no longer just a falang residing with thais in Thailand...

a long time ago I asked the wife: 'where do yer folks come from?' and she responded: 'a long time ago some of us from Laos came and settled here in this area but the past few generations are thai for all purposes...'...and as we all know most thais aren't interested in global geography and the effect that migration might have on attitudes and etc when it comes to westerners....you are falang and yer food smells weird...

now...here comes my younger sister claiming that she had her DNA and ethnicity scrutinized and it turns out that we are 43% scandinavian, 23% indigenous from Latin America, 20 something% Spanish and 10% turkish to boot...and our grandma always said that her side was from Manchester...on our mom's side it was accurate as half indigenous andean and half spanish is what we always understood...all of my bolivian aunties are as fluent in quechua as they were in the Spanish language...

she screamed and said: 'it's yer fault, ye lying bastid...here I thought that we were half english! now what am I gonna tell the kids???!!!...' (my sister when younger was a ringer for the actress Salma Hayek...breathtakingly beautiful and when she looked at me most of the time her dark eyes smouldered with resentment...)

me, not about to take shit from my little sister said: 'calm down ye hysterical POS...it's the folks that were lyin' to us...just say that we're half bolivian and leave it...'

now...here you are in Thailand and is it accurate to say that you are 'just a falang'?, hmmm?

(somchai puffs languidly on his cigarette and sez disinterestedly: 'an english falang or are you of the non-discernible variety?...')

when I say that her eyes smouldered with resentment it was her refusal to acknowledge that our parents were very traditional and that I was the oldest and a man and thereby her existence was minimized...a coupla times I thought that she was gonna kill me when I was drunk but my best pal who is also her husband removed the knife from her hand and said: 'buncha kids actin' stupid...grow up will ye!!...'

she ain't very literate and when I mention Flaubert and Dostoyevski and mad woman irresponsibility and lethal sibling rivalry she screams and grabs a weapon: 'yew trine to do an intellectual number on me ye bastid?...'

then we collapse together and smother each other with kisses: 'I'm old and sick and yer supposed to look after me....' and she holds me close and tells me never to worry...then she regains her senses and screams: 'get outta my house ye drunken shit and take yer goddam vodka with ye' and bottles are hurled with all the associated mess...

her husband then sez: 'I anticipated this, tuts, lets head over to so and so's house where he's got a bed waitin' fer ye...people in Pasadena still remember when you surfed down that bully in 1963...when yer sister wakes up we'll get some nice carnitas and beer and none of us will be none the worse...'

There are a quite a few falang from my home country that are probably thankful that DNA doesn't distinguish between free settler and convict ancestry.

then somchai takes a drag and sez: 'you non-discernable type falangs many times have a felonious ancestry...why else would you leave a 'land of milk and honey' and end up in a third-world backwater?...please, let us discuss...'

tutsi seethes and growls: ' get fcuked, asshol_e...'

then somchai squashes out his butt and sez: 'there you go then...an obvious problem with authority...why then do you think that you would be welcome anywhere but in yer own miserable country? dealing successfully with authority is required everywhere...hmmm?'

Hey Tuts, how long have you been talking to yourself like this ?

Just face the facts we're all cross breeds & bitsers. (with a few mongrels thrown in )

tutsi removes a piece of lint from his tunic and sez: 'someone remove this individual...he sounds rather benign so his punishment should be adjusted accordingly...'

whaddaya mean 'cross breeds and bitsers' have yew discussed that with yer famously nationalistic british brethren? that believe in a homogeneous island country, all cricket and tea and cucumber sarnies and when you imply: 'hey, he looks like he's got one in the woodpile' then it is fisticuffs and low demeanour...

I was comfortable in believing that I was half british but the scandinavian revelation is not that unpleasant...me dad did look a bit like a norse god at 6'3" and all blond hair and blue eyes and when the both of us walked into a bar together the women would go crazy for him even though I was 30 years younger and the spittin' image of him but with my mother's indigenous latino coloring...

the UK has resisted multiculturalism as the native inhabitants cannot come to terms with their own racial heritage...and when we hear someone shout: 'falang!' we do worry that they mean either british falang or american falang as it is important to us for them to be able see the difference...

shit, pearls before swine and mutter, mumble, grumble...

and then...what do we do with the kids? my son is a mongrel as Ken describes, with all the worst qualities from meself and his mum...and then he sez: 'ye know, dad...I feel quite at home in LA with auntie Catherine...' and then I am horrified...

'I never raised you to be 'at home' in Los Angeles or anywhere on the west coast for that matter...'

'dad, you were never around to 'raise' anyone so give it a rest...'

'your auntie is an evil witch...'

'she sez that about you too, dad but I know that you ain't a bad person...but you do drink too much...'

'why don't you go down to Cochabamba and check out them ethnic Bolivians and I tell you that's gotta be the biggest problem...you come across all white boy english when you are a quarter ethnic Bolivian...'

and I left it with him to ponder before our trip to the Louvre in Paris in the spring...and I fear it in my bones already...

I'd say we're close to pure Anglo-Saxon with enough Celt to set us apart from the Germans... (a more than fortunate touch of the tar brush as some would put it).

But then there would be a touch of Southern European as well, 400 years of Roman occupation would have left it's mark... but the the Brits were reputed to be unwashed in those days and the Romans were fond of baths.

A true DNA test would be fascinating... where the f### did that .005% of Chinese come from?

Did an English mercenary bring home an Asian captive after helping stopping the hordes at the gates of Vienna?

Maybe we could do Boater for the exquisite pleasure of finding a healthy sample of Pakistani?

there's supposed to be a place on the web that will test your DNA (you send them a sample) and then they advise regarding your ethnicity, that's where all this comes from...

my sister useta scream: 'will you shut up, ye pedantic half n**ger POS!!!...' well, now we got the results so that one argument is eliminated...

and our family set the whatever for extreme dysfunctionality, what with an angry bolivian woman and a confused scandinavian raging about the house us kids didn't know where to begin...

I just love and love Tutsi's ramblings!!!

Anyway I think i am 100 percent irish, but one of those DNA tests would be interesting. If the handsome coloured guy in Criminal Minds could pop by to swab my mouth I'm all for it!

I just love and love Tutsi's ramblings!!!

.... and there was me thinking it was time for his medication

Tutsi warrior

Don't worry Brah, you mana is strong. The outside in you is strong. Pop up strong.. Stoke it long and proud.

My profile... Hawaiian, Filipino, Chinese, English. Captain Cook(ed) he get around yah.. No play with Chief's daughter, yeah..

No talk Stink, yeah.. Breeze brah, howzit.

Tutsi warrior

Don't worry Brah, you mana is strong. The outside in you is strong. Pop up strong.. Stoke it long and proud.

My profile... Hawaiian, Filipino, Chinese, English. Captain Cook(ed) he get around yah.. No play with Chief's daughter, yeah..

No talk Stink, yeah.. Breeze brah, howzit.

and there you have it...with a name like Rhys I woulda thought that you was from Cardiff...

right on, brah...

I once knew a woman that was 50/50 hawaiian and mexican and she had to be the most beautiful specimen of all time...all deliciously fragrant dark skin and impossibly long legs and I thought that she was a vision of heaven...

and I was doomed...she was a high priced prostitute in Marin county and took my inheritance money from my mother and laughed...

my pals they said: 'I can't believe you, tutsi...' and I snarled: 'yew never saw her...'

and then my sister who was visiting up north from Pasadena came home from a night out and caught me with her (she hurled herself naked into a closet, it was like a comedy sketch from hell) and then she screamed and ran off to spend the night with my ex-girlfriend (who was her pal in high school) who vaguely knew about this business...

my cat, Delphi was watching the commotion and it got to her heid too but I never had to worry about her undying affection...

I remember spending hours sitting in the dark in Richmond after coming home from work with copious amounts of vodka thinking about my ex-girlfriend and the prostitute with my cat and she knew that something was wrong...

then she got run over in the street when I was across the Bay in SF with the texan girl and I never forgave meself, fled the US and the result is what you see now...

Their loss is Saudi's gain Tutsi. .

could be...dunno...

and then, here I am in my downstairs domain and the nephew 'Cake' selected Five Easy Pieces from my dvd collection when we found that King Kong was missing...

I have always related to the anti-hero Robert who rejects a refined environment in the sterile atmosphere of a musical household on an island in Puget Sound...preferring to mix with rabble in rough circumstances and becoming an irresponsible shit along the way...and the inadvertent child's selection started to mess with my heid...

the little niece knew something was wrong and placed herself to disapprove accordingly...but then she got into watching the film herself and it went all to hell...

luckily, we have some ribs in the oven and the anticipation was a moderating device...

then, in the final scene the log truck driver sez:' I got a jacket in the back, put it on because where we're goin' is colder than hell...'

Tutsi warrior

Don't worry Brah, you mana is strong. The outside in you is strong. Pop up strong.. Stoke it long and proud.

My profile... Hawaiian, Filipino, Chinese, English. Captain Cook(ed) he get around yah.. No play with Chief's daughter, yeah..

No talk Stink, yeah.. Breeze brah, howzit.

and there you have it...with a name like Rhys I woulda thought that you was from Cardiff...

right on, brah...

I once knew a woman that was 50/50 hawaiian and mexican and she had to be the most beautiful specimen of all time...all deliciously fragrant dark skin and impossibly long legs and I thought that she was a vision of heaven...

and I was doomed...she was a high priced prostitute in Marin county and took my inheritance money from my mother and laughed...

my pals they said: 'I can't believe you, tutsi...' and I snarled: 'yew never saw her...'

Tutsi Warrior

Hmmm having trouble with the Chardonna sipping 50/50 Market Street Moma.. Could not have been from Marin..possibly maybe... Corte Madera or the San Jose Area, Pre-silcion post silcon valley.

Brah, you gotta go to da MAX yeah.. more talk story and you fine wahine ..poi dog not poi dog. Da kine yeah, Sistah, tita. not want your money.. let me give you an example...of the truth Brah Spirit:

Moke Moke (our protaganist) was driving down Ala Mowana Blvd in a bright red Ferrari Testarosa... Now, Moke Moke, da handsome strong guy yeah.. His bras see him pull into Shell station for gas and musabi and spam.. the what I don't know what to eat, but this is good.. like any noodle dish.. Well Moke Moke, talk story big time, Moke Moke, job skill, no portofilo, he have not bag to put the folio in, yeah. Brahs, want to know.. how Moke Moke can drive car so fine, yeah.. he do the dugs, yeahs, for suresss, say brahs..DA..everyone knows, Moke Moke good boy, no do da dugs.. ... He no Lolo...

So Moke Moke give da story.. One day, on North shore beach, above the shack, Moke Moke walking, strutting on the beach, take da swim and take drink.. Den.. all of a such a Haloe lady, look at moke moke and say.. I say there, my handsome Hawaiian man, would you mind if I invited your to dinner tonight at the Royal Hawaiin.. Moke Moke free, swim shorts are clean, favorite aloha shirt back from Salvation Army, OK.. I go yeah..

Dinner was a marvelous affair of the local foods and the finnest wines.. Moke Moke, Like da Primo beer wid da ice cube..real class Moke Moke say.. Well Haloe lady pay for dinner, Moke Moke ready to chip in, have 55 dollars, gave blood in the afternoon. But Haloe lady want Moke Moke no bother..yeah.

Moke Moke happy say, Haloe Darling, we talk story more on beach yeah, your golden hair shine like orchid on painting, well moke moke is gentlemen, and know how to say nice tings to wahine, especially haloe, Moke Moke have da aina to da max yeah..is one long distance relative to King K...The evening is one of the summer breezing nice moments, hot, fragrant, the scent of lust in the air, and now....moke moke find himself and one wahine haloe under da tree.. no one is near, the ocean, the crash of the waves.. oh it is too much for the haloe.. Da kine, what Moke Moke say yeah... Dhen.. Wahine Lady kiss Moke Moke on cheek, next she rub up to Moke Moke and Moke Moke feel good..Wahine lady feel good.. Dhen Wahine haloe smile, ready to kiss Moke Moke somewhere good and den she look at Moke Moke, and say, Moke Moke you can have anything you want.. Moke Moke.. Ok I take da Car.. Tanks Eh..

That is the Hawaiian way..you would not have lost your money.. No talk stink yeah.

I just tried to run that through google translate, it passed out.

thad...you don't surf...

I useta...and I never did get to the islands but I know what 'da kine' is about...it bonds you to our mother ocean and thereby to the universe...just look at the guy in my avatar...

do you think that he gives a shit about anything else?

and it's not about 'fun'...she will take yer life just as she gives it to others...

she seriously fcuked with me heid when I was younger but I can't put her down...

recently, I almost picked up a surfboard again on the north coast of central Vietnam during storm surf in the winter but then I knew that I would certainly be doomed at 60 y.o....

thad...you don't surf...

Nah mate, not a particularly strong swimmer.

I used to do a lot of pot-holing though, there is nothing quite like the darkness, silence, solitude and serenity you can experience when you are more than a few hundred feet underground, and you turn off the light on your helmet.

I had a mate who was a pot-holer and took him out surfing once...he couldn't get into it but he knew what I was talkin' about...

curiosity, then fun and then danger...

and then it was obvious that he wanted to bone my girlfriend but she just said: 'don't worry...surfers are cleaner...'

I now have a clue!...I was just now drinkin' and thinkin'...in Indonesia a woman said to me as she replaced her makeup...

'you know...you are a nice man...but nice men don't often win...'

and then later she said: 'it's hard to know what you want as no one will look after you like I will...'

and I screamed: ' but I have a wife that I don't love and a little boy that I must attend to!'

and then she smoulderd in her darkness, lit a fag and walked out...

I potholed as a kid, limestone caves in south eastern Australia.

Never bothered me.

I like boating and fishing but never surfing or diving.

Too wet.

Too many "things" you couldn't see.

I potholed as a kid, limestone caves in south eastern Australia.

Never bothered me.

I like boating and fishing but never surfing or diving.

Too wet.

Too many "things" you couldn't see.

but...isn't that part of the beauty? a huge set of waves coming in and you are badly placed or a goddam shark lurking about and wanting to spoil yer day?

I was asleep on the rattan couch below and then heard the grandson screaming with delight...and I came upstairs to find him with balloons and running about and shouted: 'whose in charge here???!!!!' and then the little niece revealed herself with a plastic baseball bat and started to pummel him about the heid and then she gave me a poke with the business end and said: 'relax, uncle tuts or I'll get serious with this thing...'

did my DNA predetermine me for this or is this a random vision of delight???

the goddamed ocean is unpredictable...you stand on a cliff overlooking her behavior below and wanting to take yer pleasure and then she reacts and yer ass is on the line...

and then she has you in her grasp and you whimper: 'but I just wanted some of them waves...please don't hurt me'...and then she snarls: 'and with whose permission?'...

us surfers always considered us to be the Chosen of God as you could not be successful otherwise...

on one of my last times out in Santa Cruz I almost got smashed against a cliff at Pleasure Point and she knew that I was about to leave the whole show and go elsewhere and wasn't about to let me go without a fight...

curiosity, then fun and then danger...

I can dig that.

But I can still only swim like an oil soaked lemming..... I do like a hint of survival.

Sorry Gents,

Having too much fun in "Hawaiian Pidgin" Yeah.. Happy holidays. Da Kine.. a universal term for anything, generally a noun, you cannot explain in English.

I spent 10 years at sea and i can't swim the width of a swimming pool...