Root for Hezbollah and Pray for Taiwan

[New Taipei, 10/4/24]

Just now I wrote, “A Philly cheesesteak in Delaware is already suspect.” The best cheesesteak I’ve ever had was in Beirut, however, at Roadster Diner. Though hardly kosher, it had better steak, cheese and, most importantly, bread. Roadster’s slogan is “Share the Love.” Preaching love, Americans bombard metallic hatred that shreds flesh. Jews, too, as they laugh. Those righteous hypocrites are united by their gleeful love for genocides. Though destroyed by Jews and whites, Lebanese have never hated the West, just Israel.

Lebanese just want Jews to stop wrecking their lives. Consider the Maghen Abraham Synagogue in downtown Beirut. Built in 1925, it was destroyed by Israeli bombs in 1982, then rebuilt and kept unmolested until now. In Cairo, too, abandoned synagogues are protected. Jews are the ones destroying other people’s houses of worship. In southern Lebanon, Christian villages with their churches thrive under Hezbollah. My driver, Ali, and I had to go there often to get beer. Though Muslim, Ali claimed to never drink water. His son was in Hezbollah.

Roadster’s walls were jammed with loving references to the USA, “Harley Davidson” in neon, “ROUTE US 66,” “INTERSTATE 294,” “RESERVED PARKING FOR THE WORLD’S BEST MOM,” etc. Framed by a jukebox and a colorful statue of a buxom blonde waitress, there’s “TOGETHER FOREVER” lit like a theater marquee. There were likenesses of Louis Armstrong, Marilyn Monroe and Dan Aykroyd. A red Chevy Bel Air with a wholesome greaser hovered over one booth. It’s an Americana museum. I should have returned for its Tex-Mex steak taco.

Though I haven’t been able to reach Taxi in southern Lebanon, I still hope to see her and Beirut again. Sidon, too. That great Phoenician city has survived conquests by the Assyrians, Babylonians, Egyptians, Persians, Greeks, Arabs, Turks, Mongols and two waves of Crusaders. It’s been bombed by Brits and Jews.

Any nation still coherent is reassured by a long view of history. It means your people have and will endure even as you’re lanced, spiked or blown to bits. Like Vietnamese, Lebanese have that faith. The Latin root of endure means “to make hard.” You must be hard to accept being a martyr.

To die for those who openly hate you, though, is the depth of stupidity. Dumbshit Americans are being sent, again, to the Middle East. Back home, corpses are stuck on trees as FEMA goes AWOL after historical deluges. I won’t say Biblical. With her mouth impossibly stretched, Kamala campaigns on. All stories of retarded governmental responses are fake news, scream the Jewjewed media. Didn’t Washington do a great job in East Palestine and Maui?

After 11 days in Taiwan, I’m back in Vung Tau. On my last full day there, I took a train to Tamsui District. With Typhoon Krathon moving in, many stores were closed. I did manage to duck into two greasy spoons, where locals were having breakfast. They’re Chinese diners, essentially, but without the booths and counter common to American ones. Orientals love to mingle. Drinking my black without sugar, I shared a table with a stranger. Without understanding one word, all that chattering cheered me up.

Between those eateries, I had to take shelter from the hard rain, so recorded another lame video. Near the end, I muttered, “Thank you, Taiwan. Thank you, Taiwanese. It’s been very instructive. I wish these people well. Let’s pray for Taiwan. I hope I didn’t have to say that. Let’s hope nothing bad will happen.” Though I babbled some more, a percussive wind canceled my words.

Done with my cinematic masterpiece, I peered into a darkened beauty salon to find this edifying message, “GOOD LIVING / live love & enjoy life / understand your lifestyle and / how you wanna to live it.” Why was it in English, and what’s up with this “wanna”? Loving the USA, English, making sense or not, is all over Taiwan. On the Metro, a lady carried this Snoopy bag, “Remember how you used to read to us every night?” Taiwanese are doggedly sweet.

On the way to the airport, I got off at New Taipei Industrial Park Station. No visitor in his right mind would do that, but, of course, I found plenty of interest. Almost too much. Right at the station, there was an “ALL GENDER RESTROOM.” Since there are 74 by the wokest count, I find that highly offensive. Each should be spelled out to make sure any gender blank, gender fuzzed, anesigendered, esspigendered, omnigendered or gender witched person feels unequivocably welcomed. Resisting the urge to barge in to catch in flagrante Michelle just being Michael, I entered the sexist, transphobic and perhaps even racist men’s room. For my sin, I was slapped with “I love Paris” on a stall, with cute cats and birds to complete this mind molesting weirdness. Perhaps it’s a tribute to Brigitte Macron? Luckily, I didn’t encounter Jean-Michel. Times like these require Candace Owens. Will you marry me?

Seeking ballast, I quickly found it at a nearby 7-Eleven. There must be one for every Taiwanese. Before I could grab a Meiji 86% cacao chocolate bar and a cappuccino, I saw, above all the merchandises, “NEW YORK CITY” with crude silhouettes of the Statue of Liberty, Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan skyscrapers. Another wall was covered by a photo of Central Park. In the next room were cheerful murals of Paris and Tokyo.

Since the young cashier could speak some English, I slowly said, “This is very weird. Here is New York, over there is Paris and Tokyo, but this is Taipei!” I smiled. I’m sure she thought I was insane.

It’s still Taiwan, though, because in the unattended room where guests could linger for hours, there were cases of beer and boxes of snacks. Would they last one hour in any American city?

What made it especially Taiwan was a pseudo classical statue of some white woman sitting alone outside an upscale condominium. They just love America. Let’s hope they won’t have to pay for this naiveté.

[New Taipei, 10/4/24]

[7-Eleven in New Taipei, 10/4/24]

[New Taipei, 10/4/24]

[Taipei, 10/4/24]