contemporary, and holder of MAs from both Oxford and Cambridge. He wrote those lines as a bitter man, jealous of his younger rivals (most notably Shakespeare, but also including Marlowe and Nashe) on his deathbed.^* The reference contains an allusion to Henry VI, Part 3 ("a Tygers hart wrapt in a Players hyde"), one of the lines Greene likely suspected the Bard of having lifted from elsewhere. ["Johannes fac totum" = Jack-of-all-trades.]

This reference to Shakespeare as an "upstart crow" came to mind tonight during dinner at 北京大董烤鸭店, an upscale restaurant in Beijing specializing in roast duck, but serving a variety of other dishes including shark fin soup, bird's nest soup, and seafood. (I made the mistake of asking the concierge at our hotel to make the reservation for us. Hearing the concierge's native Mandarin, the hostess taking the reservation must have assumed that we were also native Chinese, and booked a table for us on the restaurant's second floor, where locals eat and where the staff speak no English. This is quite a departure from the first floor, where I normally dine, which boasts an exclusively foreign clientele and wait staff who are trained accordingly.)

Though the food itself is engaging, it's hard to keep one's eyes from drifting in such a fancy restaurant; the urge to look around at the other patrons and see what they're eating is so overwhelming. So there I was, not minding my own business as usual—after the beef satay, scallops, and two-flavor shrimp, but before the actual roast duck had come out—when I noticed the table beside ours.

The family seated adjacent to us ordered one duck for seven (7) people (for those unfamiliar with roast duck proportions, our party of three (3) consumed the same quantity of waterfowl along with eight other courses). Okay, so one of their party was a child, but still, one duck amongst seven six people? That's barely three duck-filled crepes per person! 北京大董烤鸭店 serves the finest Beijing duck I've eaten (and I had quite alot of duck during my year in Beijing); you don't go there to nibble on niggardly rationed portions: the food invites you to gorge yourself in epicurean delight!

So what did those seven people share before going home hungry? They had a total of six dishes, four of which were soups, and not of the expensive shark fin or bird's nest variety. The fifth course was, of course, the duck, and the last was a plate of fresh fruit—a complementary dessert served with the purchase of each bird.

What did I make of this unusual selection of appetizers? Taking their odd meal into account with the fact that their child kept hitting things and running around with his underpants showing deplorably (my mother would be completely aghast at the thought of allowing me to run around like that in public), my first inclination was, "Ah, the nouveau riche of China, probably made their money off the exploding Shanghai and Shenzhen stock exchanges, and haven't yet figured out how to order." Then I realized that: a) Chinese people know how to order good Chinese food [Hello! What was I thinking; it's practically genetic!]; and b) to be "nouveau riche," one must be "riche," which this family was not.

It quickly dawned on me: these people (whom we'll call the Wu's) are probably just social aspirants. The hypersonic explosion of the Chinese economy, which is moving faster than Olympic hurdler Liu Xiang pumped full of caffeine-laden wulong tea, is creating a burgeoning middle class here. My guess is that the Wu's are just keepin' up with the Zhou's: their neighbors or friends came to this restaurant last week, and now the Wu's are here to "save face," and show that they've got every bit as much disposable income as the Zhou's. Having a dinner at 大董 not only allows the Wu's the privilege of being seen at a posh eatery, but also gives them bragging rites—it doesn't matter that they only had a few soups and four bites of duck each. The point is they ate here at all.

I'm curious what the phenomena of social aspiration, keeping up with the Joneses, and conspicuous consumption are going to look like in the People's Republic. Will they follow in the footsteps of the Americans, who invented and subsequently perfected these dark arts, or will they choose their own way, an Eastern variation infused with oriental mysticism and Confucian philosophies? Only time will tell.

Conspicuous consumption: coming soon to a Communist republic near you.

[Pictured above: a photo of the actual family described in this post. Look, you can see that kid's underwear sticking out even here!]

*Upstart Crow. Terry A. Gray. Updated March 21, 2002. Palomar College. Accessed January 27, 2007. http://shakespeare.palomar.edu/timeline/crow.htm.

"Rapidly Running Out of Money"

Tired of being nickled and dimed by those 'other' banks for using their ATMs? At [insert bank name], the buck -fifty stops here. No more ATM service charges. Period.

Ever feel like you're just another number to your bank? Want to call a customer service line and talk to a real, live human being instead of a machine? At [insert bank name], we know you're a person, that's why we'll treat you like one. Receiving excellent customer service from your bank is important to you, that's why providing excellent service to our customers is important to us. Talk to a real, live human being on our service line, or visit a local branch, where the average wait in line is under three minutes.

We recognize clichés like these from bank commercials as just that: clichés. I'm going to quote (then, with some bracketeering, butcher) my friend David Foster Wallace^*, because I think he says this best: these are

"the [banking] industry's proven sales pitches, exactly the same way 'Anti-Tartar' and 'Fresher Breath' are the toothpaste industry's pitches. We may [use their financial services], the same way we may go buy the toothpaste. But we're not inspired. They're not the real thing.

It's not just a matter of lying or not lying, either. Everyone knows that the best marketing uses the truth—i.e., sometimes a brand of toothpastes really is better. That's not the point. The point, [bank]-wise is the difference between merely beliving somebody and believing in him.^†

Actually, whether or not one believes banking commercials—or advertising in general—is sort of irrelevant to this posting. (Maybe subconciously I just wanted to share some of what I've been reading lately.) My real gripe with my bank is something infinitely more important than whether I interact with an automated phone system or a "real, live human being" when I call their service line. Though I suppose my complaint could fall under the all-encompasing umbrella of "customer service," it's nothing as frivolous as what we usually gripe about when we say a bank has disapointed us in that department. It's something so elementary, so essentional to personal banking that, until this week, I never considered that my bank might fail at something so basic. My bank will not let me access my own money.

In my attempt to withdraw money from an ATM here in Beijing, I was denied for an unspecified reason. Perplexed and not a little annoyed, I came back to my hotel room, and composed the following message to WaMu via their online messaging system:

I am currently in Beijing, and I am having problems withdrawing money from the ATM. It worked fine the first time I tried it, but subsequently I have been unable to withdraw.

I spoke to a representative a few weeks ago by phone, and told him I would be traveling through China until April 1, and he assured me that the travel alert would be activated on my account until that date.

Is there currently a hold on my debit card? If so, please lift it so that I will have access to my money here.

I received a very prompt response:

Dear James H___:

Thank you for your email. I'm sorry to hear about your recent experience and regret any inconvenience this situation may have caused you. I understand that your Debit MasterCard* provides a convenient way to do banking and I'd like to help.

Upon researching your account, I have discovered that our First Data Resources department has placed a temporary block on your Debit MasterCard* until you are able to contact them and review some transactions for validity. You may contact them 24 hours a day, 7 days a week at 888.387.2447.

I apologize for any concern.

[A bunch of contact numbers and instructions for making international phone calls to their toll free service.]

If you call, you may be asked for your confirmation number, which is ***

Sincerely,
Judith
Washington Mutual Customer Service

To which I responded:

Thank you for your prompt reply.

It is very difficult for me to make a collect call (or any operator assisted call) here due to the language barrier. I have a cell phone here, but I cannot add minutes to it because I am rapidly running out of money.
Is there any way I can validate the transactions via email (or this messaging system)? If you ask me my security questions, I can answer them back, and I my ability to log in to my WaMu account helps identify me.

Some of my readers who know me personally have accused me of being a little loose (i.e. hyperbolic) with my use of English. These readers may now be scoffing at the phrase "rapidly running out of money," but I will put this into concerete, numerical terms for those unbelievers. After conversion at the going exchange rate, I had less than $10USD in my pocket at the time of writing that email. Granted, I tried to select diction would lend a sense of urgency to my request in hopes that "Judith" would be compassionate and understanding enough to help me out. Still, having no kitchen in my hotel means having to eat out (at least) three times a day, and these expenses are adding up. Whether Judith is compassionate or understanding is still up for debate, but "Daniel," who responded to this second plea, turned out to be neither:

Dear James H___:

Thanks for contacting Washington Mutual.

Unfortunately the Fraud Prevention department are not available via email. The Fraud Prevention department can be reached at 866.841.7642 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

I apologize for any concern or inconvenience.

[Same contact numbers and instructions as Judith had given, verbatim!, leaving me to suspect that I am actually dealing with some very complex automated system rather than a real, living anything.]

If you call, you may be asked for your confirmation number, which is ***.

Sincerely,
Daniel
Washington Mutual Customer Service

As of this posting, my difficulties with WaMu have been resolved, but after that message from Daniel, I was livid. Imagine not being able to access my own money—my own money (!!!) that essentially I have lent to WaMu with the full and expressed understanding that it is mine to retrieve in part or in full at any time. It's as if you lent a few thousand dollars to your billionare friend...Then, when you asked him to pay some of it back, he kept making all these excuses about not being sure it's really "you" trying to collect your money. Even though you have your ID card, the secret 4-digit code that only you and stingy Billionare know, and you have all the correct answers to a series of confidential questions upon which you and Billionare have previously agreed to prevent exactly this kind of identity crisis.

The details of exactly how WaMu and I patched things up are many and tedious, so I needn't bore you with them here. What follows is an entirely ficticious conversation with my mother, a conversation I made up for the amusement of my readers. In it, I imagined what we might say if my mother had had to call the bank on my behalf. It should in no way be used to implicate her or myself in any kind of fraud. Again, just a fiction: nothing that could be used to convict either of us of having perpetrated a crime.

Tomato JT: hello?
Mom: hello
Tomato JT: did you get the emails?
Mom: hold on, let me read them…
Mom: ok, i printed all 3 of them.
Tomato JT: ok
Tomato JT: are you going to call?
Mom: yes.
Tomato JT: what about the security Qs? i think you should know all the answers.
Tomato JT: i think one of them is ____.
Tomato JT: or ____.
Tomato JT: The answer is ____.
Mom: can i call the 800# for outside the US so it looks like i'm calling from somewhere else?
Mom: i know the answers, quit typing them!
Tomato JT: oops. those are the TRICK answers
Tomato JT: to throw off anyone reading this!
Mom: ok.
Tomato JT: i know you know the right answers ;)
Tomato JT: you have to yell at them [the WaMu representatives.]
Tomato JT: because i called them before
Tomato JT: and they SAID that everything was ok 2 wks ago
Tomato JT: tell them youre MAD
Tomato JT: and you are switching to ING Direct bank.
Tomato JT: but you will do that later.
Mom: did u get the name of the person with whom you spoke?
Tomato JT:no, i dont remember
Tomato JT: it was only a first name anyway
Tomato JT: tell them youre mad, because it's too hard to call from china
Tomato JT: look what i wrote to them!!!
Tomato JT: i said i am rapidly running out of money
Tomato JT: and it's too hard to call collect
Mom: i'll call now. do you want to wait? or want me to e-mail you?
Tomato JT: ok, i'll wait
Tomato JT: i am watching a movie in my hotel now on my computer
Mom: ok

[Some time passes.]

Mom: they asked me for the last 4 of your social
Mom: i didn't have it right w me
Tomato JT: so what did you say?
Tomato JT: it's _ _ _ _.
Mom: they asked for your date of birth, and SSN.
Mom: i gave that
Mom: i have to call back.
Mom: give me you driver's lic.
Tomato JT: _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _.
Mom: exp?
Tomato JT: how do i know you're not somone else at my mom's desk trying to get secret info????
Tomato JT: you SPY

[More time passes.]

Mom: ok, everything's ok
Tomato JT: what happened?
Mom: they kept calling me ma'am & i had to tell them i'm a man - hehehehe
Mom: i tried to make my voice deeper
Mom: i called back & told her i was disconnected. then she saw the block on the card. i told her i called a couple of wks ago. she said they had to verify the integrity of the transactions.
Mom: she asked the same 2 quesitons as before. then she verified the last 2 transactions on jan. 22.
Mom: SHE SAID THE CARD IS GOOD TO USE RIGHT NOW.
Tomato JT: ok
Tomato JT: thanks
Tomato JT: i will sign off now then! bye!
Mom: maybe u should get more money out
Mom: do you need more money in your acct?
Tomato JT: no, i'm ok right now
Tomato JT: thanks again!
Tomato JT: they are so stupid
Tomato JT: did you remember to threaten to change banks?
Mom: oh, i forgot the threat.
Mom: the girl was very nice.
Mom: good night. love you!


*Whose influence, namely in the realm of the footnote, I have mentioned here.

†Wallace, David Foster. "Up, Simba." Consider the Lobster. New York: Little, Brown & Company, 2005. pp 227-8.

My Third Chinese Mistake

Mistake #3: Ill-conceived methods for maintaining homeostasis

Reaching temperatures of -12°C, the boreal winter I spent in Beijing was quite a departure from the mild southern Californian climate to which I had become accustomed. Yet I'm having more difficulties adjusting to the (relatively benign) cold in southern China than I did enduring the glacial winds^* of Beijing. I attribute this to the perpetual damp, and to the poor (i.e. non-existent) insulation of the buildings here. My attempts to cope with the chill have grown increasingly drastic. After having started out by warming my bed with an electric blanket, I moved onto the Super Blanket. The Super Blanket is basically a blanket of abnormal thickness and heft, yet it's also surprisingly soft! Constructed entirely of synthetic fibers (probably a very nice polyester), the Super Blanket is completely impermeable to air, and thus traps the heat from both my body and the electric blanket.


The Super Blanket solved all the insulation needs of my body, but in the mornings my nose, which must remain outside the Blanket for reasons explained above, was icy to the touch. Danny suggested that I use one the space heaters to warm the air in my room to keep my nose from freezing. Keeping the heater on the floor beside my bed worked marginally well, but because it was hard to angle it for maximum efficiency, I ended up with the heater on my bed.

Then this week in the middle of the night I awoke to the strange smell of something burning. Fearing my sheets were on fire, I was energized by a sudden surge of adrenaline and shot up out of my bed to examine my blankets. Finding nothing, I inspected the heater itself, and found that the vent and the bottom panel had melted. I tried to turn off the machine via the buttons, but when pressed, they yielded to my touch, since they too were on the verge of melting. After unplugging it, the epinephrine began to wear off, and I noticed a bothersome headache. The melting plastic was no doubt releasing all manner of carcinogens into my room, so I placed it in outside and returned to bed, hoping that the throbbing sensation in my skull would abate in my sleep. No luck: when I woke up, it was still hurting. CarbonMonoxideKills.com notes that "Early symptoms of CO poisoning [include] headaches, nausea, and fatigue," and I was definitely experiencing symptoms one and three. I spent most of the day enduring these ailments until Danny and I took a walk to the market; the fresh air was likely the agent of my recovery.

Lesson: Be wary of the safety features of products made in China intended for domestic consumption.

Bonus Lesson: Keep space heaters on the floor, and out of your bed.


*I once told Linda that the sensation of a strong, nighttime Beijing wind breaching five layers of heavy, winter clothing is not unlike "being stabbed by a thousand frozen needles all over your body."

The Devil Wears Flip-flops

[Aside: Remember the reports of John Kerry's becoming flustered when Bush supporters attended his stump speeches and clapped thongs together as emblems of his flip-floppiness?]

[Editor's Note: I just finished re-reading and pseudo-editing this piece a couple months after its initial writing, and even I am not sure what I was originally rambling about, so unless you *very* recently viewed The Devil Wears Prada and performed a neurotic personal/social/occupational/moral/philosophical/psychological analysis of all the deeper issues that aren't actually addressed in this movie, it probably won't make much sense to you, either. Trust, me, don't read it. I should actually delete it, but it's been sitting in the queue for so long just waiting to be unleashed on the poor, unsuspecting public that I couldn't bring myself to do that. In fact, this Editor's Note is the best thing about this piece, so you've already had the dessert first. Do yourself a favor, and skip the main course.]

So I just watched The Devil Wears Prada tonight with Danny. Though the movie was his pick—not mine—Danny found it very boring, whereas I (initially) liked it. I think I am really drawn to the genre of sermonizing chick-flicks (My Best Friend's Wedding, 13 Going on 30, View from the Top, et al). I think they're the kind of movie Eddie would criticize as predictable and formulaic, but because I so rarely see movies, I am not as familiar with all the formulas. This kind of movie is particularly appealing to me because its plot is often situated within questions about career, the unknown future, finding one's way in life, and/or fulfilling one's destiny.^*

However, I'm really conflicted about this one. On the one hand, I liked the easy-to-grasp morals, things like "don't make your job your life" and "friends and family should come before work" and "love is more important than success or money." (Admittedly, these lessons are fairly trite, as Eddie would be the first to point out.) Still, I'm conflicted, because I feel that being dedicated to ones job is commendable, and the film seems to neglect this point. Anne Hathaway (Andy Sachs) is peerless at her workplace; she masters what turns out to be an immensely challenging position, and should be applauded for doing her work excellently. She starts out certainly lacking the requisite skills and knowledge base, and quickly surmounts these handicaps to be a top-rate personal asst.

Moreover, it's hard to fault Andrea as having given up her identity, because she shows great remorse about taking the Paris Fashion Week trip away from Emily. (Even though in the end she does it at Miranda's behest). Although Emily still treats Andrea with condescension, Andrea tries to treat her with love and kindness. (And clearly, in a half-body cast, Emily is in no condition to attend Fashion Week anyway). Andrea is fiercely loyal to Miranda despite the latter's harsh and repulsive treatment of the former; she feels compassion for Miranda during her divorce, and tries to console her. In short, I didn't really buy the line that Andrea was degenerating into an immoral, obsessive solipsist

I felt very conflicted about Andrea's leaving her position, because had she stayed on for a full year as planned, (or even two years), she would have done quite well, and would have been able to snag any position in the publishing industry. Miranda was not only a source of connections and networking (and a bottomless fountain of hand-me-down swag), but actually a good mentor: she is at the top of her field, filled with business acumen, and unparalleled in terms of meticulous attn to detail. Remaining at Runway would have been incredibly remunerative (in all senses of the word) for Andrea, without necessarily turning her into some sort of Martha Stewart-esque monster.

I am most conflicted about Andrea's future. One can see alot of Miranda in Andrea, and I felt that the ending was left very open-ended in terms of what will happen in Andrea's future. It seems that with her experience at Runway, her commitment to excellence, and similarities to Miranda, she would likely rise to the top of her field—and very probably become the same sort of "it's lonely at the top" figure as her mentor. This is especially true considering the fact that Andrea sleeps with someone else when she was "on a break" with her boyfriend, Nate, played by Entourage's Adrian Grenier. (Didn't she learn anything from the Ross-Rachael polemic on Friends?!?) This points to relationship problems down the line (and Miranda has her second divorce during the course of the film).

After turning off the DVD, my usual post-banal-girly-movie glow faded very quickly as I gave further contemplation to the thoughts outlined above. The denouement of Devil doesn't tie things up neatly enough for a film of its genre, yet it isn't edgy or original enough to fully break from the conventions and clichés of that field, either. I've flip-flopped several times deciding whether I like this film. All this ambivalence is too tiring, so I won't be viewing this movie again. But maybe I'll need to watch it again, just to be sure of that.


*Although I enjoy this cinematic genre, the mixed messages that these movies are sending me are more than a little confusing. I am finding it extraordinarily difficult to make major life decisions based on the information and pearls of wisdom I've gleaned from them. For example, in View from the Top, Gwyneth Paltrow (Donna) succeeds in her quest to become a New York-Paris first class flight attendant, and thus finds the satisfaction and meaning in life that she had been missing. Contrast that with the outcome for Jennifer Garner (Jenna) in 13 Going on 30, in which Garner's wish (making a temporal leap from 13 to 30) is granted, but is greatly disappointed that her dream does not meet her expectations. Mix in Julia Roberts (Julianne) of My Best Friend's Wedding, whose fails to achieve her goal of marrying her best friend, but finds a happy ending nonetheless. What is the take home message that Hollywood is trying to convey?

My First Two Chinese Mistakes

Within the first 24 hours of having landed in China, I have already committed two mistakes. Mind you, this is not my first, second, or even third time in the Middle Kingdom—I even spent an entire a year in the capital city. So it was both surprising and disappointing that I have thus far been so prone to error…

Mistake #1: Sex Talk
On the shuttle from the airport to our plane, Danny and I saw a pair of Chinese women who appeared to be eyeing us. "They're looking at us," I told him. "They probably think I'm the sexiest man they've ever seen. Should I go over and offer to give them the best sex they've ever had?" At this point the women appeared to be whispering something to one another. Normally I would never think such ridiculous, brazen statements, let alone say them aloud, but I felt like taking advantage of the language barrier by being as ridiculous and brazen as possible.

"You should be careful," Danny admonished. "Maybe they can understand you."

"Relax! No one in these rural parts of China understands English."

"Okay," he responded in that doubt-infused, don't-say-I-didn't-warn-you tone, "but you never know..."

That was, of course, the cue for one of the ladies to approach us, and introduce herself—to my horror, in English. "I recognize you from the summer," she said politely to Danny. "You taught the English classes at Number One Middle School. Am I right?" Danny responded in the affirmative as I stood beside him in abject mortification.

Lesson: Be more circumspect about the listening comprehension of those in my vicinity before blurting out sexually lurid comments.

Mistake #2: "Niu bie"
After landing at our destination, the women from Mistake #1 offered to give us a ride from the airport into town to save us the 20人民币 in bus fare. In the car, one of the ladies asked if we had eaten. My hunger compelled me to respond very quickly that we hadn't, at which point one female traveling companion asked if we would like to join her for lunch. Danny made some rather un-subtle facial expressions to indicate to me that he would rather not accompany them, but again, hunger forced my hand, and I accepted.

"你习惯吃辣的吗?" she asked. ("Are you accustomed to eating spicy food?")

"Yes," I said, willing to eat just about anything at that point.

"Are you sure? Are you sure spicy is okay?"

"Yes, I like spicy food. Danny?"

(A little grudgingly:) "I can eat spicy, too."

So it was settled: against Danny's protestations we would dine with our new friends. At this point, things were looking up. Based on a few other conversational snippets in the car, I surmised that their English was probably not good enough to have understood my explicit comments on the shuttle.

…On the other hand, I thought to myself, maybe they did understand me, and they're taking me back to some restaurant to wine and dine me, and wine me some more, and then they'll try to extract sexual favors in return. Well, I am not that kind of boy: I will not go offering up my body in return for a meal and a night out on the town! If that's what they think of me, they can just forget it! They've gotten the wrong idea. I am not that kind of boy!

Well, we arrived at the restaurant, and as you have probably already deduced from the fact that there are "two" Chinese mistakes, it was my latter hypothesis that turned out to be correct, and "niu bie" is Chinese slang for "sexual favor." [And at this point, I'm wondering whether posting this online for all the world to read will constitute my "Third Chinese Mistake."] Putting some alcohol into my system really lowered my carnal inhibitions, and I'm not the type to kiss and tell, but you can guess where things ended up…







Just kidding. I had you going there for a second, though, right? Anyway, we got to the restaurant, and the place was redolent with the smell of…I'm not sure how to describe it, but as soon as we entered, Danny turned to me and said, "that's niu bie."

"What's 'niu bie'?"

"You know, you've had it before on one of your other trips to China."

"No, I haven't. I would definitely remember something that smelled like this."

"Are you sure? I'm pretty sure you've had it before. It's basically the innards of the cow. And do you know whose fault it is that we're here? It's yours because I told you we shouldn't have come to eat with them."

"I thought it would be a chance for us to treat them to lunch, since they drove us from the airport into town. Plus, maybe we're not eating 'niu bie.' Maybe they're going to order something else for us," I said hopefully.

"Nope. It's niu bie for sure. The people from around here love it."

We sat at the table, and our travel companions introduced us to their friends, most of whom were already there expecting us. After a few minutes, lunch was served, and sure enough, it was a big, boiling pot of a milk coffee-colored broth, into which organs which looked completely alien in origin were dumped. At first, I fished around for the few pieces of meat I could find, but then decided that that might strike them as rude and ungrateful. Also, I was curious to try this 'niu bie' and report back to my readers on the experience. Reluctantly, I picked up a small piece with my chopsticks and dipped it into some hot sauce. It had a rather bitter flavor; the closest thing to which I can compare it is bittermelon. The texture was quite chewy, but the overall sensation was not as bad as I had expected.

After we finished lunch and were on our way to the place where I will be staying for the next three months, Danny explained to me reason for the niu bie hotpot's brown color: "Basically they take the cow intestines, and they squeeze all the contents out into the soup. It's cow poo!"
"OMG, you've gotta be kidding, right? Who would knowingly eat cow poo?" (Notice, sadly, how at this stage in the game I needed to insert the adverb "knowingly" because just moments before I myself had partaken of the bovine dung.)

"Nope. They think it's healthy for you, and they think it's delicious." (This is true: during lunch, they kept telling me to eat more of the niu bie because it's "good for your health.")

Lesson: Do not accept dining invitations in China until you have ascertained what exactly will be served.

Death of the Dictators

I predict the period between the last quarter of 2006 and the first half of 2007 will see the death of the dictators.

Most recently, and most widely covered in the press, was of course former Iraqi president Saddam Hussein's death (April 28, 1937 - December 30, 2006). His reign (July 16, 1979 to April 9, 2003)¹, was notable for the so-called Anfal campaign—a genocide against the Kurds in northern Iraq—oppression and persecution of Shi'ite Iraqis, and the Iran-Iraq War (1980-1988). Methods of genocide and sectacide employed against the Kurds and Shi'ites, respectively, included mass executions, arbitrary imprisonment, kidnappings, "forced displacement of hundreds of thousands of villagers after the demolition of their homes, and the wholesale destruction of nearly two thousand villages along with their schools, mosques, farms, and power stations...Estimates of deaths during that time range from 20,000 to 100,000 for Kurds, and 60,000 to 130,000 for Shi'ites."¹ Saddam was convicted for these crimes against humanity on November 5 of last year, and his consequent execution (death by the noose) was carried out on December 30², a date notable because it was the first day of Sunni celebration of Eid ul-Adha, [(Arabic: عيد الأضحى ‘Īd al-’Aḍḥā), a religious festival marking the second day of the hajj pilgrimage to Mecca, and commemorating Abraham's "willingness to sacrifice his son Ismael for God"³], while the Shi'ite celebration was observed on December 31. Since by law executions cannot be carried out during religious holidays, many considered the scheduling of Saddam's hanging as a slap in the face to Sunni Muslims by the Shi'ite-dominated government.⁴

Augusto José Ramón Pinochet, (November 25, 1915–December 10, 2006), former Chilean president and general, helped lead the 1973 coup d'état deposing the preceding Marxist government, and ruled that country by military junta from 1974 until 1990, "when he was defeated in a plebiscite to continue his rule." During his reign, he helped implement market reforms (largely influenced by Milton Freedman) to the Chilean economy, countered the hyperinflation caused by his predecessor, enabled the "Miracle of Chile," combated terrorist groups, and staved off a Red advance. Yet at the end of his life he acknowledged his "full political responsibility for atrocities and abuses committed by his regime," that is, the murder, torture and exile of thousands suspected as Leftist threats to his rule and reforms. So, over all, a pretty mixed bag in which questionable means were used to achieve very admirable ends. After a heart attack on December 3, 2006, Pinochet a week later of died of congestive heart failure.⁵

Another leader who succumbed to cardiac arrest last month—perhaps the least reported on, but certainly most eccentric of the dictators who expired last month—was Saparmurat Niyazov (February 19, 1940 - December 21, 2006), more widely known as the self-styled Turkmenbashi, or "Father of the Turkmen." "Niyazov, at the beginning of his rule, referred to Turkmenistan as a nation devoid of a national identity. He renamed the town of Krasnovodsk, on the Caspian Sea, Türkmenbaşy, in addition to renaming several schools, airports and even a meteorite after himself and his immediate family. He even renamed the months, and days of the week after his family; January becoming Turkmenbashi. Niyazov's portrait is on Manat banknotes and large portraits of the late President hang all over the country, especially on major public buildings and avenues. Statues of himself and his mother are located throughout Turkmenistan, including one in the Karakum Desert as well as a gold-plated statue atop Aşgabat's largest building, the Neutrality Arch. The statue rotates so that it will always face into the sun and shine light onto the capital city." Turkmenbashi also wrote a national epic, the Ruhnama , which was "intended as the 'spiritual guidance of the nation' and the basis of the nation's arts and literature." The Ruhnama was used as a brainwashing and indoctrination devise in schools; an exam on its contents is even a component of the Turkmen driving test.⁶

So who's left? Despite vociferous protestations to the contrary from the Cuban propaganda mills, it appears that Comrade Castro is on his last leg. Based on reports of pancreatic cancer, various surgeries and ensuing complications, I hardly expect him to last the fortnight. There has also been speculation for some time on the imminent demise of Comrade Kim Jong-Il.

Yet even the passing of these remaining tyrants will not be the end of tyranny, for that last great Despot will still reign in our mortal bodies—that Despot who shall not be vanquished until the culmination of all things.

"Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, that ye should obey it in the lusts thereof. Neither yield ye your members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin: but yield yourselves unto God, as those that are alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness unto God. For sin shall not have dominion over you: for ye are not under the law, but under grace...Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness? But God be thanked, that ye were the servants of sin, but ye have obeyed from the heart that form of doctrine which was delivered you. Being then made free from sin, ye became the servants of righteousness...For when ye were the servants of sin, ye were free from righteousness. What fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed? for the end of those things is death. But now being made free from sin, and become servants to God, ye have your fruit unto holiness, and the end everlasting life. For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." Rom 6:12 23.

¹Wikipedia.org, "Saddam Hussein".
²ibid. "Trial of Saddam Hussein".
³ibid. "Eid Al-Adha".
⁴ see also: ibid. "Human Rights in Saddam's Iraq".
⁵ ibid. "Pinochet".
⁶ibid. "Saparmurat Niyazov".