China-focused Satire, Social Commentary, Comics and More


Totally Awesome Picture of the week 53

Is this how you feel? As though you’ve been stripped naked, skewered through the eye sockets and rotated continuously from bright light to roasting flame, flopping lewdly at the mercy of gravity, doing your best to keep what’s left of your eyes on the man with the cleaver, the determiner of your fate, hoping beyond hope that the next cracking thwack is your neck being separated from your body and effectively ending the misery?


Heh, heh. Us either. But, you have to admit that, maybe sometimes you could relate to a little bit of the above imagery, maybe. Take the holiday season, for example.

How could this Western consumer-centered storm of cheer possibly be translated into a meaningful event in Eastern culture? Why are there Santa head cut-outs in every storefront window in this Chinese city? What are these almost-familiar half-English Christmas carols that are playing in public buildings?

On their own, these questions are not torturous. Your eyes do start to ache, however, when this innocent pondering is supplemented with first, the unbearable crowds which, toting giant shopping bags, cram the subway and pour out into the streets making even menial tasks such as grocery shopping nearly impossible.

The ache turns to a burn, as the dreaded required Christmas performances are shifted into high gear, the dragging heels of students scarring your back, much like feathers plucked from a sensitive area. And, of course, exams, which, between grading and individual speaking appointments, extend your work week exponentially, pushing that burn past the threshold into a hollow ever-present pain.

At this point, your immune system takes off its shoes and socks and runs barefoot through the mold and excrement of the hutongs so that when you are forced to drink baijiu at the holiday dinner and the truth slips out, offending your hosts, that mold and excrement have no where to go but down your throat. Your once clear vision is now little more than a blur. Light to heat. Heat to light. With the onset of pursuing chills and accompanying goose bumps the transformation is complete.

You are that rotisserie Christmas goose waiting for that shiny savior of a cleaver. In our case, we’ll call it Spring Festival.

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