Dearest Friends of Yan Xishan,
It has been a while since I have had the pleasure of “bloggin” (what funny words exist in the post-Revolutionary Age!) for all of you. I have been quite busy, as you might guess, fending off those who would take Shanxi from me. Never will they succeed, of course, but being n00bs they are not smart enough to realize this.
I speak specifically of the pinko bastards who continue to share their wives and dreams of overthrowing my rule, no doubt to get their hands on my wives. Well, at least wives numbers 2 to 9–the first was totally set up by my pops, done for power reasons, and the girl is beyond plump–she makes Ding “a” Ling look like a Shanghai movie star. I once tried to trick her into going to Yan’an to serve as a “diplomat” hoping they would just kidnap her, but she refused to get off her kang, where she sits all day eating donkey meat. I doubt even a Yan’an Yutz would want to share her anyway.
So last week the Pinkos were causing a ruckus over in western Shanxi and I headed out with the troops to check it out. The JPA is still in training–my US adviser in charge of training is just taking forever, it took him three weeks to choose thier outfits–so it was me, the Dare to Die Corps, and my two other American advisers. We had the advantage, thanks to all the equipment the imperialist US has given me, so we headed west in our motorized division. The battle ensued, and let me tell you dear readers, it was a sight to see! I was enjoying it all from my Jeep, drinking bottle after bottle of fenjiu (our local booze) to celebrate.
Victory was at hand, but at the critical moment my men ran out of ammunition. Thus followed an orderly and strategic retreat, which even I had to admit got a bit out of hand–running over those itinerant nuns was probably bad karma. About halfway back to Taiyuan, things got even worse when we ran out of gas. Oh man you should have seen my US advisers shit themselves. Luckily the Pink Menace was traveling by foot (hell, they might have been riding pigs for all I know) so we had a few moments. I sobered up enough to instruct my personal guards to use my fenjiu as gas for our vehicles. The Americans thought I was crazy–at first I thought they objected to wasting good drink, but it seemed they doubted me! Yet sure enough that booze motored us home to safety.
Funny thing is, my advisors do not seem to realize my genius. They keep on harping on about how if we had brought more ammo instead of 400 cases of booze we might have won the battle. I say–there will always be time for another battle. The time to drink, however, is always now.