Oh, the Cantonese…

November 16, 2009

What sick shit will they think of next?  Hot pot, but replacing the broth with boiling elephant placenta?  Nothing those sick southern fucks might do could surprise me.

Way to go, Guangdongren.  Thanks to you, here is what the internet thinks of us Chinese folks:

Let’s just get this straight.  Up here in Shanxi, yes we do eat donkey, dipped in our famous and most delicious Shanxi vinegar (I have three bottles within reach right now).  But we do not go for this sick shit.  Southerners, you are on notice–you best get your culinary act in order, or–and I know this must sound crazy–but stop putting this shit online!  Otherwise you can get ready for a full on JPA invasion.  You will get your ass kicked Chen Jiongming style.

Yan out


#4 Most Impressive Dynasty: The Tang

February 8, 2009

Gentle Readers:

Last night, gazing over the beautiful Taiyuan skyline as the sun set to the west of my fortified palace, watching the sun dip below the fragrant haze created by my coal mines, my mind wandered and I began to ponder some of the big questions that have been on my mind since I was a young lad.  Who or what created us?   Was Hong Xiuquan fucking crazy, or was he actually bat-shit crazy?  Why is it that I was destined for greatness, while peasants are destined to farm using their own shit as fertilizer?  Who put that stick up Jiang Jieshi’s ass?  Does Mao Zedong realize that with his accent, he sounds like a little bitch?

As I pondered my role in this world, and my status as a great Chinese leader (and the #1 Chinese thinker), this led me to a new line of inquiry: What is it that defines us as Chinese?  Not in terms of nationality, as this is a simple question.  In terms of nation, China refers to the great Han race and all those minorities lucky enough to be crushed by our superior numbers and hot pot technology.  No, as I pondered the meaning of “Chinese,” I was reflecting on the role of culture.

Now, when I was a young man, Chinese culture was a simple matter.  Drink tea, quote Zhu Xi whenever possible, eat rice, cripple your daughter by binding her feet, and repeat until you croak and your many sons mourn you for three years.  But within my lifetime, so much has changed!  Sure, we still got the rice thing, but nowadays Zhu Xi is out, and Ibsen is in.  And if you bind your daughter’s feet, you are considered a serious asshole.  A few decades ago, if you could not freely pontificate about the “investigation of things” while your womenfolk hobbled about within the seclusion of your estate, you would not be considered Chinese.  These days?  So much has changed!

Now, of course I am thankful for this change.  I mean, I rule Shanxi, so the whole end of the imperial era thing has kind of worked out for me.  Plus, I like a real active sex partner, and women with bound feet really cannot do some of the real freaky shit that I enjoy.  Yes, I know, this makes me a feminist, don’t remind me.  But if we cannot take Chinese culture and fossilize it, how can we ever be sure how to separate the great Chinese from the dirty, stinky, and typically hairy barbarian?  After worrying about this for a few hours, I finally relaxed, thanks to two things.  First was a stiff fenjiu cocktail, second was my memories of the #4 dynasty of all time, the great Tang dynasty!


The Tang was truly a great time.  First, as you can see, this was a large dynasty, one that extended a Chinese bitch slap all the way into Inner Asia along the Silk Road.  But what really appeals to me about the Tang was that this was a different China, one would have been unrecognizable to my parents and their generation.  That punk Zhu Xi had not yet put the Neo in Neo-Confucianism.  Women did not yet bind their feet, which meant when you sexed up Yang Guifei, she could do all your favorite positions!  Perhaps most importantly, China was open to other cultures and ideologies–Confucianism was actually taking a back seat to Buddhism!  Crazy.  But if China was culturally so different during one of its greatest eras (specifically, the #4 era ever), then China can change and grow!   This is great news for my plan to replace tea drinking with bourbon guzzling.

Now, the Tang is often considered to be the #1 dynasty of all time.  Close, but not quite.  How can we overlook the fact that the Tang was breifly usurped by the only female emperor in Chinese history?  Thanks to the so-called Empress Wu, the Tang has a black eye that cannot be covered up.  Good thing that I am a feminist, because I can come out and say what all Chinese men know, even us feminists: Women cannot rule All Under Heaven!   All Under My Pants, yes, but not All Under Heaven.


A Warlord Gives Thanks

November 27, 2008

Faithful Readers:

As the cold frost of the Shanxi winter rapidly advances, spirits here in Taiyuan are still high.  True, the JPA have exchanged their hot pants for a more insulated long pants uniform, but the fit is still tight.  Kudos to the designer of our military garb!  True, he is a notorious homosexual, but his rampant misogyny means he truly enjoys outfitting our Shanxi ladies in the most exploitative of outfits.  You think a feminist was behind the phenomenon of women’s clothing with words on the ass?  I think not.

My US military advisors are in a particularly fine mood, as they prepare to celebrate yet another American holiday.  Sometimes they baffle me, with all of their many celebrations, none of which (as far as I can fathom) involves sweeping the graves of their ancestors.  Earlier I have blogged about my encounters with Halloween and the most odd “four and twenty” holiday.  True to form, my advisors have been encouraging me to adopt Thanksgiving here in Shanxi, in order to (in their words) prove our “civilized” status.  Please, our coal mines are more than proof of our fine civilization?  Plus, do you not see the ancient Shang dynasty ding I use as my ashtray?  Check it out, and yes this is my actual ashtray:


As I have told my American “friends,” the Chinese race cannot and will not simply import this barbarian holiday.  I have, however, implemented a “Thanksgiving with Chinese Characteristics.”  What does this mean?  First of all, no turkey.  What a disgusting food, most foul.  We will however, feast in our own unique way.  Inspired by the American creation of the “turducken,” I have commissioned my palace chefs to create a super jiaozi.  According to my own design, it will work like this: First, take a cabbage and pork jiaozi, than put that inside of a lamb and carrot jiaozi, and then put that inside of an egg and tomato jiaozi.  Then, deep fry that sucker.  Oh yeah.  Far superior to turkey.  The JPA, however, will most likely insist on mala hot pot.  Sad but true: I have lost more soldiers to explosive diarrhea than to actual explosives.

We will also follow American tradition by giving thanks.  I will start:

I am thankful for holding down Shanxi, the most wonderful place on earth.

I am thankful for being able to fly under the radar.  While Mao Zedong and Jiang Jieshi fight it out, I will bide my time and most certainly emerge the victor of All-Under-Heaven.

I am thankful for the recent influx of sex workers into Taiyuan.  Prices are down, choices are up, and thanks to their inexperience, VD rates are at an all time low.  Thank you, rural unrest!

I am thankful that my Beerbot is still functioning.  If it breaks, I am pretty sure that no one here in Taiyuan will be able to fix my most precious servant.

Finally, I am thankful for booze.


Let’s Raise Some Awareness!

June 15, 2008

Hola Followers of the Great Me:

Yes, once again a long time has past since I had the opportunity to “blog”; my apologies if you were concerned that my Shanxi supercomputer had malfunctioned, leaving me with no way to update you on the world of Taiyuan, circa 1941. There in fact was nothing wrong with my supercomputer–certainly nothing a dip in a vat of our famous Shanxi vinegar could not fix. No, I have been unable to update this most awesome of all blogs due to recent events here in the Middle Kingdom. What a tragic few months we have had here, it is enough to bring a tear to my eye. Of course I am way too dehydrated to ever cry (little known bonus effect of daily fenjiu consumption), but you get the idea.

Where to start? The damn Commies continue to gain power in the rural hinterlands. I have become increasingly exasperated–how can Mao execute so many landlords while still finding time to spread VD among his many “cultural troupes”? True multi tasking. The Guomindang is still under the control of a brain-dead leader who cannot see the brilliance of what historians will one day call “The Shanxi Way.” And the Japs–don’t even get me started on those pervs.

To add a new level of tragedy, there has recently been a major earthquake down in the Sichuan basin. Word is that you could even feel it up here in Shanxi, although I felt nothing. And when I say I felt nothing I literally felt nothing–I was passed out in my private opium den, my Shanxi Beerbot opening bottles using my nostrils. A few buildings here in Taiyuan collapsed, but that is nothing new. My nephew wins most of the contract bids around town, and I don’t mind telling you, he is as incompetent as he is corrupt. I would not even let him build me a birdhouse, although schools for the poor are another thing altogether.

Now the details of what happened down in Sichuan are pretty hazy–you have to understand that here in 1941 there is almost no mass media, and the internets is pretty haphazard at best. But it seems that in the aftermath of the earthquake, all Chinese are coming together to help our Sichuan brothers and sisters. Of the various fund raising drives, only one, however, has truly caught my eye. I speak of the work of Xiao Yun (that is Little Cloud to you laowai), a young Sichuan lass who has decided to encourage philanthropy by stripping down for the camera. Xiao Yun, take it away:

Now I could post a few more of the photos, and I am sure those of you who stumbled onto this blog by searching for “Beijing teenage hookers” (you know who you are) would be pretty excited about that. But I think this image speaks volumes–nothing says “donate to charity” like a girl stretched out on a fake sheep skin rug.

Now, some have been quick to attack Xiao Yun, saying that she is out for fame. But I applaud her willingness to use her body for the greater good. With this in mind, I hereby order Xiao Yun conscripted into the JPA. If she wants to sacrifice her body for China, she can do it on the front lines with the rest of the Juicy Pants girls. Don’t worry Xiao Yun–there will be plenty of hot pot, so you will feel right at home.


Bai Bai Dalai, Ni Hao Ma Bufang

August 2, 2007

My Dearest Readers,

After enduring weeks of near starvation, subsisting solely off Yak and Yak-By-Product, the great Tibetan experiment has come to an end.  Due to the machinations of the 13th Dalai Lama, myself and the remnants of the once mighty JPA were expelled from the Tibetan highlands yesterday, although to be honest this comes as a relief. Yes, I had been hoping to rally my Tibetan cousins to fight for me, but the thought of drinking any more yak butter was creating certain mental imbalances that could not be ignored. And the JPA! Perhaps if the yak meat was sliced razor thin, then dunked in a blazingly spicy broth that ensured epic laduzi–well then they might have been able to survive the thin air.  As it was their health and spirits were at an all-time low.

So we left, traveling by yak-pulled carts to Xining, the capital of Qinghai. Departing Tibet I had time to ponder this great land and came to some conclusions. The first is that yaks are the stinkiest when you travel behind them. The second is that having young boys become monks, such as is the practice in Tibet, deprives them the chance for free thought. What a brilliant way to pre-indoctrinate the masses! I will look into this in the future. Finally, reincarnation is also pretty sweet. The only problem is that once you are Yan Xishan, you can only go down in the next life.

Now that I am in Xining, I am making plans to meet with Ma Bufang, the local warlord. Perhaps he will be able to assist me in my drive to Shanxi. He is a Hui, one of China’s many ethnicities. The Hui are Muslims, so I am expecting a warm welcome, complete with lots of booze. Expect an update shortly.


A Strange Event

April 28, 2007

Loyal Readers,

Many have written me asking how the plans for the reoccupation of Shanxi are going. I will address these concerns shortly, but in order to do so I must first discuss the issue of cultural estrangement.

As we all know, Yan Xishan is quite cosmopolitan. As I have noted earlier, in my youth I studied at a Japanese military academy, and have had extensive contact with the US through my military advisors in Taiyuan. I have also had business dealings with Russian and Mongolian whores. Now that I am temporarily stationed in the US, however, I have found some things beyond my comprehension. Strike that—I have found that in some ways Americans are crazy and make no sense.

Thus last week some of my advisors held what they called a “Four-Twenty Party.” At first I thought this was a reference to a military code, but searching my US Army manuals, I found no such reference. Given that most American holidays revolve around drinking and gift giving, I inferred that perhaps I was to spend four dollars and twenty cents on booze. I thus purchased six cans of “Milwaukee’s Best”—in retrospect I hope the claim inherent in this moniker proves to be false.

I arrived at the party, only to be greeted by an odor most foul. I believe that some of the guests brought beer that had been skunked. The behavior of the crowd was also most peculiar. Take for example the JPA, who had also attended. They spent most of the time eating American BBQ, which is strange, as they hate American food! They usually refuse to eat anything that is not cooked in malatang, but here they were stuffing hamburger after hamburger in their mouths. I fear we may need to resize the JPA uniform.

I ran into General Bragg, who insisted I tell the assembled guests about my plan to retake Shanxi with the Zombie JPA. I protested most vigorously, as I considered this matter top-secret. He insisted, so I proceeded to outline in detail my cunning plan, thinking that perhaps I could influence some policy makers. To my horror, the reaction was not awe but laughter. Non-stop laughter, as if they found my plan humorous.

This bizarre reaction leads me to believe my invasion plan will not be approved for funding. Back to the drawing board.


A new plan to retake Shanxi!!!

April 28, 2007

Loyal Readers and Wary Enemy Combatants,

 I write you in a state of great agitation.  From Taiyuan and in Shanxi in general I have been receiving distressing reports regarding the actions of both Jiang Jieshi and those Commie Pinkos.  Jiang Jieshi’s nutbag wife has been dismantling my favored drama troupes and has instructed her new troupe to prepare a production of Macbeth.  Out out damn spot indeed!  Meanwhile Zhu De has personally “liberated” my forth wife.  At least he could have done me the favor and also taken the first wife off my hands.  

 But distress has led me to develop a new and dare I say foolproof plan to retake my former stronghold (although I don’t think I will take back number 4, she has in theory now slept with all of greater Yan’an).  The story of how this plan came to me is interesting in and of itself.  Last Friday I was feeling depressed and borrowed General Bragg’s jeep to go for a ride, thinking that this might cheer me up.  But the damn clean air just mocked me and made me miss my coal mines that much more.  Luckily General Bragg, being a complete and total soak, always has a bottle or five of booze in the glove compartment.  I drove around drinking until I passed out.  As luck would have it I rambled off road and came to a stop in a large parking area.  When I awoke I was surrounded by other cars, all of use facing a large movie screen.

I would later learn that this bizarre setup is called a “drive in theater.”  Crazy Americans—what is next, drive in restaurants?  But I digress.  The movie they were showing gave me a genius idea, one which will no doubt catapult me back into power.  What is this idea? 

Zombies.  That is right, zombies.  Brain eating undead.  We all know the Commies have small brains, but brains they must have.  How could a Yan Xishan led army of zombies fail?  They cannot be killed—they are already dead!  I am already planning my victory parade.  

In order to put my plan into action I am preparing one of my JPA units.  Luckily, they will eat anything, but unluckily they only eat food cooked hotpot style. I have added cow brains to their malatang diet, they love it although I doubt they have any idea what they are eating.  Hopefully when they are zombie-fied they will not require seasoning on their foods.

But how to turn them into zombies?  This part of the equation eludes me for the moment.  General Bragg refuses to discuss this.  Shit, all he does is drink and call me “inscrutable.”  That is why I am calling on you, loyal member of the Yan Xishan Empire, to help spread the word about this plan.  Email this plan to everyone you know, especially those in leadership positions in the military-industrial complex.  Let them know about this great plan and soon the Zombie JPA will be eating Commie brain!