Go Back To China

The New York Times ran an article on the front page in response to racial slurs against one of their journalists, Michael Luo, the author of said response.

A video with #thisis2016 tag soon followed, showing other Asian Americans sharing their own experiences with racism:

I saw the video on Facebook and asked my friend who posted it if he'd experienced this kind of racism. Like me, he said he hadn't, but an acquaintance of ours had. I actually laughed at some of the racist comments, but that's not because I hate my own kind (humans?), I don't. It's because I have a weird and salacious sense of humor, which has cost me some friends. But were they ever my friends in the first place?

There was a part of me that hoped these experiences were due to the regions these offended Asians lived in. However, New York is probably the most diverse city in the world.

I think part of racism is how we view the world. Hear me out. I had gone on a hike in the Bay Area with a friend. He was looking at a map to figure out the trails. Afterward, he started to back up and continue on the hike. A biker sped down the hill and yelled, "Open your eyes!"

My friend thought the biker was being racist, not realizing he may have walked into the biker's way. I don't recall the biker yelling the words slanty eyes, but I don't go around looking for people to hate on me for being Asian. There are plenty of other reasons to hate me. Just ask those would-be-friends of mine.

From my friend's perspective, he'd been wronged by a lot of people who don't like Asians. He even goes so far as to not ask non-Asian women out because he doesn't want to get rejected due to his ethnicity. There are plenty of other reasons for women to reject you, buddy. Yeah, we don't talk anymore. He's one of the would-be-friends. Sometimes our own prejudices color how we interpret people's treatment of us. 

Though, the article stated that a woman had yelled, "Go back to China!" That would be hard to mistake for anything else but racism. In light of all the hate in the world, this is nothing. Let me explain:

I have a friend who is an Asian woman, and she voted for Trump, loved his rhetoric from his campaign, and fully supports it. There's a lot of fear in her. Anger. Hate. And, as a result, she suffers. I've explained that she causes a lot of her own turmoil, that she succumbs to her own thoughts of fear, anger and hatred. If she were to let go, meaning didn't focus on those thoughts, didn't hold on to them, or delved into them, then she would come out of her epic fucking fog.

But she doesn't, said she can't, so she remains in her own suffering. And the only way to express that suffering is to spout out things that reflect it: fear, anger, hate.

She spat at me, "You're a bleeding-heart liberal," because I voted for Hillary Clinton. Obviously, my friend was just repeating what she's heard because the last thing I am is soft-hearted. She knows this because I don't let her get away with saying stupid shit to me.

When someone hates on you, the issue doesn't lie with those hated upon. It lies within the haters. Because if a person is filled with love, then spouting fear and hatred would be the last thing they'd do with their free time. Unless you have sadistic humor like me.

If people realized the basic truth, that all of this fear is created within their own minds, that it's not real, then so much of the suffering in this world would disappear.

We're not all perfect like you, Jimmy, my ex-girl friend would say. "I know," I often responded.

If being human is perfect, then we all are. Meaning we have moments of happiness. Moments of despair. We can create the most beautiful things the world has ever seen. And can commit the most horrid of acts. Welcome to the human race.

Saturday Morning Quips

Is that a gold dumbbell?

Is that a gold dumbbell?

On a camping trip in the dark and scary woods, about ten of us started talking about what we looked for in the opposite sex. So the women went first because we were gentlemen and were more curious, or, more accurately, eager and desperate. One woman looked at me through sleepy eyes, slanty maybe, no, for sure, and straight up said, "I don't like guys with muscles."

Let me be clear: I go to the gym and workout. I don't take supplements, nor do I workout to try and get big. I'm not an intimidating kind of guy, since I don't care to try and prove my ego's manliness. Staying fit to extend the quality of life is my real goal.

My eyes flicked to her man. What does this say about him? That he was meek? Weak? Miserly? I mean, everyone has muscles, or else how the hell does anyone walk? Everyone fell silent because she was looking right at me. I'd never hit on her because I knew she was dating someone else. And weren't we discussing what we wanted, not what we don't?


When it came to my turn, I simply stated that I wanted a connection. I told them that physical attraction is important, but that connection or that chemistry is really what I'm looking for. The ladies cawed and wanted details like boob size, hair color, fit or fat. They wouldn't accept my simple answer. To each their own.

You talkin' to me?

You talkin' to me?

A group of us slanty-eyed people had met up for dinner. Someone asked the group if we were to work as an assistant to anyone, who would that person be? The most popular answer was Hugh Hefner. Yes, ladies, that came from the guys. Mature weren't we? One born again Christian stated she'd assist anyone at the table, proving that service to her fellow man was the most important thing in her life.

My answer was Bruce Lee, and I explained that he had pursued acting during the time when racism against Asians in Hollywood was pretty high, still is if you consider the media's views of Asian women and Asian men (Beauty and the Geek). Most people don't understand the racial struggles Bruce had gone through on both sides of the river. One girl said white people can't do martial arts (I raised my eyebrows), and Bruce Lee created a niche. No and yes. 

Bruce had his first big break playing Kato, a man who wore a mask for most of his appearance. He also created the idea for Kung Fu, the TV show he was to star in and instead the main part went to white actor David Carradine.

What interested me was why Bruce persevered, despite the immovable road blocks. Simply put, he knew this was his path. How he'd get there was beyond him, which meant that the belief in himself was very important. He always said, "Honestly express yourself." Just do you. Ya know?

Then the guy next to me stated racism against Asians in American cinema didn't start until after Japanese silent film actor Sessue Hayakawa. He didn't know why but mentioned that Sessue was a heartthrob. So I asked him if Sessue was good looking. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "To each their own."

I raised my eyebrows again. 

Further down the conversation, he'd talked about taking acting classes and the time he lived in New York. So I asked if he was pursuing an acting career. He paused for a moment. "I'm gonna keep mum about that."


Unless he got raped or beat up, why would this guy be so closed? What am I going to do? Write about him on my site?


A group of us decided to eat HongKongese food, food that was derived from Hong Kong cuisine. Thanks Captain Obvious, or Oblivious. A buddy of mine and I were standing by the men's bathroom, don't ask me why. He shook his head, complaining that the woman he was talking to was boring him. Why? She just talks about work, he answered. Understandable. I hadn't seen him in a while and asked what he'd been up to? He shook his head and said he'd been dating girls every day of the week. Anyone peaked his interest, I inquired. He shook his head again. Why not? He shrugged his shoulders.

Who's boring?

At the end of the night, he asked if I saw anyone I was interested in, and I shook my head because no one had caught my eye nor my ear. Then he complained that he didn't find anyone attractive, but was upset he hadn't gotten a number. Why do you need a number?

"It's a numbers game," he said.


Here's the thing: a baseball player doesn't go up to bat with the intention to strike out, so he can statically move closer to his next hit. He goes up to bat with the only goal of hitting that ball, a home run even. It's only after striking out does he put his mind at ease by thinking that he's now closer to that next hit.


Several of us the other night talked about our worst dates. A woman recalled a blind date that hadn't gone well. They met at a coffee shop and she called him to see if he had arrived. He confirmed, but she couldn't spot him. She kept asking him where he was, what he wore, and realized he was right behind her. When she turned around, she was shocked by the sight of him. This peaked my interest. Was he too tall? Too short? Had a third eye that was actually open? A twin brother attached to the hip?

"He looked like my father," she said, recoiling. He was old, in other words. She didn't want to be impolite and leave immediately, despite wanting to.

So I asked if she let him down easy at the end of the date. She said no, unable to break his heart. "Did he call you afterward?" I said.

She thought about it for a few moments.

Crud, I thought deeply. "How many times did he call you?"

Not only had he called many times, but she didn't answer, which meant that he was interested but also had to go through the pain of wondering if she was. I advised her that she should have stated her non-interest when they parted, but she couldn't do it because she didn't want to hurt him. I'm sorry, but that's an inconsiderate bitch. Several of us tried to explain why letting this man go in the beginning would be like ripping off a bandaid, letting him know to move on, instead of peeling it off slowly and painfully, pulling at pieces of the bloody wound, as he tried to set a second date. She didn't get it. Unfortunately, I found this to be pretty common among both men and women.