Thai Thoughts And Anecdotes Part 397

Hello Dana Fans: three things to ruminate about today. Enjoy. And a bit of Dana Enterprises mailorder inventory business: we are all out of T-shirts of me riding a horse wearing only a speedo bathing suit

(me, not the horse). Sorry.

DEVOLVING

Recently I have been perusing and reading and examining a book titled: The Life of the Right Rev. Daniel Wilson, D. D., — Late Lord Bishop of Calcutta and Metropolitan of India by The Rev. Josiah Bateman, M. A. Published in 1860 in two volumes — total 942 pps.

So, what is so interesting about this? The book was published in 1860. Why is that interesting? I'll tell you why. There are no typo, spelling, punctuation, grammar, or formatting errors. As a matter of fact I have not been able to find a writer or printer error of any kind. The text is dense and complicated with different margins, and different fonts, and different page layouts, and lots and lots and lots of words. No errors. Still not impressed? This book was written out longhand and then a giant pile of handwritten pages was submitted to guys at the print shop who had to hand set the type. And believe me this text had to be set by highly focused professionals because the content is no testosterone filled adventure story. We've got one church guy doing a biography of another church guy. I don't want to say this book is dry but . . . still no errors.

What does this have to do with Thailand? Simple. Go to a book store in Thailand that has foreigner clientele and pull down some of the modern Thai-farang novels and non-fiction 'true-life' accounts. Many of these books are riddled with printing, spelling, grammar, sentence structure, tense, punctuation, and formatting errors. Mention this to the author, or mention this to the printer, or mention this to the editor and they always have a story (excuse). Do you know what an excuse or a 'story' is? It is a reworking of reality. Reality does not need to be reworked. Just be sincere, set high standards, and do excellent work.

Here is my take on this. In 1860 the author Rev. Josiah Bateman and the publisher John Murray of Albemarle Street in London cared. Today we don't care.

We are going backwards. We are devolving. Maybe in terms of Darwin's ideas on evolution we peaked in 1860. It would not surprise me. People today with low standards always have a story to explain their low standards. We have become a race of story tellers, excuse makers, dissemblers, salesmen, and frauds. I think I'll just put this Thai scene novel back up on the display stand. If the author and the publisher do not care, why should I?

Oh, and one more thing I almost forgot. Do you know one of the guaranteed threads in any response from authors or printers or publishing houses that I get when I admonish them regarding low standards? Get ready. They say I do not understand the publishing industry, or 'what it takes to get a book published'. Sort of like the daughter who has become a whore telling her mother that she just does not understand the modern world. Get real. We are not launching rockets to the moon here, or conducting subatomic particle research experiments, or . . . it is writing, editing, proofreading, and publishing. This excuse delivered in an aggressive, self-righteous, self-serving juvenile wail is the same excuse Thais offer foreigners for low standards–you do not understand Thai culture. Get real: and set a standard you have never even thought of; your next book will be perfect. Not one error. They did it in 1860.

I'M A FOOL

I'm moving with focused singleminded butt clenching purpose down the alley that connects Khao San Road to the road that the Vientai Hotel is on. In my opinion this is the best hotel and the best location in western Bangkok but right now I wish it's location was a lot closer. Gotta go to the bathroom.

In the hotel room I notice that everything that is coming out is yellow. I don't feel bad and I don't feel sick but the yellow color in the toilet bowl is attention getting. What could it mean?

I review my recent eating habits. Then it hits me. Spring rolls. I have been eating a lot of Khao San Road spring rolls. Four at a time piled on a little white paper plate and I never take the dipping sauce. Love the spring rolls.

Well, the spring rolls are fried in oil and the yellow color in the toilet bowl must be the oil. Time to change my diet. Act like an adult. Heed the warning. Modify my behavior. Easy.

Later that night I have to go back over to Khao San Road to look for something at Boots Pharmacy. There is a lady selling spring rolls on the sidewalk. I buy another four on the little white paper plate with the toothpicks stuck in them, and I take a napkin and the dipping sauce. Back at the hotel I cut the spring rolls up with scissors and use the toothpicks to dip them in the sauce which I emptied into a glass hotel ashtray. Delicious.

I'm a fool.

EMAIL TO GARY

It is another beautiful early morning in Pattaya and the parasails are already zig zagging through the sky. Sitting in my writer's nook in front of the picture window of my sixth floor ocean facing suite in the A. A. Hotel I was penning an email to Pattaya Gary when my computer notified me that I had an incoming message from my attorney.

"Sex poured out of her like milk from a bottle when it is tipped over on a table."

had to wait for additional lines to Gary while I examined my attorney's message. He is on full-time retainer at the Boston law firm Dewey, Cheatum & Howe and he was informing me that Korski had petitioned his county court in his state for a legal name change and it had been granted.

His legal name change petition paperwork showed that he wanted to become G. S. Korski. Goodbye Korski, hello G. S. Korski. Courtroom testimony, deposition statements, and application paperwork filings provided the back story that G. S. stood for Green Star. He wanted his Green Star awards on the Stickmanbangkok. com website to become recognised legally as a part of his persona. Green Star Korski. The legal system in service to well earned achievement and pride. Green Star Korski. G. S. to his friends.

Korski in a two table restaurant outside of Crapburi, Thailand talking to the waitress:

"No Wan, I don't really go by the first name Green; just call me G. S."

My attorney, Fenner Wicker III, wanted to know if he should pursue this name change thing in a more aggressive way: document acquisitions, public records, etc. I said no, I had more pressing matters because G. S. was once again In My Neighborhood. That's right, like a bee buzzing around a disinterested flower; he was asking local real estate agents to show him apartments near where I lived. Friday afternoon I saw him being escorted by a real estate broker into an apartment building on Charles St. Before that he had been spotted at the Riverhouse on Pinckney St. where someone from Old Forge Realty was doing a lot of head bobbing and smiling. So apparently, he is still trying to live near me. This has a lot of elderly blue-haired Beacon Hill ladies and patrician men with canes worried, especially on the money side of the Hill from Charles St. to the Statehouse and from Mount Vernon St. to Beacon St. Additionally Louisburg Square residents are updating lock, security, window bar, and camera systems. There is Tension in the Force here on the Hill. Most of us have more money than God and consider our prejudices to be examples of high standards. Then there is some humanoid who is proud of getting recognition on a website about Thailand. We have real estate values to consider and there is, of course, the issue of exposure to children. Not our children, they are all in Swiss and English boarding schools, but you get the point.

I offered to act as a mediator, an intermediary, between G. S. Korski's people and the Neighborhood Action Committee Against Korski (NACAK) people, but it turns out that that he does not have any people. Just a lone Green Star writer with a Dana obsession and unresolved anger issues over numerous Dana Fan Club application rejections.

Anyway, back to that email I was sending to Pattaya Gary about a lady named Mel I picked up last night at Superbabies on Soi Diamond. I've got to get going with this because I am picking up Fa at 9:15. What was my last line? Oh, that's right; here it is:

"Sex poured out of her like milk from a bottle when it is tipped over on a table.".