"To say that a work of art is good, but incomprehensible to the majority of men, is the same as saying of some kind of food that it is very good but that most people can't eat it." ~ Leo Tolstoy
I admit, as someone who blogs every once in a while (~excessive back sweating~), I'm quite sensitive to the mushy, sleazy choice of words that is so ubiquitous in the rag magazines of Hong Kong. Just the other day, I learned a new word to do caption for a bootilicious actress : Graceful Boobgoddess 氣質咪神.
Apparently, our town has an obsession to tits (for the lack of better word, pardon me), so much so that every journalist (and apparently all the readers, in this case) reached a resolution that there is a genuine and pressing need to give a formal recognition to anyone with a fuller upper body. In the past, they would simply say this girl has a big rack or a bombshell, as most publication couldn't afford anyone who is not grade 10 dropout. But nowadays, given that a u-grad is as cheap as a bag of toilet rolls, the packaging for the same thing that goes in the mind of everyone who's looking at the photo gets much more sophisticated and subliminal (somehow unnecessarily, for you know this is a trash magazine you're buying, right?). The outcome is simple: every girl with a healthy and nutritious adolescence is worshiped like a supreme being in Hong Kong.
But one thing that I can never work out is, how can you play the word "graceful" and "boobgoddess" one on one? It's almost like inviting a pornstar to give a speech on etiquette in lieu of Emily Post.
But the grotesque mash-up didn't stop here. On the next day, I read from news that somewhere in China, there's a hooker playing the virgin game to all her clientele to charge 10 times more with.
Before you ask the same question like I did, namely, where is the protection for a law-abiding citizen like her patron, I want you to take a deep breath and guess how our con artist managed to fool every patronizing Moses of hers -- bear in mind that chicken is the Chinese metaphor for prostitute.
The trick is chicken blood (or treat, in the sense that for some Taiwanese and Japanese the first blood from a virgin is the most tonic supplement the world can offer for suckers). Boom boom, a bolt of divine comedy lightning just stroke me. Simply put, chicken becomes her.
Still, there's one thing I can't work out either. That is, what otherwise would have been a con classic only went turkey when her patrons filed her in to the police for the deceiving crime.
Frankly, the ends bug me even more than the means not because of our genius protagonist is now busted and serving time in the jail, but because I know prostitution is illegal in China not only for the hooker, but also the swinger. So, isn't it like turning yourself in when you walk up to the police and say you're screwed by a hooker (or you've over-tipped her, which generally sounds nicer)?!
You see, the lesson here is this: the world we're living in is complicated and twisted. Shocking, theatrically presented food is nice but utterly too much to swallow if it comes in a string. Every now and then, we just need simple food done good to save us all the brainwork. And that my friend, is what chachaanteng food can bring to us.
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