Thai Thoughts And Anecdotes Part 148

Goodbyeius Poemium

I can hear the retirement train coming–
Sweet Jesus what a wonderful sound.
No more essays or stories summing;
Wait for me Fa–I'm freedom bound.

With my ear on the rail
I can hear the final submission:
The last writer effort–the very last nail.
The Stickman coffin lid is over me–
Goodbye Stickmanites–it's time to sail.

The Kingdom seems a little same-same:
Every ending of every adventure way to sure.
It's time to sail to new horizons;
Cambodia, Laos or Kuala Lampur.

Good luck to all of you–
Make every day a happy day.
I'll think of you on the boardwalk–
And do not overpay.

INTRODUCTION

Greetings Stickmanites: Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes Part 150 will appear in two weeks. If you have not already joined the Church Of Dana (COD) and the Dana Fan Club (DFC) then I recommend you do so because upon publication of Thai Thoughts
and Anecdotes Part 150 in two weeks it is going to be party time. I have official deputized tranny volunteers in place who are going to shut down Pattaya from Soi 6 to the end of Walking Street at Soi 16 and from Beach road to 2nd road. This will
be the party zone. I know there are smartipants expats out there that like to brag on the Buffalo Bar on Third road or about how there are libation and love centers on Soi 2 that don't get enough attention but just save it. You know where
the party zone is and you know what you have to do. No one allowed in and no one allowed out after Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes Part 150 appears on Stickmanbangkok.com so watch the web site for the exact time of publication. The party will be of
twenty-four hours duration from the time of publication. Don't even think about getting through the party celibate. I'm thinking of having some kind of official penis smelling station in case any guys are trying to ride this train by
just drinking and playing Connect Four. If your private parts don't smell like a water buffalo or a German or Mickey Mouse underpants than I am afraid I will have to make some executive decisions. I'm sorry but if there is one thing
I am known for it is high standards. If you Google deeply enough you will learn that DANA is actually a six thousand year old Suboblovokian word and philosophical concept that means ethically pure, all loving, and deeply respectful of every living
thing. But enough about me–back to the slamming bamming whamming fxxx party.

Anyway, I am paying all the bills. I can afford it. Nude modeling contracts and fees and endorsements have made me a very rich man. The drinks will be free, and there will be no barfines, or short term or long term charges, or condoms (don't
even say the word). And anyone who mentions mothers or bibles or morals or goal setting or personal discipline or helping the less fortunate or being sensitive to others or western women or the World Cup (yawn) will be strapped to a Chinese rocket
and fired from the roof of the Marriott. Men who mention the word resume as in job resume will not even make it to the roof of the Marriott. Cell phone calls will be made by jacked up yaa baa fueled sloe eyed DDT's (Dana Deputized
Trannies) and I will arrive and personally stab you. Hit the road loser. Go back to the dispensary that issued you your penis and turn it back in. Put that on your resume.

Anyway, it is all on me. Hundreds of rice barges, and longtail boats, and fishing boats, and landing craft, and jet skis, and motor boats, and Hobie cats, plus Noi and her jets have been chartered to evacuate the elderly, and the infirm,
and the sick, and the irritating (no coughers or wheezers or wet farters allowed), and children, and the bible people, and tourist families, and non-Thai women, and the French. Actually the French are not going to be evacuated with the rest. We
have special plans for them. Je m'appelle Dana frog eaters! Anyway, the rest of you–start shaving everything in sight.

Put your ear to the ground and what do you hear?
It's a party train coming
And nothing to fear.

No money to spend–
Dana's payin'.
No emotions to defend–
Just have fun–that's what I'm sayin'.

Mark your calendars.
The time is nigh.
Hold her in your arms–
Let out a sigh.

And now for Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes Part 148 entitled: ODE TO BIM. An autobiographical stroll down memory lane and a reminder of why I endure all that I endure in the Kingdom. Enjoy.

It's Bim time–
And I want you to know:
There's a Bim for you and a Bim for me–
Just take it slow.

Feel the attraction?
Feel the pull?
That's your Bim–
And your life full.

So just give in–
It's no whim.
Time to smile . . .
You've found your Bim

PROLOGUE

"There are two ways to become King. One way is to seduce the Queen. The other way is to kill the King. Most men aren't man enough to seduce the Queen–so they opt to kill the King." — Unknown

Think this does not apply to you? Think you are equal to any woman? Do you bridle at the notion that there are women you are not man enough for? Do you let pride cloud your vision in the gender wars? Do you want to show me the size of your
pecs you four beer jackass? Well, do you? No? Sure? Then consider Bim.

ODE TO BIM

An alpha male expat friend of mine in Thailand is living with a woman named Bim that he met in a bar near Bangla Road. He walked into the bar, looked at her face, and the rest was history repeating itself. She was the highliner and he is
big and strong and handsome. One thing led to another. Anyway, by living with her I mean it more in the quantum mechanic physics sense where it is impossible to accurately predict where the two of them will be at any one time. You can plot the
location of the players or you can plot the speed and direction of the players but when you call his number it is impossible to predict whether they will both be there or not. Try and imagine two electrons in a skillet on the stove. Now turn on
the heat. See the way the two electrons are together but acting kind of crazy and unpredictable? With highliner alpha female man masticator Bim there are always little potential bumps in the domestic happiness road:

Bump #1–Thai alpha female irrational anger of a striking cobra.
Bump #2–Thai alpha female mood changes every twelve hours.
Bump #3–Evidence of gestation on the planet Crazy.

Anyway, my friend sends me respectful loving pictures and tells me respectful loving stories about Bim. He loves her or he would like to love her. She loves him or she would like to love him. Remember the two electrons in the hot skillet.
Sigh. Thailand.

She gets away with all of this incendiary heart tearing nonsense because she can. Still not tuned into this situation? Ok, consider this. If you could rape everything in sight what would you do? Really? That's all? Well this woman has
power over other mortals that you are having trouble even considering. Half Thai and half Japanese and all woman; I believe this is one of the most beautiful and charming and sexy and intelligent women I will probably ever witness, hear about,
or dream about. No man can resist her. She has the sexual gravity of Jupiter. The average man has the gravity of a wandering asteroid. The contact on her surface barely awakens her but is man killing. Think I am exaggerating? Ok, then imagine
this. Imagine a room full of happily married couples. The wives all love their husbands. Now push Bim into the room. The wives will immediately start dragging their husbands out of the room before they lose them. DANGER DANGER DANGER. Bim.

Recently my friend was involved in a motorcycle accident that was serious. Under stress he clamped down on the front brakes of a crotch rocket. The results were predictable and ballistic. Luckily he was wearing a helmet. At the time he and
Bim were having a problem (Bim) in their relationship. She returned to him to nurse him. I have pictures of her nursing and applying dressings and sleeping on the couch by his side. Electrifying. She is dressed in a bikini and leaning over him
as she changes the dressings. Dark skin, flawless figure, small waist, classically featured Asian face, long black hair, jewelry. The woman is stunning. When I sit at the computer and look at pictures of her that sound I hear is the air being
sucked from my lungs. Quick, where is the oxygen bottle. Bim. I now have dreams of renting a motorcycle in Thailand and purposely crashing it in the hopes that a Bim will show up to touch my brow and replace my bandages. I have these dreams with
frequency and with detail. Imagine the most sexually compelling woman in the world kissing your cheek. That's the moment of impact in these dreams. In America these would not be reasonable dreams but in the Kingdom this makes a lot of sense.
Some advanced physicists opine that in different dimensions of different universes there may be different laws of physics. Think Thailand. Think Bim.

Long Thai fingers and long Thai legs and flat Thai stomach with Japanese features in a head and face that screams Alpha Female. Normally I am not an enthusiast of the Japanese female face (inbreeding knows only entropy) but this totemic mask
of sexuality reminds me of the Somerset Maugham quote: ". . . it is a beauty that batters you and stuns you and leaves you breathless."

If she had the desire it would be first class tickets round trip to Tokyo once a month, limo greeting at the airport, penthouse suite, and bucketfuls of favorable exchange rate Jap money. Rich fat repressed Jap businessmen in Tokyo would
crawl over jagged glass with their asses on fire to get to this woman. Only instead of 4-4-4 (four inches, four minutes, four thousand baht) it would be more like 4-4-40 (four inches, four minutes, forty thousand baht). If she dyed her hair blonde
it would be 4-4-80 (four inches, four minutes, eighty thousand baht).

But she loves my friend. She may not always know that she loves him–she may sometimes need a life event like his motorcycle accident to remind her that she loves him–but she loves him. People pick each other. She has picked
him. Gorgeous skin and beautiful hair. Intelligent eyes that can either speak of love and companionship or; when hooded, creep you out and scare the life out of you. Hide the scissors.

Women here in the States like to ask– "What is so special about Thailand?"

It is not really a question but more of an accusation. I used to be fooled by this question and think they wanted to have a conversation about different gendered adults making different choices but believe you me I have learned my lesson.
It is not really a question and they are not really interested in the answer.

Intelligent adult sharing between the genders is not what these western women want. What they want is for you to have a heart attack and crash to the marble floor of the mall and then they want to eat another bag of cookies. When I was growing
up I was, like all other boys in America, exposed to the nursery rhyme lines:

"Sugar and spice and all things nice
That's what little girls are made of."

I'm still looking.

Anyway, at times like this when confronted with these lard bucket mall monsters I'd love to be able to show them a picture of Bim. To be able to reach in my wallet and pull out a laminated picture of Bim. A picture my friend took of
her face just as she was waking up. A face without pretense or calculation. A face before the innocence is replaced with the adultness of our lives. Breathtaking. Spellbinding. I'd carry this picture of her face around in my wallet and every
time one of these stupid white bitches started in with the negative vibes about Thailand and men who go there I would just show them the face of Bim.

Case closed.

Can you find a face like Bim's face in the shopping malls of white America? Odds are that you should be able to. Odds are that this should read like an unbalanced, or childishly preoccupied, or obsessed male screed. But you can't–you
can't find a face or a figure or a woman like Bim in the public places of white America. And that is why Ladies-of-America I go to Thailand. The tickets were delivered to my office yesterday and I leave in a couple of days. When I get to
Pattaya I will call my friend. I hope he invites me to come over for a cup of coffee. I hope I get to meet Bim.

Pinpricks of light in our souls. That's what we steer for. It isn't gravity that runs the universe, or dark matter that determines the tumbling future, or chaos theory stabbing at the soul chilling randomness of the whole thing;
it is hope springing eternal. The spiritual perpetual motion machine that powers our hearts. Surgeons love to say that our hearts are electrical devices residing in pumps. No. Our hearts are witnesses. Witnesses to hope.

Hope makes us go on. Love is the lure, but Hope makes us choose to stumble rather than to fall. Someday I hope to meet Bim. I know I am not man enough for this woman. No contest. Don't even have to waste my or anyone else's time
on the subject. If she was the Queen I would have to kill the King. No way could I ever seduce this woman. But that does not mean I am dead to desire or insensible to the pleasures of honor and devotion and reverence and veneration. I would like
to meet Bim. To look into her eyes and to shake her hand. To make contact with her. Maybe she'll smile at me and be flirtatious. Give me the gift that only a woman can give a man. A smile. When I get to Pattaya I will call my friend. I hope
he invites me to come over for a cup of coffee.

I hope I get to meet Bim.

Stickman's thoughts:

There are heaps of Bims out there.