Happens from time to time.
It’s a curious state I find myself in since living at the tip of Baja California, an hour east of Cabo San Lucas. I got cold-cocked from behind. Because words.
Since then, it’s a sort of moth to the flame thing. I didn’t learn my lesson.
From my personal perspective, the world has morphed into a curious perversion of humanity and I will not have it. I can do nothing to change anything, but I will maintain manliness, a hill I’m content to die upon.
While that’s easy for anyone to say, I take the beatings.
It’s cathartic, in my own particular way.
…That Mexico thing was the first physical encounter and I didn’t particularly like my response to it, which came off—to me at least—as too much victim mentality.
What happened is that there was a Facebook group for what I call The Lost Gated Community of Los Zacatitos. It’s an off-grid community accessible only by rocky dirt road, but sports multi-million $ abodes and on down to small solar and battery installations. I rented one on that lower scale.
Let’s montage it.
Some of the photos are self-explanatory, especially the long-hair selfies. Nobody gets the one of me next to the road sign. Hint: my sunglasses are upside down. I think that’s funny. The vulture atop the cactus is cool and it was an every morning view from where I woke up. Of course, this is the stuff of totem poles, right? The why is that they have dew on their wings in the morning and this is how they dry them in the morning sun. I actually know even more about it. Vultures have a crazy flight efficiency. Flying hang gliders for years, we know about this. Don’t look to vultures to find lift (rising air), look to hawks and eagles. Vultures can stay up in bug farts.
Mike Eades and I on a bad-hair morning day. He graciously offered a sleep-overnight in Montecito to split my drive. It was delightful and “MD,” as he calls her, regaled with sous vide ribeye and cauliflower mash. Mike and I did a bit of Irish whiskey before dinner, Americano coffee after. Maybe there was wine with dinner too.
…So what eventually happened is that I wasn’t particularly welcome in the off-grid community once it was clear I don’t do bullshit ever, and I mean ever. Turns out, the lost gated community was basically cucks and cunts. Elitist sorts, pretending that they aren’t, and this is crack cocaine for me. Females rule all roosts and males admonish you to shut up and get along, because they throw amazing parties and you want to be invited.
That’s how Richard Nikoley would operate to a T. LOL, right?
So I got my ass kicked because as a tropical storm was brewing one of the cunts did a post about how everyone needs to look at “Mexican meteorology.” She does translation of Spanish to English and posted her translation of an meteorological warning. The thing was, the “Mexican meteorology” didn’t differ substantially from the other international notices, including NOAA. It was a sin to point this out in explicit terms with a dose of derisive ridicule. For just one instance, sea temperature is critical to how tropical storms operate, a subject for another time. But these people understand fuckall about anything like that. Too busy wondering when 4.20 am or pm comes next.
It was so offensive to point out plain facts that I got cold-cocked from behind whilst sitting on a bar stool, to the delight of the whole community. This was in 2015. Sound familiar now, in 2022? I understand that even mentioning it is untoward in a peculiar way.
You’re going against the narrative and you’ll take your beating like a man and if you complain, we’ll taunt and insult you for a second time.
It would be a while until I got into it again, as inevitable as it is. It’s been close a lot of times because I purposely speak load, project, and I don’t give a fuck. What others think of me is none of my business. Am I a bit sociopathic? Absolutely, because most people are dysfunctional fucktards and I love exposing them publicly.
Just over a year ago I went to a bar in Rawai one evening I’d been to dozens of times. It was a new bar modelled after the Thai Hooters.
The one in nearby Patong Beach was closed for the “pandemic.” The girls are young and sexy with what I call rocket tits, for hooters. Small and hard. It’s their model. They all earn decent salaries by Thai standards, so there’s no typical “bar fine” stuff going on.
I like to shit talk them about that, saying things like “it’s going to fail” and such…yada yada.
Though I had been ribbing the girls for months, it didn’t sit pretty with a young 20-something Aussie couple one night, here for muay Thai (Thai kickboxing).
Here’s how it went down.
…What happened is that I woke up about 10-minutes later as the Thai med pros from the ambulance were picking me up off the pavement…from a beautifully deep red pool of blood, from my jaw. I recall being weirdly delighted about it. It took about 5 seconds to assess what had happened—a reboot of consciousness—and I politely refused medical treatment and intervention. In turn, respectfully, they asked me a couple of basic questions to assess if I was fit to go it alone.
…A few days later I decided to stir shit. I employed a couple of resources, got access to the CCTV room and all was revealed. Though they had taken a 15-minute circuitous route for the 3-minute drive home, the CCTV guys know what they’re doing.
So I worked with the cops and soon enough there were the fellow tatted “fighters” showing up at the police station, going to the nearest ATM for enough cash to get the deal done.
…Yea, of course the cops got a donation to their “orphaned children’s fund,” 15%. …It’s funny how Westerners paying 50% in taxes and spending thousands to millions in lawsuits that take years rail against this “corruption” that gets shit done in a few days….
By way of the vine, I learned that the two left Thailand soon thereafter. The bar I mocked closed soon thereafter and the property is up for sale. I snapped a selfie 3 days after the event.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, or something. Maybe it enhances your testosterone, rather than being mystified over low T because you back off easily and automatically from potential physical conflict, or, more likely: you’re devoted to a woman that, psycho-biologically simply doesn’t excite you in the slightest sexually in spite of loving devotion—and you live in a society that judges you guilty because in your neutered state, you’ve let feminism take over the world.
…I feel a bit compelled to tell you a bit about Asian bar girls. I took my first one back to the hotel from the bar area outside the seaport in Pusan, Korea, during my Midshipman cruise in 1982, 40 years ago. I was still a college boy at Oregon State, but I never looked back. I could go on and on but Hollywood gets it so wrong it’s not even wrong and there are no exceptions.
And so to put a ribbon on this part of the story, I go knocked out cold with my hands on the handlebars, out of the blue, because the young woke geniuses had no idea I’d been bantering with bar girls since 10-15 years before either of them were even born.
…I’ve been living rather peaceful for a year and my recent interlocution with flat earthers, banking conspiracists, and moon-landing deniers was water off a duck’s back because those sorts have only a hammer and everything is, then, a nail. Easy. Just dismiss and don’t worry about their protestations that you’re bowing out because you don’t have good answers to their “claims.”
No. I will not have a conversation about whether the moon is made of green cheese, either.
Sophistic, Dunning-Kruger, solipsistic types should always be dismissed out of hand, like any common basement-dwelling wanker. Or, just pet them.
…Fast forward to yesterday. No way I would have come out smelling like roses had this one gone physical. Big ass dude. Englishman. A good 110 kilo and 190 cm (240 pounds, 6’4″). I’m an average 5’10’ on 180ish. I later found out he was a bouncer in England. Now, he works offshore oil rigs.
…Yea, I got this. LOL.
But let me back up. A few days ago I was at Roxanne Bar, which I frequent for the afternoon old-dude expat vibe and low and behold, Nida gets a new girl to work the bar, standard contract. She’s a 40ish woman who showed up. She’s nice and sexy looking, speaks English, and knows how to banter and entertain farang dudes.
She’s done this work before. Nice backup when financial crisis hits.
So I was sitting there, welcomed her, and bought her her first laddie’s drink that makes her about 2-3 bucks commission. Perhaps I bought a second one but we chatted, bantered, and laughed for an hour. She was delightful and I went on my way.
I don’t go there every day. I think it was about 2 day’s hence, same time, 2-4pm in the afternoon. She’s sitting there, all enamoring of the big Brit, plying the standard skills I’ve recognized for 40 years. I had what I consider to be a natural flash of jubilation on her behalf, so I went up and greeted her, hands on shoulders, a bit of congratulations that she was making a gig of it because I know how it goes for them.
I knew for sure that she came to do this work because she really needed the money. She drove up in a car. Few Thais own cars as a percentage. They drive motorbikes. From 2019 figures, about 280 cars per thousand of population. The population is 70 milion. There are way more than 70 million motorbikes here.
It all goes to say that I know Asian bar girls a lot, and for 40 years. The systems work roughly the same in all southeastern Asian countries and defies religion. Christian Philippines works exactly the same as Buddhist Thailand. Just ask me. 1984 in the PI, 1986 in TL. My heartlands. The religious stuff is ubiquitous amongst bar girls and it’s cute as hell. No essential difference between Catholic and Buddhist on that level of the essential. I delight in that. It gives me hope for humanity.
Yea! Horny bar girls with a penchant for a few bucks.
And don’t believe any of the “trafficked-victim” claptrap you heard. It’s all bullshit. Plus, lots of the girls are truly and sincerely polyamorous. Look it up. I’ve been with three of them in my life—including my first one back in college—and it’s an unmatched sexual pleasure. It may be why I’m a bit broken it terms of living the conventional life.
…And so it goes that a couple of days later I showed up and she was sitting lovey dovey and kissy face with the big dude. Then the well-wishing greeting.
I sit down, am presented my usual Sangsom-soda, and whilst settling in I notice he’s looking my way and I shoot him a standard American thumbs up.
“I don’t need your fucking thumbs-up you cunt. Fuck off, twat!”
I was still wearing my Ray Ban Wayfarers.
No shit but the verbal barrage kept coming. Apparently, greeting the bar girl with a half-embrace of putting my hands on her shoulders was “putting my hands all over her,” or something.
But that’s not all. It seems that I’m a “typical American,” too.
It goes on and on but I only do smiling verbal jabs.
“Of course I’m a cunt, but you forgot the preface proper.”
“American? Didn’t you forget racist, misogynist, and white supremacist?”
…He gets clearly frustrated with my verbal jabs as it goes on and on. He’s going to kick my ass. The bar has been dead silent to then, but another guy tell him it’s not worth it. He then stands up to leave and reaches into his pocket to pay the checkbin.
He walks over with his right meat-hook extended and a left arm welcoming a man-embrace, and he says, “I overreacted.”
After that, I took the opportunity to embrace his barrel with my right arm, facing all the other customers in the bar and announced: this is Western civilization.
I might have added: if it was an Arab and a Jew, the dispute would be ongoing for thousands of years and neither would ever let the rest of the world have a moment’s peace because of it. I digress.
Only later did I learn that he’s an oil-rig worker on his last day before heading back for the 90 days straight of life at sea where it’s 24/7, no weekends or holidays.
He was also a bouncer in a previous life, which got a belly laugh from all when I pointed out that’s just what he was trying to do.
I was able to relate a story from my ex, Beatrice, where she told that in being a 5th grade teacher, the girls were harder than the boys.
“The girls have a problem, it lasts weeks or months. The boys? They hit each other and in a few hours, they’re best friends.”
Perhaps the underlying is that Arabs and Jews are girls, and the men of the world should just ignore them, or something.