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FRIED LOTUS #3: GETTING SACKED IN BEIJING, A SURVIVOR’S GUIDE (PART 2 OF 2)

   "Maybe you are the next Lil' Wayne. But probably not." - Barack Obama

To all my friends I say - do not worry! Your jobless pal is doing fine. Better than fine, actually! By Joe, if “fine” were the highest peak on the tallest mountain, your boy Good Ol’ J would be soaring and singing with the stars, he would! Yes, indeed-y! Yes, indeedeleeedoodlydoo! Dooschimiggidy dabber crab grabbedry, doobingbat doobedroobee Tuesday loobdee doodoo!

I’m perfectly fine. To express this to you skeptics, maybe I should embellish more on my crappy, crappy work experiences here.

My first and not last crappy job was for an American style foodhole that shall remain nameless. Oh wait, now I remember, it was called the Kro’s Nest. Yeah,
right there in Gongti. Whew, almost forgot there for a second.

I originally wanted to volunteer there a few nights a week for beer and pizza. This is because I had recently read Rich Dad, Poor Dad and was a dumbass. (Thank God I hadn’t watched The Secret.) Over coffee and about four hundred cigarettes he offered me a full-time position to manage the Gongti location. Here I am, fresh out of college with zero experience in the service industry being asked to manage what may be the coolest expat pizza dive in town? Too good to be true? YES, DIPSHIT!

I’m going to condense the next several months into a bulleted list:

Why Working at Kro’s Nest Sucked:

  • I was NOT the manager and had to answer to some power-mad 21 year old Chinese guy to whom "management" meant "making staff cry".

  • I had to work six days a week with Wednesday as my day off. Thankfully I was being paid very well. Wait, no.

  • I was constantly made to feel guilty by my superiors about how much better off I had it than the Chinese staff, as if it was my fault that they lived in the equivalent of an underground dumpster (free rent!), or as if it was my decision to pay them about 800 RMB a month "plus commission". It’s all about the commission!

  • Being the "foreign face" of the establishment meant that I had to deliver bad news to everyone, such as "you still have to pay for that pizza that you ordered and then cancelled, even though we didn’t make it, because we already put the order in the computer system" or "no, you can’t have that lemonade for free and have it replaced with another drink of your choice even though it tastes like garbage juice" and "It doesn’t matter that you’re the only black family that’s come in here since I’ve been employed."

  • And actually, I had to pay for that pizza out of my salary.

  • Anytime I had a question about the job, you know, like what I’m supposed to do and how to do it, Kro would avoid me for two weeks and not return my calls. Then when we finally would meet, he would be tanked, or it would be for two minutes.

  • Being a "manager" actually means "manager-in-training" which actually means "bitch-in-transit".


    • So, why did I get fired from there within three months? The official reason? Because I forgot to sign in and out a few days. I didn’t get paid for those days either, by the way. The real reason? Well, that was never revealed to me. But if I had to guess, it’s because Kro is a really good guy who had my best interests in mind. He could see that working for his bullshit restaurant exploiting locals and duping customers was tearing me apart! Now I understand why that guy drinks so much! Thanks, Kro!

    Really though, the worst job I ever had is the one that just recently obliged me. I was actually praying to get fired, literally waiting for the day. This is for two reasons: the first being I would get my 2,000 RMB deposit back being fired but not if I simply quit and secondly because that job was worse than listening to Weezer’s last few albums mixed with radio singles by Jet looped for eighty straight days.

    To give you some idea, in the three months that I worked there (three is the magic number), four out of the fifteen people in my department alone quit or were fired. If you include the day I was fired, make that six. One of them was a straight-up freak named Michael. I’ve included his Dateinasia.com profile at the bottom of this post. One of them was actually a manager of the department, with whom I shared a strong professional relationship based around her screaming at me to get off Gchat. So why did she quit? This deserves it’s own paragraph:

    As many of the readers will know, after Spring Festival, everyone is required to work the following Saturday and Sunday. As many will also know, traveling during this time is the absolute worst (see first post). So, our poor little manager ended up not making it back in time and was fined 2,000 RMB, to be paid on the spot. Considering that was like half her salary, she decided it was time to go. She’d put in several years there.

    As if that isn’t bad enough, another manager was fined too but decided to stay. Was she fined because she missed Saturday and Sunday too? No. She was fined because she asked if she could. If there was any better way to put emphasis on text than italics, now would be the time to use it.

    Maybe this is better: asked if she could.

    What is the point of this blog post? Basically it’s to make myself feel better about being unemployed, because honestly folks, it’s pretty sweet but no one else seems to think so. In the midst of a global financial meltdown, I can live in the most exciting city in the world, “work” nine hours a week by conversing in my native tongue and can make enough money for rent, food, buses and subways with the occasional taxi and the occasional night out and/or meal at Fatburger.

    Special promotion: Go to Fatburger on Tuesdays and get double stamped on your free Fatburger card for each burger you buy!

    Fuck money, especially for someone else. I mean, it’s all really fucked, isn’t it?

    The enticing genius of capitalism is that it is automatic and you don't have to do anything to make it work. This magic invisible hand will take care of everything. The market will do what is best for all. No thinking. It's natural. Communism on the other hand, takes work (yuk yuk). Everyone has to work, in fact. And plan. And think, strategize. So, you can see the allure of capitalism. It’s like it was this magic gift from heaven that will make life wonderful for everyone just by its own nature.

    You can see the throbbing cocks of Chicago economists while they stroke themselves with their meticulous, perfectized, wondrously ideal theories. The Earth is a perfect circle. No mountains, no basins, no crooks nor crannies. Make a circle-shaped box to encapsulate the Earth entire. No air pockets. Perfect fit. Anyone who dares make a detailed map (hey, there is a river there) is a fucking commie asshole fascist goddamn godless sonofabitch go back to your country die die die die die die die die die...

    When a child reaches a certain age, it is entirely common-place, even applauded, for the parent to encourage them to give up their dreams and face "reality": to abandon all childish endeavors in the pursuit of making a living. In essence, the parent is expressing to his or her child that the highest hopes he has for the child is to become mediocre. To me, this is actually the highest form of child abuse. I don't understand why any parent would do this. They are in fact, hopefully unwittingly, acting as slavish enforcers of the oppressive existing order.

    I would rather be dead than be mediocre, because in death at least I am not sucking away the resources from someone who actually is doing something worthwhile for life. Thus, I would rather face death, embarrassment, abandonment, imprisonment or any other torture that has been used against those who decide that life is taking a stand against those who do everything in their power to keep you from living, than devote myself to merely staying alive to make someone else rich.

    Dear God, am I a stoned college student? (No, I graduated already.)

    OK, now here is the real reason why you read this post anyway: more hilarious tips for surviving getting fired!

  • Health insurance is for suckers and wimps.

  • Don’t get down on yourself for getting fired. It happens to the best of us, honestly! Like me!

  • Don’t tell anyone that you got fired. It’s too embarrassing. Keep spending as much money as you usually do. In fact, spend more.

  • Get several credit cards and pay them off with other credit cards. Trust me. One of my best friends in Texas does this and he’s a musician.

  • Start a charity and keep all the money you raise. The good thing is yours probably won’t be any less effective than most others.

  • Start selling crap on EBay. Hurry, while people still believe those coins you got from Panjiayuan Market are "real silver".

  • Make up completely bogus shit on your resume. Remember what Hitler said: the bigger the lie, the more likely people will believe it. Be bold.

  • Erguotou thrice filtered through a Brita still tastes like shit, but you’ll feel better in the morning. Mostly about how resourceful you are.

  • Take advantage of your free time by engaging yourself in all your creative pursuits. You’ll soon discover that this is a better idea than marathon jerk-off sessions.

  • Always find time for marathon jerk-off sessions – you deserve it!


    • Here is a great place to start:
    http://www.dateinasia.com/UserProfile.aspx?uid=260df8c5-29e6-432a-8d44-57233ef3eb32

    FRIED LOTUS #2: GETTING SACKED IN BEIJING, A SURVIVOR’S GUIDE (PART 1)



    So you just got your first real job in Beijing. You know, like $18,000 a year. 9-to-6. A job-job. I gotta warn you though: much like life, each passing day is just another day closer to the end. Oh, I know what you're thinking. "I work hard." "I'm a good employee." OK, well, I heard there's a robot party tonight so go have a good time and while you're at it go fuck yourself. As for all you lazy slacker queefs, keep reading.

    It can be quite daunting to live in a foreign country. What’s worse is when the bread is suddenly pulled out of your mouth and no one can understand you scream. Similar to a Communist blitz attack, losing your job in Beijing can come unexpectedly at any time, even in the middle of the night while you sleep. I’d like to share my experiences and a few pointers for any newly canned brothers and sisters.

    Several months ago, I decided it would be a good idea to get a Full-Time Office Job. I figured I'm about that age where I should put my dreams in the blender and put my balls up on the shelf along side my 2nd grade science fair blue ribbon. My parents have an extra room in the house for shit like that.

    I did what any strapping young man would do looking for work in Beijing - I went to TheBeijinger.com. God Bless that website and its endless English teacher postings and vapid and completely inaccurate forum banter. There I found the Holy Grail of jobs. It was designing curriculum for some education company.

    Should be better than the classroom I figured, and certainly better than pedi-cabbing drunk morons and skanky, skanky women through the shooter-soaked streets of downtown Austin like I used to do.

    Quick tangent: one time I was biking some shitfaced black dude and he had a nasty girl in the cab and they were definitely up to something because she was moaning like a gut-shot Civil War soldier. We pulled up to a stop sign and she did a front flip out of the car and landed flat on her back on the pavement with her pants and panties around her ankles. Good times.

    Anyhoo, the interview was simple enough I suppose. The office was a swanky, modern joint in China Central Place straight out of a Kubrick film. I thought I'd hit the jackpot. I was dressed nice and did my best to act like a professional and stoic Chinese guy. Next thing you know I was working for quite possibly the most ridiculous company on the planet.

    So the cunt who interviewed, Sally, turned out to the Academic Director AKA big boss. Before you get all feminist on me, she really was a cunt. I mean straight up. I was once chewed out by her in front of my coworkers for smiling. Yeah, that’s right, smiling. I believe I was saying “Good morning” to her. And so was my introduction to corporate culture.

    Thanks to a massive Irish-based acquisition of a venerable American publishing company now vacationing in the Caymen Islands, this company was able to infect the entire span of China with hundreds of its shitty little “learning centers” within two years. Ask anyone here in the education business about “RISE” and they will shudder with envy. It’s like the Wal-Mart of English schools and it’s kicking the shit out of the competition even though it sucks serious, serious ass. In other words, not at all like Wal-Mart.

    I tried to stay excited about the job but even the strongest attempts at denial and positive thinking fail to operate when, for example, there is this enormous fucking slogan plastered on the wall a few feet from your cubicle:



    I mean, what the fuck is that, seriously? Is this supposed to be motivational? That’s like some 1984 type shit. Or like if you ever played Deus Ex there’s that level where you infiltrate that technology company and there are all these freaky mind-numbing slogans everywhere keeping the workers in line. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.

    Let’s skip ahead. I know you have hours of masturbation to attend to. Despite my complete disrespect for the aims of the company and my superiors, I seemed to be moving up the ladder. I was translating vital documents and speeches for their important meetings, participating in their sissy-ass performances and was even asked to go along on a business trip to Shanghai to open up a new corporate HQ.

    However, it seems that my resentment bled through my clean-cut mask...either that or the fat American bitch next to me really had it in for me. She had been butt-fucked there for nine months and the rest of the company was practically using her undies for toilet paper.

    She ended up (finally) getting fed up with how underappreciated her hard-hard-hard work was. [Note: Don’t work too hard at an Office Job or you will be just be given more work.] The trick is to do just enough to not get fired. I thought I had it in the bag, but I didn’t expect the upcoming sucker puch.

    She decided to quit and take me down with her. Seeing as she essentially produced 99% of the company’s output, the HR begged her to stay, which is ironic considering they had up to that point treated her like an eight-year-old Thai sex slave. Being the vindictive cow she is, she went on a tirade about how useless I am to the company. I can’t say that I disagree, but c’mon….that shit ain’t cool. Isn’t there some kind of Laowai Code?

    Ironically, I lost my job because of some fucking American, not because of the Chinese staff members. Her testimony tipped the scale enough to convince HR that I was dead weight. It just goes to show that no job here is very stable.

    Unless, of course, you work hard and, like, give a shit.

    If you happen to be in the same boat as me, here are some key pointers for you:

  • Immediately after being fired, it is important to maintain your dignity. You don’t want to make a scene or do anything that you will regret. Actually, since most people feel uncomfortable firing people, you can make the situation even more awkward by not leaving the office until the end of the workday. Or better still; show up the next day like nothing happened. Nothing is more unnerving than a fired employee who just doesn’t seem to get it. Especially if he’s a foreigner.

  • Change the desktop background on your computer to something obscene for the next person who takes your spot. For this reason it is good to carry around a flash drive with a picture of your bare ass on it at all times.

  • Make a "Will Teach English For Food" sign and stand out in a busy area. Probably not a good idea, but it would be a hoot to see someone do this.

  • Hit up every person you know for money. People love lending money to people who can’t hold a job.

  • Everyone knows Ramen noodles, but not everyone knows about Ramen Noodles with a fried egg and peanut butter mixed into the broth. Add yourself some chopped green onions and you got yourself a meal the equivalent of Healthy Choice.

  • Since you’ll probably be making the rounds at the English training schools, be sure to show up to your demo classes drunk. It makes you seem more drunk and charming.

  • Tell your landlord that you are broke and you will be paying rent with bags of rice instead. Chinese people have done this for centuries.

  • Cut out all alcohol consumption. Being fired can be depressing and the last thing you want is to dig yourself deeper. Only exception: demo classes and job interviews.


    • I hope this was helpful to you. Hit me up if you want to buy me dinner or if you know any rich idiots willing to pay 500 RMB an hour for English lessons.

    Stay tuned next week for Part 2 of the Survival Guide!


    FRIED LOTUS #1: The Joy of Transportation - Chinese New Year



    The hallowed birthplace of the most serpentine freaks, wizards and abominations is far and away as we blast through the terrifying and mortified Chinese countryside on the K107, leaving a jagged stream of irrigated blood in the train's wake.

    Watch the moon hang by a safety pin on a thread of the night. Give me your tired (for they will sleep in the basements)! Give me your poor (for they will work for next to nothing)! Your huddled masses are trapped in the airtight smokesoaked human-cattle boxcar for over twenty hours yearning to breathe free consumed by and smoldering from the body heat.

    Now and together we are all leaving home. At home, my home, the pressure of hot magma and Homer Simpson sugar complete with prizes has joyously burst through its concrete cage and alas Robert Pollard has expended his last drop of earthquake glue ejaculate to seal the cracks with over twelve hundred motherfucking songs!

    Now, listen to the cacophony of iron torn like flesh as the giant mythological tigerbeast nourishes himself upon the train's heart and engine! We hope the gods are appeased by our 120 km/h sacrifice and though everyone dreams of screaming themselves to death we are too crowded to even shudder; our crushed lungs barely permit a whimper.

    I’m coughing and hack up maple syrup and ramen noodles stewed in black soot and I am manic. The carriage reverberates with my impish laughter drowning out the cocksuckers who have been playing that goddamn mafia game loudly past three a.m. as if it isn't already hard enough to sleep wearing a straitjacket with someone crawling under your feet weeping and looking for his teeth while the fat Westerner slams beers in the dining car.

    This ain't the train that the bluesmen warbled about. At least hobos had space. I'm talking elbow room, brotha! Ha! and now my elbows are moaning like a teapot from the icy arthritis one gets when you're bending over holding your ass cheeks ever-open for Walt Whitman. And I embrace that, I fucking take it, because the self-delusion of the individual is compensated by his chutzpah so pack my shit tight because that's the only way I'll get it together.

    I'm tripping over babies on the way to the bathroom to take one last painfully thick piss as yellow as killer bees. I flop my dick upwards for a drink and drench myself. A toast! to those who stretch their atrophied legs to help their brother lift a heavy suitcase! to rejecting the raison d'être promoted by the Institutions! to finding nothing within yourself, then swimming, fucking in the vacuum! and to the - ha - suicidal Camus for proclaiming Sisyphus as happy!

    I contort my body as small as it will go and squeeze through the agape squat toilet, plopping like a turd upon the stony ground, the train zooming away until it becomes a fading dot. I remove my shoes and feel the rust of the railways chilled by the gasping New Year's twilight. I am too hot and they need more space.

    I left home on a Fourth of July some years past, my indepen-dance day, and from my airplane window I understood the beauty of chaos as I watched the fireworks blossoming across the cityscape because America is really only pretty at night and from a distance. There is no racial bigotry there! They do not look down on miggers, pikes, hops or breasers, nor shinks! There you are all equally worthless!

    The tempest-tossed are leaving! The brave and failed have gone already! (But to where have they come?) The instrument of my own spirit is I and I play my song gaily and try without vanity, whether it be discordant to their ears or an angels' chorus, and if that be so then I give them that as a parting gift, a medal of my strength earned overcoming some unknown traverse that chokes and cackles within the festering shadows. Tonight, the fireworks here will be my guide and light the way for my return to Beijing. The muscled lilt of rock, standing tall without the need to know for what, my siren song.

    New Nativity for 2009 by jrg_one: Starring Johnny Cash, Selma Blair, Arthur, Samuel L. Jackson, Mr. Bill, Ni Ni, Iron Man, Robby the Robot, an assortment of smurfs and animals, and a homemade stable and manger. Buddha Machines provide the soundtrack from above, and it appears that this ended up on the shelf above the fantasy books. All of this brought to you by the local smurffiliate making his report on the glorious birth to SNN, the Smurf Network News.












    Merry Christmas. This is a time to celebrate love, peace, harmony, and understanding, or at least I think that's what it's supposed to be; maybe I have it confused with the 60's. Maybe it's all about loving your fellow man and buying him a turkey? Anyway, a lot of different religions have shit going on at roughly the same time and so our religious winter holidays have to peacefully coexist. Two of the most famous religions, Jesus and Santa, even have a kind of comic book crossover relationship, although they try to avoid being in the same room at the same time. So keep this spirit of tolerance in mind when reading the rest of this post. My purpose is not to offend, nor to laugh at others, but to laugh at others.

    So the other day I was stoned and just doing random google searches out of boredom and I did a search for "I like to fuck Jesus". Hey, woah, wait a sec- I kinda had a point to it. I was curious if there was some religion like this, or if at least some people were out there being nuts about it. Reason for this thought was that my wife tells me she had sexual fantasies about Jesus while growing up Christian, and that many friends of hers have confessed the same thing. And we all know that gay Christian males love Jesus just a little more than straight Christian males. So are there people taking this sexy Jesus thing and running with it? Yes there are. A description a cult from an informational site:

    They take bridal theology further than other Christians by encouraging members to imagine that Jesus is having sex with them during sexual intercourse and masturbation. Male members are told to visualize themselves as women, in order to avoid a homosexual relationship with Jesus (male homosexuality is an offense warranting excommunication). Additionally, members are instructed to say "love words," or talk dirty, to Jesus as they are having sex.

    Yes, specifically mandated (or at least suggested) phrases to say to Jesus during masturbation or intercourse. http://www.xfamily.org/index.php/Love_words_to_Jesus is the link for the love words list. I like how it's broken up into two parts- one list for people who blush easily, and one list for dirty sluts who really want to fuck Jesus hard. So you've got everything ranging from "Jesus, You're the Lover of all lovers", "I want Your kisses", "I want to woo You, Jesus, and to be wooed by You", all the way to the other end of the spectrum- "I'm desperate for Your big, hard penis! I crave it, because I want Your seeds!" or "I crave You, Jesus. I'm hot for You! My legs are spread to receive Your penis! Enter into me! Give me Your seeds." Amen. By the way, I tried this, and it made me cum for half an hour. Just kidding. Not.

    That's definitely the highlight of the whole thing. But there are also songs. It's just love songs meets praise songs. Obviously, praise songs are basically gay (or straight) for Jesus songs anyway- as riffed on in that South Park Christian rock episode- so it kinda fits naturally. Some of them are really funny.

    The song "Kiss Me" expresses love for God and all the normal stuff, but includes the lyrics "kiss me, embrace me, and fill me with your seeds". http://archive.xfamily.org/audio/Loving_Jesus/04/05%20Kiss%20Me.mp3

    The song "Queen in the Sky" has a black man asking Jesus to "make me your queen in the sky". Hmm. http://media.xfamily.org/audio/misc/trail-of-my-blood/12%20Queen%20in%20the%20Sky.mp3

    "Let's Make Love" is fucking called "Let's Make Love". http://media.xfamily.org/audio/Loving_Jesus/04/06%20Let%27s%20Make%20Love.mp3

    Other Loving Jesus tracks can be found here:http://www.xfamily.org/index.php/Loving_Jesus_album

    There are also some interesting posters and images on the same site, which I will refrain from posting due to the family-friendly nature of the Tag Team Records website.



    Getting ready for the long, dreary winter. There's this horrible lag time between the nearly-bitter-cold weather hitting and the heat getting turned on. At least two torturous weeks. Don't call me a pussy. I'm not the only one who bitches about this. It's not easy psyching oneself up to get from the bed to the shower at 6:45 in the AM. Anyway, deal is most of China (excludes the South, which has no central heating, and the extreme North) gets its heat turned on all at once on November 15. (This has been posted after the 15th? Shhhh, go to sleep.)

    Apparently, this system has been in place for more than 30 years and "is based on an old Soviet system used throughout the communist world." The Russkies were able to calculate, using some kind of averaging, that this was the date when temperatures would drop under 41 degrees. Now, while the wealthier Chinese are not on central heating and therefore not affected, something like 200 million poor people are freezing their nuts off this year. Ok, I'm really bored with this topic already and I have failed to uncover any kind of conspiracy behind it after 5 minutes of strenuous Googling, so let's just drop it. All it boils down to is what I say all the time, which is, Soviet = retarded. See, I just said it again. Hopefully that will piss off any of those weapons and tanks nerds out there.

    Anyway, thanks for the emails. It's been really great. I liked hearing all your comments and stuff. You fucking assholes. Know this, I am a witch and I'm really skilled at witchery and I've taken down the IP addresses of everyone who has viewed the blog and not written me an email (hint: my mailbox is empty) and written those addresses on sheep skin and, well, I'm not gonna give away inside the magical circle information but start checking your private parts for warts, and disproportions even.

    Ding didda ling ling ling, ding didda ling ling ling. Submissionaries news time. I know you're all fans. I'll take that as a given. We won you all over during our short, short career. Yes sir, that's the way to do it- in and out like a ninja. Form, blow through three drummers, record just four songs, develop coke habits, fuck your lead singer (my bad), infight and break up... all in the space of what, five months? And then live on forever in the hearts of the people. So Kelso moved back to Canada a couple years ago and has been spending his time farming and wrestling bears. Ok, the second thing was a lie. But he does harvest grain, probably rapeseed. I think what he was actually wrestling was cougars. But those days are apparently over. I just heard from him and he tells me he has not gotten laid in a year and a half. That's eighteen months. And I was sweating two weeks! Well, this is just a god-damned shame. I don¡¯t care if there ARE only 2 women to every 5 men in Canada. Look at this physical specimen- surely he has the strength of 10 men.


    Will somebody please fuck this Canadian?

    Women of Canada, come the fuck on. The man has worked as a penis model, for Christ's sake! AND he's a poet. In fact, he's written a poem combining his love of poetry with his love of his penis. Which I'd like to share with you (I have a private stash of his unpublished works):

    MY BEAUTIFUL COCK
    I was nineteen years old
    When I was first told
    I have a beautiful cock.
    It was under a Dutch elm
    And the autumn air
    Bit at my balls
    "You certainly have a pretty penis."
    She said.
    Pretty?
    What a way to call a cock in fall.

    Now, I wouldn't know anything about the penis part- I didn't screw everybody in the band- but I'll be a Norwegian flapjack if that's not good poetry. So I want to sort of issue a general alert. On the off-chance that there are women living Alberta, Canada who regularly check tagteamrecords.com I'm gonna put this out there: Please have intercourse with my friend. In fact, if you live anywhere in Canada, please get in your car, take a road trip, and then have intercourse with my friend. He should be easy to find. Just follow the only road in Canada until you get to Edmonton. Take a right at the meth lab and follow the screaming.

    To send me an electric ball heater click here. (I'm genital-obsessed? Get used to it.)

       Hi. Gregg Vossler here. I’m going to be taking over the Tag Team blog, so I’d better introduce myself. Who am I? What is my major party affiliation? And what kind of breakfast cereal do I find most addictive? As it has been noted on this site before, I am the guy who was notoriously sneak-attack punched in the back of the head by a cast-armed, Santa-suited Matthew Kagler at the inaugural Tag Team Christmas party, which was at that time held at the Kagler home. Sadly, I have no photos to use as a visual aid, but I’m sure you all have good imaginations. All I remember is a blur of red and white and orange (beard), except that I don’t because I was punched in the back of the head and therefore saw nothing coming. That is all water under the bridge now, and frankly, I had it coming to me, since my bandmate/butt brother Kelso Sorenson was responsible for putting Matt’s arm in that cast. Guilty by association. We’ll call it even. But pssst, just between you and me, I still secretly consider it one owed to him. And I’ve bided my time for so long that he’ll never see it coming.

    Yes, I have been a friend of Tag Team for a long time. In fact, I was a member of the first band ever signed to Tag Team- The Submissionaries. That first gig was the genesis of this whole god-damned fruity
    cult- and me, the father. There was me, up there in my cut-off jean shorts, muscled thighs. Just absolutely butchering the shit out of Kelso’s songs. But Matt wasn’t even listening. He just kept staring at my beautiful blonde-haired thighs, which were only gyrating in his head, because thighs can’t gyrate. He went into a kind of trance. And there in that moment the idea for starting an indie label in Beijing was formed, sprung out of my thighs.

    Also, I should add that I’ve basically (minus a number of years not exceeding 20) lived in China since I was ten years old, so anything I say about China should be taken as the God’s honest truth because I am an expert. For instance, I’m 80% certain that the answer I’d give you if you asked me who the premier of China was is the correct answer.

    I want to take a second to welcome “King of Poplar” Ian Sherman back to Beijing where he belongs. He is pretty much the most badass cancer survivor I know, dismissing the carcinogenic effects of 5 million times the acceptable level of air pollution with a dismissive “pshaw.” He has recently been spotted DJing with a glass of a mysterious, viscous liquid with a syringe in it confoundingly sitting next to the CD decks. Mystery solved, he apparently injects what I’m told is a delicious caramel-flavored milkshake directly into his stomach, via a tube, between songs. Because pressing the play button works up quite an appetite. But the lucky bastard- that’s the way to eat. This is really what we should all be doing, since, come on, the mouth is being used for way too many purposes these days. And most of the food I eat on a regular basis just tastes like crap anyhow.

    Send all hate mail and frozen sperm requests here



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