Stickman Readers' Submissions June 16th, 2012

Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes Part 332

Hello Stickmanites and everyone who owes me money. Today Part Two of the Dana Quote Contest and then a nice story. In case you have forgotten the procedures for the Dana Quote Contest:

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All procedures, policies, paperwork, and prizes will go through Dana Enterprises. Do not contact Stickman. He's too busy making bank runs, doing deals. and entertaining powerful people. I'm the one who loves you. It's always
been me. No prizes awarded to members of the Dana Fan Club. They have an unfair advantage. And no, we have already received this question; you can not sleep with me to win the prize. Sweet Jesus On A Cracker. We will call this the Dana Quote Contest
(DQC). It will only run fifteen times. Fifteen opportunities for you to be somebody and don't forget the first email with the correct answer gets the prize. And now the quote:

DQC2: "Idiot can not make phone calls. I charge him 50 baht for cell phone calls. I stand in the middle of Soi 13/0 and yell to make it look difficult. Idiot." — Anna, A.A. Hotel Activities Director

and now for today's story . . .


What's a reverie? Well, it is kinda like a daydream. Not a night dream but something you would be thinking about in a dreamy way during the daytime. For instance you might be staring at the attractive woman sitting across from you at
work and having a dream about the two of you together. Or you might be dreaming of giant bat-like creatures crashing through your boss's window and tearing his face off. Another common reverie or daydream we all share is what we are going
to do when we win the lottery. Houses, and boats, and fancy cars, and trips, and acts of charity populate these daytime dreams. I would spend the money on international sign up centers for the Church of Dana, and the Dana Fan Club, and the movement
called Danaism but that is just me.

Anyway: I have had a Thai, and more specifically Pattaya, reverie for years. Daydreaming this drama gives me pleasure. So what I want to do now is to give you my reverie right up to the climax and then you can finish it. I'll lay it
all out with all the information and all the details you need to know, and then you step in at the end and take over. The last thing you will hear from me is:

"Now you finish."

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Why? Because if you finish the reverie then you will be more involved. This dream needs soldiers. I am recruiting.

To wit: if you read the Thai newspapers regarding Pattaya the amount of crime, and escalating crime, and violent crime is now impossible to ignore. An excellent example of one of these newspapers is the Pattaya City News. The front page broadsheet
that you scroll through on the computer screen is crime after crime after crime. Much of it directed at foreigners and much of it perpetrated by male Thai punks on motorbikes. It is either the snatch and run, or the hold up. Local scum involved
in crimes of opportunity against defenceless people on the lookout for Thai smiles. I hate these punks. I would like to do a little dance with this scum. Here is the plan–the reverie. And don't forget: I'll start but you finish.


1. Twelve 24", 30", and 36" 10mm gold chains including concave curb, brick upon brick, dual sliced cylinder, basket rope, and Gucci anchor chain styles.

2. Two ghetto style gold spinner watches, cash symbol gold money clip, gold plated dog tags, gold and diamond skull pendant, and gold rings and ear studs.

3. One Aussie style long duster coat of purple dyed crocodile with Velcro closures instead of buttons. Collar and sleeves cut away.

4. One sawed off pump action shotgun. Right side leg holster.

5. One Uzi sub machine gun hanging in a sling off my left shoulder.

6. Full body armor front and back including skirt to the mid thigh.

7. Backpack medical kit.

8. One pair disposable blue nitrile medical gloves.
Note: No night time sighting systems. This is not about marksmanship or hunting. Just putting down trash at point blank range. Ballistically the shotgun is overkill but it does three
things. It stops conversations, it stops vehicles, and it stops witness involvement.


12:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m.


Any night time empty soi near high density Thai punks on motorbikes.


I jump off the baht bus at the corner of a soi on 2nd Road and sit at the nearest bar. There are bars at this unlikely place and they are choked with foreigners. Lots of action. There are Thai punks all over the place on their motorbikes.
And they are not hanging out to find some foreigner to help them with English. It is a thieves' paradise potentially and bad news for any farang fool who knows too little, drinks too much, and decides to use the soi as a shortcut to Beach
Road. The soi is dark with little traffic. No lights, no houses or shops, no vehicles, no people, and brush and trash and trees and snakes on both sides of the road. Looking for a place to do some business and dump some trash? Perfect. I love
this road.

After enough time spent at the bar broadcasting my big wallet, and my neck full of huge gold chains, and my stupid rich idiot gold bling accessories; I step down to the street, hang a right, and start down the dark soi. It is dig down deep
time now. Mind control, and breath control, and final commitments made. As I start down the soi and the darkness envelops me I do two things: I start to drag my right foot as if I am a cripple; and I start to put on the medical gloves. No need
to leave prints. Dragging my foot and snapping and pulling at the blue gloves I look like a little strange farang. Sending a message: I am old, I am short, I am small, and I am weak. Bullies never fight in their own weight class. It is almost
too easy.

It is just myself and the dark road for about fifty yards. I have chosen carefully because there is no moon tonight and it is overcast so there are no stars. Oh what fun we can have in the dark. A quiet time in the beautiful tropical Kingdom
with night time sounds, and gentle breezes coming up from the ocean. Then the surprise. The two lights do not come from up behind me, but from up ahead. No matter. The two lights do not follow each other up the narrow road, but come up side by
side and with a little extra power because the road slopes upward from Beach Road to 2nd Road. Four guys on two bikes and the drivers roar right up to my face holding out big kitchen knives and waving them at my gold neck chains. The passenger
punks start to get off the backs of the bikes. That is when the evening's entertainment begins. A personal reverie enacted.

I drag my crippled foot forward, tear open the coat, bring the sawed off shotgun up on my right, take a breath, insert my trigger finger, feel the soft night wind on my eyeballs, and . . . .

"Now you finish."

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