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

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