Thai reflexions

I am in Thailand, and this wonderful country has made me think a lot about sex. This is quite rare for me, since I am usually only thinking about how to make the world a better place for myself. Still, sometimes I get distracted. I am only human. This pious country has also made me think about religion. The Catholic one, of course, not this strange colourful stuff they worship here. It is only natural that I should end up by thinking about the two together.

The question that has been bugging me for days is this one. Did Jesus have a hard-on when he died on the cross? That happens to most people who die of asphyxiation. It would certainly explain the impressively high concentration of Marias thereabout.

Since I am attending a conference on investment issues, I have also been thinking about finance a lot. I came up with two really good investment ideas, but for some reason people didn’t really pick them up. Probably because they are terribly boring and bourgeois.

First of all, hedge funds should tap into the market of gyms in developing countries. Not only would they make us rich visitors happy, by allowing us to burn off some of the fat we accumulate in these endless conferences, but they would also get more young men into body-building, and make us more happy to pay them for sex.

Secondly, hedge funds should support investment into illegal immigration of unskilled youths towards the developed world. The returns would be very high and shareholders would not only profit from these, but also from the presence of hunky young men back at home, possibly turning into rent boys to make a living.

Oh I do love Jesus and the endless inspiration he gives me!

[and those hunky Thai boxers, who alas are not here but in Australia...]

Let them pay

Dinner over at G's, A and J are eating sausage and potatoes. F is late as usual. Arrives, sits, complains about lack of bread, then starts stuffing his face.

J.: You look smart, all suited and booted. Did you have some important meeting?
F.: No, this is how I dress every day. It's because I am becoming chubby.
J.: !??
F.: Yes. I don't attract new lovers with my body any more. So I show them I might have money, like I am a banker or something, and they hope they might get paid at the end of performing sex with me. Only then do I tell them I work for charity (I don't tell them it's posh, they wouldn't be able to tell the difference)...
A.: That's bollocks. You only pick up in saunas. And without glasses. So you can't tell how ugly they are. The suit is just to hide your fat, not to facilitate your seduction moves.
F.: Fuck off.
A.: Fat arse.
F.: Anyway, I have an important job. [turns to J.] I organise international events, you know. I will be organising one in Portugal soon. And then I have to go to China. Oh and Putin wants my help too, so I'll return to Russia too. He's such a lovely guy.
A.: Yes, just ask those who are languishing in his prisons. Lovely guy, sure. Shame you never actually met him, blagger. And don't worry about global warming, really. Why should you?
F.: That's right, why should I? [turns to G.] By the way, I just got an Iraqi speaker for my next conference. I am SOOOOOOO happy!
G.: What does he do?
F.: I don't know. He's from Iraq. That's all I need to know. I am collecting nationalities, and when they come from warzones it's even better.
A.: So people will come to this conference to hear about third sector networks and you will present them with a speaker from a country that is virtually cordoned off from the rest of the world. What use is that?
F.: You're so boooring. He's from Iraq! He'll tell stories of big muscular American soldiers raping everybody and make everyone weep! That's what people want!!
A.: You're talking like the head of Fox News Corporation...
F.: Lovely Fox News. So interesting, not like booooooring BBC or worse. They should be my media partners...! Let me see if I have their business card here... Let's see... No, nothing here... [pausing for a second, in reflection] Maybe I should go to Iraq? There are lots of soldiers there... and I know what I could do to make those big Americans horny...! I could dress in one of those Guantanamo orange suits...
A.: [leaves the room to go attempt suicide]