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I’d rather have a king or emperor than a Weiner or a Palin

In praise of kings

Town Crier for William and Kate's baby

My brother went to London a little while back and it turned out to be during the Queen’s Jubilee celebration and he wrote the following: Celebrating 60 years of non-merit-based ultra-lavish living by hereditary entitlement.

Now, if you’ve ever met my brother, you know that he’s far smarter than me. But I think that there’s more to royalty than simply that.

When I was a kid, I remember reading once that Alexander Hamilton, and to a lesser degree, John Adams, argued for an American king. Hamilton envisioned that George Washington would be made king for life with the ability to veto all congressional bills.

For those of you that don’t know much about Hamilton beyond him being the dude on the $10 bill the guy that was killed by Burr, he’s a fascinating – rum-drinking – fella.

The current arguments now about states rights (Republican/Jefferson) versus federal rights (Democrat/Hamilton) were essentially started between him and Jefferson and continue to this day.

I’ve always believed as my brother has, which is that non-merit based leadership is wrong. But Hamilton was a brilliant man, so I wondered how he could have stumbled so much on this topic.

Now that I’m older, I see things differently.

You see, Hamilton was a founder of the Society of the Cincinnati, which honored Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus – a man who did not want to lead Rome, but did in one of its darkest hours, and then immediately abdicated after he had done what he needed to do.

Yes, there are centuries of stories about rulers that simply took from the population, but in modern times, are the people that have nothing but naked ambition any better?

Are Anthony Wiener or Sarah Palin any better to rule just because they have over-sized egos and ambition? Are they really any better than two exceptionally educated men that lost their mother in youth and put themselves in harms way like Princes William and Harry?

I’m not advocating a return to a monarchy. But if there’s one thing I know to be true – and that history has shown over and over again – it’s that power corrupts.

And some of the best leadership humanity ever had was had by people like Washington, Cincinnatus, and Gandi; people who never really wanted power in the first place but did it because it was their duty. What was the film The King’s Speech about if not about a man who did not want to lead but had to?

Baby Prince George VII will never lead in the pure sense of the word, but I hope that he “leads” as King George VI did, and as his grandmother Diana did, through service, grace, and a sense of duty.

In fact, King George VI’s wife, when asked why the family didn’t go to Canada during the Axis bombings said, “The children won’t go without me. I won’t leave the King. And the King will never leave.”

I suppose what I’m really saying is that good souls come from all parts. By extension, good leaders.

A friend on Facebook once wrote scathingly of Alice Walton – who essentially gives away much of her fortune – purely because she was born a Walton, as if she had any control over that.

In other words, she detests Alice because of original sin; that she was even born.

I say we judge people on what they’ve done with the life they’re given not on the life their given.

To do otherwise makes about as much as sense as being super proud that one is right-handed.

Location: enjoying the weather finally
Mood: stuffed
Music: My life’s become as vapid as a night out in Los Angeles
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Everyone has their thing

Here’s what I think of the royal baby being born

Town Crier for William and Kate's baby

I don’t like football. Considering that – amongst other things – a professional player gets between 900 to 1,500 blows to the head in a single season it strikes me as the closest modern analogy to gladiator battles.

Of course, I love MMA/UFC matches and I make excuses for it all the time: the amount of blows are different, the ability for someone to defend himself properly is different, the fact that a participant is encouraged to “give up” when in danger add to the safety, etc.

But I realize that, while it makes sense to me, it makes little sense to someone else.

For that reason, while I don’t like football, I wouldn’t go online and bash it just to bash it. Everyone’s got their thing, yeah?

Which brings me to this royal baby business.

My Facebook feed is exploding with people that are just angered by how much coverage it’s receiving. Almost none of them realize how much money this kid is going to inject into the British economy – up to $400 million according to some estimates.

Now, I don’t get it. Not even a little. BUT I don’t begrudge anyone their joy. If someone finds joy in watching grown men hurl themselves at each other while chasing a leather ball or cheering the birth of a singularly lucky (lucky) child, so be it.

Also, I realize that people have their fates tied up to odd things.

Like that dude in the picture above – for all I know, this is his shining moment, the greatest thing he’s ever done: Announce the birth of the next king in a funny hat. I don’t know, nor do I really care that much.

But someone does and that’s all fine and good. I’ll turn the channel just like I do when football is on.

We all have our weird things and we should let others have their weird thing too.

Speaking of weird things, I believe I’m due for some more chili for a midday snack.

Location: off to the gym
Mood: praying for rain
Music: Is there room for one more son
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Why are Poison Dart Frogs posionous in the first place?

We become what we consume

Poison dart frogs are well known for their bri...
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The most poisonous thing on the planet is a frog; more specifically, it’s the Golden Poison Frog with enough venom to kill between 10-20 humans or two elephants.

But the interesting thing with the Golden Poison Frog – or any poison frog for that matter – is that they aren’t inherently poisonous. They become poisonous from the specific things they eat; if you took baby frogs and fed them things that didn’t have the poison, they wouldn’t be poisonous.

They become poisonous because of what they consume.

On a related note, I’ve come to realize that I know people that consume a steady diet of outrage, and because of that they’re outraged all the time. Or perhaps it’s reversed and they’re outraged all the time and then consume a steady diet of more outrage.

Still others have a steady diet of stupidity, and they’re stupid all the time. And it goes on.

Young, broken people grow up to be old, broken people and after a while you can tell who’s going to end up which.

And I’m finding out that they’re every bit as poisonous to me as those frogs. So I keep my distance.

After all, a frog in a well knows nothing of the ocean and I like to know of oceans.

Conversely, however, I’m also finding that I have more optimistic, worldly, and ambitious people in my life than I might have otherwise expected. And these people consume those things that make them more optimistic, more worldly, and more ambitious.

These people I don’t keep at a distance.

Finally, I’ve been dreaming of the other side again. Just this past weekend, had a dream I lived in Gibraltar.

I’ll tell you about it someday.

Location: the start of a NYC heat wave
Mood: relaxed
Music: again, and again, I think I will break but I mend
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A rather mundane Monday

I hope for two things for us


Just walked in the door from the great state of New Jersey,

For those of you in the States, hope you had a good holiday weekend. For those of you not, still hope it was great.

Pretty much worked the entire time to catch up on work I missed out on while on vacation. Had the place to myself since the wife went to see her folks for the holiday. Turned out to be a good thing because I underestimated the sheer volume of things I had to do.

Did manage to hit the gym a couple of times and even met up with my cousin for a drink with a friend of hers that read, and enjoyed, my book.

On that note, I get about one random email a month from someone saying how much they like The Men Made of Stone. If you did, consider telling someone about it or posting a review?

In any case, been bouncing the idea for a new story in my head but I’m still fleshing it out. Also thinking of writing a book on dating.

So many ideas and so little time.

In the midst of all this, kept up with the plane crash that happened and the firefighters that recently died.

On the plane crash, they interviewed someone that was part of it all who said that he didn’t know how he was going to act in such a situation and he was pleased to find that he was able to keep calm and help others. It’s like I said once, we’re made in our sleep and by our lonely.

I hope two things for myself and you:

  1. That we never have to find out what we are truly made of, and
  2. That if we must, we find that we are made of noble things.

And on that note, I wish the people in the crash and those that the firefighters left behind well and turn back to my rather mundane Monday.

It’s a lucky thing to have a mundane Monday, I think.

Location: in my roasting pad
Mood: busy
Music: It’s easier to believe in this sweet madness
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You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with

We become like the five people we spend the most time with


This fella named Jim Rohm, whom I’ve mentioned before, said something once that is the inverse of what I believe.

I believe that our friends mirror some quality of us. After all, people become our friends precisely because they see some part of the world we see.

For example, I don’t have any rabid football fans as friends because I’m not a rabid football friend.

Most of my friends are rum-swilling, chili- and gyro-eating, ambitious nerds because I’m a rum-swilling, chili- and gyro-eating, ambitious nerd. It’s my tribe.

But Jim Rohn said that we’re the average of the five people we spend the most time with.

We become like the five people we spend the most time with.

I think this is true too and yet another reason why I end up cutting so many people out of my life – because I want to be around people that point me in the direction I want to go.

Wanna be at least half as good a writer as my writer friend, at least half as a wrestler as my coach, at least half as good a lawyer as my boss, at least half as good a fencer…

Oh, you get the point.

I have 11,680 days left. I want them to matter.

Looking at the silliness I call my life, had five tickets to give out. Think I’ve chosen wisely.

You?

Location: caught in rain again, dammit
Mood: wet again
Music: I’ll admit I’m just the same as I was
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Pathological Altrusim

When kindness hurts


Perhaps one of the most disturbing things I’ve ever come across in my life is the true story of the victim that almost escaped Jeffrey Dahmer.

It’s so disturbing, in fact, that I’m unable to summarize it here. If you want to know more about it, google him and “escaped victim.” I caution you to think twice before you do, though.

In any case, had another night of insomnia recently and thought about a report I read recently by Oakland University professor Barbara Oakley, who coined a new term for something I’ve seen myself repeatedly: Pathological Altruism.

Simply put, it’s when being kind is the worst thing one can be. The Dahmer story is an extreme example but it’s an almost daily occurrence – like soccer trophies for just showing up.

We think we’re doing something kind when in fact we’re doing the exact opposite.

The wife and I watched Jamie Oliver’s TED talk about nutrition over the weekend where a grossly overweight woman came to the realization that she was – literally – killing her own children with a diet of fast food and soda.

She and I also talked about a friend I cut because he ended up being that one drunk idiot at our wedding amongst other questionable actions. He’s also had a string of really bad relationships and I’ve tried to explain that the common denominator in it all is…him.

But he keeps doing what he does and keeps getting what he gets. And I can’t surround myself with people that have no interest in being better than they were yesterday.

More on that Wednesday.

Getting back to pathological altruism, a buddy in college once came back from spring break and told me this story:

He’d been speeding home when a cop pulled him over and wrote him a ticket. The cop said he was sorry he did it but my buddy was going 50 in a 35 zone and it was foggy, as it often is in upstate NY. Stepping back into the car, my buddy continued on his way, depressed and irritated. Suddenly, a deer jumped out in front of him and he slammed on the brakes.

He said that the ticket probably saved his life, and at the very least, saved the life of the deer and his car.

Best ticket I ever got, he said.

In any case, one thing I can summarize here is a joke that goes something like this:

A bird was flying south for the winter when he became tired and fell out of the sky, landing in snow. Almost freezing to death, a cow happened to defecate on him. As the warm dung revived him, the bird began to sing. A wolf, hearing this, immediately dug him out of the dung and devoured him.

There are three morals to this story:

  1. Not everyone who craps on you is your enemy.
  2. Not everyone who pulls you out of crap is your friend.
  3. If you’re buried in crap, it’s best to keep quiet.

 

Location: caught in rain immediately before a 90 min phone call
Mood: wet
Music: Don’t take to heart the words that he says
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Laraha, Valencia, Curaçao, and Superman

Nurture versus Nature or Superman the Shoe Salesman

Nighttime Shot of Malaga Spain
After the Boston bombings, there were a number of people I knew that immediately spouted their conspiracy theories. And several of them argued that Americans somehow brought this upon themselves.

Of course, they are Americans but hold themselves separate and superior from the rest of us. Which is odd because several of them stopped formal education at high school.

The most recent events in London made me think of the whole nature versus nurture argument.

And oranges.

And Superman.

Because there’s this orange from Spain called the Valencia orange that’s supposed to amazingly delicious and sweet. They were hybridized in America from orange trees in Valencia, which in turn came from India.
Valencia Orange, picture from Wikipedia

Those same trees were planted on the island of Curaçao, where the soil there caused these delicious, sweet, bright orange, oranges to transform – on their own – into small, bitter, green, “oranges.” They turned into the Laraha fruit.

These fruit are so bitter that it’s said that goats on the island would rather starve to death than eat them.

Let me stop for a second and paraphrase a joke that I heard once, which says that: If Krypton never exploded and Kal-El/Superman stayed on the planet, what if he became a shoe salesman?

After all, he’s only Superman because he came here; home he would have been Al Bundy.

As the son of recent immigrants, I wonder about my possible pasts: what if we never came here from Taiwan? Who would I be, what would I be? It’s pure dumb luck, my lot in this world.

Turning back to the recent events of England, it was odd hearing the attackers speak clear British English. Is there some inherent glitch in people like this or is a unique combination of nature and nurture. I’m guessing that’s the case.

Wonder what these people’s  lives would had been had they not gone to the UK. And what then?

I’ve no answer.

Suppose not everything that heads off to distant lands become better with time, like rum.

Location: heading to the gym
Mood: muggy
Music: Who killed tangerine? The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen
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We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are

We reveal a lot more of ourselves than we realize

Got injured in my ribs about two weeks ago so I’ve not been wrassln for a bit. Went back for the first time on Monday and it seemed fine. When class is over, we all stand in line to be dismissed.

While standing there, I realized I couldn’t breathe right as I couldn’t get my diaphragm to move. Things started to get get wonky and the next thing I knew I was on the floor.

Ended up being fine but the funny thing is that as it was happening, the first thing I thought was, “If you end up in the hospital again, the wife is totally not gonna let you wrassle or fence any more. Don’t hit your head going down!”

Being married really changes how you look at the world.

———-

Regarding my post from last week about mixed-race couples, someone I only kinda know on FB contacted me. We ended up chatting about China in general:

Him: Have you even been to China before?
Me: Actually yes, several times, in fact.
Him: As a tourist I bet.
Me: Nope, I was there on business.
Him: I bet you just saw all the tourist sites and had pictures of yourself eating dumplings.
Me: Neither, I didn’t have time to see anything, I was pressed for deadlines the entire time. And I don’t think I had any dumplings while I was there; in fact, I don’t even think I have pictures. And why pick on dumplings? What they’d ever do to you?

He finally ended up saying that, because I had a Caucasian wife and that must mean I don’t find Asian women attractive.

Him: It points to a lot of self-hatred.
Me: That’s a pretty big leap. OK, do you think Brad Pitt’s a good looking guy?
Him: (pause) I guess so.
Me: I do too. But if he asked you out right now, what would you say?
Him: I’m not gay .
Me: Nor am I. But, what you’re saying is that you find him attractive, just not in that way. You have preferences.
Him: It’s not the same thing!
Me: Why? Are you saying one’s natural and one’s unnatural? We all like what we like. Attraction is not a choice.

That’s when I realized it was all a waste of my time.

This woman named Anais Nin once said that, We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.

Her: He thinks you hate being Chinese? You love being Chinese!
Me: I know! We’re lovely and have the best dumplings.
Her: Well, those are just Chinese ravioli.

Location: not the gym
Mood: hungry
Music: sailed to Hong Kong harbour, the winds were warmer then
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Asian Males and White Females

I dunno, it’s just something I do

 

There’s this sword movement done where a block is performed with the spine of the blade and the sword then rolls into a slash. It’s really cool looking and possibly one of the most beautiful sword movements that exists.

I noticed it years ago with another fencer and asked him what it was. He looked at me, puzzled. And said, I dunno, it’s just something I do. For him, it was nothing special, just part of his makeup.

I’ve alluded to this in the past, such as when people are extraordinarily proud to be Irish, or Chinese, or what have you. For most of us, myself included, being Chinese is simply something I am.

Having said this, since my wife and I got married, we do notice that there are few couples like us: Asian male and White female (AMWF). In fact when we’re out and about, we invariably remark to each other when we notice another couple like us.

I bring all of this up because I was in court yesterday kiling time and I came across this blog entry called Why Aren’t We Talking More About The Rarity of AMWF? – and it really made me think.

While it should be noted that the writer is a Caucasian writer living in China (very cool), it’s just as true here in the States, I think.

Regarding my own experiences, there are many friends I have now that I’ve only recently met. And the funny thing is that the version of me they know is not the version I actually think I am in my head.

In college, I dated a Korean girl for years. In law school, it was a Chinese med student. Then I dated a hapa. Then I just dated.

There’s a running joke with some of my friends from 2008 onward that I only dated Caucasians. Which my older friends would find funny because they thought I only dated Asians.

And yet neither is true. I dated whomever I liked.

This version of me is only the part they know. Had an argument with a dolt I met online via FB who immediately labeled me as a self-hating Chinese man, which only made me roll my eyes and move on with my life.

After all, I’m not another person’s opinion of what I am. I am, simply, what I am.

Getting back to the  questions posed: Why are there so few Asian male, Caucasian female combinations?

I’m not sure.

Out and about, I was frequently the first and only Asian person many non-Asians dated. There were two common things they said. Either:

Regarding point one, a good deal of that has to do with exposure IMHO. If they don’t know any Asian men well, there’s no one to whom to be attracted.

As for point two, many of my male friends are:

  1. more strongly attracted to Asian females,
  2. more comfortable dating Asian female, or
  3. assuming that point one above is definitive – Non-Asian women are not attracted to Asian men.

I’ve never found number 3 to be true but this is just anecdotal to me and all of this is just my opinion.

I’m not really sure why I didn’t really think about it all that much while I was dating, mainly because – for me – it’s just something I did.

What do you think?

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I also wrote a book about first dates with information I just haven’t seen in other books that I learned from three solid years of dating in NYC.

A Great First Date, early 2014It’s just $2.99 at at Amazon, BN.com, and the Apple Store.

 

Location: not in court
Mood: analytical
Music: Paris to China to Colorado
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Everybody knows, but no one really believes it

Look for the red things

Me: The thing is, there’s a difference between seeing and noticing. Noticing is when you consciously become aware of something. For example, if I said right now, Look for everything that’s red. You’d see a lot more red things.
Him: (looking around) Great, now all I see are the red things.
Me: (laughing) That’s what happens. You can’t un-notice something you’ve noticed. It’s called the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon.

Updating this blog a bit late because I’ve been trying to finish up a few assignments for clients.

Been watching the news about the three women they found; obviously it reminds me of the Jaycee Dugard story. Just like with her, compounding the basic horror of it all is also the fact that they were cheated out of those years.

Life is so short as it is.

I blinked and I’m 40.

Spalding Gray once said that Everybody knows they are going to die, but no one really believes it. Late at night, when I can’t sleep, I realize what it means and it keeps me up the rest of the night. Like last night.

Doubt you ever noticed, but for the past few years every time I write about dying, I put up a picture of a clock.

As I get older, I see notice more clocks and think about how short it all is.

And you can’t un-notice something you’ve noticed.

 

Location: in the basement of my brain again
Mood: nostalgic
Music: I don’t mind waiting in line
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