Yellow Peril by Tze Ming Mok

Stop the cruelty

Good god. Lynnette Forday turned 'hostess' after years on the scrapheap as last-century's token Asian. Nicky Watson in her knickers with a lampshade on her head. It could only be... Yet another campaign to stop atrocities against animals, by instead committing atrocities against people.

The classy event in question is 'Moonbear Madness', a fundraiser for such an obscurely specific animal-welfare cause that you can only assume it was randomly picked as an excuse to throw a pricey Orientalist backroom-stripper party for the confused rich. Yes, crap things happen in China, to animals and people. But when the China Democracy Party was in Aotea Square last week, raising awareness about human rights abuses on the Mainland, did they fundraise with a soft-core bestiality show starring shaved Pandas and Pekinese puppies?

Ah well, maybe they should have. Nicky Watson might have turned up. To, like, protest.

If it had just been dear Nicky getting her tits out again, even with that absurd Chinese headpiece on this invader's ire would not be raised more than is usual. But when the invite follows this up with: "Three maidens from Mongolia will contort themselves for your delight", it's no wonder the word on the street is that not a single one of the purported 'prominent young Asian Aucklanders' invited from a lengthy contact list RSVPed to this. We would have been all pretty worried that John Banks' mates would mistake us for Mongolians and try to stuff twenties down our pants in prospective exchange for some backroom contortionate Asiatic delights.

Fuck. Off.

It was nearly as ridiculous as the time I received a New Zealand First pamphlet in the junk-mail. Do I look like the target market for this crap?

I would however recommend that any real underpaid East-Asian and Southeast-Asian prostitutes who happen to be reading this blog, kit themselves out in extreme bordello glamour this Tuesday night, bowl on up to Opium as 'the help', and exploit the clientele for all they're worth. Take their cash, their food, booze and dignity, get their pants down, take photos and sell them on the net. And dedicate it all to the House of Nancy Peterson/Feng Xiukin, who occupied a far less glamorous position on the spectrum of the Oriental-fetish industry.

On a more positive note: a shout-out to my Aunt Jo Li Ping, who was airlifted out of Saigon thirty years ago. Nice timing Ayi. The anniversary of the end of the Vietnam War also marks the start of Asian Pacific American Heritage Month in the States.

That's right, not only do Asians get their own month in America, they also get to be categorised under the same double-pan-ethnic label as one of the hip pan-ethnicities. How did they manage that? As you'd imagine: hard work; early starts. (Note: guy on the left in this photo totally looks like my dad)