Stickman Readers' Submissions March 26th, 2011

Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes Part 282

Greetings Dana fans and Stickmanbangkok. com fans:

Today an introduction followed by a short essay/story called Forehead Tattoo, and then finishing with a story called Don't Mess with the Terencemeister. Honk if you love variety. Enjoy.

He Clinic Bangkok


"Against the craft, I put, with quiet definite intention, the syncopation or the counterpoint of the Syrian Greek Death of Adonis, with, shall we say, Bion's jazz beat running cross-wise." — ABC of Reading by Ezra Pound.

Of course to the above. I can't calculate how many times I have said the same identical thing to myself. Not a single word or punctuation mark of difference. Identical. Not. Ok, now I am just sighing. It is so depressing to be second
rate. I have no idea what the above quote by Mr. Pound means. I don't doubt it's truthfulness because I am persuaded that no person living or not living knew more about literature than Ezra Pound. But I am clueless. I can not connect
any of these intellectual dots.

CBD bangkok

I think that might be one of the reasons I like Thailand. The environment is not that intellectually challenging so I run less risk of being humiliated by my inferiority. It's a dog pound I can bark in and no one will make fun of me.

Sigh . . . anyway, that is not really want I want to talk about today. What I really want to talk about today is something that Pattaya mongers should do in an essay called Forehead Tattoo, and then an incident at the Windmill Bar in a story
called Don't Mess with the Terencemeister. An essay and a story. Who loves you? Dana does.


I know a guy who knows another guy who has the phone number of a girl who has the address of a retired mamasan who does tattoos for bargirls at affordable prices. Ok, she uses squid ink instead of tattoo ink but that is not really important.
I will pay (that's right, you heard correctly) for the tattoo S. A. F. F. on the forehead of any monger who thinks they need it. Any size letters, any font. I'm paying. What does S. A. F. F. mean?

wonderland clinic


Some of you have been chatting up Fa on the boardwalk. This is wrong, so so wrong. You know it is wrong, Fa knows it is wrong, I know it is wrong. And now all law enforcement authorities know it is wrong.

I have contacted:

Pattaya police
Greater Chonburi enforcing authorities
National Thai police
Thai military
Friends of Chinese bankers
Pattaya volunteer police

United States F. B. I.
Muay Thai Tranny Associates

and all reciprocally cooperating police and Immigration authorities in four contiguous-to-Thailand countries and twenty two other countries. Try and mess with my Fa and escape to Iceland. We will find you.

Fa can be addictive: point taken, but I got there first. Fa told me I was her first. So hands off my Fa. Because she can be addictive the forehead tattoo S. A. F. F. can be helpful. Every morning when you look in the mirror you are reminded


Cameras have been mounted on offshore boats, palm trees, buildings, extra tall trannies, and parasails. Don't even think about it. We will catch you. So do the right thing and get the tattoo on your forehead that reminds you that Fa,
my lovely Fa, is off limits. Act like an adult monger, cut your losses, curb your dreams, be happy with whatever look or word you might have gotten from her, give some thought to how cold jail is in Iceland and: STAY AWAY FROM FA

and now, following the above public service announcement I present a look at my personal Pattaya nightlife in a 100% (I think) true story called:


"The general instability of matter and anti-matter in close proximity necessitates the existence of containment units large enough so that their ratio of surface area to volume is consistent with either the background gamma flux or the
material density of space or both."
— quote by Terence Witt

Yeah, exactly: or BOTH man. Don't mess with the Terencemeister. He's a party animal and an all around rockin' physicist dude at the Windmill bar on Soi Diamond in Pattaya, and he wears a T-shirt that says:


I saw him once lick too much pussy, and drink too many Black Russians at the Windmill bar, and next thing you know he was up on the stage screaming — "I got your Intergalactic Redshift right here." — and pointing at his crotch.
None of us knew what he meant so we just cleared out.

I flagged down a Tourist Police guy on Walking Street and tried to tell the story. I figured Terence Party Animal Witt might be needing some help. I'm smart about those things. Clearing out a bar is not looked on favorably by the Thais
and they play rough at the Windmill (say, which mafia owns this place) bar.

Well, I had enjoyed a few licks on stage myself, and I had enjoyed a few gin & tonics myself, so my miming and verbal skills were a trifle off. Talking about Intergalactic Redshift and pointing at my pants got me temporary incarceration
(for my own good) and delivery to the A. A. Hotel on Soi 13/0. The tourist policeman had an Italian accent, was wearing a St. Christopher's medal, fingering rosary beads, and handing out leaflets that said:

"Have you talked to Jesus today?"

I was drunk, pointing at my crotch, slurring my speech, and wearing a T-shirt that said:

"Have you fxxxed a tranny today?"

The T-shirt might have been a mistake.

Another problem was that I couldn't remember if the name of the gentleman I was trying to help at the Windmill bar was Terence Party Animal Witt or Terence Crazy Legs Witt. So many physicists, so many names.

Anyway, at the A. A. Hotel Jo the night clerk took me in hand and took me to my room. I woke up ten hours later face down on the bed with my right eye following the new day's parasails in the pale blue sunny morning sky. God I love my
life. God I love this country.


Fa is looking a bit older these days…

nana plaza