So the legislature approved the Egg-Tart Law…oh,…
So the legislature approved the Egg-Tart Law…oh, did I say Egg-Tart? I meant the other, more recent craze that’s been sweeping the island for the past few months…what was it again? Pointy shoes? Starbucks Coffee? Little dogs to hold during shopping excursions? Oh, yeah, the referendum law. Referendums are the new egg-tarts; people are all talking about them, lining up for them, and yet have no idea why or if they’re any good. At least the version of the law passed isn’t the teenage angsty “In your face, China!” version the DPP wanted. Unsurprisingly, China’s stopped its sabre-rattling. This could be due to one of two reasons: Either they’ve left the sabres and gone to get actual guns, or they’re sitting around the common room saying to each other “Hmmm, ya know, Taiwanese independence isn’t such a bad idea after all. I say live and let live, no one will benefit from a war, and this whole face thing is silly anyway. If we want Taiwan to be more a part of China, we should try being a China they would want to be a part of.” If they’re smart, they’ll be doing the latter. Then again, if they were smart, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.
Oh, and while I’m ranting (it’s ranting weather, don’t ya know), the following phrase is hereby declared meaningless and to be avoided unless used with Dripping Sarcasm: “I am such a geek.”
To explain: The term ‘geek’ has become an accolade of sorts. It is no longer self-deprecating. People who write “Yeah I know, I’m a geek”* are really saying “I’m way cooler than any of you,” and should be treated as the arrogant putzes they are.
Last night Dean and I met up with Tommie Williamson, who is currently based with the Bunun Tribe near Taidong. He’s working on making a film about them, and he invited us down there. That man can sure tell some stories. Seems like he’s been everywhere and met everyone. He said they probably wouldn’t start filming until next summer, but it would be cool to make a trip down there some weekend when the weather’s nice.
We had arranged to meet at The Brass Monkey, which was ok at first, but soon the environment became uncomfortable as the management turned up the music. We were forced outside to a sidewalk table, but the volume continued to rise until the whole place was shaking and everyone inside had simply given up on even trying to talk with each other. Someone must have neglected to inform the DJ that the place lacks a dance floor. When we couldn’t take any more we left and went to Voice, a much more comfortable bar in an alley just around the corner. Sure, it was exchanging one group of drunk foreigners for another, but at least we could talk.
*I’m sure I’ve uttered this phrase at some point in the past, and calling me an arrogant putz is like saying Michael Jackson ‘has issues’, so don’t bother doing a search.
