Readers' Submissions

An Open-Letter to American Women

  • Written by Anonymous
  • July 25th, 2012
  • 9 min read


Black Pagoda Patpong Bangkok

(..I was writing a letter to my ex-old-preacher in America, and I decided that it would certainly fit well here on Stick’s forum, in answer to the “Western Women” issue…)

Dear Reverend Straphorn,

Well, I was so surprised to receive your email over the July 4th holiday, and I was really surprised that after all of these years, and after what your congregation did to me, I was really surprised that you would write to me and ask for a donation… I was also quite surprised that you asked me, “..why had I forsaken God and America for godless Asia..”? and “..why did I forsake my loving and adorable 300-pound ex-old-wife for a harem of 40-kilo Isarn jungle bunnies..” That was especially surprising, and so it took me a while to reflect upon your request, and to formulate my response.

I will simply start by saying that everyone comes to Thailand for a reason. Foreigners come here to escape their home country, (either temporarily or permanently) or to perhaps find something different, or better, or more exciting, or for perhaps all of the above reasons.

As you may recall, I escaped from America after I was accused of trying to have various useless persons killed, but more on that later. I mean, at the time, it seemed like a big deal, (being accused of attempted murder and all…) but now, peering into the haze of that past life, it seems so unremarkable. So many expats come to Thailand to escape something, or to find something, or simply to just “exist” someplace where a man can be a man. We are all here for a reason. Men come to Thailand to do things, and be things that they cannot do or be anyplace else.

I offer these observations from the point of view of a 63-year old Western white male, of American origins. I consider myself to be conservative, a traditionalist, and a realist, and a ‘racialist’. I hold these truths to be self-evident: (1.) There is a natural order to all things in the Universe; (2.) There are positive and negative differences between all persons, we are surely not created ‘equal’, we are all created very individually and very differently; (3.) American women are among the most useless and despised creatures on the planet.

Escaping from America, and making my way to Thailand was the turning point in my life. I waited too long, and I kick myself everyday for not doing it sooner. I came here 13 years ago; I was age 50 at that time. I should have come here at age 30. Hindsight is truly 20-20.

First the job loss, and then the divorce, my road to perdition lead me to Thailand just as surely as the smell of mama’s cooking led me to the kitchen. There was no place else for me to go. Where else would I be if not for Thailand? I was raised middle-class-WASP-whiter-than-white, in that part of America near the tri-corners area, where Georgia, Florida, and Alabama share the Chattahoochee River. That was home, but it ain’t home no more… Thailand is home.

My job was unremarkable by American standards. I had worked hard all of my life, studied hard in high school, then volunteered for the Army, went to Vietnam. I completed engineering college, and then I slowly worked my way up the ranks in an industrial plant. My career was unremarkable by American standards. Hard work, promotions every 3 or 4 years, nice pay raises every year, savings, a fine house, land, wife, kids, cars, trucks, boats, mortgages, savings, IRAs, and 401-Ks. I cautiously struck a balance between savings, and earnings, and debt. I truly had it all, the American dream. Then, one day, the mill manager, who was way past retirement age, just up and died. He was old, and he just died. There was no heir apparent.

The parent company, rather than promoting from within the ranks at our mill, brought in some God damned Yankee from way up north in Massachusetts. What a butt hole. Things ran their course, from bad to worse. Then, one day, the bullying new mill manager, after a year on the job, and after having fired three good men, (who were my friends and co-workers) and after making enemies of everyone he met… the new guy got shot. He was just driving to work, and somebody put a 9mm slug into his shoulder. Eight inches low, twenty centimeters low, the gunman fired a single shot, apparently from another moving vehicle, a moving shooting platform, and a moving target. One shot, that found its target, but eight inches low.

The Yankee butt hole mill manager quickly recovered with only a sore shoulder. We all acted sad that he got shot, but in our hearts we were sad that he survived. I can always give you a good parallel or an analogy from the parables in the Bible, and that was one of those times. From the gospel of John, Chapter 11, Verse 35, we know that Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus. Hell, we were all weeping because there was no tomb…

The mill was subsequently shut down, and we were all put out of work. The shooter was never found.

I had invested all of my life’s energy in my family, in my hobbies, and in that old mill. My job was my life. After the mill was closed and we were all laid off, (in the early 1990’s…) my life spiraled down for a few years, and I went from job to job, in America, in Europe, and even in South Africa. Those were some interesting years. I finally found an overseas assignment that paid very well, but that kept me away from home for continuous 3- to 6-month cycles. I was assigned to an engineering posting in which I traveled in a circuit from the USA to Japan, then to South Korea, and then to Thailand and then back to the USA. I loved it. Good money, real freedom, and Asian women about one-third my age who knew how to please me. I lost touch with my Southern Baptist upbringing real quick.

Well, all of that staying away from home created a divorce opportunity. After well over 25 years of marriage, (it seemed like longer…) and with a paid-for home, and with children who were then college graduates, I was the victim of an American-style mega-divorce. I reckon that my ex-old-wife’s attorney figured that he needed the money, so he talked my ex-wife into proceeding with the divorce. Thelma Lou was just your average dumb as a stone country girl. I think of her now in the sharp light of stark contrasts, realizing that she has about half the I.Q. and three times the body mass of the average Asian woman. Thelma Lou’s attorney convinced her that I was cavorting with all manner of women over here in Asia, which was true. I was, but I denied it.

The divorce was unremarkable, by American standards. There was infidelity, irreconcilable differences, and I was accused of being a very dangerous person. I was a gun collector. I had a Federal Government Class 1 Dealer’s License, which allowed me to freely buy and sell and collect common sporting (unrestricted) rifles, shotguns, and handguns. As a legally separate issue, I had also passed every BATF background check in order to collect certain Title 2, Class 3 restricted weapons and devices, which were only transferable on an ATF Form 4 with an ATF tax stamp. It was noted in court, that I was a gun collector, and that the shooting of my former mill manager remained an unsolved crime.

Never mind that the Hooterville police never even considered me a suspect and never even questioned me, that did not matter, it was “enough” for the man-hating woman judge to place a restraining order against me. Next, some street hooker from Orlando, Florida, who I may have casually known (wink, wink) was forced to testify against me. The hooker’s boyfriend was doing time in Raiford Penitentiary for conspiracy, after he allegedly offered his services to some guy in Florida many years earlier, who had a requirement for wife-disposal. Again, guilt by association, I had never discussed with Crystal (or, Stephanie Ann, I forget her street name) the hiring of a hit man. Not that I hadn’t thought about it.

Perhaps Thelma Lou’s attorney was a mind reader; that would certainly explain a lot of things.

Then, later in the trial, as I am sure that you will recall, the whole God damned congregation from “your” church – – the local Pentecostal Holiness Evangelical Church of Jesus Christ Our Lord and Savior (..y’all still got that all-on-one-line helluva long church sign?…) showed up and testified against me. Yeah, you buttwipes were all sure enough born again. Never mind what we all used to do on weekends. Yeah, y’all twisted it all around, testifying against me, as if I had been the ringleader who organized the sex parties, and the pot parties, and all of those fun things that we all did back in the 1970’s. Somehow, conveniently, you lost the old 8mm movie reel of Thelma Lou in doggie position down on the shag carpet, half out of her mind on weed and Boone’s Farm, screaming “…PUT IT IN MY ASS, PUT IT IN MY ASS…”!! Yeah, I reckon once you get all of that born-again thing going, and you get forgiveness, and redemption, and you get saved, and your sins are cleansed, I reckon that the power of prayer somehow erases the movie tapes also, huh?

Well, that was that. Thelma Lou was awarded everything that I owned, and I was ordered by the court of the man-hating woman judge to pay a monthly alimony bill only slightly larger than my salary. If you think America is the land of justice, you are nuts, you ain’t got a clue.

I had no choice. I had just started a brand new assignment with a military sub-contractor, alternating between South Korea and Af-Shit-a-Stan. I wasn’t about to miss out on all of that fun (LOL) so I simply escaped from America, and I haven’t been back since. I packed a few bags, and I left it all behind. The wife, the kids, the dogs, the cats, the land, the house, the cars, the boat, the jet ski, the tools, the guns, and all of those Lynyrd Skynyrd albums, I left it all… I tell myself that I don’t miss none of it. I have, however, subsequently replaced all of the Skynyrd, Allman Brothers, Charlie Daniels, and Hank Williams albums. Some things are more important than others.

Yeah, I know what you are thinking… “Bad Falang, Bad Falang”. Well, perhaps I am somewhat stereotypical of the negative foreigner image, which causes high-society Thais to hate expats, and allows lower class Thais to disrespect us, and cheat us, and steal from us, and use us with impunity… Yeah, well, you can think that if you want to. I have also heard it said that all of the bad Falang who come here to Thailand have three things in common: They come to Thailand for the drugs, the alcohol, and the easy sex. Well, I am here to tell you, it has been at least 20 years since I have used either drugs or alcohol (to excess…), and I believe that 2 out of 3 ain’t bad.

So, preacher, when will we see you in Thailand?

Until next time…


Almost Anonymous