Thursday, March 29, 2012

Intermission- PINK HOLES IN A BURSTING UNIVERSE: Progressive Pretensions, Modern Delusions



by Dick & Poli Tico

We are on vacation. But more "thought-provoking" narrative next time. In Chapter 11, we got to know an "unexpected" side of San Francisco from the viewpoint of one of the city's variegated minority groups, Asians who composed a third of the city population. We left the impression there that despite the "spooky" something which retarded the growth of what could have been the biggest metropolis in the West Coast, the region could still be wealthy. In the next chapters, we'll see the reality behind the facade: that area and the rest of California compose the financial sinkhole of the US. It is a microcosm of the developed world circa 2012: wealthy facade, but behind are the cobwebs- in this case, debts and social decay. San Francisco is a sobering reminder that "progressive" pretensions and "modern" delusions are not "cool" in the long run.Ultimately, they are self-defeatist and dangerous. It is the prime embodiment of how intellectual dishonesty disguised as progressive sophistication could corrode the fundamentals of a city insidiously, the first proof that a first-class city could be distorted by pretensions & delusions. A city could sabotage itself by too much pretension. Apply that distortion into a civilization, and what are we having as a result? More on that next in the novel.

As preview of more "surprises" ahead, look at the column below. You saw the figures for San Francisco in Chapter 11, there will be more to come about that city. But how about the Los Angeles area? Let's start with LA even now. The column below is the pattern of the population growth of the city of West Hollywood while the cities of Los Angeles & Beverly Hills sorrounding it were bursting with people despite the high rents and land prices. You'll be surprised to know that some of the fastest growth of any American metropolis (LA metropolitan population : 18 million) happened around but outside the boundaries of contracting West Hollywood. So why is the population growth trend of West Hollywood opposite to that of its booming neighbors? Why a black hole in a bursting universe? Here's the punch line: West Hollywood has one of the toughest rent control law anywhere, designed to protect its citizens from the galloping high rents of Los Angeles thru local legislative control since 1984. It turned out people obviously cared less for lower rents than for the kind of neighbors they had. Just like with central San Francisco, people are fleeing away- is there something also spooky down there? Tell me. Here's the beef: 41% of its population are gay, the highest concentration in any city in the US.

POPULATION GROWTH IN THE CITY OF WEST HOLLYWOOD

1980 - 35,703

1990 - 36,118 - ( 1.2%)

2000 - 35,716 - (-1.1%)

2010- 34,399 - (-3.7%)

*West Hollywood is a part of the Los Angeles metropolitan area of 18,000,000 people, completely sorrounded by the western edge of the city of LA & the northern part of the city of Beverly Hills, both latter cities with positive population growth.



We see the same pattern of "rebuffing" people in their places of concentrations, be it in central San Francisco or in the edge of LA. At least, because it consigned them to the edge, LA is not about to grab the title of "the first city stunted by pretentiousness" from San Francisco.

Also coming next is the one most dreaded by gay activists to appear in this novel: sexual conversion in action, in its naked psychodynamic detail. However, not as part of their propaganda of a Right Wing plot but from personal experiences of actual converts- mostly liberal actually, only they were naturally homophobic & in no mood to patronize a sputtering bandwagon of "progressive"/"modern" pretentiousness. So I suggest, forget politics for a while & read, it may help you personally. Despite all the corny propaganda, being gay is the lowest fate one could be had by a self-respecting man so grab a chance to flee while you can. Many wrote to ask me for guidance. I didn't have time to answer everyone but I included scenes tackling the most relevant questions as my belated response. As for the girl readers, enjoy the love story.

As they say, you ain't seen nothing yet!

NB
Tim from Sheffield, UK wrote he was intrigued by the discussion on religion in the early part of the novel. He asked if we won't touch on religion again. Here's something, just to lessen the suspense: the last half of the novel, right as it hurtles toward the climax, will be a very "religious" landscape for our dysfunctional characters' foibles. You'll see what I mean. A new way of looking at things beyond the old pretensions of modernity.
Btw, these INTERMISSIONS are part of the novel, compiled in an APPENDIX.

MUSIC
The Germans call the genre Mittelalter Rock. Or Medieval Rock. From the album "Stereneisen".

In Extremo - Siehst du das Licht












Thursday, March 22, 2012

THE BEATEN GENERATION: The Dick Principle (Chapter 11)



by Dick & Poli Tico

NOTE: The songs added at the end are recommended as background music while reading the chapter. They provide the proper mood, a reflective mood. Truth requires constant reflection.

I'm reediting the novel, it will be published in other sites later on after its publication here. Ebook files to download will be provided.

Chapter 11: The Scarecrows

The overthrow of the aristocrat has created the necessity for the Superman

George Bernard Shaw

"Les grands champions ne pensent jamais à ce qu'ils peuvent perdre, ils ne pensent qu'à ce qu'ils peuvent encore gagner."

Michael Schumacher, Formula 1 driver (obviously, he's German but I culled this from a favorite French site)

"Non sono una colomba, come invece sono stato descritto"

Giorgio Squinzi, President, Confindustria, Italy

"Ik ben geen Messi"

Klaas-Jan Huntelaar, Dutch soccer player playing for Schalke 04 in the German Bundesliga

January 21, 2012, 3 AM, Pacific Time, Los Angeles

Something weird was happening. A snapshot poll taken just before midnight showed only .05 % of the sample American population were watching the news. They will recheck it at 7 AM but the rate will persist. They will get the shock of their lives at noon. The rate will drop further to .01%. A look at internet news readership figures will reveal a drop of 90% in the US. The confusion will increase by daybreak because delivered newspapers will be unceremoniously thrown back to the newsboys. About a thousand newsboys will have to be hospitalized because of injuries sustained from flying newspapers.

Needless to say, nobody will buy the papers from the kiosks. Nobody will download from the online stores despite paid subscriptions. By the opening of all the bourses, all companies with shares in anti-emetic production will immediately have overbought shares. Stocks at drugstores will be depleted by daybreak. They will reappear at noon but at triple their prices.

It should be a day of big headlines. Editors had a hard time choosing the billing. The Impaled destroyer commander was already big news since yesterday afternoon. But events moved fast. Three of the biggest Hollywood leading men were found dead. The biggest action star, Rod Thompson, was found killed of self-inflicted gunshot wound in a room of the Beverly Hills Hilton (police were still determining if this was related to a clip showing him on the anal receiving end of a homosexual act which started circulating in the Internet at about the time of his death). The other two A-list actors, Charles Murphy & Arthur Dandridge, were found with shattered skulls & upper torsos, but the naked lower stump of the latter was found still impaled on the rigid sex organ barely connected to the lower stump of the former. Future historians will call the latter "The Second Impaled America Incident".

This time around, the Nebraska pastor who cried silently in front of the TV camera when pixelated videos of the impaled destroyer commandant was first broadcast, was back to his usual bombastic self and bristled explosively with outrage: "Sodom & Gomorrha! Sodom & Gomorrha! Sodom & Gomorrha!" He again cried but this time he was hysterically gesticulating & screaming, so strongly that at one point his false teeth flew. But nobody laughed. The collective outrage was so shared that to show their support, about a million dentures will be sent the next day to his church in Omaha.

The lesbian wife of Charles Murphy (screen name: Margarita Beaumont) will be irritated when called in Tahiti. She will balk at having to return immediately to LA, she was really enjoying Aikiko, but the publicist will become hysterically insistent. What will anger Margarita the most will be that she must find another beard again. Nobody among the current closet actors were big enough to match her status. Perhaps she must find a politician. A sportsman. A ballet dancer? Even she will not stoop that low.

In a stand-up comedy bar somewhere in West Hollywood later that evening, a hipster comedian will declare:"Come on, people, quit pretending to be cool. Let's call this International Day of Vomiting, ok?" Then, as if on cue, she will celebrate with her supper splattered in front of her audience. Amazingly, the fools, still dying to posture as "cool", will find that "cool" and give her a standing ovation.

Don't even ask what they will do next with their own suppers...

January 21, 2012, 3 AM, San Francisco

San Francisco was the largest city and the unchallenged financial center of the West Coast of the US as the 20th century rolled in. It was the queen of its own county, Oakland and San Jose were backwaters then (see File 1.a below), and even Los Angeles & San Diego down south were mere villages (see File 1.b).

The story was different in 2011. All the primary financial centers of the world had galloping increases in population in the past decade except for the financial center of the Western United States (see File 3). Highly surprising considering that the engine of the world economy (the Pacific area) and the center of the biggest modern industry in the world (Silicon Valley) were within its economic sphere. In fact, it lost within its own metropolitan area, which with its $400 billion GNP would be the 22nd biggest in the world were it a sovereign country. Upstart San Jose in the Silicon Valley surpassed San Francisco in population while the latter slipped to merely being the second biggest in its own namesake county and only the fourth largest in California (compare File 1.a to 1.b). More than that, it slipped down into 12th place from being the 9th most competitive financial center in the world, beaten by Boston, another US city in the East Coast which already had New York City as financial hub, two East Coast cities in the Top 11 financial centers at a time when the Atlantic economic sphere was in intensive care. All the other financial centers elsewhere in the Pacific area were booming at the seams.

Adrian Lao looked at the familiar figures which he stored in a file folder in his computer.

File 1a. Comparison of Population Growth of Cities in San Francisco County


Year - SFrancisco - San Jose - Oakland

1900 - 342,782 - 21,500 - 66,960

1960 - 740,316 - 204,196 - 367,548

1970 - 715,674 - 459,913 - 361,561

1980 - 678,974 - 629,442 - 339,337

1990 - 723,959 - 782,248 - 372,242

2000 - 776,733 - 894,943 - 399,484

2010 - 805,235 - 945,942 - 390,724

File 1b. Population Growth in San Francisco compared with the two biggest California cities (Note: San Francisco was the biggest city in 1900 but it is now the fourth biggest, behind Los Angeles, San Diego & San Jose)

Year - Los Angeles - San Diego

1900 - 102,479 - 17,700

1960 - 2,479,015 - 573,224

1970 - 2,816,061 - 696,769

1980 - 2,966,850 - 875,538

1990 - 3,485,398 - 1,110,549

2000 - 3,694,820 - 1,223,400

2010 - 3,792,621 - 1,307,402

*The Los Angeles metropolitan area has approximately 18,000,000 people while the San Francisco Combined Statistical Area (CSA), which includes San Jose & Oakland, has approximately only 7,400,000. The latter has a per capita income of $34,556 while the former has only $13,239 but it was attracting more people. San Jose, 45 miles from downtown San Francisco, is the second richest city per capita income in the US, next to New York City.

File 2. Global Financial Centers Index (2011), Ranking

1. London

2. New York

3. Hongkong

4. Singapore

5. Tokyo

6. Zurich

7. Chicago

8. Shanghai

9. Seoul

10. Toronto

11. Boston

12. San Francisco

File 3. Comparison of the Population Growth of the Major Pacific Financial Centers (excluding their sorrounding Combined Statistical Areas, in short, only the city)

City - 1900 - 2000 - 2010

Shanghai - 1,000,000 - 16,410,000 - 22,210,000

Tokyo - 1,497,000 - 12,064,101 - 13,160,000

HongKong - 809,000 - 6,900,000 - 7,097,000

Seoul - 201,000 - 9,895,000 - 10,464,051

Singapore - 220,000 - 4,030,000 - 5,080,000

San Francisco - 342,782 - 776,733 - 805,235

*San Francisco was larger than Seoul & Singapore in 1900. Singapore is a city-state, and 40% of its workforce are foreigners. Tokyo metropolitan area has approximately 35,000,000 population and income of $1.439 trillion, the largest in the world.

So how could a progressive city with a spectacular geographical location, excellent physical and educational infrastructures, modern financial infrastructure (with more than 40 big financial institutions), high income, supposedly "sophisticated" liberal culture, be not growing as explosively like its less compensated peers at a time of exploding growth in its local and international economic spheres?

It started to decline in population from the 1960's, dipping for nearly three decades up to the late 1980's. Curiously just about the time when the Hippies and the other "dubious" elements started descending on the city. It restarted paltry increments only in the 1990's but Los Angeles had already grown nearly five times larger than it by then, and San Diego had self-multiplied nearly a hundred-fold from the village of 17,000 in1900. Even the contiguous area very near the center, Oakland, actually kept in step with the 3-decade decline of the central city, had a short spurt in the 1990's but back to negative growth again in the last decade. More surprising was that the periphery of the metropolitan area's population was actually exploding. Even before the IT revolution, by 1990, San Jose 45 miles away already had a bigger population than San Francisco itself. What was in the center of San Francisco, one of the most spectacular locations in the world, that was forcing people to stay away?

Adrian repeated the questions echoing in his mind... why were people not running to live in San Francisco if it had a high income, beautiful location, highly-educated people, growth industries, modern infrastructures, competitive land prices? Crime was not as problematic as in other cities in the US. Limitations of area didn't explain the decades of shrinking population at a time when its social fabric was molting. Why was a very attractive city not attracting as many residents like the other progressive Pacific financial cities? Was there something in San Francisco's fabric that was poisoning its magic? Asians? There were Asians in LA (plus all the Pacific financial centers were bursting so people from all over the world wanted to deal with Asians). Latinos? There were more Latinos in LA.

There is something spooky there...

How many investments & jobs have been lost because they were discouraged by something into setting up shop in San Francisco?

Adrian Lao's father had to transfer his family as far away from the San Francisco downtown that a daily commute could still be possible. He had a good job as a regional manager of the San Francisco office of a big German bank. But he didn't want his family to grow with what he thought were the "abnormals" of the city. He identified as liberal but he was not a sucker to the prevailing pretension made fashionable by the stragglers in the downtown area after the migration of more sensible folks to the suburbs. America became a champion because it rewarded the best. Look where it found itself now that all these intellectually dishonest theoretical mambo-jumbos had become in vogue. He thought of progress as the accumulation of the best, not the mere tolerance of rejects from somewhere else.

He thought that what was wrong with American democracy was that being liberal was reduced to just being opposite from the other side. That could mean finding yourself with a scarecrow for a companion in the trenches. Just as harrowing, political urgency could be lamentably conjured for the most delusional pretension. Who would be fool enough to pretend he's sophisticated just by his ability to tolerate the scum which were degrading his city? Who cared to be a pretentious Superman with a selective kaleidoscopic perception and a missing vomit reflex?

Adrian himself was tired of hearing that San Francisco was forward-looking for accommodating all these "abnormals". To Adrian, it's their way of saying "We may be abnormal but you're only Asians so shut up!" He considered it a slap to Asians which make up nearly a third of the county population. He remembered his speech a while ago to the youth section of the Asia Society-San Francisco branch:..."Asians, hipsters, fags & closets. The last remaining holdouts in San Francisco. For too long, all the dumps of America came to our city because they thought the pushover Asians won't dare squeak. Go, all the abnormals of America, go to San Francisco, there are only Asians there. They are too dumb to bother you. Run roughshod over them & they won't even notice it. Are we supposed to shout with pride we are only fit to coexist with these abnormals? We have been insulted for too long, my friends...Well, not for long. Asia is rising. We need to reclaim the San Francisco fit for self-respecting Asians!"

He could see that the coming tidal wave of Asian wealth will eventually sweep all these "abnormals" out from San Francisco. The city should be the natural receptacle for Pacific investments, as it has been in the past century, but its poisoned social configuration, at a time when its Pacific neighborhood was booming, was discouraging the influx of quality people & great wealth. It was to the disadvantage of San Francisco to pretend it was a cutting-edge city if scarecrows would continue to be its face. Putting up with the unfortunate status quo would only ensure a continuing slide down to irrelevance.

But even before then, he could start triggering the cleansing process for the eventual renewal.

He knew Rod Thompson would kill himself. Rod Thompson grew up in San Francisco. He was an unstable drug addict working as a hustler for homosexual men in his teens. Rod had several suicide attempts before he even reached twenty. Plus he had a secret which Adrian accidentally discovered. Rod's true love had been living in San Francisco all along while the actor built his career and family in Hollywood. He had to sneak in to visit his love regularly. It was on those visits that Adrian learned the truth.

Just as soon as he heard the confirmation of the death of Rod, Adrian sent the signal to a contact in Uzbekistan who immediately uploaded the video to the Internet.

At daybreak, he will learn that his transexual uncle will jump from the tallest building in Castro to his death on the cold street below. Adrian remembered the words of Rod to his uncle as he listened from the door of his uncle's apartment:" You're the only man that I will ever love. I promise I'll kill myself if ever you see me making love with another man." Then he heard the two make a death compact.

January 21, 2012, 3 AM, Beverly Hills

Tony promised himself this would be the last time. He was now in his thirties, he shouldn't allow himself to stoop this low again. Consenting to have Helmut Schiller have his way with his body was the pits. For three hours! Damned! He shuddered at the thought of what just transpired inside the mansion.

Perhaps he needed a new job. The website was a dead end. He was tired of the pretentious people in the office who were going nowhere like him. He was tired of the pretentious drivel he had to come up regularly for mere peanuts.

He looked at the key in his hand. He was nothing but a prostitute. This key would allow his parents to stay in one of Helmut Schiller's apartments for 6 months. The old man consented that one ejaculation would be equivalent to 2 months of free lodging for his parents (after much haggling, the stingy old man initially wanted it 1:1). A marathon suspension of reality because Helmut had to rest for a long time watching gay porn in between rounds. Tony could do it five in a row but he finally regained his sanity while resting for the fourth try. How did he become so cheap?

He walked faster towards his car which was parked in a dark corner at the edge of a row of about twenty cars, just below a slight rise covered by bermuda grass which undulated to his left.

Then he saw a strange movement at the corner of his eye.

January 21, 2012, 3 AM, Beverly Hills

"Sodom, Athens, Rome, Los Angeles," Malcolm chanted like a kid who just learned a new favorite nursery rhyme.

There was a time when Tina was intrigued by Roman orgies. She now considered herself jaded after having participated in many orgies in the past. But none came close to satisfying her expectations of a true Roman orgy. Neither was the present one. This one was the most pathetic. She actually felt dirty and cheap witnessing it. It was completely devoid of sexiness despite the thick geriatric orgasmic moans which floated over the Bob Dylan folk songs.

But wait... still, she should be happy. She booked Malcolm Frederick's bet. $500 million. That Major Albert Hageman will be dislodged from the headlines by Sunday. The 0.5% cut will be bigger than her yearly salary. Hmm, she hummed, all that nausea was worth it after all.

Malcom heard her."You have a nice hum."

Malcolm has been strangely looking at her since they left the orgy room a while ago. The billionaire was visibly disconcerted after seeing the "sandwiched" publisher so the four of them- Frank, Tina, Stella and Malcolm- transferred to a cabana beside the swimming pool and spent the time talking. For a billionaire, the guy had no airs and actually conversed with them for hours about anything under the sun. All the while shooting sticky glances at Tina's way. He was into cougars, she thought. Tina felt flattered time was unable to obliterate her magic. Or was she imagining things? Still, a year ago, if she hadn't met Tony, Tina thought she would have been nude by now and was inviting the billionaire to join her for some skinny dipping. It amazed her that she suddenly had the gall to be "demure" tonight. Where did her new-found "dignity" come from? She was not encouraging the "advances" of a... Ok, not really good-looking but still a younger billionaire, for Godsakes! She could have asked him for a new Porsche!

Now she was really sure. She was really in love. She was really, really, really in love. She had this pure love for Tony so she must be pure for him.

"I'm just so happy," she blurted out suddenly. She actually wanted to cry because of happiness.

There was a questioning look in Malcolm's eyes.

"There's a beautiful moon. Let's all walk. The lawn is nice." Tina suddenly stood then walked towards the bermuda grass that led away from the swimming pool. The other three silently followed her. Malcolm's bodyguard appeared from the shadows in their right and discreetly followed the strolling pack.

Then Tina saw Tony just below the rise. It was as if fate whispered something to her. Now she felt the tears fell from her eyes as she walked faster towards the love of her life. She felt this strange pull that was sucking her forward. The shadows of the trees hid her in the gloom, she wanted to surprise Tony so she didn't dare make a sound. She was near now, she could feel her heart bursting.

Then Tony saw something. She saw it too. And she ran as fast as she could, with all her might, imploring all the gods, screaming Tony's name at the top of her voice, embracing Tony as the bullet silently lodged in her back.



Next: Chapter 12- Love Out Of Thin Air

Try listening to the soothing voice of Nek as you read the last 6 paragraphs above. Viva i romantici!

L'inquietudine- Nek (Italia)

Erinerrungen- Böhse Onkelz (Deutschland)








Friday, March 16, 2012

THE BEATEN GENERATION: The Dick Principle (Chapter 10)



by Dick & Poli Tico

NOTES: This part is relatively short because I withheld the Paris segment, which took up most of the chapter, pending the French elections. The French Revolution in the 18th Century was used here to counterpoint the present day events, just to fortify the arguments of decline & pretension, but does not impact much on the main thriller narrative developing in California. It will later, when all the branches of the narratives converge for the climax. This novel takes us all over the world & back in time to Sodom, Ancient Greece, Roman Empire, Judea, Mecca, Vatican,French Revolution, British Empire, etc.
Chapter 10: Plan B

"... necessitamos sentido comun!
Mariano Rajoy, Prime Minister, Spain

"Britain & the US will leave Afghanistan without a perfect democracy!"
David Cameroon, Prime Minister, UK

"Taylor Swift was the top-earning musician for 2011 with earnings of $35.7 million"
Billboard

"Vogliono il posto fisso vicino a mamma e papà, ma il mondo e cambiato"
Anna Maria Cancellieri, Interior Minister, Italy


January 21, Beijing, 4 PM, Hongkong-Beijing Time, Sanya, China

The counter bomb exploded by Patricia turned out to be a dud. Everybody was sure Commander Albert Hageman would not be dislodged from the headlines. Calls & pleas were hurriedly made to "friendly" newspapers but the hard up ones (which all of them were) refused to fiddle with the projected pick up of sales & sponsor interest in the next few days. Rumors immediately sprouted that the Oriental wife of one big media mogul called up her connections in Beijing to lengthen the unexpected bonanza because by the mid-afternoon, it would turn out that the two conjoined Americans "could not be separated" in the warship clinic & had to be airlifted to a hospital in Sanya in Hainan. Doctors consulted elsewhere would shake their heads because a simple injection of muscle relaxant would have sufficed to do the trick.

Little did they know there would be more surprises to come. Even the regional hospital "will refer" and airlift the patients later on to Beijing. Meanwhile, all the TV sets in the entire world were inundated non-stop by pixelated images of the two inseparable naked Americans. Sales of anti-vomiting medications exploded. By midnight, most of the pundits, including the perennially clueless TV talking heads, were commenting at length on how sure they were that the younger soldier must have had a gangrenous phallus by then.

As for Patricia, who everybody assumed was an atheist because she has always been "snobbish" about it, nobody was really interested on her whereabouts. But if ever somebody had the temerity to be curious, triangulating her cellphone signals would have revealed she was alone inside a dark church praying just as the Californian midnight chimed in. She was spotted from a side door by a priest- the glow from the small bulbs lighting the statues of the saints on the walls emitted enough light to enable anyone to make her out slumped on a pew, the loose skin folds on the left side of her face faintly visible in the gloomy light. The glinting tears gave her away- she was silently crying.


January 21, 2012,Midnight, Pacific Time, Beverly Hills

"She's a big-time Hollywood producer, she couldn't have been wrong!"

"His name was Richard Gluck, not Robert Glock."

"I don't recognize both names."

"Where did Patricia get the name Robert Glock?"

"The husband was Roberto."

Everybody around the table became silent.

"Her mind was on something else, I'm sure."

"Have you noticed she was always glancing at the monitor, as if checking her makeup or what?"

"Her face was molting, did you catch that?"

"No, she probably haggled for a cheap facelift so the doctor scrimped on the sutures. She must be having financial problems, no?"

Tina was just silent but she was glowing with happiness listening to the skewering of Patricia. But somehow, at one point, a small part of her conscience got through & she quipped,"Somebody must have sabotaged her."

"Who?"

"The journalist Amelia Taylor wrote the speech. If you don't know, Amelia has been left by her husband ten years ago." Stella was the one who replied.

"So?" Malcolm Frederick was curious.

Stella laughed. "You don't know anything about bitter menopausal women, do you?"

A big guffaw from Frank exploded. He remembered Amelia's call but he said nothing.

Again, silence. Most of the well-dressed group just stared at the ceiling. Most were already half-drunk or stoned before coming in. The only ones younger than 65 years old were Malcolm, Stella, Tina & the circulating waiter.

"It's obvious this one won't do. Being an important part of the industry, I would have thought she could've chosen a better target with a maximum headline potential," the gray-haired man, who had a controlling interest in a management company which controlled most newspapers in the Western states, butted in. Literally, because when he stood up, his pants was already down & his pale butt glistened in the dim lighting. His small organ was already swollen, apparently it was being played all along under the table by the old lady on his left."This one won't even merit the backpage."

Frank immediately cut in. "I guess it's time to start the orgy inasmuch as you've already done so." He didn't like that their monthly Roman Orgy had to fall on the unfortunate "Impaled Commandant Incident". People were getting careless with their tounges. But he himself was now sure that Patricia's stunt was a mere ripple. He knew, however, that by this time, the right people would have decided as much & Plan B must be in motion. Not everybody in the room belonged to the inner circle & it appeared some who were, like this publisher, were too drunk or too stoned to bother about discretion. He always looked forward to this gathering, it never ceased to amuse him that their little Hippie group in the 1960's could produce these outstanding pillars of the California establishment. They now have respectable facades and this gathering was created so they could relive secretly the hedonistic 1960's at least once a month.

He looked at the special guest."How are things so far?"

Malcolm Frederick, who was only 41 years old, laughed. "Don't mind me. I was just supposed to be an observer, remember? I was always curious on how things like this would go."

"Nothing compared to the '60's, people were younger & prettier then." They both looked at the septuagenarian who fondled the publisher under the table a while ago. She was now looking seductively at the young waiter, but the latter merely threw back glances of disgust."Now, people have higher standards, I guess."

Again, Malcolm laughed. People had this impression of him as a liberal because of his hacking background. He was supposed to be the epitome of a free spirit. He was indeed a free spirit but politics had nothing to do with it. He was nothing but an anarchic hobbyist in perpetual search for the next thrill. Stir things up & see what excited him. All these politics of "respect" & "equality" he was hearing were just turning the world into a boring place. Was anybody dumb enough to even believe he could twist the world to conform into his grandmother statements? It was easy to see that in time, there's bound to be a limit to competence to manipulate events. He learned it in a special MBA crash course that they called it the "Peter Principle" among professionals. He witnessed it among his many expensive "respected" executives & consultants. The trick was to learn to spot the perfect moment to change tact.

He could see one coming. But it didn't mean the fun had to stop. He was not a member of any political party. He had little respect for people who sought strength in choruses. Everybody had his own agenda & it could be fun messing with them.

He glanced at Frank. He knew the dark secrets of Frank Schonberg. Frank was just a foot soldier in the scheme of things but he loved hacking Frank's computer. It felt like reading an outrageous pseudo-religious science-fiction novel, he thought. As long as you ignore the kinky sex, he grimaced.

Tina noticed it. The order from Mr. Caldwell was to keep Malcolm Frederick from being bored. "You're not enjoying yourself, Mr. Frederick?"

Malcolm laughed."I always enjoy myself actually. Anytime, anywhere, anyhow..."

"You won in your last bet, didn't you?" Stella joined in the conversation. Elsewhere in the room, the old people found places on the sofas scattered around the long table. Most started taking off their clothes.

"Not much. It's only the appeal, not yet the final decision," Malcolm smiled. The $500 million he won from Herbert & Herman was not much, he lost a billion last time.He again smiled when he remembered the incongruous characters of his defeated opponents. He knew Herbert as homophobic & Herman as closet homosexual. He found it very funny how they found themselves on one side with that one. He wondered if Herman knew part of his initial investments came from servicing the latter's sex-starved wife.

"Apparently Herbert won that much when Proposition 8 lost," said Tina. The marijuana smoke has made her giddy. Somebody gave her some tablets of LSD ("just to relive the '60's") but she wanted to keep a clear head. She had no intention of joining the orgy. She saw a group of naked young men & women who entered by a side door but she had no interest in having sex with professionals. Much less with the decrepit people who seemed to gobble up the new arrivals. She decided to focus on Malcom Frederick to forestall the creeping gross feeling.

"Me & Herman were on that one. I lost $500 million," Malcolm was saying.

"The next big one is the election in France. Have you made your bet?" asked Stella who looked glowing amidst the cavorting all around her. That didn't surprise Tina. Stella had a closet husband & her friend must be so lacking in sex she would be thrilled watching two dogs in action.

"Who are the players?" asked Malcolm.

"Herbert will pass. He won big with the last one in Russia. We'll canvass your opponent. How much would be your preferred pot money?" Tina was horrified to see Stella was actually eyeing a particularly nauseous old man with a huge belly humping an adolescent blonde. She was at a loss whether to just silently pity her friend or to spank her to force her to learn some taste.

"Standard. One billion."

"Game."Stella was now breathing heavily. Tina half-expected her to stand up & join the naked bodies but Stella remained in her seat. At least she still had some taste left, Tina sighed with relief.

"How about this one? Nobody created a game for this one?" asked Malcolm.

"There is." It was Frank, still in his seat, who answered. "On who will be left in the headlines after one week. $500 million."

"Join?" Tina was eager for her first cut. There must be grace after all her sacrifices reining her upwelling stomach tonight. Tina has always professed her lack of interest on the financial side of her job. But reality has finally caught up with her, it was love that forced her to confide to Stella her money problems. She wanted to start right with Tony. She has always wondered about the connection of Right Wing money to Leftist humanitarian agencies. The primary political ruse was obvious but she wondered about the practical mechanics behind the scene.It turned out Stella was not only the head of a humanitarian group which, unknown to the public, was financed by the Caldwell Foundation. She had other functions. Tina was jaded with life's mysteries but she was still stunned by what she discovered.

She liked it though. And she now forgave the hickiness of Stella. It's not a big thing really that Stella looked like a kindergarden teacher in the Appalachian mountains in her printed dress tonight. In fact, she's now her hero. She could picture herself & Tony in a nice house in Beverly Hills. Just as grand as Stella's would be fine, she silently giggled.

The Clash of the Titans!

Their attention was broken by a loud geriatric moan. The couplings around the room were heating up.

Malcolm laughed."Athens, Rome, Los Angeles."

"Don't forget Sodom."

Malcolm followed the eyes of Frank. In a divan, the publisher was sandwiched between a busty blonde & a muscled black man. Instantly, he felt nauseous.


January 21, 1793, Bastille, Paris

(Withheld)



January 21, 2012, 1 AM, Pacific Time, Los Angeles

Herman Schonberg didn't know Adrian Lao called up Rod Thompson in Sta. Barbara that same evening. Rod Thompson has been the biggest action star in Hollywood for the past 30 years. All the hot-blooded American males (the straight ones, obviously) grew up looking up to him as their hero. Silent, brooding, real man. A succession of A-list female stars have passed thru his arms & bed- at least, as far as the gossip tabloids could be believed. Not a pink fiber in his body?

Herman knew Rod Thompson was straight. Rod was just practical. He knew how to play Herman Schonberg's piano. Hollywood was a whore town.

"They're asking for hundred milion, Herman," Herman could hear the desperation in the voice of Rod Thompson. He could imagine what was torturing the action star's mind. What if America suddenly watch him one day in an hour long clip showing him being drilled like one of his leading ladies on his back?

So, that's their game, he thought. Blackmail each & every one of them.

"They asked 2 billion but somebody bought it twice the amount." He knew what he said won't help Rod. He was at a lost on what to say.

"My grandson, Herman. I am his hero..."

This time, Herman couldn't come up with anything. He just listened to Rod Thomson crying silently at the other end of the line.

Then Rod stopped. When he spoke, it was in his steely, quiet masculine screen voice. "I have a gun pointed to my throat, Herman."

Herman Schonberg didn't know how to beat around the bush. He knew Rod Thompson. Rod would not be able to live after this.

"Do you have any choice? Pull it, Rod."


January 21, 2012,2 AM, Pacific Time, Los Angeles

Norberto Sanchez opened the door & let in the tall handsome actor. Charles Murphy wasn't alone. Another actor, just as tall & handsome, a fellow A-lister, Arthur Dandridge, followed in. Both were already inebriated. They went in directly to the entertainment room with a connecting swimming pool. The two best friends loved swimming in the nude in the wee hours of the morning. He has spotted them many times engaged in different compromising positions. The lesbian wife of Charles, another famous actress, was in Tahiti with her girl friend. Maria, Norberto's wife, has already tucked their children in their beds.

Norberto met Charles when he was still a cook in the neighboring house of a gay Hollywood TV director. Charles, newly arrived to Hollywood from Missisippi, worked as a runaround boy in the house of the director in between his casting hunts. They became close & when Charles hit it big, he remembered his old Mexican friend. Norberto & his wife became the housekeepers of Charles' mansion in West Hollywood.

Young poor Mexican men didn't have qualms using their body to earn extra money. But they knew when to stop & reassert their true personality & sexuality. He saw Charles in many compromising positions with the gay director but he didn't put much meaning into it. He thought Charles was just doing it in exchange for something, just like the poor Mexicans. The first week he worked for Charles, he knew he was wrong with his "friend". The real "wife" of Charles was Arthur. The two biggest leading men of Hollywood were lovers.

He could hear their laughter now. Raucous. Two ordinary friends on a night out. He knew anytime now, it would suddenly turn silent, but if he would just focus, he was sure to hear their moans. He was paid well by Charles but he was not sure how long he could put up with his upwellinging stomach. He was discovering it was hard to be constantly fighting nausea.

Soon, he couldn't hear their laughter. He didn't have to approach the door. He could clearly hear the pants & moans. It must be a pretty hot scene inside.

"Que asco!" he shuddered.

Then suddenly, there was a blast & Norberto was thrown a few feet away from the smoking wrecked door of the entertainment room.


January 21, 2012, 3 AM, Los Angeles

Frank was eager to be the first to break it to Amelia. He listened instead to her recorded voice.

"Hi, this is Amelia Taylor. If you're listening to this, I must be on an airplane for Rio. Yup, I hopped on the first trip out for Rio. Forget the old me. Just you wait, you'll be surprised. $300,000 worth of beautiful & young surprise..." Then the sound of her giggling like a pubescent girl.




Next: Chapter 11


Unsterblich - Die Toten Hosen



Junge - Die Ärtze

Thursday, March 8, 2012

THE BEATEN GENERATION: The Dick Principle (Chapter 9)



By Dick & Poli Tico

NOTE: This chapter will start touching on another controversial topic: race.


Chapter 9: Asians, Gays, Hipsters & Closets


Поздравляем,Россия
Herbert Caldwell II, American billionaire, main protagonist of our novel

“La plus grosse fortune de France, Bernard Arnault, a virtuellement perdu plus d’un milliard de dollars “
Guillaume Errard, French journalist

"Si no hay plan de inversion, nos lo inventamos"
Laura Gomiz, president, Invercaria, Andalucia

“90 Prozent meiner Weggefährten sind hingegen froh und glücklich”
Joachim Gauck, candidate for German President, Union, SPD, FDP and Grünen

January 20, 2012 Los Angeles

There was total silence. The initial reaction of America when news of the anally "impaled" American commander had reached its shores was a collective holding of breath. But only for two seconds. Then all hell broke loose. Many Americans turned off their TV sets then ran off retching to their toilet bowls. Most expectedly laughed their heads off, gaining a few seconds to fortify their coping mechanisms before spewing torrents of choice-cut curses. Drunks raucously loitered outside bars horsing around the sidewalks playing "Impaled Commander" by riding like jockeys "in heat" on each other's backs. It was PR manna from heaven for conservative groups. Fox was the first to broadcast a highly pixelated coverage & it featured a powerful array of well-coiffed politicians & celebrities who dutifully denounced "the intolerable insult to the integrity of the American military." A beautiful Montana congresswoman with a 42" breast measurement named Sarah Impaled was expectedly horrified by the play on her beloved husbands' family name, jiggling her enormous breasts as she chopped vigorously her pretty hands into the air to stress her disgust: "I certainly never would have thought that the American military had the gall to resurrect its cavalry!... and it even had the bizarre sense of humor to detail it to the Navy. Is that their new battle strategy now? They attack by riding their erect horses instead of using our hi-technology which is costing this country up to its necks? Can somebody tell me how do they expect to win? That the enemy will die laughing at them?" Then she chopped her disgust again, jiggled some more & all the straight males literally gave her standing ovation inside their pants.

Not surprisingly, breast augmentation operations will shoot up for the rest of the year & more sweatshops had to be created in Bangladesh to cope up with the shortage of 40-C cup bras.

A Black congresswoman from Florida almost lost her wig with the intensity of her headbanging outrage." Shame! Shame! My God, I wanna melt with shame! I am a citizen of the greatest country on earth but I wanna hide in shame. Shame! Shame!" It was on the twentieth screamed "Shame!" when she suddenly stretched her back, moonwalked to the beat of her screams a few steps backwards then tossed her head back & forth, clearly registering her shame (with matching Tina Turner grimace), when the clip anchors of her beehive hairdo suddenly started popping out. The screen was immediately cut into the audience who watched the unfolding scene with bated breath so they were all shown with gaping mouths, then returned after a few seconds but the congresswoman was already advised so she has shifted gears to denouncing "in no uncertain terms" the immorality of modern society. Somebody will remix the rant which will turn out danceable. It will become the most downloaded in iTunes for the rest of the year & surprisingly the Congresswoman will even win the "Best New Artist" & "Song of the Year" awards in the next Grammy. She will be recognized for creating a new musical genre: Shriek- Rant.

There was a dramatic moment when it was the turn of an evangelist from Nebraska. Everybody expected a ballast of fiery tirades of "Sodom & Gommorha" which the evangelist was famous for. But he just stared sadly at the camera for a long time. Then he broke down. Silent anguish, drawn-out, cathartic. There was a poll the next day, the whole nation cried with him.

Well, except a few among the Liberals & the Left which had a delayed reaction. Meetings were frantic behind the scenes. A big chunk of the supposedly liberals, particularly the Blacks, Latinos & Asians, were asking themselves if being immigrant & Democrat had to mean taking the side of the "abnormal commandant". It was believed the Black, Asian & Latino votes were mainly responsible for the defeat of Proposition 8 in California & many of these minorities were starting to chafe at being perennially lumped with "undesirable" minorities (most Blacks on the "down low" believe homosexuality is a "white" disease). But nobody expected a meek surrender after the initial upper hand of the other side. And it's the White liberal elite who ultimately called the shots.

It came after two hours when noted liberal California personalities, TV producer Patricia Flynn, and journalist, Amelia Taylor, called a press conference to launch a counterattack. The strategy was to deflect the initial salvo with a bigger smoke bomb. Patricia used that scenario in a scene in one of her TV series & being the type with the uncanny ability to spot golden moments for her varied agenda, she immediately pulled strings to enact it in real life.

Behind the scenes, there was a muted but intense swordplay of sharp snides & glances between the two power ladies on who should read the prepared statement. But Patricia had no intention of budging, she needed the exposure. Time to collect on the $200,000 she invested on her new look. She could feel it in her bones, out of the millions who will watch tonight would be Mr. Right. Amelia had to give in & just sulked, she spent only $5000 for a minor eye job. She just promised herself to have a "really major" overhaul next time then prayed fervently for another "major event"- make it soon, please... more horrible so bigger headlines & spotlights please...

"Robert Glock, one of America's biggest superstars, was gunned down two hours ago during the happiest moment of his life," Patricia felt stunning while she tried to will her stretched facial muscles to assume a pained look (Tina was right, her facelift loosened when she sobbed a while ago, but it was taped now behind her hairline for the meantime, no time to surgically pull it together because of the sudden developments). Her eyes were no longer violet, she thought blue looked better with the suit prepared by her assistant."Yes, the great Robert Glock is gay & he got married today in New York with his boyfriend. He was expecting to finally live free but apparently somebody didn't want him to be. They killed in cold blood somebody who just wanted to live without pretension. And this is the big question, my beloved America: who killed our dear superstar Robert Glock? Who were the dark forces behind this cowardly act to deprive a great actor of his happiest hour?" At this point, Patricia took a deep breath and looked her most offended at the camera. As she glanced at the monitor, she thought her blue contact lenses were perfect, it matched her power suit which she prayed nobody would remember that she wore last year in a party somewhere where she hoodwinked her last one-night stand. She just felt so beautiful in it she thought it was going to be her lucky charm. Again she took a deep dramatic breath, then cursed Tina silently. She felt something gave way on the left side of her face. But she saw the screen now showed her right profile. She owed one to the greasy director. She plunged on: "... Was this a result of the simple & very minor error of Commander Albert Hageman in the South China Sea? Was somebody out to play God with their dirty hands & mock the civilized sensibility of our modern society? Was this a part of the new efforts of the dark forces to reassert control over our very lives? Was it, was it... WAS IT? And who, ladies and gentlemen, killed Robert Glock?"

It turned out nobody would bother to ask Patricia's phone number even a year after the speech. She would burn the power suit after stabbing it many times with a scissor.


January 20, 2012 11PM, Pacific Time, Los Angeles

Tina missed what could have been a joyous moment. Midway through her rant, perfectly caught on TV, the tape on the left side behind Patricia's ear snapped & there was a split second where the camera caught the left half of her face collapsing loose, a few stubborn folds slightly dangling out of place. But the director, a friend with benefits of Patricia, was advised beforehand on the possibility of such occurring, & he was fast to rectify the situation. Patricia finished her statement with the camera permanently positioned on the right, just perfect so the profile of her brand-new nose could be better appreciated. Still, that split second would have been enough for the eagle eyes of Tina. She lived anticipating (or was it praying?) for such treasure moments.

But Tina was yet unaware of what came to be called the "Impaled" Commander Incident, much less the shooting of the actor whose name she hadn't even heard of (she lived near the studios, so when she read later the texts of Patricia's speech, she actually commented to Stella that "Apparently, America has phantom superstars", to which Stella replied "It has, if they have political value"). After getting the call from Tony, she immediately went to her car & drove out almost in a trance. Images of her life seemed to suddenly gallop through her mind that a part of her asked if it was the end of her life. No, silly, she reproached the clueless inner voice, you're at the happiest point of your life!

... and whatta life!

Here she was now, totally possessed like the country girl that she once was, gripped by the ecstasy of bagging the knight in shining armor of her dreams.

Where was the old shocking Cristina Ford?
Tina felt she was wiser now. There was nothing easier than to shock & impress the other small-time people that composed one's small world. Self-affirmation by creating ripples in one's own small pond. She just had to be the most daring among her peers. The first to touch a boy there. The first to smoke fags. The first to take drugs. The first to shout "I'm no longer a virgin, girls". Their shrieks of disbelief were her ultimate drug. It amused her now the lengths she had to create shocking gimmicks to impress her puny clique. She thought she was into great things then because she hitched her adolescent follies on the revolutionary temper of the times. Fight the old ways, baby! She was supposedly part of this big wavefront that swept her to think she was a formidable force. Though looking at it now, she had to admit she was just an insignificant delusional bubble.

The sad part, she realized it too late, was she included her son into her delusions.

She got pregnant in a drug haze during a rock concert when she was 15. The father was the son of a rich Irish doctor in Liverpool. He wanted to marry her but marriage was not part of her plans. Her mother told her she would have married into a wealthy family but that was part of the problem. She was riding the headwinds of the restless times of her youth & she was enjoying herself so much to bother stopping for a skinny son of a doctor.

When she was twenty, boldly taking her son with her, she flew to different places of the world. But not to join a revolution. She became a model-cum-whore in Milan, a drug trafficker in Thailand, an Arab businessman's concubine in Abu Dhabi. It was in Abu Dhabi where she met a Frenchman working for a human rights organization & fell in love. From him, she found her new cause. Feminism. He told her she was her own woman, and that ignited her restless core in a new direction. Human Rights was the new catch word as the West tried to tear down the Iron Curtain. Alfie, her son, was 15 then & he got along well with the Frenchman. Then one day, some Arabs kidnapped Alfie and sodomized him in the desert. She saw that as her moment to atone for her selfish lapses. She thought then she was just handed a definite mission, a self-sacrifice that would set an example to all fighters of human rights anywhere in the world. Against the advise of the Frenchman, she hauled Alfie into a press conference & proudly declared: "Everybody advised me to keep my son's identity a secret, he will still get justice. But this is a bigger thing, I decided to sacrifice my son for a nobler cause. I want to bring to the attention of the world the importance of protecting the human rights of children. It will still be sweet to this mother even if my son would be handicapped by the medieval tendencies of a judgemental world. His peers will humiliate him, his future children will mock him, but it would be worth it if no child will be subjected to the same dehumanizing violation of human dignity again..."

She felt big savoring all the flashbulbs clicking her way. It was a page 2 news for two days then promptly forgotten. Similar cases persisted up to the present. Meanwhile, Alfie became the butt of jokes among his peers, both in Abu Dhabi & even in Liverpool when he took his vacation. He became reclusive & almost catatonic in no time. Tina thought probably his son was homosexual. She thought herself so progressive that she told her son he should try to explore his feminine side. She bought the then already very docile boy a dress and makeup kit. She proudly displayed him in his girly frocks among the small liberal set where the Frenchman circulated and declared: "I am ahead of the times. I could accept whatever my son would want to be. It can not dampen the human spirit."

The adulation stares never came. Well, except from one- a trying hard sophisticate American woman from California with a flea market dress, untidy make up & bad teeth told her: "Welcome to the future, baby, the world is not yet ready for modern people like us." The Frenchman was not ready for the new Tina either. He took Alfie to his father in Liverpool then returned to their head office in Paris. Tina was so high from the respect she got from Paula, the American woman, that she didn't notice. She let herself be recruited to the human right organization where Paula worked. Soon, she was in Berlin, Budapest, Moscow. She was living her promise, she thought. She was helping change the world!

She had to admit now though it hasn't changed much. In fact, it's stuck. But when did she start feeling herself just as stuck?

Tony is my way out...

Her cellphone sounded.

"Tina, we have a situation..." It was Stella in her clipped business voice.

"But..." Her mother-in-law is waiting for her... Her father-in-law...Tony...
"We need to meet. Now."

When she arrived, the door to the penthouse office of Mr. Herbert Caldwell II atop the 60-storey Caldwell Tower was closed & she was made to wait by the grandmotherly secretary in a side room. It was another ten minutes before Stella came out & joined her on the sofa where Tina was plotting how to present to Tony the sudden developments.

Stella had a grave, almost dark, look on her face. Like a gangster in a film noir from the 50's, Tina thought.

"Prepare for battle," Stella almost spewed the words. At least, you give it to Stella, she doesn't look hicky when she's gearing for battle, Tina thought. She looked respectable, actually. But...Battle?


January 20, 2012 11 Beverly Hills

Tina was very contrite but Tony was beside himself with joy. He really didn't relished being tied down by family duties. The fire made him depressed all day & he needed to break away.

He told his parents to just rest for the night then he went out. He didn't want his parents to stay indefinitely in their pad, he had to find them other accomodations fast. He had to find the money. It came just in time. Frank Schonberg called to ask about details of the story about the "impaled" destroyer commandant. But he knew that wasn't the reason Frank called. When Frank appeared in Los Angeles, it's to ask for special favors.

Frank Schonberg was outwardly an alpha male looking two decades younger than his actual age, a Volkwagen Beetle-driving, leather jacket-wearing long-haired intellectual. He had relationships with a series of porn actresses until he married the last one twenty years ago. He had a secret fetish which he would insist didn't reduce his heterosexuality. He was fascinated by penises, but not the man, only the organ, he would emphasize, definitely not a man's face. He cruised Tony in North Beach when the latter was still a student, & the boy's organ- not Tony himself, he would always qualify unbidden- has become a regular object of paid worship for a decade now. Frank was not stingy & he became Tony's last resort in many tight times. Tony was never fooled though by Frank's unsolicited justifications. That justification was very common among San Francisco's closet community. He actually wrote an article about it, taking the closet line that they were still straight despite "their love for penises only, definitely not the man" because closets comprised a big part of the website's readership (he made sure, however, to remind the two fags in their office he had no such fetish). Of course, he had enough IQ to realize they were just fooling themselves. Homosexuality is about sex & sex is by sexual organs, not faces. A heterosexual, by definition, was simply not sexually aroused by a sex organ same as his.

It was Frank who opened Tony's gate to same-sex sex. But he never was tempted to do the "straight but" ruses of Frank Schonberg & his ilk. He simply did his thing clandestinely, never giving his true identity except for his special cellphone number, separate from his official one. He called up Philip a while ago, the "straight guy" who responded to his last Craiglist ad two weeks back. They have been out twice & he was sure he found a regular one, but Philip suddenly decided he was straight after all. He was under therapy something and he decided it succeeded enough that he could wed his girl friend without "apprehension". He gave the name of the therapist to Tony. Tony has encountered Ex-gays before in parties but he never expected his sex partner would become one.

He found Frank in the patio outside the front door of the mansion talking to somebody in his cellphone.

"You should have pulled off the face so she didn't have to be the one facing the camera. Next time have a quicker mind." Frank was laughing ."Don't worry, baby. I'll talk to the Chairman next time."

Frank saw Patricia's speech & his eyesight was still sharp enough to catch the facial fold which came loose before the shot was cut to another angle. The funnier thing was, even now, Amelia was already pulling strings so she would be the one to read the next speech. He found it strange that the Party had to rely on these women with false faces. The gravity of the moment was dampened by all these menopausal catfights.

Frank saw Tony."Oh, Tony, you arrived just in time! Come! You know who owns this mansion?"

Tony kept quiet. He knew Frank was not expecting an answer. Frank Schonberg just loved to hear himself talk & people were usually mere sounding boards.

Inside the mansion, he was presented to the owner of the mansion, an old man flanked by two sexy blondes who looked barely out of their adolescence. Tony recognized him as the 90-year old owner of a chain of strip clubs in California & notorious for being a womanizer. Helmut Schiller. He knew one of the old man's former kept girls who told him the old man needed to watch gay porn to get hard. He was too old to be openly seen cruising for guys now but Frank revealed to him years ago that the old man used to suck his stoned Hippie friends in the 1960's. Helmut Schiller was bent on maintaining his heterosexual facade for the remaining few years of his life.

"So you're tired of Frisco now, eh, Frank," the old man laughed while she squeezed one of the breasts of the girls on his right. He squeezed like he was strangling a phallus, Tony thought.

"Not the Frisco of Summer of Love anymore. It has gone to the dogs. Only Asians, faggots, hipsters & closets are left. All the normals have transferred to the suburbs."

"So you are now normal eh?"

"Aren't we more respectable now, old boy?"

"Richer, you mean. Way, way richer. We are practically the establishment. The price of getting old, I say." Again, the old man laughed.

Frank also laughed."We were supposed to be building one harmonious community. It's now chopped up into tribes. The idiots are actually returning to the stone age."

"You never can tell how the dice turns."

Frank remembered something. He looked at Tony. "How does he look to you?" he asked the old man.

The old man's face glinted as he gave Tony a once-over."He'll do."

Frank walked to the door, motioned for the two girls to get out then looked at the old man one more time. "You only have 30 minutes, old boy. I'm starting the meeting now so better catch up by midnight when it gets heated up." Then to Tony: "Helmut will give you afterwards the key to your parents' new apartment, boy."

Then he got out of the room. He went down the long corridor which led to a foyer overhanged by a gigantic chandelier. He walked to an ornate door at his right, opened it with his usual swagger then entered a wide room where half of the Philip Starck chairs around the long glass table in the middle were already filled by some of California's glittering liberal elite. All White.

"The old boy just needs his gasoline tank filled up," Frank strode to the head chair near the French windows overlooking a lighted infinity pool.

"He needs the fuel, alright,it's gonna be a long night," smiled Malcom Frederick, the hacking genius who became an Internet billionaire."I bet a teenage convent girl can give enough life force for a week nonstop."

"I'm glad I was not a convent girl," Stella quipped at his right.

"Same here, I don't even know what a convent looks like," Tina smiled at his left.


January 20, 2012 San Francisco

Adrian Lao looked at the roomfull of young Asian faces before him.

"Asians, hipsters, fags & closets. The last remaining holdouts in San Francisco. For too long, all the dumps of America came to our city because they thought the pushover Asians won't dare squeak. Go, all the abnormals of America, go to San Francisco, there are only Asians there. They are too dumb to bother you. Run roughshod over them & they won't even notice it. Are we supposed to shout with pride we are only fit to coexist with these abnormals? We have been insulted for too long, my friends...Well, not for long. Asia is rising. We need to reclaim the San Francisco fit for self-respecting Asians!"


January 20, 2012 Los Angeles

Norberto Sanchez looked at the Latino politician who was telling him, "You should be thankful you received the highest salary we could squeeze from those suckers. They could go to hell but you'll be in safe land."

Norberto stared sullenly at the politician." In just more than a decade, Latinos will be the majority in this country, Jefe. The United States will be Latino again... but we are being used in bleeding it dry, thrown crumbs so we would just be contented playing the supporting cast in a corner. And what are we supporting? Por Dios, por Santo, we are God-fearing people, Jefe, but we are the pillars supporting the most wicked souls. We are the foot soldiers so that abnormality & immorality will have reigned all around by the time we inherit the control of this land...!"



Next: Chapter 10


From his album "Wenn Worte Meine Sprache Wären" (my favorite from this album was "Auf Den Ersten Blick" but we found no video. But all songs were good):

Nur Noch Kurz Die Welt Retten- Tim Bendzko




Ok, my friends are excited I am now in my German phase. I have the complete discography of these German groups, but here are my favorite albums among the lot (Medieval-Metal, Industrial Metal, Punk):
1. In Extremo- Stereneisen
2. Rammstein- Liebe ist für alle da
3. Die Ärtze - Jazz ist anders
4. Schandmaul - Wahre Helden
5. Schandmaul - Traumtänzer
6. Subway to Sally- Nackt
7. Subway to Sally - Schwarz in Schwarz
8. Oomph!- Monster
9. Eisbrecher- Die Höllen Muss Warten
10. Megaherz- Götterdämmerung