Nude King On The Blog

Welfare Handouts!

The mood in the conference room of Wonderland (Government House - Hong Kong), is one of despair. Sir (and did you forget that?) Donald Tsang Yam-kuen and horse lookalike Henry Tang are sitting with their hands placed against their foreheads.

I enter and whistle. Everything is dandy and great for me. But seems it is not so for the remaining six million nine hundred thousand and eighty people in this town. Do the math. The remaining are either tycoons, civil servants, or tourists in town!

"Should we, like Taiwan, give 5,000 bucks to each and every individual in town to boost and jump-start our flailing economy?" Wonder Boy (Donald Tsang) asks Henry.

"I think we should give them a couple of bottles of tax-free red wine!" says Henry. "After all, and after drinking those, they will be peaceful, docile, and happy. They won't even care about the economy!"

One-track mind! I observe Henry. Call it an obsession, but the man has it.

I chirp in, "How about we imprison all the landlords that charge exorbitant rates for shops and commercial properties and thereby give a chance to Hong Kong residents to do normal business and prosper?"

"Fuck off!" Wonder Boy barks at me. "If after all these years, you have not understood that we are here only to serve the cartels and tycoons in Hong Kong, then you are an idiot and we don't need you as a special advisor on our board."

I jump down on my knees, bow down and apologize to Wonder Boy and thereafter, sit in a corner of the conference room. I permit myself to the free flowing tax-free red wine that is part of the usual morning breakfast in Wonderland's conference room and listen to the two imbeciles discuss the probable solutions to Hong Kong's economic problems.

The phone rings. It is tycoon Li, the superman of Hong Kong. Wonder Boy listens with an eager ear. The superman complains that he has lost a lot of wealth due to the economic-tsunami. Upon hearing that, I smirk and walk out of the conference room.

Knowing that superman Li lost money, somehow makes me happy. Superman Li has milked Hong Kong residents for decades. Perhaps, this is the beginning of the end of his greedy empire. And his retard sons aren't doing well either.

Calls for a celebration or what? Behind every cloud, there is a silver lining. Goes the same for this current economic-tsunami. No?

Ciao!

Back To Square One!

The four golden stripes on my uniform allure me to a secure future during the times pilots are laid off their jobs from fuel and finance starving airlines.

1:20am in the morning, I adoringly look at my uniform, drinks forbidden; I take drags after drags and puffs after puffs from rapidly depleting stock of cigarettes from my pack of Benson & Hedges.

I am back in action. Four hours down the road, I will receive the aircraft from tired engineers who must have worked hard overnight and following that, my First Officer and I will start the pre-flight checklists.

Ground Clearance and Departure Air Traffic Controllers will monkey around with us while we monkey around on the taxiways, and finally clear on 07 or weather permitting 25 (L or R, anyone's guess, y'all know?).

This post is of least significance, excepting to let y'all know that I am back and back in action and back to square one.

Those of you I have promised to meet, make it Friday, 5th December, 2008. Until then, have fun and enjoy pals!

Ciao!

PS: Didn't know I loved Hong Kong so much until I returned back from my last trip for two months caring for my sick mother in US.

Same Old Shit!

I enter Wonderland's conference room after almost two months. Wonder Boy Donald Tsang and horse lookalike Henry are sitting as usual, discussing the Article 23 implementation in Macau.

"So you are back, you bloody dog!" Wonder Boy barks.

I ignore his insulting remark and throw a couple of unused US dollar notes on his desk.

"De-peg HK dollars from US dollars, you idiot!" I shout. "The shit ain't worth nothing where ever I go."

"And you!" I point at Henry, "Will be poorer if HK dollars are pegged to US dollars. You too are an idiot of the first order!"

Both of them looked stunned as I announce that I have acquired a new job title worth filling in my resume - ATI. And no, it has nothing to do with airlines, but it means - Advisor To Idiots!

Ciao!

Levi Johnston "Psyched" To Be Father (of Bristol Palin's Child)!

How crazy can this story be?

They are talking about Levi Johnston as if he is a hero! Read for yourself:

"Bristol Palin's baby daddy is 'psyched' to be father, says his pal."

And all along the story, no one is mentioning that Levi Johnston - who reportedly (in the same article in the link above) had relations with Bristol Palin since two years ago - was probably committing a crime by having sex with an underage girl:

"Sarah Palin, 44, revealed Monday that her daughter was five months pregnant and that Bristol and Johnston, who have been dating for about two years, plan to get married."

So it is clear folks. If you are a Governor of a runaway state called Alaska that wants to secede from Mainland USA, you can do anything in your power to fire State Troopers you don't like. Or let your daughter and her boyfriend off the hook for underage sex or statutory rape.

And to nominate and bring such a woman to be the Vice President of the United States of America?

Well! Praise the Republicans for being utter morons and living on an altogether different planet from Planet Earth.

We say Republicans this year have put on the greatest clown show on this planet in the entire history of elections in the United States of America.

And hey! All of you underage boys and girls in Alaska. If y'all want to shag and have babies before you turn even 16 years old, just ask the permission of Great Momma Sarah Paline who will wink at you and probably encourage you to do so. For Life!

Religious freak that she is, won't be no problems. Trust us.

That's what we read from Momma Sarah's quoted lines above. Are we kidding you? NOT!

And before you attack us, The Team, of dragging Bristol Palin or Levi Johnston on the global stage, remember that it was Bristol Palin's mom Sarah Palin who put her on the stage in the first place.

So shut the F up before you send any junk mails or comments to us. All right?

Ciao!

PS: In case nydailynews (link above) pulls the story off their site, we have already saved it for a future mirror copy. Republicans, our Royal A**!

Sarah Palin Is NOT The Mother??

Hi Y'all,

Mirror of a mirror of DailyKos controversy? Well, I am just posting what I found on the Internet. No commentary or any additions from moi. But we need to be told the truth. I was a Republican until I saw all this. So here:

Daily Kos– by ArcXIX

Sat Aug 30, 2008 at 01:12:31 PM PDT

Yesterday, with the news of Sarah Louise Heath Palin inexplicably being chosen as a Vice-Presidential nominee, the attentive American public was also introduced to her character. Unfortunately for all of us, it was filled with multiple instances of backtracking and outright lies. While Alaskans had been giving her an 80% approval rating, recently 87% of Alaskans polled on the subject of TrooperGate believed she was lying.

Now, I’ve known liars in my life. Their single core problem is not with themselves, but those around them. If they’re never called out on their twisting of truths and fabrications, they simply continue to make larger lies.

Well, Sarah, I’m calling you a liar. And not even a good one. Trig Paxson Van Palin is not your son. He is your grandson. The sooner you come forward with this revelation to the public, the better.

• ArcXIX’s diary ::  ::

The story begins on March 6th, when Sarah decided to come forward and announce to the world that she was pregnant, a monumental occasion for an acting Governor. Republican Governor Jane Maria Swift of Massachusetts was the first sitting Governor in United States history to give birth in office just seven years before, and now here we were once again. Yet, no one could believe the news:

JUNEAU — Gov. Sarah Palin shocked and awed just about everybody around the Capitol on Wednesday when she announced she’s expecting her fifth child.

…

Palin said she’s already about seven months along, with the baby due to arrive in mid-May.

That the pregnancy is so advanced astonished all who heard the news. The governor, a runner who’s always been trim, simply doesn’t look pregnant.

Even close members of her staff said they only learned this week their boss was expecting.

“I thought it was becoming obvious,” Palin said. “You know, clothes getting snugger and snugger.”

But people just couldn’t believe the news.

“Really? No!” said Bethel state Rep. Mary Nelson, who is close to giving birth herself.

“It’s wonderful. She’s very well-disguised,” said Senate President Lyda Green, a mother of three who has sometimes sparred with Palin politically. “When I was five months pregnant, there was absolutely no question that I was with child.”

…

Palin said she’s not aiming to take any time off from her job as governor, assuming all goes well with the pregnancy.

…

With Palin riding extraordinarily high popularity ratings, pundits have mentioned her as a potential vice presidential candidate. But she said Wednesday night she’s “not pursuing or perpetuating it,” adding, “I have no desire to leave my job at all as governor.”

…

She’s known as a fashion plate, but said she hasn’t been dressing differently to cover her barely perceptible bulge.

Funny quote on her having no desire for the Vice-Presidency aside, the article is direly clear. No one knew she was pregnant, not even her own staff. Quite a feat. Why the secrecy? Sarah has never given an answer, and upon further reading, no one has bothered to ask.

Seven months into a pregnancy, and no one noticed.

Even Harry Houdini would be impressed.

And how could anyone tell? Sarah’s waistline never changed. Her wardrobe still remained tight and professional. In a video posted in February (nearing five months of pregnancy at the time), Sarah is seen trim, and walking around all of Juneau, Alaska.

[Watch the video]

@5:50

…”I like running the hills, it kills me, that’s why I like it, I mean it thrashes your guts…”

Not exactly terminology said by a pregnant mother. Six months into pregnancy, she attended the National Governor’s Association at the White House:

(Full Hi-Res, Far Left)

The Associated Press provides two photos in this timespan, one three days later on February 28th:

And another three days before the announcement, on March 3rd:

Here she is, seven months pregnant, three days after her official announcement:

And one week later:

And that infamous video in which Sarah trashes Hillary Clinton? That was at the Newsweek Women & Leadership Event in Los Angeles, in March:

After previous pregnancies (in this case, four), and at later ages, the female body is meant to adjust and show changes earlier, not later as in Sarah’s unprecedented case.

On Friday, April 18th, 2008, Sarah and her husband Todd were in Dallas, Texas for a Republican Governor’s Convention. They had been in town for three days already, but Sarah had yet to give her keynote speaker address on energy policy. Then early Friday morning at 4:00am, Sarah began leaking amniotic fluid. Instead of checking into a hospital, she instead made a call to her doctor, and delivered the keynote speech.

“I was not going to miss that speech,” she says.

She rushed so quickly from the podium afterwards that Texas Gov. Rick Perry nervously asked if she was about to deliver the baby then.

The oddities only grow from here on, as instead of rushing to a Dallas medical facility that could treat a mother who’s amniotic fluid has been draining for hours on end (made even more crucial due to the fact that this is occurring a full month prematurely), Sarah & Todd instead opted to… Fly all the way back from Texas to Alaska. A dangerous choice, as with each pregnancy (once again, in this case after four previous), a mother’s window of labor to delivery grows shorter and shorter.

Aboard Alaska Airlines, the flight lasted for eight hours, with an additional landing in Seattle. The majority of commercial airlines require mothers seven months pregnant to provide a doctor’s letter to fly, but Sarah did not inform the airline of her condition. Alaska Airlines is one of the few airlines that do not require such a notice, despite the possibility of an emergency landings being required in such scenarios. That said, no one on board noticed that Sarah was going into labor:

“We leave the decision to fly up to our customers and their medical advisers,” according to Alaska Airlines representative Caroline Boren.

…

“Governor Palin was extremely pleasant to flight attendants and her stage of pregnancy was not apparent by observation as she didn’t show any signs of distress,” Boren said.

Eight months pregnant. A 6.2 pound fetus. No one notices a visible trace. By the third trimester, a perfectly fit woman not wearing anything less than a space suit should be easily spotted as pregnant. Not in Sarah’s case.

The plane then made a landing in Anchorage, Alaska. Does Sarah then visit a medical facility that can accommodate a premature birth in Alaska’s most equipped city? No. She drives 45 minutes away, to Mat-Su Regional Medical Center, right outside the small village she used to govern as Mayor, Wasilla. Trig Palin is then delivered one month premature, Friday night. Sarah returned to work after three days.

The inherent need to absolutely have Trig delivered in a remote and possibly ill-equipped facility for premature deliveries, where Sarah would likely have numerous contacts and pull, does not sit well. The doctor, Cathy Baldwin-Johnson, approving of all of these actions borders on malpractice. Not treating leaking amniotic fluid causes infections, and time is of the essence after water breaks. Husband Todd Palin simply delivers this winner of a line:

“You can’t have a fish picker from Texas,” said Todd.

A poor motivation, to be sure. Another motivation began making its rounds in the Alaskan legislature, where everyone was initially shocked to hear the news.

Sarah Palin was not pregnant with child.

Her sixteen year-old daughter was.

Checking with the Anchorage High School that Bristol Palin attended, reporters were given word that her family had taken Bristol out of school due to contracting infectious mononucleosis. The amount of time Bristol was absent shifts from five to eight months.

Mono can last anywhere from two weeks to three months, but an eight month infection is a freak oddity. Yet it remains a common excuse given by girls in private & Catholic schools around the nation when pregnancy comes into play. Not the first time, not the last time.

The following photograph of Bristol has been dated late 2007:

(Full Hi-Res, Right)

And the following photograph was printed in the Anchorage Daily News, on March 9th:

Bristol is pregnant in these pictures. She is not carrying belly fat, which grows outwardly wide, and does not become dome-shaped. That’s because fat is generally evenly distributed around the abdomen and a fetus is not. Bristol’s chest is sticking out, a normal body reaction when sucking in stomach muscles.

Yesterday, the State of Alaska has also moved Sarah’s photo page three different times from

http://gov.state.ak.us/…

to

http://www1.gov.state.ak.us/…

to

http://gov.state.ak.us/…

… With losses of photos from January & April.

The final point of interest is that Trig Palin has been diagnosed with Down’s syndrome (aka trisomy 21). This is an interesting point, as chances of having offspring with Down’s Syndrome increases from under 1% to 3% after a mother reaches the age of 40. However, 80% of the cases of Down’s Syndrome are in mother’s under the age of 35, through sheer quantities of births in this age group.

People like to think the vetting process is secure, and completed months ahead of time, but ABC News has reported otherwise, painting a picture of a quick vetting process for Sarah by a small, but secretive group of McCain’s legal staff. A proper vetting process under those circumstances would only go so far, and the true media vetting process has just begun.

It doesn’t come as a surprise that this story was never properly researched. Palin was never on the National scene for more than a few minutes at a time, and local reporting only goes so far on a governor with an 80% approval rating. However, the motivation to cover daughter’s pregnancy aligns with her political standings. She valiantly did not perform an abortion, but fell into the fundamentalist way of thinking, and covered up for the elicit (but natural) action’s of her daughter.

There could be calls below to delete this information. Calls that this type of information is muckraking and ‘below us’. The truth is not below any progressive, nor any citizen of the world that is one heartbeat away from having Palin as leader of the free world. We simply ask that she be forthright, honest, and not waste our time with such juvenile games that anyone with eyes can see as fabrication.

Bristol Palin rightfully should be able to embrace her child in public as her own, with no shame, and no quarter. And a mother should be just as accepting.

Glitter, Glitter, Gutter!

I enter Wonderland's conference room hymning a tune:

Glitter, Glitter, gutter,
In Thailand you did stutter.

Glitter, Glitter, gutter,
To Hong Kong you did flutter.

Glitter, Glitter, gutter,
"Why me?" you must mutter.

Glitter, Glitter, gutter,
No country wants such clutter...

"Stop that Glitter business!" Wonder Boy roars. I am surprised. Why should he be so pissed upon the mention of Glitter? Hong Kong immigration officials already threw him out. Didn't they? So Glitter shouldn't be Wonder Boy's concern.

The answer, however, comes from horse lookalike Henry. "You see," Henry says, "we already have our own problems with underage girls allegedly competing in 2008 Olympics. We don't want anyone else associated with underage girls coming to Hong Kong or China."

"So desu nee..." I answer in Japanese, which means, "Is that so?" (Rough translation.)

I can understand the logic behind Wonder Boy's irritation. Glitter and underage girls. Olympics and underage girls. Anyone can make that connection. Yeah!

So, was Glitter stupid to have selected Hong Kong / China as his proposed destination? I will have to ponder on that for a while.

Ciao!

Beijing Boring Olympics!

As is often the case when Wonder Boy is traveling up north, horse lookalike Henry and I end up sitting in the conference room, overnight, drinking tax-free red wine. Where else, but in Government House, can we find unlimited supply of free wine, a chef that cooks anything we desire at midnight and a couple of young and beautiful female press attaches monitoring news while they pluck their eyebrows by looking in mirrors placed on top of their monitors?

After finishing the third bottle, Henry eases his guard and starts speaking from his heart. "Man!" he says, "I can't wait for these boring Olympics games to be over."

He has my immediate attention. This is the first time the man has said something, which I totally agree with.

"Why," he says, "in the name of fuck, does China need to host the Olympics? China's coming out party? Ha ha. Ha ha ha. He he he..." he bends over laughing while spurting out some red wine out of his mouth. "With all the restrictions and security around, it's more like China's closing up party!"

"And hey," he looks at me with drunken eyes, "Let's rename these as China's National Games."

As a person who can consume unbelievable amount (or rather volume) of alcohol without getting drunk, I nod sanely.

"But you are a horse owner yourself." I remark. "Therefore, you must be excited by the equestrian events being hosted right here in Hong Kong, our own city."

Henry stares at me for a while and frowns. "Equestrian, eh?" he says. "What's so great about some naughty horses jumping up and down the fences? Huh? They don't make you any money, like horses that run in gainful races."

Hmmm... I think to myself, it takes three bottles of wine to open up Henry's heart and the deeply guarded opinions in his mind.

"You know what?" Henry interrupts my thoughts, "Perhaps, they should forget about the opening ceremony and the games and simply stage a closing ceremony on August 8, 2008. Then, all of us could get back to our normal lives and really have fun."

I look at Henry and think; truer words were never spoken by anyone. Gotta give it to him. The man is practical, reasonable, and a genius.

Ciao!

Sensible Government, Olympic Harmony, And Miscellaneous

"What does he actually mean?" Wonder Boy bangs his fist repeatedly on the conference table.

This is the third time Wonder Boy has raised the question this morning in the conference room at Wonderland. But until horse lookalike Henry offers his brilliant suggestions, I am keeping my trap shut.

Obviously, Wonder Boy is pissed that Vice President Xi Jinping, during his tour of Hong Kong, has reprimanded Wonder Boy (and top officials) about everything - including lack of sensible governance, lack of Hong Kong residents' enthusiasm for the glorious upcoming Olympics, lack of initiatives to tackle runaway inflation and the plight of the poor, unnecessary appointments of undersecretaries messenger boys and girls earning extraordinarily high salaries, lack of Hong Kong tycoons' and cartels' conscience, and lack of aftershave lotion and deodorant on the cheeks and under the armpits of Wonder Boy.

"Why don't you answer me?" Wonder Boy barks. "What in the name of Lord does he really want me to do?"

"Um," Henry finally takes the initiative, "perhaps, he wants you to give HK$10 billion to help Sichuan earthquake victims without any further thought or consultation. And until you do that, I think he is going to be pissed on you."

Wonder Boy thinks for a while, not exactly buying Henry's angle. "You! Gwailo!" he snarls at me in the usual derogatory tone.

I take a sip of the free-flowing tax-free red wine and clear my throat...

"You are not quite the diplomat," I begin. Wonder Boy frowns. I continue, "If I were you, the moment he landed in Hong Kong, I would have dragged him to a presentation of things we propose to do:

I would have told him that as a sensible government, we are planning to throw all foreigners out of Hong Kong by July 20. And we won't give a damn if they have half-Chinese families, kids, businesses, investments, or have contributed to the success of Hong Kong.

I would also emphasize that starting around July 20, all foreigners arriving at the airport will be deported on the next available flight. Immaterial of whether they need or don't need a visa or carry valid resident visas.

I would tell him that the entire population of Tin Shui Wai will volunteer to clean the algae from the Beas River in Sheung Shui - the venue for equestrian events.

I would point out that to tackle air pollution in Hong Kong, starting July 20; electricity will be disconnected to all houses and businesses in Hong Kong. Limited electricity will only be supplied to MTR trains and the main venue. And only public buses and LPG fueled taxis will be allowed on roads from July 20 to September 20.

And as a final point emphasizing Olympic harmony and the joy of it all, I would inform him that we plan to install surface-to-air, surface-to-surface, and air-to-air missiles at various locations in all the 18 districts of Hong Kong. And to hell with anyone scared enough to step out of their hotels or houses.

'Well...' I pause for breath, 'had you given such a presentation; immediately upon his arrival, he would not have reprimanded you'."

As I sip red wine, I look at Wonder Boy and Henry. They are awestruck. I feel satisfied.

"Hey!" Wonder Boy shrills excitedly, "Those are some brilliant ideas! Do we still have time to implement all that?"

I smile. Forget one country-two systems. What did I tell you? We are transforming into a one country-one system as each day goes by. Or rather, as each minute ticks by.

Ciao!

Asia's World Brothel

Upon my insistence, Wonder Boy and Horse Henry disguise themselves as drag queens and accompany me to Lan Kwai Fong and Wan Chai. After the makeover, Wonder Boy looks like a petite beau and Horse Henry looks like a hooker from Thailand on steroids. The disguise is necessary lest anyone recognizes the ruling lords.

The grand night out is my idea to show Wonder Boy and Horse Henry that laws of the glorious Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of China are being broken day in day out, or rather, night in night out.

As we cross the traffic junction between Theater Lane and Lan Kwai Fong, we see a drunken gwailo cursing everyone on the street. He is shouting about his missing wallet as he keeps waving his middle finger at everyone and at the skies.

"That," I tell Wonder Boy and Horse Henry, "is normal. And he is not breaking any laws stipulated in our ordinances." They nod.

Further down the road, or rather uphill, as Lan Kwai Fong is a bit steep, another gwailo looks at Wonder Boy and shouts, "Hi honey, I love ya!" Wonder Boy cringes, but I immediately point out to the duo that even such remarks are normal - Hong Kong being a free and open society. They reluctantly nod.

Once inside a prominent bar on the left side at the top of D'Aguilar Street (Lan Kwai Fong), we order drinks and are soon surrounded by scantily dressed girls from Southeast Asia.

"Gee!" Wonder Boy remarks, "people here are really friendly!"

Upon hearing his voice, one of the girls realizes that Wonder Boy is in fact a man dressed like a drag queen. Soon she puts her hand inside Wonder Boy's mini-skirt. "Two thousand dollars honey, for a night out with me!" she says.

Startled and shocked, Wonder Boy runs out of the bar. Horse (look-alike) Henry follows him. I pay for the drinks and run after them. Outside, on the street crowded with gwailos, Southeast Asians and a few Chinese, Wonder Boy goes berserk. "I have never, I repeat, never, been molested like that in my life!" he jabs a finger in my chest.

I point out that even that is normal as far as gwailos are concerned. And I point out to him that Allan Zeman, a person Wonder Boy knows very well, is supposed to be the father of Lan Kwai Fong.

Firm and resolute, Wonder Boy declines my suggestion of going back inside the bar. Three chilled drinks stand lonely on a table in the bar as Wonder Boy fishes out his mobile phone and summons the Royal limousine. We stretch inside as we head to Wan Chai.

If Lan Kwai Fong was a torture for Wonder Boy, I can only imagine his mental state in Wan Chai. Standing outside the 7-Eleven near Amazonia, we are approached by none other than Wan Ker-sin. "Howdy buddy?" Wanker pats me and winks at both Wonder Boy and Horse Henry. Wonder Boy is again startled at the sight of a gray-robed monk holding a bottle of Heineken. I shoo him away and he retreats in yet another night club to pursue his research for his book.

A Russian lady approaches us and after running her index finger across Horse Henry's hair, she slaps my butt. "Sugar," she almost sighs, "I will give you a discount just because I love your eyes, baby." Wonder Boy and Horse Henry look at her in horror.

I squeeze Natalia's boobs and tell her that I will meet her later as I am busy with friends. She fondles my dick and balls, kisses my lips and vanishes in the crowd.

"Am I really in Hong Kong?" Wonder Boy shouts after Natalia is gone. "I can't believe this!" he froths at his mouth. Once again, he pulls out his mobile phone and minutes later, the Royal limousine arrives outside 7-Eleven in Asia's World Brothel area - Wan Chai (second only to areas in Thailand).

Once again we settle inside and head for the Government House.

Once inside, I switch off my charm and confront Wonder Boy (and Horse Henry). "Satisfied?" I ask them both. "According to Hong Kong laws and notices issued by Hong Kong Immigration Department, no person without a valid Hong Kong Identity card can engage in any gainful employment. And that includes prostitution as well. The prostitutes you just saw in both places are visiting Hong Kong on tourist visas!" I snarl.

"And tell ya what?" I bark at the stupefied faces of Wonder Boy and Horse Henry, "Prostitution in Lan Kwai Fong and Wan Chai started after 1995. Almost before the handover. Prior to that, lonely Chinese girls and abandoned gwaipos (Caucasian female) went to such places for one night stand. There were no Russians or Southeast Asian hookers back then."

Wonder Boy and Horse Henry don't know what to say.

I bark again, "Clear these areas of hookers, and ensure that Hong Kong Police and those in the Immigration Department are doing their job properly."

Wonder Boy again fishes out his mobile phone and calls someone who is in-charge of Wan Chai area. I close my eyes and dream of the times (pretty soon) when I can have a one night stand with a sexy and lonely decent Chinese girl or an abandoned gwaipo instead of paying HK$2,000 to a Russian or a Southeast Asian hooker. Mission accomplished. Yeah!

Ciao!

Fuel Subsidies? What Fuel Subsidies?

After parking my 3,500 c.c. German manufactured car in Wonderland's car park, I walk towards Wonderland's conference room. Suddenly a Nepalese security guard comes running after me. "Sir," he says, "you forgot to switch off the engines."

I look at my car and then at him. Of lately, my visits to Wonderland have become so infrequent that he seems to have forgotten my habits. Placing my arm around his shoulders, I point at the sky. "Look at the sun," I tell him, "it's shining bright and you must agree it's very hot today." The security guard nods as he wipes sweat off his forehead. "So do you expect me to enter a hot stuffy car after I have finished my meeting?" The security guard shakes his head. I pat his back and off he runs back to his post.

Wonder Boy and Horse look-alike Henry hardly notice me as I enter the conference room. Their attention is focused at the far end of the conference table. I dart a quick glance and see a face that resembles a live chicken in a wet market. The only difference being that there is a heap of untidy black hair on top of the head. A quick scan of my mental archives provides me the name associated with that face - Eva Cheng Yu-wah, Secretary for Housing and Transport.

"So, as I was saying," the chicken woman continues as everyone ignores me, "if we don't subsidize cheap diesel and unleaded petrol, trucks and private cars will demonstrate and block the roads in Hong Kong with yet another protest against high fuel prices. And that will look bad for Hong Kong tourism."

Wonder Boy and Horse Henry nod as they scratch their heads. Wonder Boy thinks for a while and complains, "But how can we slash fuel prices and fuel taxes when our masters in Beijing have just hiked the prices of diesel, petrol and electricity in China?"

"He's got a point!" Henry says.

I relax on my chair until my opinion is asked for. And the moment comes soon. "Hey gwailo!" Wonder Boy addresses me in what sounds like a derogatory tone, "what do you think?"

I clear my throat and begin, "Approximately, only 5% of Hong Kong residents are car owners. But that figure could be misleading as the figure includes car owners from the upper-middle class and the elite class, construction and utility companies that own cars, the fleet of cars owned by administrative departments, and limousines owned by hotels."

Everyone nods, I continue, "Further breakdown will highlight that there is no need to slash fuel prices or fuel taxes. Consider that the upper-middle class, mostly civil servants and executives working in the private sector, receive car allowances. And clever accounting means the elite class can absorb the costs in their tax forms. Construction and utility companies will pass on the heavy fuel costs on to their consumers. As far as the cars owned by us (HK Govt.), we already squander public money for our expenses and do whatever we please. So again, no problems there. And finally, hotels in Hong Kong already milk tourists in every imaginable way. So who cares?"

I pause for breath and notice that Eva Cheng is hastily taking notes. And why not? What I said might help her in her next Legislative Council confrontation.

"Therefore," I continue, "out of 5% car owners in Hong Kong, only 0.03% that are really stuck with lower incomes and cars; might come out and demonstrate. But forget Hong Kong. They can hardly block Ice House Street. And once they do that, we will smash their cars and their car's windows like we did last time."

Wonder Boy and Henry clap. But Eva Cheng looks confused. "What about cheap diesel and truck drivers?" she asks.

"How would I know?" I snarl at her. "I am not a truck driver and I am not in the transport industry. But you can ask them to use Euro V diesel or jump off a tall building if they really can't afford."

Wonder Boy and Henry clap again. "So everything is settled now!" Wonder Boy says as he waves Eva Cheng out of the conference room.

I take the opportunity to pull out my Expense Claims forms and run towards Wonder Boy. "Could you sign these for me, please?" I push the forms under his nose. "These are my petrol expenses incurred while trying to research the environmental impact on the state of Hong Kong. Which is why I was absent for more than two weeks."

Wonder Boy pulls out his pen and gladly signs on the dotted line. I inform him about my (imaginary) meeting with Heung Yee Kok and wave him goodbye.

As I step outside and walk towards my car, I look at the scorching sun. My digital watch tells me that the outdoor temperature is 31.1 degrees Celsius. I run and jump inside my car. The temperature gauge on the dashboard tells me it is a cool 22.5 degrees Celsius inside my car. Oh! The joy of it.

I wave at the Nepalese security guard as I drive out of Wonderland. He waves back.

Ciao!

Unashamedly driving a private car in Hong Kong since 1989 and (probably) polluting the environment!