Cheapest Bus to Heaven?

[Phnom Penh, 11/11/22]

After death, you end up in a dusty, moldy but not overly stinky hell without air conditioning. Though not exactly thrilled, you can deal with this, even for eternity. At least I won’t have to worry about health insurance, you reflect. It is very annoying, though, to find no babes here, not even young methheads with Hunter Biden teeth.

Some asshole you’ve become friendly with confides, “While alive, I traveled a great deal, but I’m not sure I saw anything. I visited Paris without seeing the Louvre, Cambodia without checking out Angkor Wat, and the US without spending any time in New York, Miami, Las Vegas, San Francisco, Los Angeles or Seattle!”

“So where did you go?”

“Newark, Scranton, Youngstown, Gary, Des Moines, McCook, Battle Mountain, Walla Walla, Jackson, Mobile…”

Laughing, you interrupt him, “All hellish places! You end up in hell because you already loved hell so much!”

“No, that’s you, dumbshit!” Then he disappears, with a poof and green smoke even, leaving you to wonder if that was God, the devil, your dad in disguise or just your doppelganger, a word you just sort of learnt in the hellish library. There’s nothing but free time down this way.

Since hell is in the mind, it can be anywhere, though any convergence of hellish minds must increase the sulfuric stench to an unbearable degree. Can you imagine what it’s like at any joint session of the American congress, AIPAC convention or World Economic Forum in Davos?

Yesterday, I strolled down a hellish street, Khemarak Phoumin [literally Royal Khmer, but also the name of a distant, freewheeling town]. Choked with girly bars called Lucky Girl, Lolita and Pony Tails, etc., this would be many men’s idea of heaven, so be it. Outside each strident joint, radiant rural beauties sat cross-legged, waiting for their elderly dates. Jewjabs and Jewish fear mongering have deprived these forlorn whores of much boom boom and savage English lessons. Soon enough, many will also descend to a hell beyond this one. “Au contraire,” they will undoubtedly shout at my face. “Now, we fly to heaven and sell our pussies to angels!”

On a darkened Khemrak Phoumin lit only by hellish colored lights I passed some old guy who looked just like Emmanuel Swedenborg, but he ignored my heartiest greetings, “Hej, Manny! Beer on me?”

Revisiting any place, you get to see its progress or decay, and today’s Phnom Penh has certainly improved. Its stores look better and there’s much more variety in its restaurants. Four and a half years ago, there wasn’t any Lebanese or Jordanian, and many fewer Vietnamese, Japanese or Indian. Its most surprising was Sara Ethiopian, which shut down when the Covid scheme was unleashed, so fuck you, Klaus Schwab, Albert Bourla, Rochelle Walensky and the rest of you histrionic genociders. You’re redefining hell, hell dwellers. Mankind has never seen a sadder chapter, and the most shameful, too, for billions of us allowed ourselves to be fooled or cowed, with too many still cringing.

[Phnom Penh, 2/23/18]

The sign at Le resto du coin on Quai Sisowath was so gorgeously plain, I had to barge in. On its walls were so many charming paintings, all goofily amateurish, and hung so haphazardly, as if by a blind man after too many cans of Angkor. With its name, I only expected some basic French dishes, but there were quite a few, plus American, Italian and even Mexican ones. Someone is standing on tiptoes, I feared, so I only ordered steak with peppercorn sauce plus mash. With my near totaled teeth, the beef was a bit tough, but the plentiful mash was wonderful. I was in heaven.

I’ve loitered in some of Paris’ dumpiest neighborhoods but haven’t stood in front of Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. Visiting Giza repeatedly, I spent more time staring at garbage grubbing donkeys, goats, sheep and dogs than the pyramids, which I couldn’t wait to get away from, for it was swarming with hustlers. From one, I bought some polyester headgear made in China, for he wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone.

Again in Cambodia, I should try to see Angkor Wat, so this morning, I checked out two grimy bus depots, but you know what? They were fascinating enough!

That’s the story of my life. Since I can’t walk ten steps without being arrested by so much beauty and love, it’s a miracle I haven’t dropped dead decades ago from so much happiness.

At one station, there was a toddler in diaper, whom I immediately recognized as myself, and not years ago, but right now. Patting carboard boxes containing Hatari oscillating fans, this brat beamed, then his mom, no less lovely, picked him up. Her smile was so bright, I nearly had a heart attack.

All passengers waiting for buses were obviously villagers waiting to go home. Some were dressed as if going to a party. It’s a big deal to be propelled down the highway in a grand vehicle.

Behind the ticket counter stood five fire extinguishers, a prudent provision, for inexplicable fires are flaring up all over this damned globe, and we ain’t seen nothing yet.

[Phnom Penh, 11/11/22]

At the other depot, there was a map so alluring, I wanted to visit each location. Next to it were two talismans with eight swastikas, an auspicious symbol.

In the West, it means the ultimate evil, but just about everything occidental has been inverted, so unprecedented and endless terror is War Against Terror, brazen bullshit is news and higher education, rigged elections of Jew-screened puppets are democracy and genocidal Jewjabs are vaccines. As recently as 2019, it meant “a substance to provide immunity against a disease”!

Though the odds aren’t particularly good, I will try to reach you, Siem Reap, for my experience of Angkor shouldn’t be limited to cans of cheap beer.

Though it’s nearly 2PM, I haven’t had lunch, so I will stop here. Again, I hear laughter and bantering. Yes, labor is endless, suffering is always private and assholes gloat over each of our wounds, but if we’re unmolested and not starving, thus reasonably content, we’ll cheer each other up, and we do this primarily with language. Same here.

Just now, a woman sang half a line, then caught herself. After a few seconds, she started again, for her giddiness couldn’t be contained. Without knowing it, she made me happy, so I thank her.

Now, I go eat.

[Phnom Penh, 11/11/22]