GammaGlobulin

I have been married two times. In each case, I married both mindlessly, as well as out of fear. The reason I married, both times, was, mostly, as a result of fear of having not enough Sunshine. Actually, this is why most guys marry. They fear the lack of Sunshine in their lives.... They know what Withers knows... And, here is what he knows:

Steinway & Sons. Still, tinny. Sounds too honky-tonk, maybe. Good effort. Get a new piano. (NICE! This guy really loves this subjunctive music!) ((This guy is....GREAT!!!!))

Thank god this young kid does not have a cig hanging from his lips while pounding his piano. Times have changed. The music does, too.

Dearest Friends, I am feeling in a subjunctive frame of mind. What about you? For example, I often say to myself, I wish the virus had never happened. I say this in the subjunctive sense. What about you? Are you also feeling a bit subjunctive, these days? For example, you might be in the subjunctive mood to say: "If this virus had not happened, then I might be healthier in body, mind and spirit, these days". This might be, just, a result of your subjunctive mood. So, you see, my friends, that when we express wishes that might have been, then we are always in.... A New York State of Mind. Who does not love it? The New York SUBJUNCTIVE State of Mind.... It might have been better if..... Or, not... Who knows. There is always the subjunctive mood to keep you wishing for the greener grass of what might have been. I know you don't know what I am talking about. But, I really wish you did. Take care, men... Best regards, G.

Valuable advice. Well taken. .... By the way, have you ever used a Telex machine? At the end of each message, there is this very distinctive sound of the machine typing the "end of message" character string. It's just a handshake with the machine on the opposite side. This is how you know that the message has finally been transmitted, and that the message has truly ended. I can clearly recall paying about USD800.00 per month, in 1982 dollars, to install a telex machine in my house. Most people of sound mind would send abbreviated messages by Telex, mostly due to the fact that each character needed to be punched into a yellow paper ribbon, and then fed into the tape reader. Also, in addition to paying for the telex machine, one needed to pay for bytes sent. Paying for this data transfer charge was an expensive proposition unless one was exceedingly parsimonious in the length of each message. Obviously, sending a 1500-word document would use up many meters of yellow paper ribbon. Also, the data transmission charges were horrendous compared to data transmission costs of today. The longest message I ever sent using the Telex machine in my house was a message about 50 meters in length,meaning 50 meters of yellow paper tape. Also, I am not completely sure if we called it paper tape or paper ribbon. I am 99-percent sure the yellow paper tape was referred as tape. The ribbon referred to the black ribbon, same as any normal typewriter you see today. Of course, if the paper tape became snagged on a chair or something, and broke, while feeding, then one would need to retype another paper tape of equal length, from the beginning, and resend another 30 meters of punched tape while feeding it even more carefully through the tape reader. Connection was done through a dedicated land-line to the house This system was also interactive, meaning that one could be in Asia typing while, simultaneously, the opposite party in NYC was reading your keystrokes in real time. A bit slower than LINE today, but basically the same fine experience. The only reason I mention this here is that you seem to wonder why my messages might be longer than the ones you are used to. All that I can say is that, back in the day, even when forced to contend with long ribbons of flimsy yellow paper tape, my average message length, from Formosa to Manhattan, was about 20 meters. One important consideration of Telexing during those years was baud rate and the limitations of the typing mechanism. As I recall, my telex could transmit approximately 180 characters per minute, maybe less. Please remind me to go online to check this. But you can clearly see what I'm driving at. If we choose to send a 1000-word document from Taipei to Manhattan, at 180 characters per minute, given a minimum of 5 characters per word, including spaces, quotes and other punctuation, then, some of my shorter messages often required at least 45 minutes to send. But please check the baud rate of the telex machine I was using. Because I can recall sending slightly longer messages which required almost two hours to finally clear the paper-tape reader. And, you know, it was always with such a sigh of relief, ecerytime, after a two-hour telex transmission, when I heard the sound of that distinctive telex handshake between my machine in Asia and the machine in NYC. My point, maybe, is this. using a yellow paper tape to send a message of any decent length is nerve-wracking. The tape can break at the slightest provocation. Similarly, my index finger might get tired, or worse, hit the wrong key on this old phone, wiping out my pecking. Therefore, I will hit the send button now, please. I had wished to upload a photo of my telex machine, about 80 kilograms, or more. I just wished to respectfully communicate to you just how lucky you are to be reading my comments sent from my Note4. Because, if I were using paper tape, the experience might be far more difficult for both of us. Therefore, always look on the bright side of life.

Only when I press the ENTER key.

Thank you very much for your sincere reply, one which honestly related your experiences, without exaggeration or prevarication, something for which Sam Clemens was rightly criticized. Strangely enough, my experience goes somewhat contrary to yours. My first wife was an American, and her father was a Lockheed engineer with a PhD. She was slightly plump. But, in all honesty, she was the tastiest of them. Maybe it was her diet, or something. My second wife was the most beautiful, by far, by far. She was the Jiangxi-HK-Kowloon woman of 26, which I mentioned in one of my earlier comments. Her ambition was to enter grad school to study international law. We were the same age, and after we graduated, I traveled to Formosa, the beautiful isle, while she stayed in NYC, before she returned to HK, to live temporarily with her mother, and I visited her occasionally, although most of the nights, after 11pm, I would religiously visit the bars in Kowloon and HK. That was in 1980. My send wife, despite her spectacular Asian beauty and brains, was never as tasty as my first plump American wife. And soon we separated. But these days, I often wonder just how plump my 2nd Asian wife must be, today, after 42 years. Would she still have kept her figure? And her waist-length jet black oval hair? I guess you know that Chinese hair is oval in cross-section. Such a beauty she was, if only she hadn't been nuts, too. After my HK bride, I spent time with a married woman whose husband lived with her, one floor below my apartment, which they rented to me for about two or three years. And here, I must admit that, as you have stated, cuddling/consorting with a Hester Prynne is just about the most exciting of experiences. In fact, so exciting was it that we cuddled pretty much everywhere, in the building garage under surveillance cameras, in hotel rooms with doors left ajar, almost anywhere, always cuddling like gerbals. However, I still beg to differ with you, and I maintain that the cuddling with my first wife was best. I almost forgot to mention to you that, after being separated from this first wife, I returned to the Main Line, and while there, paid my respects to her in her Datsun 240Z. But I think it must have been a 260Z, or even a 280Z. Those were the days before Datsun was rebranded. And, at the time, my first wife had remarried. Also, I recall that, during our reunion that evening, we had been expelled from a bar for necking in public, after only three warnings. American barkeeps are such prudes. If only we had been in Pattaya, nobody would have noticed a thing. (Please bear with me. I am replying to your comment using only my index finger on an old Note4. Only one line of what I'm typing is visible to me at any given time.) After leaving my first wife, the second time, after driving down to the museum in Philly, I returned to Asia. I did not return for the purpose of meeting Asian women. In 1990, I met my long-term GF of 20 years. But again, she wasn't as tasty as my first wife. I really can't recall much of those years, from 1990 to 2010, except where I was on 9/11. Even now, I can recall my days in Chinatown, NYC, when my second wife's older brother was getting married. Chinese immigrants truly love New York, and I remember that we stood under the Twin Towers. Standing below and looking directly up to the roof made me feel dizzy. I think it must have been around 1977, in fact, sometime after the film Taxi Driver was released. It must have been then, because I recall that we were hesitant to board NYC taxis at that time. Before I was married, around the age of 11, I attended, for three years, a boarding school in the state of New York. It was a school for boys. I had a roommate from St. Croix whose father was some sort of senator or elected official. Those days, in fact, with enforced separation from young girls, were the best of times and the worst of times and the horniest of times. But those were our Victorian days, even while Dylan and Spoonful were happening outside the confines of the school. I think I mentioned previously that one of my roommates, the next year, loved Jade East. So if you really want to know, at boarding school, I never read The Catcher in the Rye. Mostly, we read good books like, Fanny Hill, Lolita, The Spy Who Loved Me, and other uplifting titles. I can fully empathize with men, young and old, who see Asia as their last resort to get lucky. Unfortunately, there is no amount of logic, cogent or persuasive enough, to lead the blind into the light of understanding. Republicans will always remain Republicans. Same goes for the Democrats, even though both live in the same world. But as far as cuddling goes, for me, the best times I ever had were with my first wife, and hers with me. We always had all the spotlights in the room turned on. She above me, and me below her, making our night moves. Just listening and practicing.

About four years ago, I happened to meet some academic muckety-muck, some Australian, an Anthropologist, renowned in his field of study, published articles not few, and many of which centered on his findings and research of religions in these parts, throughout SE Asia. . I really don't know why I mention this meeting, except that I recall he wasn't a tourist in Thailand. He was an Australian with an enviously upper-crust British accent. I guess there are a few. His excuse for his accent, he explained, was his parent's arrival to Australia when he was very young. Apparently, throughout his childhood and adulthood, he had worked hard to hang onto his British sound while down under. Why do I mention this meeting, here? Maybe it's because I don't meet many interesting people here who are here, almost exclusively, as a result of their decades-long love of Asia. I know that there are intelligent, well-educated men on TV, and I know of a specific few myself, but topics such as this, no matter how entertaining, cause me to think that I have seen the last of the few. I did not come to Asia to find a wife. Although, in retrospect, at the time, maybe I should have come to find two MORE wives, in order to have three, the perfect number for stability. But these days, it just saddens me to see fine young men arriving in places in SE Asia with, seemingly, only two things on their minds; either hooking up, or finding a wife, most probably in the mistaken belief that what they were unable to obtain in their home countries will somehow, maybe miraculously, fall into their laps in Pattaya...such absurdity. The thing is, I chose to travel to Asia soon after being married to a Jiangxi beauty of wealth and means and intelligence. One of her brothers was a PhD candidate at a top Ivy League school, not Harvard, luckily. After the revolution, her family set up a newspaper in Hong Kong, a place many here from Scotland know something about. Those were the days when Chinese peasants would carry lichee on bamboo poles, 擔杖, across the border and then board the train to Kowloon. A majority of the lichee carried by these peasants were worm ridden, unsurprisingly, most likely by Commie worms. The Commies, back in the day, knew not much about pesticides. Too busy killing sparrows, I guess. OK, where was I? Oh, yeah, I think I must have gotten sidetracked by the worms....the worms coming from over the border, maybe for the sole purpose of hooking up. You know, I have heard it often said by no less of a personage than Dickens' Tiny Tim that, according to him, Americans understand neither sarcasm nor irony. According to this Dickens character, it is only the Australians who are able to read books such as Candide, books full of satire and abstruse references to ironical things. Maybe, after years behind the microphone, radio goes to one's head. Just ask the loudmouth behind infowars. Poor Tiny Tim, while having his Christmas goose, neglected to read Mark Twain. Do they even have rivers so great as the Mississippi, in Australia? But, as Tim maintains, Americans, while captaining a riverboat down the great river, never learned about irony. And so, continuing to reply to this topic, stimulating as it is, another reason guys might not come here is because it's just not so easy, and not as easy as one might be led to believe, watching YT videos produced mainly by idiots who, while they understand the social media technology, so superficially, still know almost nothing about living in Asia. I am the first to admit that I know too little about life in Asia. I usually don't say much. Mostly, I prefer to keep my trap shut, just listening to others better educated about life in these parts. I did not come here for the women. If I can't have three under my roof, one or two is not enough for stability and harmony. And I don't know anyone here wealthy enough to support three women, especially given present-day inflation. There is another Chinese (maybe from Taiwan) "saying" which goes.. A man should have three wives, an American wife, a Japanese wife, and a Chinese wife. The American wife can provide a big house. The Chinese wife can provide good food. The Japanese wife, she can provide the rest. Regards, G.

I have been married twice, and have also had a very long-term GF, of about 20 years. All three became experts at massage while practicing with me. None of these women ever used a stick on me, nor a belt. Now, in my old age, I am thankful for all my massage memories of days and nights past. It is really true that the best massages, and the best sex, can be found within either marriage or a very long term relationship. At least, this is what I must admit from my experience.

There are, according to the BBC, 1.3 million Britons living in the US and Canada. 1.3 million Britons living in Australia. And some say there are about 40 thousand Britons in Thailand. Why does the OP asks why these UK expats do not all flock to Thailand? The answer should be obvious. America and Australia are colonies. Thailand is not a colony. Also, the food. Most guys from the UK love American food. Burger King, McDonald's, Chuck E. Cheese, and PepsiCo franchises are not big in Thailand. In addition, there is no way to get an authentic Louisiana Po-Boy in Thailand. Also, in America, the wearing of shorts, while walking around topless, at least for men, is not frowned upon. The American language and Australian language is much easier for a Briton to master, compared to learning how to properly pronounce the Thai language. Very few would-be newcomers from the UK have the stamina to learn a language having five tones and an abugida with 44 consonant symbols (Thai: พยัญชนะ, phayanchana), 16 vowel symbols (Thai: สระ, sara) that combine into at least 32 vowel forms and four tone Diacritics. But, in answer to why most men from the UK do not come to Thailand, I would have to say that they prefer Western culture, over Asian culture, and they must also prefer to remain in the UK, riding in chauffeur-driven Bentley motorcars while munching dainty sandwiches filled with cheese and chutney. It's really not so easy to uproot, and move to Asia, East Asia, or Southeast Asia, for 40 or 50 years, and never look back. Why make the effort if you do not have some real passion for life in Asia? To paraphrase an overly used Chinese idiom, Chengyu, no matter where you might go, the Moon is just as round. These days, our world continues to become ever flatter, while both girls and boys become rounder, scarfing American junk food, made from corn, on all seven continents. So, stay where you are because, you have an equally goor/poor chance of bagging a beautiful woman here as you might in the UK. What did you imagine? Did you think that beautiful, classy, educated Thai women would be attracted to you, even if women in your home country were not? Think again before you come here with unreasonable expectations, only to finally find yourself totally ignored by the class of women you had fantasized, and down in the dumps. Look in the mirror, my friends, and get ahold of yourselves, lest you arrive full of fairy-tale dreams, only to crash and burn, oh so tragically. But, if you have 3 million pounds, or more, in the banks of Switzerland, and you have a post-graduate degree, and if you love nothing but Thai food, and you can read Thai script, and you love both Thai culture and the sound of roosters in the mornings and afternoons, then, by all means, come here to buy a large plot of land, maybe grow coffee, become a character in a Somerset Maugham short story. Because, even with your millions of pounds, few guys from the West last as long as me. By the time I'm dead, my best guess is that I will have been here about 60+ years...Already going on 51 in Asia. So, my advice is this: Unless you love Asia, just come for a visit. But don't expect to see me here, because hanging out with tourists is something I never will do.

I think it's more of a syntax problem.

Or, please recall Elias' memorable exhortation, holding a dying man on the battlefield in Vietnam, with his hand covering his mouth to stop the screams, in the film, 'Platoon', "Take the Pain!". Admittedly, it's just my personal choice that I will never... a. Visit a chiropractor to be manipulated b. Have a massage given by somebody I don't know I would not even have a soapy massage given to me by a woman that I had not known and dated for at least a month. Best massages are provided by wives, in my opinion. I have had three. But I would never marry a masseuse for a bride. Simply because I would always be thinking about the many massages she did before she did unto me.

After carefully reading this topic, and a few of the comments, I would like to offer one possible explanation for overly enthusiastic, possibly painful, massages: I am speaking of the Passive-Aggressive masseuse. In fact, your account of unreasonably painful massages sounds to me like an excellent thesis topic for completion of either an MA or even a PhD program. In other words, to what extent does a minority of masseuses, either consciously or unconsciously, express their underlying feelings, in Passive-Aggressive behavior, while massaging their clients, some of whom they might secretly despise, most likely for irrational reasons. In order to raise this MA thesis topic up to the level of a PhD dissertation, then one might need to tweak it a bit. Nonetheless, I can easily see someone, such as me, being granted a PhD, just through thoroughly researching the topic, "Passive-Aggressive Behavior of the Abused Masseuse Directed at Foreign Clients, Attributable to the Generalization of Perception of The Foreigner". Please believe me that this dissertation topic title is NOT too long. And, if I were younger, I might choose to enter a thesis-only PhD program in Thailand to research and write an original dissertation on this topic. More to the point in replying to the OP, it is my opinion that, wherever massages are occurring, then you should not rule out the dynamic of Passive-Aggressive behavior anytime one begins to feel an inordinate amount of pain. And this dynamic, for sure, is both logical and understandable. It is only just too surprising to me that no one has yet mentioned this reasonable observation in the comments, so far. Astounding, even.

If one MUST be run down by a Jaguar, then, please Lord, let it be a Daimler.

Do you mean 'creepy' in the good sense, such as creepiness evoked by the novel 'Carrie', or do you mean creepy like Cujo?

As referred to in the above topic, I remarked that I have been missing the company of my barber during the past almost three years. Mostly, I miss her because I very much enjoyed chatting with her. I invariably used to say Hi when I daily passed her hair salon. She often wore these loose blouses, pleasantly unencumbered by straps and things. She was just a free spirit and a fun person to know. Nothing strange about it, really. However, sitting in her chair, I often thought of various varieties of fruit, such as melons. And then, while typing the topic, I recalled a song about melons, or was it about peaches... Turns out, the song that I had been unable to recall was a great tune by The Steve Miller Band. Maybe you know it. This song is not about melons. This song is about peaches. This song brings back fond memories of my sitting in the barber chair, when we were far freer than we are today. Now that my barber friend has sold her shop, and now that I have learned to cut hair, I may never see her again, although I think I might still have her LINE address. I will miss her peaches, too. She sometimes made fruit drinks in her blender. Great barber.

In reality, the only foolproof way for humans to achieve happiness, the only 'key' to happiness, necessarily must come to us through gene manipulation. We are now entering our Brave New World in which gene manipulation will soon become commonplace. This is why I mentioned CRISPR-Cas9 technology, in my earlier comment. It is entirely within the bounds of presently understood science that we will soon be able to manipulate genes in ways which alter our "set-point" of perceived happiness, either up or down. Gene manipulation for the purpose of augmenting feelings of happiness is entirely within the realm of what today's science tells us is possible. We all know that some people are just naturally happier than others. Very soon, we will be able to identify the cluster of genes responsible for optimism and happiness, and singing while working. Once identified, then these genes will easily become susceptible to manipulation. For example. Think of yourselves as ears of corn. No more, no less. We have long been using traditional techniques to select for various varieties of corn. Some corn is sweet, which we eat. And other varieties of corn are grown for cattle feed, or for industrial uses. Recently, two dudes got a Nobel, in record time, for their work on CRISPR-CAS9, and gene manipulation. One of these dudes was a girl, and fairly young. Now flash back to the film 'Children of the Corn'. And then put 2 and 2 together. We are just now entering a new age of what we had once considered to be science fiction. We can even manipulate genes in vitro. The drug envisioned by Huxley, Soma, is now so retro. We have already leapfrogged ahead of Huxley's greatest hopes for Mankind. In my view, I believe we can soon, within the next 15 years, expect to see a Happiness vaccine. To be more precise, we will have two vaccines. We will have one for happiness, and another vaccine for unhappiness. In other words, we will each have the ability to dial in any degree of happiness or unhappiness, according to our specific requirements. Some of us require unhappiness in order to function at our peak. We all love that tune about fruit hanging from poplar trees. A magnificent song such as this would never have been composed out of sheer happiness. Tortured souls have so much to offer us. Without seeing the unhappiness of others, then how would we happy people know if we were happy or sad? Happiness is just another of those relative terms signifying nothing. When the Happiness vaccine becomes readily available, maybe from Pfizer, how many doses do you think you will need? Six? If angst is an important factor contributing to the creative process, in some cases, will our culture survive the Happiness vaccine? Maybe just ask Huxley. Life would not be Life on Soma. As somebody, maybe Elias, said in the film, Platoon, "Take the pain." Such a happy tune.... Such a happy life. Such a great singer. Such a gift.

CRISPR-Cas9

Well, have you ever heard about Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog?

Speaking of the TRUE key to happiness, then this must be the Skinner Box, or the "Conditioning Chamber", in which a lab rat will press a key in order to get direct electrical stimulation to the reward centers of the brain. Electrical excitation of the brain causes immediate stimulation of the these reward/pleasure regions of the brain, and thus, you can consider this key in the "Conditioning Chamber" to be your ultimate key to happiness, IF you might be willing to have just two electrodes implanted in your brain. Think about it. Just two wires, connected from a battery directly to the pleasure centers of your brain, and then, you, too, could immediately receive happiness and pleasure beyond anything you have ever before experienced. This is not science fiction, my friends. You can experience this, too, if you find the right doctor, in the right country, where money talks. If you want happiness, instead of pure pleasure, there is no key. And, the understanding of this is key. Either accept that life is pain, mostly. Or, undergo minor surgery to receive jolts of pleasure at your touch of a key. Which choice is less appealing is a question not easily answered.

My Dearest Friends, We are now, suddenly, in a new world. We have crossed the Rubicon. And,... I am now, seemingly, feeling completely released from my past dependency on barbers. Praise the viral particle for this. The particle has inadvertently set us free in unanticipated ways. In fact, truth be told, I have now learned how to cut my hair with only a simple pair of scissors and a mirror; and the result is always JUST LIKE I LIKE IT... Not too long. Not too short. Not too hot, and not too cold….Think Goldilocks. If you want something done right, then do it yourself…your hair cutting, particularly. I will…NEVER…go back to the old ways of keeping my locks trimmed neatly. There is no need to hire someone to do what I can easily do myself. In OLDEN DAYS, in the 1960s, hair was much more important than it is today. Hair, then, equated to freedom from the establishment. Hair was a flag to be flown proudly. It recently occurred to me that, after watching so many barbers cut my hair, over many decades, that I could easily do what I had seen them do, and do it just as well. At the beginning, about a year ago, I faltered, not sure which hair to cut first. But then, when I got into it, the tufts began to fall, and the end result was not half bad. And not just not half bad, but now almost perfect. I’m NOT talking about NO buzz cut, baby…. as I have heard some guys discuss on this forum. I mean an almost perfect trim, front to back, but mostly in the front. This is why I shall never go back to the old ways. The only thing I worry about is what will all the barbers do, now that many of us, or dare I say most of us, have upped our game, and have already qualified ourselves as barbers, in our own right? This is not some sort of ‘joke topic’, my friends. I am writing this topic just after achieving my most perfect haircut, using only a simple mirror. And I ask myself: If I can cut my hair equally well, or even better than the random barber on any given soi, then why should I wait in line on a hot day, and pay the small amount of money (money is not the issue), not to mention the time it takes to find a barber that is open when needed, and waste the commuting time traveling to the barber, when I can do it myself, in the comfort of my own bathroom? I have been watching barbers cut my hair month after month, for almost three quarters of a century. And, after so many years of observation, who but an incompetant could not perform this simple grooming requirement on oneself? Anybody with a mirror can do it. Gradually, my skills have improved. And now, there is really no difference between my haircutting of my hair, and that of the barber’s efforts. My question is not only whether or not you have decided to continue cutting your own hair, now that you have learned how, but do we not also worry about our former barber friends. We miss them, and they miss us. Yet, we live in a new world these days. About two years ago, I spoke with my long-term barber, a woman in her 50s, with a bod that most obviously must have been super hot 30 years ago, concerning her plans. She told me that she intended to sell her barber shop/salon and chill out for the rest of her days, just doing what she pleased. I was relieved to hear this good news, and pleased that she had planned ahead for any eventuality. She is a smart barber. But, I wonder about the fate of some who may not have been as fortunate as she… Let me stop here and make this potentially-longer topic shorter. The KEY Question posed in this topic is: Do you plan to ever go back to the barber shop as regularly as you once did? In my case, the answer is no. And, I might not be the only one who has moved on. There must be a huge cohort of individuals just like me…no doubt. Are you one, too? Best regards, Globulin Note One: Having had no appointments with my barber for two years, I have sorely missed the closeness of a woman, and the scent of a woman leaning lightly against me, almost seductively. Up until two years ago, I had always returned to the same barber. In the past, this barberous contact was my only opportunity to have a woman touch me. Even now, after over two years, I can still feel her bod against mine. Her melons were ample and soft. I will always remember her for these. And, this is no small thing to do without. This is no joke, my friends. I have long become super sensitive to a woman’s touch, a result of my self-imposed chastity. (Please do not get me wrong: I have always remained very respectful while in her chair. And she has always been pleased to see me, on any occasion when we chanced to meet in passing, on the streets of our relatively small community.) Note Two, regarding success cutting my hair, and being pleased with the progress I am making: I can say that, after last night’s session in the bathroom with the mirror, just running my hand down the back of my head and neck, from crown to nape, the way my hair flows in back, it seems very much like a steep wooden Thai staircase. Yet, in all other respects, the hair looks great. Time is definitely on my side, and I will continue to improve. Finally: Two tunes, germane to this topic, are now running through my head, not to mention a third tune which mostly deals with melons. Save the melons tune for later, maybe. Havens sang this tune totally unprepared and unrehearsed, according to him. Sounds like freedom. One of these guys, while perpetually singing about almost cutting his hair, has long since lost most of his hair...such a pity. And, such irony....

Please keep in mind that the derivation of the term "farang" has taken many twists and turns over history. In my case, Being Here in Thailand, I consider myself a "faux farang", one embodying all the good qualities connoted by the term "farang", while, at the same time, having rid myself of all of the negative connotations associated with this word. I embrace the term, 'farang', but only according to my own interpretation of this term. You could probably spend a year investigating and documenting nuances of the term 'farang' as it has evolved over the decades. Maybe I will write a post about this, or start a topic about this, when and if I have enough time to research this topic, and do it justice. Meanwhile, in order to live in this world, we must all happily embrace change, and adapt accordingly. Regards, GloBOBulin Please Note: Over the years, I have noticed occasional confusion among people who first encounter the term 'farang'. Therefore, before becoming immersed in Thai life, or life anywhere around here, then, my considered advice for folks who might be curious about this term, is for these newcomers to read this Wikipedia submission, and you will be very glad you did: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Farang#:~:text=Farang (Persian%3A فرنگ) is,Old French%3A "franc". This is good advice, at no cost to you.

OK. Here is a question of import... What is your opinion of the University of Liverpool? The reason I ask is that this fine old research institution was one of the first to jointly open a campus in Xian, China with Jiaotong University. In my opinion, it will be only this type of free exchange of information through academic institutions that might have any chance, no matter how slight, of saving organized human existence into the year 2099. Therefore, do you support such glorious efforts by this magnificent institution, long established in your most beloved city? If you do, then I firmly agree with you. More power to Liverpool.

I agree with you, wholeheartedly. I need maximum storage on my phone. Maybe I will up my storage to one TBytes of storage. Also, I have 15 (fifteen) TBytes in the cloud. This is actually a paltry sum, for me. My phone, no matter how fast, is ALWAYS too slow for me. Think of the future, if you live that long. Storage price keeps going down, although not as fast as we would wish. And, with 5G, soon we will be able to transfer 100 Gbytes of data from the cloud to our phones, in the blink of the eye. Most people, mistakenly, believe that the minimum for today will be sufficient for tomorrow. When I buy my next phone, I must buy something that will be able to handle my needs in the year 2029. 2029 is the year during which I plan to shuffle off this mortal coil. Therefore, I must now decide the best phone for me, knowing that this phone will, ultimately, be the last purchase I ever make from Samsung. I love my NOTE 4. Samsung really built a winner when the company designed and released this beauty. I have NOTHING BUT PRAISES to sing for Note 4. I just hope that my next important purchase from Samsung can match the reliability and greatness of the Note 4. Believe me when I tell you... As the Beetles once sang... Oh, Man, I DO love my beloved Note 4. It has been with me by my side, through thick and thin, and never ONCE let me down. I love you, Note 4. I will shout it from the rooftops, even. (Get it?) Or do I need to explain the reference, and apt analogy, to you who are younger?

Obviously, you require a Fire and Brimstone sermon just to "get you right", my son. Follow my example, my friend, and cease your wicked ways, no matter how satisfying the temptations of the flesh might seem, at this hour. .. Remain true to thyself, and thee shall gain power to overcome the partaking of even the most enticing Pattaya treats on the streets. Be strong. I feel for you.