My dear, boneheaded Americans (and, incidentally, yes, that means all of you):
Finally, after lo these many years, you have seen the light and done something right. I have been silent these many months, disgusted with your lame presidential “campaigns”—which are truly nothing more than whine-fests if you ask me, and I’m glad you did—and I was beginning to think that you would never truly change. I have heard so much about your “openness” and your “liberty”—not that I think you are mature enough to understand, much less to handle those gifts, they should only be reserved to those who, like me, can truly fathom their importance—but I had heard so much about them without seeing any actual evidence. I was just beginning to assume that you would never raise your marginally-furred heads above the blue glow of your humming computer screens enough to see the real world, when suddenly you do something like this!

You go and elect a skinny, biracial, well-spoken, intelligent President! Amazing! Astounding! You truly elected Barack O’Llama to the highest office in the land!

I have to hand it to you, Americans, I never thought that I would live to see the dark days when Anti-ruminantism would be overcome, and you would finally see that the highly enlightened members of the Camelid Party were what you needed.

I must admit that I had never heard of this amazing Barack O’Llama before Tuesday night. But for you to overcome your prejudices and elect a Peruvian-Irish-American-Lama-Glama!

I never even knew that there were llamas in Ireland! Of course there have been rumors of the Lost Tribe of Llama, who travelled across the seas in the year of Our Llama 1092 to spread the gospel of the Great God Spitatchoo among the miserable, heathen bipeds. There are of course those among the alpaca who claim to be the descendants of the Lost Tribe, but their claims have never been proven. Obviously, this new president of yours is proof that this Lost Tribe exists and succeeded in bringing the Wisdom of the DillyDally Llama to the Western Hemisphere. And I, Ralph the Diva Llama, am the first to make this connection and to break this scientific discovery! It will rock the science world and finally put those miserable alpaca hangers-on in their places!

So, let me just again congratulate you on electing the Camelid Barack O’Llama into office.

What? He’s not a Llama? He’s an imposter, then! He must be punished for falsely assuming the mantle of Glamaism! He must be…

His name is Barack OBAMA?

I should have known better than to think that you miserable, unenlightened bundles of depilated, elasticized skin could do anything right. No matter how much you try, you are still not ready to accept what is best for you.

Forget it, I’ll have to do it myself. I am formally announcing my candidacy for President in 2012.

This message has been brought to you by the Ralph for President Campaign.

RDL in 2012!!!!

Today is election Day and I know a lot of people who are genuinely excited about it. Personally, I’m completely stressed out.
Now let me say a few things about myself. I’m a moderate. I like balance. If I had to categorize myself, I’d say that I’m a social liberal and fiscal conservative. I’m OK with same-sex marriage. I’m not OK with the Wall Street buyout. I lean more conservative, but I do see the need for social change in our country.
And I have always thought that the Democrats would win this election. I think that the American people are ready for a change. My worry is that it might just be change for change’s sake rather than change for a reason, which is very different. Change what? How much? When?
So why stressed out? Well first of all, because of all the hate out there. On both sides, hate, hate, hate.
Now I’m not naïve enough to think that there was ever a golden age of politics where this didn’t happen. I think we all remember the scare-mongering, the infighting, the name calling, the ad hominem attacks of the infamous election of 1800. But this year, it seems so much more to me.

First the Democrats. I seriously bothers me that the “progressive, compassionate” party would so vilify Sarah Palin. Why the vitriol? Why the Hanging in Effigy? (And don’t tell me that it was just “a Halloween thing” because we all know it was a political statement. Hell, you said it yourself. ) If a Republican had hung a black manikin would we have stood for it? No way. But because it’s Palin, it’s funny. That, my friends, is the textbook definition of a double standard.
And speaking of double standards, I honestly don’t get the whole Barack Obama is qualified Sarah Palin is not argument. Honestly, I don’t. Obama is a first-term senator, with limited experience. At least Palin has executive-branch experience. Being a coalition-building senator and a policy-making executive are two different things. Policy is not driven by public opinion. Sometimes it means doing what you believe is right, even when it is unpopular. Can Obama do that? I certainly hope so, but he’s done a lot of throwing advisors under the bus in his campaign.
I do understand that many people are miffed about Sarah Palin being nominated. They argue that she was nominated simply because she is a woman, and that’s not Equal Rights, that’s special “pity” treatment, and condescending to boot. This is not a “Take what you can get” scenario. It’s much more important than that. I see your argument. But are you only saying that because it was the Republicans who nominated her? Take a step back and ask yourself that question. Did you feel the same way about Geraldine Ferraro? Or did you lambaste people who dared to say that she was only nominated because she was a woman?
And then what about folks who claim that Obama has been groomed for office in part simply because he’s black? Is that the same thing?
Now the Republicans. I have been terribly saddened by their campaign strategies. The negativity, the scare tactics, they all sadden me. The continual stream of vitriol and hate for Obama. I don’t believe that it is based on his skin color, honestly I don’t. But there are lots of slanderous associating his Muslim name with terrorists crap out there. And even more scaremongering. I don’t buy it.
To hear McCain giving his stump speeches “Fight with me, fight this, fight that” has troubled me greatly as well. That’s not what we need. We don’t need more fighting, we need less. We don’t need more anger, we need less. We don’t need more partisanship, we need less. And all of that is what McCain started out promising us. Why the sudden about face?
And something else that bothers me: I don’t want any one party to have total control of all three branches of government. And the Democrats could conceivably do so with Obama, and a filibuster-proof majority in the Congress, and the Supreme Court. If all branches of the government are working toward the same party goal, it short-circuits our vastly important system of checks and balances.
The polls are seeing long lines, and lots of brotherhood. People who fight and scream obscenities at each other when stuck in traffic are patiently and good-humoredly standing in long lines to do it. That is encouraging.
So, as Obama goes on to win this election, as I predict he will, I hope that the optimists and idealists are right. I hope that he is up to it. I hope that he can truly bring the change that we need, that he can repair America’s stature in the world. Because looking like the man or woman to do it is totally different from doing it.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking recently. Thinking about funny things, about stories, about problems, about people, about what I want to do with my life. Thinking about things that go wrong, and sacrifices I have to make. About feeling sorry for myself and well, those other people.

It always annoyed me to no end when I’d be in the middle of a problem, and someone would try to help me by telling me about someone who had it worse than me.

Here I am, shell-shocked because they just found a lump in my wife’s breast.

“At least you don’t have AIDS. Just think of all those babies with AIDS.”

I’m going deaf in one ear.

“Well, you know, you do have both your ears. You know Tom Johnson? He was walking down the street and both his ears just fell off! They have no idea why! True story!

I had food poisoning while out of town.

“I heard this story about a guy who got stuck in a portajohn for 48 hours. Really, He got stuck Friday night after everyone had left, and they didn’t find him until they returned to work the next Monday. Yeah, and there had been a snake in the portajohn he was stuck on and it kept biting him.”

You know the ones, the professional pitiers. The ones who always know someone or something happening that is worse than your personal hell.

They have the best of intentions, they really want to help. I used to think that they must be the shallowest people on the earth if that simple thought would cure their depression.

But the thing about them isn’t that they are wrong, in a sense. Sometimes I am just pitying myself and need to snap out of it. But this simple comparison of my condition to someone else’s isn’t the way to snap me out of anything, at least not if it’s remotely serious. Because now, on top of my problems, I feel guilty for feeling bad about myself when there are people out there with bigger problems than my own. I doesn’t make my problems any less real, it just makes me feel bad about feeling bad about them. And so rather than feeling better, I feel worse.

And that’s when it hit me. The guilt was the key. These people aren’t wrong, they are just stopping a few steps too short. The thing isn’t to feel better because there are people are worse off, the thing is to help do something about the people who are worse off, and you’ll feel better. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, but not by feeling sorry for someone else, but by doing something for someone else.

Because when it’s about someone else, and not all about you, you know what? You feel better. And when you feel better, you think better, you have a better attitude, and you can deal with your own disasters. Because it’s not about you anymore. It’s bigger than you. But you are doing something to make someone else happy.

And that always makes me happy.

Things you thought you might have to say as a parent


Don't put that raisin in your nose.


Corollaries to the things you thought you might have to say as a parent, but which you never suspected might have to come out of your mouth


Don't put that raisin in your nose and then eat it.

Luke: Mmmmm. I love me some Maple and Brown Sugar...What the...a face in my oatmeal?

Oatmeal: Luuuuuuke....

Luke: Jesus?!? Is that you?

Oatmeal: No, Luke, it's me, Obi Wan Kenobi.

Luke: Christ! You scared me. Ben, you look like hell.

Oatmeal: Well, it's not my fault. Maybe if you'd try eating something a little more conducive to transplanar communication--like toast or cheetos-- I wouldn't be so exhausted from holding this glutinous goop together in the shape of my face.

Luke: What is it Ben? Are my friends in trouble? Do I need to visit Master Yoda? Have the Sith arisen again and are threatening the New Republic (not the newspaper)?

Oatmeal: Nooooooo. I just wanted to tell you that you left your spoon by the siiiiiiiiink.

Luke: Oh, thanks. [Uses Force to get the spoon.] Wow, Ben you taste really good.

Oatmeal: That's what she said.

Man: And can I get some of that Peloponnesian sauce?

Me: If I've told you once, I've told you 300 times, Leonidas, it's Polynesian sauce. Peloponnesian sauce is grease.

Now if you're talking Tzatziki you might have a deal.

Nepal wonders what to do with cows

The extremely rare Holy CowaBurga. Nothing on this earth like it. Slow grilled over Brazilian rain forest, this rare treat will transcend earthly description!

Pontiffs and Holy Folk across the globe are raving about it:

"I love me a great burger, and this one pairs well with the Blood of Christ! But not on Fridays!"
Pope Benedict XVI

"It's Nirvana on a whole wheat bun!"
Dalai Lama

"Allah Akhbar and pass the A1!"
Ayatollah Khameni

"What else would I have used to make myself?"
Flying Spaghetti Monster

Get your Holy Cowaburga now! Only at Brother Hezekiah's Healing Tabernacle and Grille.
Home of the Chicken a la Yamulka.

to wave a white flag? 54,000 less than it used to.
France says it will cut 54,000 defense jobs

Appropriate for Father's Day.
Lamentations of the Father
And of course I have some addenda to make, as time permitteth.

I finally found a picture of the Vietnamese dry erase markers, although I swear the ones I used were labeled Long But Bang.

Whilst teaching Viet Nam, I was in the middle of a sentence when I looked down at the dry erase marker and noticed that it was called a Long But Bang. I just about choked. I SO wanted to steal that marker and bring it home, but it probably costed about 50,000 Dong. Can you imagine? 50,000 Dong for a Long But Bang? Me neither.

I was walking through the house the other day, and walked past my wife, who was putting on some lotion.

"Something smells good in here," I said. "What is it?"

She looks at the bottle and says, "It's Perfection."

"Hmm. Perfection is fruitier than I thought it would be."

Naked Man Rescued From Porta-Potty
And his friends couldn't help because they were too busy laughing.

911 Operator: 911. What's your emergency?
Doofus: [mumble]
911 Operator: I'm sorry, could you speak up, please?
Doofus: [mumble]
911 Operator: Sir, you will have to speak up. I can't hear you. What is your emergency?
Doofus: [mumble]
911 Operator: Sir, it's a federal offense to prank call 911, are you aware of that?
Doofus: OK, OK. I'm stuck in a porta-potty.
911 Operator: The door won't open?
Doofus: [mumble]
911 Operator: Sir?
Doofus: I'm not stuck in that part.
911 Operator: What do you mean?
Doofus: I'm stuck in the actual potty. like down the hole. In the blue [shudder]stuff.
911 Operator: Your stuck where? And what is that noise? Is there a hyena there?
Doofus: That's my roommate. He's laughing at me.
911 Operator: He sounds kind of close.
Doofus: He's holding the phone. My arms are pinned.
911 Operator: Can I speak to him?
Doofus: I don't think so. He's not coherent right now.
911 Operator: Ah, I see. But the drunk guy who got stuck in the hole of a porta-potty is the coherent one.
Doofus: Listen, I don't need a sarcastic 911 operator! I need help!
911 Operator: Sorry. It's been a shitty week.
Doofus: You think your week is shitty....
911 Operator: Right. Sorry. Now where are you?
Doofus: Look! I told you, jerk, I don't need a smartass...
911 Operator: No, where are you located.
Doofus: Oh, in the middle one.
911 Operator: No, where should I send the rescue team?
Doofus: Oh. At the WWE event.
911 Operator: I should have known.
Doofus: What!?!
911 Operator: I said they are on the way.
Doofus: OK, thanks. And tell them to bring some towels.
911 Operator: Oh, they'll definitely clean you off. And bring a change of clothes.
Doofus: No, my clothes are fine. I took them off before I got in here.
911 Operator: You what?
Doofus: I took off my clothes before I climbed in here.
911 Operator: Could you tell your roommate to stop laughing I can't hear you.
Doofus: No, I'm pretty sure he's passed out from lack of oxygen. He just pressed speakerphone when he dropped it.

My main question is, if he was naked, where was he carrying his phone?

I'm in O'hare. I leave my plane, go through immigration, wait for my bag, go through customs, leave the airport, get on a train, RIDE IT ALL THE WAY AROUND THE AIRPORT BACK TO THE TERMINAL I JUST LEFT, go through security again (they closed two checkpoints, just to make it sporting), and run to the end of the concourse. I have and hour left before boarding and I'm laying even odds on missing the flight. If we hadn't landed 50 mins early I'd never make it. Never.
Stupid americans.

I don't know what it is about eggs in asia. Some things I expect. Mandarin duck pizza. Alright. Fish rolls. Sure. Tomato candy. Ok. But every western sandwich, from cheeseburgers to club sandwiches, are topped with a fried egg. Why? Is it something that baffles them, but they think westerners expect, so they add it? Or is it just a way to easternize something western, like putting jalapenos in your grits to make them southwestern, but weirder?
I don't know, but when I look at a menu, and think a club sandwich looks good, then it comes with a fried egg, it's a rude awakening, like finding mayo in you grilled cheese. :-)
And I just realized that I left singapore without trying a singapore sling. Rats.
Well, back to the airplane only 19 hrs to go.

Hoping that this time I don't stay long
I'm tired of being on the road alone
If home were Hong Kong I'd be home.

A Hit Country tune in the making.

Well, I’m in Singapore again, and it’s taking time to get used to it here. I got acclimated to the honking and the continual flow of traffic and I don’t know how to take the normal, rules-based traffic (as opposed to just collision –avoidance). It seems odd to see so many cars, and so few motorbikes. I saw a few, and they, like in Hanoi, tend to buzz up between the cars to the front of the traffic lights. But there’s no continual flow.
And at least the cars in Hanoi drove in the right side of the road. It was crazy, but when I approached a road, I looked the right direction. It took a few seconds to build up the gumption, find a seam in traffic, and walk through it. At times, it was like I was in the matrix. You found an opening, and took the leap of faith into oncoming traffic. Within reason. You don’t just step in front of a bus, for God’s sake. Everyone knows the buses don’t stop for pedestrians. Who am I kidding, nobody stops. They just go around. Even, sometimes, onto the wrong side of the road. Then at the next break, they will merge back into the downstream flow. Craziness.
And it’s not just cars, motorbikes, bikes, wagons, and pedestrians you have to avoid. A few times I saw poles, piles of dirt, etc, just stuck in the middle of the road. No cones, no flashing lights, nothing. Just a pile of dirt for you to go around.
Today the assistant distributor took me on a guided tour of a few Hanoi sites. We went to the One-Pillar Pagoda, the Presidential Palace, Ho Chi Minh’s tomb, and Ho Chi Minh’s Museum. The museum was a little uncomfortable. He was a brilliant man, who was born in a poor colony. He wanted a unified, well-educated, well- fed country, as we all do. His goals were admirable, his means, well, I think that you see the difference today. Look at North and South Korea. In a country of well-educated people, they have very limited resources. They have little access to computers and the software that they need. They are opening up, becoming capitalist, but they are far behind. Not as far behind as North Korea, but behind.
The people are really very friendly and very open. They can come across as abrupt, standoffish, but they really aren’t. At least that’s not my experience. They are friendly and helpful. In a social situation, they love to laugh and joke, and are really very interested in making a good impression on westerners. They desire to be liked, to be valued. They want to show off their country, they are proud of their culture. And rightly so. They want us to come visit, and they want to be our friends. (they want us to spend money, too, but who doesn’t?) Almost everything was cash, and most of the vendors would prefer to trade in US$. I don’t blame them. I still have 40,000 dong in my wallet, but can’t trade it in. It’s only worth $2.50.
They are a friendly culture, and proud, but not the kind of proud that means they are aloof or fragile. They like jokes, and they welcomed me and my mistakes, which I think was made easier because I could laugh at myself. I knew I was out of water, but I tried hard to honor their ways and traditions. Do unto others…and they honored me with friendship.
I would love to go back. I would like to go to Da Nang, which I hear is beautiful, and growing. Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City is growing, too. I’d love to go back and see it again.
Getting there is expensive, but being there is not.

Back to Singapore. I’m amazed at the modernness. Being in Hanoi has brought a new appreciation for modern conveniences. Little things like the fact that I can drink the water out of the tap. The TV gets more than 4 channels, and they are all in focus. Hanoi is clean, but Singapore is spotless. The Remote Sensing Center for Vietnam is brand new. It has a new brick walk out front. Half of the bricks are cracked. The security bars in the windows are rusted. It’s like a Waffle House…Even the brand new ones look 20 years old.
Everything in Singapore looks spectacular.

I’m watching Australian Rules Football on TV. I have no idea what’s going on. Sometimes the tackle each other, sometimes they don’t. sometimes they hit the ball, sometimes the bounce it, sometimes they kick it. And the umpires don’t wear the white suits and Australian Bush Hats. That's disappointing.

I'm sitting in a restaurant in Hanoi, in an open bay window looking out on the
insanity that is Hanoi traffic. I'm facing a roundabout of sorts, an
intersection of no less than 3 roads. And nobody stops. Nobody. Not the cars,
not the motorbikes, not the bicycles, not the pedestrians. I'm told the key is
to judge a slight gap in traffic, and just keep walking at the same pace. People
will flow around you. That's hard to do. It's like a real-life version of
Frogger, and I was never much good at Frogger. Even the honks provide sound
effects.
The Vietnamese can drink some beer, too. I'm sampling some of the local
favorite, Bia Ha Noi. You gotta admire a government that says religion is the
opiate of the masses, but we'll brew good beer for you, just in case.
The students took me out to lunch today, so I finally got to experience the real
Hanoi. No, I don't mean the food, I mean that I rode to the restaurant riding on
the back of a motorcycle. That's where I saw first hand how much beer they can
drink. Every time some one picked up a glass I heard "shcuse me, cheers!" And
all the males drank. Women seemed excused from this ritual.
(Note to self: don't eat the little red peppers, they're lethal. Need moah bia.)
So I ate the local food in a nice restaurant that featured live crocodiles in
the moat outside. They teased me about getting a fork, so I didn't use it. They
asked me if I could use chopsticks, so I impressed them all by picking up
peanuts with them. Then they asked me to pick up 2. I laughed. Then I did it,
and asked if they could do 3. They said I could be a local since I could pick up
2 peanuts. Then I showed them how Americans do 3 by picking up 3 french fries at
one time. That got a good laugh. They brought tofu, cucumbers, shrimp in a
wasabi-like dipping sauce, peanuts, french fries, some kind of mayo-based salad
thing, stir-fried beef, and finally an whole fish, head and all, to simmer in
front of me. It was all very good (I was glad they avoided the snake-head soup
and pig stomach stuffing and crocodile blood pudding.) And all the while "shcuse
me, cheers!" And several of them kept putting food in my bowl, which is
evidently a sign that they liked me a lot.
They called me a cab to go back to the class, I think because everyone driving
was a little tipsy. There wasn't much to class this afternoon, just questions
and the test. Yes, everyone passed the test. I was told I had to give one, and
so I did.
It's a holiday weekend here, Vesak day, a Buddhist holiday, so in addition to
the hustle and flow and honking, I see the occasional Buddhist monk wandering
around the hubbub. It makes for an interesting juxtaposition of thought, with
the hectic (though zen-like, I suppose) flow of traffic and the calmness of a
monk walking through it. Zen in it's most accomplished state, I think.
Well off to pack. Tomorrow, Singapore. again. Then, home.

It's not nearly as exciting as it sounds. I promise.

Well it's 8 am of Wednesday, another class to go.

We did do some sightseeing last night. We saw Hoan Kiem lake, Ngoc Son pagoda and the Turtle Tower. Evidently, there's an Arthurian-like myth here in Hanoi where the Golden Turtle God gave a sword to Emperor Le Loi so he could drive out the Chinese invaders. After that, he returned the sword to the turtle and built a tower on an island in the lake.

We ate in an interesting restaurant last night overlooking the lake. The menu included:

Breakfash

Big botter beer (pretty sure they mean bottle of beer and not butterbeer) Small botter beer

Swinged beef topped with french fried (we never figured out what swinged beef might be, so we steered clear)

Spring roll with several tastes. I tried this. I couldn't identify the several tastes, but can verify that they were all there.)

Chicken with 5 tastes (is 5 more or fewer than several? The world may never know.)

Fried chicken with beanuts ( we don't know if that meant peanuts or some kind of bean nut.

And a motorcycle just bumped the window of the cab. Craziness.

And many people (mostly women) here wear facemasks on the road. Ostensibly to filter out the fuel fumes, dust, etc. They are very stylish, with flowers, stripes, prints, and plaids. I even saw one Burberry mask.

In a lot of ways, it's emerging capitalist, with ads and stores literally everywhere. But then you see something that brings you up short, like a big hammer and sickle, or a sign that says "work is glory". In English, no less. OK, back to praying and helping the driver concentrate so we can navigate this beehive of semichaotic Brownian motion they call traffic.