Post Number Thirty Seven

“The ABC of Economics”

ITEM: I am now starting all my Postings wi’ the word “ITEM”. This is to lend an air of Economic Efficiency to my regular diatribes. Therefore (and furthermore) I shall (henceforth) be vigorously itemizing all the following ITEMS:

  • dick jokes;
  • pussy jokes;
  • anus jokes;
  • devastatingly topical bon mots and sundry witticisms; and finally
  • fart jokes

by placing them (oh, and “Poo Jokes”) placing them, I say (did I mention “Boob Jokes”?) PLACING THEM , I state with a forcefulness borne of my newfound economic know-how-itude, in carefully calibrated categories, divided and/or multiplied according to some (or all) (or none) of the following:

  • size;
  • shape;
  • weight;
  • velocity of light… heartedness; and finally
  • Volume of Jocundity.

This last category contains a number of SUB-categories (approximately five, to be exact) which take the form of Mouth Noisings. They are as follows:

  • chuckles;
  • guffaws;
  • derisory snorts;
  • high-pitched giggles; and finally
  • ecstatic yee-hahs.

Consequently (or subsequently. Still dunno which) I hereby and theretoforthwith do Solemnly Declare that every one (or more) (or less) of these newer, more streamlined, and more economically sounder Postings will, from this moment on (i.e. “henceforth”) contain a glass ‘n’ a half o’ full-cream japings in every hit. Regarding which the Reader will probably ask:

“Why so much hi-falutin’ economics hoo-hah?”*

(* Note the technical American jargon.) It’s v. simple. I’ve had mine eyes prised open by a Norwegian backpacker (“Svengard”) and– instead of dollar signs– those eyes were (and are) brimming with BAHT SIGNS (whatever the fuck a “Baht sign” looks like). Or so Svengard claims… Yet why should I doubt him? He is, after all, a GRADUATE in Enviro-Ecologico-Economicology at Oslo Quasi-Semi-Technical School, which is world famous throughout Norway for the size (and shape) of its bean counters.

Svengard speedily calculated (using an application called a “CAL-kyoo-LAY-tor”) (which was {and is} on my computer) (i.e. the laptop I’m yappin’ into now) (which I never knew I had) (the calculator, that is. Not the laptop. I mean, obviously I was fairly certain I had that. It’s what I been yappin’ into) the rate of exchange of Australian Dollars to Thai Bahts, and vice versa. Then he ITEMIZED (love that word) each of the persons I gave a 5K Baht wad to. His official guess-timate was:

“Heaps. You given heaps o’ money t’ heaps o’ people.”

Some of those people are as follows:

  • a Tuk-Tuk Dood;
  • a Misleading Local;
  • a Misleading Tuk-Tuk Dood, though not necessarily the same as

a) the first of the Tuk-Tuk Doods; or

b) the other Misleading Local (or was he?)

  • Wangadang Singalot in the guise of Tocsin Rashapoon;
  • Wangadang Singalot in the guise of Wangadang Singalot;
  • both of the above in the guise of a single Police Chief Guy who got me out of the Bangkok Hilton;
  • a Transaction-Sexual who kept attaching herself to my leg (even when I was trying to walk up stairs) thereby forcing me to pay her to stop;
  • a Bucket Bong Vendor;
  • a Pedlar of the Finest Quality Dopery; and finally (for now):
  • a Striptease Artiste who vaginally shot a bowling ball through a basketball hoop (and the really impressive thing was, she slam-dunked it— or should I say she– “SIAM”— dunked it? uh-GOOOOOOAAAAAAL-uhhh… Money well spent.)

And then, of course, there were two or three (or more) sundry Food Walla-s, and Wallet Walla-s (i.e. Walla-s who promised they’d look after my wallet while I went into the Male Silhouette Void) and many more folks (including Walla-Shooing-Walla-s) numbering anywhere between five and seven. I gave them big Baht wads, too. All this came (according to Svengard’s gruff estimates) to the princely sum of twenty-three (or twenty-four) (or more) Baht wads multiplied by 5,000, equalling the now¬†kingly sum of… ummm… Svengard?

(Oi, SVENGARD!! Ploise tell me how much the Baht wads came to. Not the princely sum either, man. The kingly sum.)

(Gran’ total, yair.)

(A hun… A hun… dred… ‘n’ fif… teen THOU..? Whew… I… think I’ll finish this Post… lying down. On the floor.)

(Forty five minutes later.)

Right. I’m recovering well down here. Well enough to realize that– even though my incomings are larger than my outgoings– my advisor (Svengard) has told me that I should’ve (somehow!) avoided giving away so much cash for little- or no reason. Had I done so I would’a been able to pay back my outstanding debits (to the Werdsperts of the world, et al) TWELVE TIMES OVER (fuck it) with change. In lieu of this, the Bean Counter (AKA my advisor) (AKA Svengard) has advised me to (in his opinion) “down-scale my monetary outsplashings” by confining myself to this hostel, and– oh, the frugality!– smoking fewer bucket bongs in order to stretch out my two (2) remaining Baht wads.

One of which I gave to Svengard. For services rendard.