Wednesday, 22 November 2017

“A CANBERRA BOY EXPERIENCES ALTERED STATES OF CONSCIOUSNESS AT THE CIVIC YMCA AND IN DOING SO MAKES AN ARSE OF HIMSELF TWICE IN ONE DAY”


A CANBERRA BOY EXPERIENCES ALTERED STATES OF CONSCIOUSNESS AT THE CIVIC YMCA AND IN DOING SO MAKES AN ARSE OF HIMSELF TWICE IN ONE DAY
By Dave Wheeler
    As I’ve reminded the reader in previous posts, within Australian culture, or for that matter virtually any culture, you’re not supposed to talk about yourself too much, and if you do it's best to do so by way of putting yourself down. I have definitely done the latter in this essay/anecdote/rave, as it shows up some real flaws in my makeup, or at the very least the makeup I possessed as a young man, even though what was and was not me at the time is debatable. And if what I just said makes no sense to you it may as we progress.
   It's also difficult to not talk about yourself if your personal experiences are intertwined with how you see things, particularly if you’re putting forward philosophical reasoning when the reasoning revolves around one’s personal experiences, which is what I will attempt to do. Actually, personal philosophies are created by combining acquired knowledge with personal experiences. 
   Putting that aside, some who read this essay may get a laugh at my expense, but it is mainly for the benefit of those who are interested in how the brain and mind may work and/or who are philosophically-inclined. 
    So, be warned; if you have no interest in philosophy or how the mind and brain works, or if you have a small attention span, I advise you to read a different anecdote or essay within this blog by simply scrolling down or hitting the “Home" button and making a choice. You could also close your computer and go on a shopping spree in Captains Flat.
   I would also like to say that if you are not familiar with aggressive Rationalist philosophy and have not made yourself consciously aware of the implications of our bodies (which of course includes our brains) being a part of the material universe, and as such subject to the forces of the universe that act upon them, much of what I have to say you may regard as insane. It may even seem insane to those who subscribe to religions that require followers to believe in the supernatural. 
     What I have to say relates to certain events I experienced within the walls of the since demolished YMCA in Civic, even though I rarely visited the place when it existed. 
    The first event at the Civic YMCA that involved my having an altered state-of-consciousness I regard as a fascinating but negative experience. I didn’t make an arse of myself on that occasion but I was very confused during and after the event as it seemed to defy logic.  
    My memory tells me the event may have occurred in 1971, but it probably occurred in or around mid 1970. On the night it occurred I had been at the Canberra Rex with my mates when one of them, a lad named Terry Gates, asked me if I could take him to the YMCA in Civic where his girlfriend was playing basketball so we could give her a lift home. Terry did not own a car. 
    I didn't know the girl very well, but I remember her as an attractive girl a couple of years younger than me, and my faded memory also tells me her name was Megan and that she went to Lyneham High. But, I’ve received a lot of blows to my 1952 vintage head, and because I was a forceps baby for all I know her name may have been Sheila, Cheryl or Beryl and she may have been a hairdresser from Queanbeyan.  
Update-January 2020. I recently found out my memory is correct and her name was and still is Megan and she did go to Lyneham High. I was told this by a good mate of hers who is a good mate of mine. They still stay in contact with each other. Its easy to worry about dementia planting false memories in your brain as you age.  
   The Civic YMCA, which has since been bulldozed, was located at the corner of London Circuit and Constitution Avenue Civc, as shown above, where the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade building now stands. Imagine the CO2 that was produced when the current buildings were erected. 
   The above is a photo of the said Civic YMCA, which was taken in the 60’s. Thanks to Anne Cameron for finding it for me.
     Anyway, I agreed to give her a lift home, and when we arrived at the YMCA I told Terry I would wait in the car while he went in to get her. But, after going inside for a very short period of time Terry returned to me in a state of absolute fear and horror, as if he’d just seen a ghost. He said to me, "It’s packed with sheilas in there! There are no blokes in there at all! I can’t go in there by myself! You’ve got to come in with me!” 
    I said to myself, “What’s his problem? Surely he can handle a bunch of girls?Yet Terry was usually a very gutsy sort of lad, and he had never showed any signs of shyness or fear when it came to girls. His reaction was completely and utterly out of character. 
    So, I reluctantly got out of my car and began walking with Terry through the main entrance of the YMCA. I felt a bit smug at the time, thinking to myself that if I had a girlfriend I had to pick up from the YMCA I would not need a mate to walk into the place with me.
    It was however, a very different story when I was actually inside the Civic YMCA, even though I was in the company of another bloke. I felt a sort of fear I had never felt in my life. For some reason unbeknown to me the fear I felt was so strong I had an immediate urge to race outside. 
     I don’t think I felt fear that was of the same intensity I would feel if I was shoved into a cage with a Kodiak bear, but it would not have been that far off it. The difference however, was that if I was in a cage with a Kodiak bear I would know why I felt fear, as it would be totally warranted. Conversely, when I was within the walls of the Civic YMCA on that night, surrounded by laughing and boisterous teenage girls who were too busy playing basketball or conducting activities related to playing basketball to notice our presence, along with a sprinkling of middle-aged women who were organising the games, I had no idea why I was feeling any fear at all. 
     After taking a few more steps inside it was all too much. I could have gone on and endured it if it was a life and death situation, but if you’re suffering an intense form of pain of any sort you need a very good reason to not make it stop, and the obligation I had to support Terry by accompanying him was outweighed by the desire I had to get out of the place. 
   Poor Terry walked on by himself not knowing I had slipped out without telling him. I don’t know if the fear he felt was as intense as mine, but later on he told me that when he turned and saw I wasn’t there he was panic-stricken and didn’t know what to do with himself. That caused me a lot of amusement.
     What fascinates me is the question of why the situation gave me such fear. I was not trying to make a line for any of the girls, so my ego was not in any danger. There is no way it could be compared to the fear young men feel when they are about to ask a girl out, not knowing whether or not they'll get a knock-back. And why did Terry react in a similar way to me when it was so out of character for him? I had never before suffered from any form of anxiety, paranoia or had any sort of panic attack, nor have I since the event occurred. And I had been in very similar situations before the event I described occurred and I have been in similar situations after the event. It was only on that one occasion I felt such inexplicable fear. 
    So, was the state-of-mind I experienced at the YMCA on that one occasion simply the one and only time in my life I suffered a form of mental illness or was there more to it? 
     I told the story to a workmate several years ago, a lady whose name I cannot recall as I only worked with her briefly. I do however, remember her being a bit new-age and a committed feminist. She told me that Terry and I were probably subjected to a sort of girl-power women can produce when in large groups to protect themselves from males. She said it was by no means an unusual occurrence. 
    To augment what she was saying she reminded me of the fact that trees can communicate with surrounding trees chemically to protect themselves against herbivores or other things that are a threat to them, and she is correct about the trees as the process has been observed by many reputable scientists. See the following link.
 http://www.abc.net.au/science/articles/2015/05/20/4236600.htm
    In regard to how the girls may have put up an anti-male shield she came up with two theories. She thought the girls may have created a magnetic field which produced fear in the male brain or they may have produced a collective smell that males could perceive non-consciously, and that the smell may have caused the male brain to feel fear without it being consciously aware of why it felt fear.
    It all sounded and still sounds too far-fetched for me and I’m very sceptical, because other than our having been no threat to the girls and there being zero evidence to support the smell or magnetic field theories, there is a simpler theory. To explain, although I don’t know the extent of Terry’s fear, I see the fear I suffered as more likely to have been created by my undeveloped teenage brain without any external catalyst of the kind my workmate described, even though I was not conscious of why I felt such fear and it was the only time in my life I have felt that sort of fear under those sorts of circumstances.
     I will however, place a caveat in my criticism of her theories by saying that although highly unlikely, and totally lacking in supporting scientific evidence, the magnetic field and smell theories are not theories that involve the transgression of the laws of physics. Therefore those theories and others like them are possibilities, albeit remote possibilities. 
    And, if we are to discuss human behaviour in general, when it comes to processes of a quantum nature occurring, such as entanglement, and how we may be affected by, or utilise those processes, our ignorance on the subject is unlimited. 

    The car in the above photo, which is my FC Holden station wagon, was the car I was driving when I picked the young lady up from the YMCA in Civic. The late Bluey Cowan is sitting on the bonnet and I am standing on the roof wearing a full leather coat that was worn by my grandad in the trenches during WW1. I don’t know where the photo was taken.
    The next two events I am about to describe that occurred in the Civic YMCA resulted in my making an arse of myself twice in one day. What occurred has all sorts of implications of a philosophical nature, particularly in relation to moral responsibility, since I am discussing free will. 
    Before continuing I will say that I have previously said on this blog on several occasions that our having contra causal free will is an illusion, and I have qualified what I have said with argument and a reference to the following link, which takes the reader to a very well-written and hard-hitting essay on the matter, even though there is nothing in the said essay that is new. I will not however, go there very much for the purpose of this essay, as I will be discussing free will, or our lack of free will, in relation to when our bodies move, by way of reflex, without our consciously “directing,” for want of a better word, them to move.
   The year in which I made an arse of myself twice in one day at the same Civic YMCA was 1977 or 1978. During that period I was obsessed with Rationalist philosophy, which had also got me into philosophical Scepticism in its various forms as formulated by several ancient Greeks. And to give my brain relief from philosophy I had a slightly milder obsession with martial arts. I really enjoyed its practice and I enjoyed searching for the ultimate style, although I was aware that the word style was an inappropriate concept if one is looking for what works best. I have always been into Eclecticism.
     My pursuit of the best form of martial arts was not based on any desire I had to become the world’s best martial artist; it was the process I enjoyed, particularly since the choice of techniques and counters for varying situations are virtually endless, and working out the feasibility of choices based on the physics of the processes gave my brain great mental workouts and much ongoing pleasure.
     To give further background on why I made an arse of myself at the Civic YMCA in 1977 or 1978 I will go back to 1976. 
    I had entered a martial arts tournament in that year at the Turner PCYC, as did my mate, Tony Quinn. The tournament was open to anyone and the rules allowed full contact to any part of one’s opponent’s body other than the head and balls. And any part of one’s own body could be used as the attacking weapon, as in fists, elbows, feet and knees. One could also however, score points by striking with any part of one’s body towards one’s opponent’s head, as long as the technique was pulled and no contact was made.
Above is an ad for the tournament I referred to in the previous paragraph.
    I did not do well in the tournament because my timing was slightly out and I made very light contact when kicking towards the head of a bloke I fought. I was quite rightly disqualified. My opponent, who went on to win, did not suffer any damage as I had pulled my kick, and I apologised to him after the event. 
    Tony Quinn did a lot better. He had three fights in his weight division, which had a large number of competitors, and he won all of them convincingly. But despite that fact, when the finalists were announced he was not one of them. 
     The late Bruce Vincent, who was the Berra’s best heavyweight boxer of his era, also entered the tournament, and like Tony and me he did so as an individual and not as a member of one of the established clubs. He lost on points in one bout and was disqualified in another. I believe, however, that if his fights had have been judged fairly he would have won both of them. In my opinion he was robbed! The organisers seemed to resent outsiders doing well, although in my case my disqualification was entirely warranted. 
   When Tony approached the bloke who seemed to be the main organiser, a highly ranked instructor from Wollongong named Mehemet, (I’m not sure of the spelling of his name. He was an Anglo Celt despite his name sounding like it came from the Middle East. Maybe his name was Menhemmet, a British name), he was told he would not advance to the finals and that he would share an equal third place despite the fact that he had not lost a fight. Tony was given no explanation. 
    Although at the time I was conscious of the fact that Mehemet did not have contra causal free will I was frustrated at how the forces of the universe had acted upon his body, causing it to treat Tony unfairly, and it pissed me off. 
   Accepting reality by way of understanding and becoming consciously aware of the fact that we cannot control the forces of the universe that act upon our bodies, and therefore, to state the obvious, nor can those who own bodies that do us wrong control the forces that act upon their bodies, does not always result in the negative emotions that arise because of the actions of others and ourselves not existing. Emotions are real in that they are caused by real chemistry even if there are sometimes no rational reasons as to why the chemistry is activated. 
    Sometimes however, when one’s emotions take over and one forgets that contra causal free will does not exist then one calms-down and suddenly remembers that it cannot exist, an immediate reduction or elimination of anger and frustration can occur. The ability to utilise that knowledge varies from person-to-person, and it also depends on how long one has been consciously aware of our being at the mercy of the forces of the universe that act upon our bodies. Usually, the longer one is aware of that fact the closer that fact gets to becoming fully embedded into one’s conscious mind. 
    Intense stressors can also of course beget intense emotions, which can make it more difficult to be aware that one has no control of the forces within the universe that act upon one’s body.
   Although I was consciously aware of our not having contra causal free will before I hit my teens, that fact took many years to become fully embedded into my conscious mind.
     Should you have just become conscious of our not having contra causal free will I suggest you read the essay I have referred to on the previously shown link everyday at least twice a day. Once the fact becomes fully embedded into your brain and mind it will improve your quality of life to the extent that you will become more accepting of reality and as such better able to spend more of your time savouring the present rather than creating anger and regret by dwelling on the unwise and/or immoral actions of others and yourself. 



    The above poster advertises the 1976 tournament I have referred to at the Turner PCYC in which Tony Quinn was unfairly treated.
       Let’s now return to the Civic YMCA in 1977 or 1978. It was a year or two after the tournament at the Turner PCYC and I had entered into another tournament that was to be held at the said Civic YMCA. It had similar rules to the tournament at the Turner PCYC in that it allowed full contact to the body other than the balls, although it differed to the extent that it also allowed full contact to one’s opponent’s head, but with any part of the legs or feet only. This of course meant contact to one’s opponent’s head by way of striking with fists or elbows was forbidden.
  The tournament was open to all local clubs, be they kung fu, karate, kickboxing, etc. 
    In my search for the ultimate martial arts style I had practised several styles of martial arts and saw at the time some merit in Wing Chun, which I practised at the time to increase my overall knowledge and experience. I have since eclectically discarded most of what the WC style espouses, although it does contain a few good concepts. 
    Anyway, our Wing Chun club decided to enter the tournament at the Civic YMCA, so I was happy to be a part of it. 
    I had two fights during that tournament. I was to find that my first opponent was the previously mentioned instructor from Wollongong, Mr Mehemet. I was still a bit pissed off at the fact that the forces of the universe that acted upon the brain and mind of Mehemet did not allow Tony to advance to the finals in the tournament at the Turner PCYC, despite my realising that contra causal free will does not exist and that Mehemet had, in-effect, no real say in any “decision” he may have made about Tony. 
   I was also however, aware that the chemistry that creates emotions is real, even if we are not consciously aware of why they are created. 
    I therefore became aware that my feelings towards the situation resulted in my possessing a very aggressive state-of-mind at the time, and I was aware that the aggression would be utilised when I fought Mehemet. I did not however, have any desire to transgress the rules when I fought the man.
    When it came to the actual fight it did not last long. Mehemet put his head down and I “instinctively,” or by way of a “reflex" action, for want of better words, gave him an uppercut which caused him to lose consciousness and fall to the ground for a few seconds. 
    Now, even if we, for the sake of argument, assume we do have contra causal free will, whether I “chose” to give him an uppercut at the time can be a matter of philosophical debate. I say that because at the time I struck him it felt like someone else gave him the uppercut. I am saying that I did not consciously “choose,” again for want of a better word, to make contact with his head. My striking him in the head was a reflex action.
    If you insist on believing we have contra causal free will surely you do not believe that that goes beyond conscious “decisions” and also applies to “reflex” actions, such as occurs when one blinks when one suddenly becomes aware of something heading towards one’s eyes?  
    Nonetheless, I felt as weak as piss, as the rules specifically stated that there was to be no contact to the head in regard to striking with fists or elbows, and he was playing by the rules and I was not. Had the tournament allowed full contact to the head for all I know he may have knocked me unconscious. 
   I was again quite rightly disqualified, and I felt worse after the event when Mehemet placed the medal he had won around my neck. I felt like crawling under a rock until I gathered my thoughts and again became consciously aware of contra causal free will not existing, and that other than that when I gave him the uppercut it was not even a conscious “choice,” for want of a better word. It was an action that occurred by way of a non-conscious reflex. Still, it did not make me feel great about what had happened and I wished it had not occurred.
    So, I reiterate, for the purpose of this essay let's pretend contra causal free will does exist and that we can do what we consciously “choose” to do, because I am now writing about how by way of a reflex action I “lost control” of my will to the extent that I did not consciously choose to give the man an uppercut.
    If you still dismiss what I have to say about reflex actions I will first ask you to think of the times when, out of the corner of your eye, you have seen a stray football heading in your direction. Without consciously choosing to do so, within an instant you would have raised your arm protectively and/or ducked in order to avoid getting a whack to the head. You would not have consciously decided to take evasive or protective action; it would have been an instant action in which you reacted “instinctively” (again, for want of a better word) and non-consciously (by way of reflex) to the threat. 
    Think of the times you may have, while driving, out of the corner of your eye noticed a car coming through an intersection you had not noticed until the last minute. You may have, without consciously choosing to do so, moved your leg to apply the brakes and/or moved your hands and arms in order to swerve to avoid a collision. 
    To be less dramatic, if someone flicks a towel towards your eyes you will blink without consciously choosing to blink. The decision to blink will in-effect be taken out of your control. 
    Neuroscientists tell us that such evasive and/or protective actions in emergency situations, which involve our having no conscious control over them, occur as a result of the work of one or both of our amygdalas. The amygdalas are two small almond shaped parts of the brain. Apparently the information we perceive with our senses goes via our amygdala or amygdalas prior to it going to our frontal cortexes in order for conscious decisions to be made.
    In situations where a threat to our bodies is not an issue the amygdala/s is/are not activated and the information can go straight through to the frontal cortex so we can consciously act upon it. The amygdala/s somehow have the ability to take over when there is an immediate threat to the physical wellbeing of our bodies that requires an instant response.
   It needs to happen under such circumstances. In emergencies when instant action is required to protect ourselves we don’t have time to consciously decide what to do with our bodies. If decisions in such situations were made consciously we would be run over by the next car we had not seen that was heading our way and almost upon us.
    It’s quite clear that our amygdala/s and/or another part/s of our brains can take over in defensive situations, which can include blinking and more, but can our amygdala/s also take over from our conscious minds (us) by it or them choosing to defend our bodies by way of it/them ordering our bodies to commit acts of violence upon someone or something that is threatening us? 
    We all know that sometimes the best form of defence is attack. And if our amygdala/s can make some of us commit acts of offensive violence for the purpose of defence, foe how long can it/they take over?
    I’m not talking about when a boxer loses his temper and gives his game-plan away by his emotions clouding his judgement and him consciously choosing to attack his opponent wildly and angrily with poor technique instead of going about his fight in a cool and methodical way. That is not a reflex action. When that occurs a conscious but foolish “decision” has been made as a result of the boxer’s thought processes being sabotaged by heightened emotions (anger). When a boxer “loses his temper” he is sure to lose against an opponent who is equal or even one who is, to a degree, inferior.
    When however the amygdala/s take/s over and performs an act with the body without a conscious decision having been made, the conscious mind is emptied of thought and as such entirely focussed in the here-and-now, which ensures the body and mind work in perfect harmony, and as such with perfect coordination, to ensure the body is moved instantly in a manner that maximises the chances of it avoiding being damaged. The process may involve raising a defensive arm, ducking or running away. It may also however, at least for some people, involve perpetrating an act of physical violence for the purpose of defence. 
     Good mind-body awareness and subsequent good coordination and technique does not  occur when a boxer loses his temper. 
   Nor of course does it always occur if someone is consciously trying to execute a physical movement that requires good coordination when the body is not being threatened. When the body is not in danger and the amygdala/s is/are not activated, emptying one’s mind in order to acquire perfect mind-body harmony and coordination is not so easy.
     It seems obvious to me my amygdala/s took over when I gave Mehemet an uppercut, and that it/they took over because of it/them deducing my body was in danger and that my conscious mind could not be trusted to do the job.
    I of course cannot prove that my giving the bloke an uppercut was not a conscious choice, and I will be accused of rationalising in order for me to not take responsibility for my actions. But, I know for a fact that the reflex action of my body at that time was entirely involuntary. 
    I was not in the same situation I had been in on many occasions when sparring lightly with mates where there was no threat to my safety and I had total faith in my mates to the extent that I was sure they would not punch me with full force in the head. 
    Although Mehemet may have also had no intention of violating the rules at the time, I did not know that. And I had had plenty of negative experiences when sparring with people I did not know who betrayed my trust and made excessive contact to my head when there had been an understanding that we were not to make excessive contact. My amygdala/s at the time I fought Mehemet were also probably aware of those facts, and it would seem that it/they were not prepared to allow me to continue to fight within the rules.
    I’m absolutely sure there are many people who have been locked up for their lifetimes, or executed, because of the actions of their amygdala/s or whatever part of their brains took over from their conscious selves. Although that would be hard to prove in most circumstances.
     I recently read of a father in the USA who as a reflex action shot his teenage daughter, who, as a joke, had hidden when her dad was coming home then jumped out in front of him to scare him. The shooting would have been a result of Dad’s amygdala/s taking over, and Dad, who feared there was a real burglar in the house, having ready access to his pistol operating by way of reflex through his amygdala/s. That sort of thing has happened with guns innumerable times.
   In the times of bows and arrows, spears, and spears and woomeras, which take time to load and shoot, or to throw, accidental killings would be far less likely to occur, as the amygdala/s usually don’t take over for very long. 
    I could however, see how a war club could be swung in the direction of the wrong person by way of the club-carrier’s reflex reaction to situations that were similar to that of the dad who shot his daughter. I say that because on several occasions I (or my amygdala/s) took reflex swings at my mate, Brownie, when I lived with him for a couple of years. He would take great delight in jumping out in front of me to scare me when he had the opportunity, particularly if I came home late in the night, as he knew how I would react. He however, always anticipated my reactions and kept out of range. Had I had my finger on the trigger of a pistol prior to him scaring me it may have ended in tragedy.
    In attempting to explain how, when the mind is emptied, we acquire perfect harmony between the mind and body, think of the times when your mind has been empty and you have taken out your key and inserted it into a lock. When your mind was emptied and as such devoid of conscious thought you would have found the key went straight into the lock without you having to slow down your hand and consciously line up the key with the hole. If you try to consciously place a key in a hole you will find you have to slow right down to do so, and some people may have to move the key around the hole before it’s properly lined-up.
    BUT WAIT; THERE’S MORE!
   There was more bad behaviour on my part on that day at the  Civic YMCA, and I will now describe it and its implications. 
   My next fight was with a black belt from the Berra who was a practitioner of Zen Do Kai. I never knew him, but rightly or wrongly someone told me his name was Adrian. I’ll call him Adrian anyway. He seemed to be around my age. (I mean my age at the time. He was not in his late 60’s. I would have been around the age of 25 at the time).
     Well, one thing can lead to another, and prior to the fight, by way of his body language and him mouthing the word “cunt” at me, we both knew there would be no rules when the fight was on. He probably felt the way he did because he had seen how my body had transgressed the rules when fighting Mehemet. He would not have realised that my amygdala/s was/were in control at the time, and he would have thought that it was me (my conscious self) who had consciously and deliberately transgressed the rules. He would have therefore thought I was not a very nice bloke and that I was also going to transgress the rules when I fought him. 
    I don’t blame him, as he had no way of knowing that I did not consciously choose to give Mehemet an uppercut. Adrian was probably a nice bloke outside of the environment we were in. I would have felt the same way as him had I been in his situation, and as I knew what he thought I of course also went into the fight with the objective of not fighting within the rules. And it was all because of my amygdala/s.
MY SECOND PERSONALITY, PERSONALITY 2, INTERRUPTS ME.
  Come on Wheeler, you’re rationalising! “It wasn’t me it was my amygdala/s!” Please! What a pathetic excuse! You chose to give Mehemet an uppercut. Just admit it. Adrian, when mouthing an expletive at you described you accurately.
MY RESPONSE TO PERSONALITY 2
   How would you know what I chose to do or not do 2? It’s okay for you to just sit inside my/our brain and criticise, but as I’ve told you before, I’m the one who makes the decisions for both of us, when I am capable of doing so and if I was not consciously aware of giving the bloke an uppercut that is my reality. Next thing you’ll do is tell me the blinking reflex is a result of my making a conscious choice to blink when something suddenly heads in my direction. You’re very brave sitting inside me knowing you’re protected. If I had a chance I’d kick you in your/our arse so hard your/our nose would bleed.
MY SECOND PERSONALITY, PERSONALITY 2, RESPONDS.
   You’re gutless Wheeler! You’re threatening me because you know I can’t hurt you. And even if you didn’t consciously choose to hit Mehemet in the head, the order came from your brain, and unless you’re a Dualist you would realise that your brain is part of you.
If you were to claim your body by way of your amygdala/s assaulted someone in the street without you consciously ordering it to do so, do you think a magistrate would understand if it went to court?

MY RESPONSE TO PERSONALITY 2
  First of all 2, in regard to Dualism, nobody knows how or why we’re conscious. You know that. And I know there is no proof of there being a ghost in the biological machine, even if it is possible by way of some unknown laws of physics or some unseeable force coming from another dimension. But, if consciousness did arise from inanimate flesh and chemistry it means something was created from nothing. And how can something be created from nothing?
And if consciousness did arise from inanimate matter in a way that is beyond our understanding, a different form of Dualism does exist, because consciousness is something that stands apart from the physical world even if it is created by it. I suppose it depends on how you want to use the English language.
So, when you refer to me as me, should you define my consciousness as me, I am not responsible for giving Mehemet an uppercut because I did not consciously choose to give Mehemet an uppercut.
But, if you define “me” as all the atoms I am made of and leave the question of consciousness and the decisions made by my amygdala/s out of it, as well as the fact that we do not have contra causal free will, then yes, I, as in the atoms that make up my body,  was responsible for giving the man an uppercut, even if I did not consciously choose to do so, because the parts of my brain that caused the uppercut to occur are a part of my body. Although having said that, we are continually replacing our atoms, and the ones that formed me back in the 70’s are not the same atoms I possess today. 

As to attempting to explain to magistrates that we don’t have contra causal free will or that our amygdala/s were responsible for an act of violence, I would not fancy my chances. Although many are highly intelligent in some respects, the overwhelming majority of them are so conservative and inflexible their minds could only be described euphemistically as non-philosophical. I think however, more accurate terms would be primitive and simple.
If magistrates were truly conscious of our not having contra causal free will very few could carry out their duties, as they would be conscious of the fact that they needed to lock up dangerous people who were not responsible for their actions.

MY SECOND PERSONALITY, PERSONALITY 2, RESPONDS.
   You have a point there Wheeler.
I HAVE A RECONCILIATION WITH MY SECOND PERSONALITY   
   My left and right hands have just shaken with each other and I gave myself a lengthy hug and a pat with alternate hands on my left and right shoulders.
     Anyway, the fight with Adrian began by my standing still and him approaching me and trying to kick me in the balls. He made some contact but it had no effect because he missed his target. The fight was stopped temporarily and I was given a point because of him aiming his kick towards my cods. 
    Prior to the tournament I had been arguing for some time with another martial artist about the efficacy of defensive martial arts. He believed in the defensive approach not only for moral reasons; he believed that waiting for someone to attack gave one a practical advantage over an attacking opponent.
   In other words, for what he saw as moral as well as practical reasons, he was of the belief that one should not retreat from or approach a person who is threatening, and one should only attack as a form of defence once the person who is threatening has approached you and actually begun his attack.
   I could see the moral benefit of the approach, and it is the backbone of many pacifist styles. I could also however, see it was a dangerous tactic.   
    But, I foolishly decided to use the semi-pacifist tactic anyway, because the only way such opposing theories can be truly tested is by way of practical experiment with both of them against worthy opponents.  I thought it however, highly unlikely I would get a worthy opponent, which was probably why I was willing to experiment. It was on my part an arrogant and stupid way of thinking. 
    To demonstrate the theory behind why the passive approach is dangerous, if you open your hand and get someone to drop a pencil through it after you have counted to three you will be able to catch it, because you will know when it’s coming. If however, you open your hand and allow someone to drop the pencil at an unspecified time you will find it impossible to catch, because, obviously, you will not know when it’s coming. 
    The lesson from this exercise is that if you think you’re going to be attacked you should attack first or walk away, or at least stay out of range of your opponent so he does not have the advantage of getting in the first blow by way of the element of surprise, as demonstrated by the pencil-dropping exercise. 
    The only positive in taking the passive stance in the street is that you will not be charged for assault, because it would have been your opponent who made the first move. And, you can retain the moral high ground. I reiterate however, it gives a potential assailant a huge advantage, as it makes one very vulnerable to a king hit, (coward’s punch), if you are standing within striking range of the said potential assailant. 
     When the fight began again my arrogance had gone and I did not wait passively to be attacked. I instead attacked Adrian, and he retreated out of the marked square as I attacked him, which resulted in the fight starting again. I don’t know if I was awarded points because he had backed out of the area, but I probably was. 
   I found having the fight stopped very frustrating as I had been in full attack mode and was really enjoying myself, but knowing I had to get back into that state-of-mind again after the fight was stopped felt very unpleasant. 
   I am not saying that Adrian, by backing out of the area, was demonstrating that I was getting the better of him, because had we been fighting in a boxing ring or an octagon or a field he may have been able to retreat and come back at an angle and get the better of me. Expecting participants to confine a fight to within marked lines on a floor is ridiculous. 
    When the fight began again Adrian again retreated out of the area, but this time my amygdala/s cut in and took control of my body by making it continue the attack outside the specified area. It was again, as if someone else was controlling my body. I had gone in for the kill and had gone back to a euphoric but primitive state-of-mind that was very useful in another era but mainly anachronistic in this one.
   It resulted in my being physically restrained by the officials and others. I then observed myself giving Adrian the fingers before my conscious mind regained control of itself.

   My amygdala/s and I always give two fingers, as shown above in the photo of my hand and fingers giving the fingers to Tony Abbott’s image on the  22/11/17. (As I was behind my hand and facing Abbott’s image I am not giving the reader the peace sign). 
    I am giving Abbott’s image the fingers even though he had no say in what he became and as such is not truly responsible for what he is. My amygdala/s and I dislike the single middle finger Americans use, which has become very popular in Australia. What has happened to our culture? 
   Although the photo is of the hand and fingers I possess today it differs to the hand and fingers I possessed in the 70’s when I gave Adrian the fingers, and not only because they appear to have been ravaged by time. The hands and fingers I now possess are not the same hands and fingers I possessed in the 70’s because the atoms that formed them have been replaced several times between then and now. Also, in the photo above I have a bandaid on my ring finger. I did not have a bandaid on that finger when I gave the fingers to Adrian at the Civic YMCA in the 70’s. 
   Adrian’s corner then made a threat of some sort to me, and I offered to take him on outside; an offer he declined.
  Because I had needed restraint and because I had given my opponent the fingers I was immediately disqualified, which was fair enough. 
    Had I truly lost control when I continued to attack Adrian after I was told by the ref to cease the attack? Yes and no. 
    I had definitely lost control to the extent that my amygdala/s had taken over the use of my body for an extended period as they do to a far smaller amount of time when someone ducks to avoid a wayward ball, but I had not lost control in the same way someone loses control of oneself when one has highly activated emotions which result in decisions being made which are not in one's best overall interests.  
   I was not the only member of our club who made an arse of himself on that day, although I was the worst offender. When the organisers of that tournament organised another one our club was not invited.
   After that tournament I returned to my bedsitter in O’Connor, read and wrote some philosophy, and continued on with the life of a single, unattached and abnormal young man on his quest for devising a rationally-based philosophy on life. That I eventually achieved.
     Time moves on, and as previously explained, between when the tournament occurred in the 70’s and now most if not all of the atoms that made up my body have been replaced several times. 
    And, as a result of the forces of the universe that now act upon the atoms my current body is made of, my testosterone level is probably much lower than it was in the 70’s. 
    I also possess today far more empathy than I had when I was a young man, again because of how the forces of the universe have acted upon my body. 
    As a result of these happenings, and despite the fact that I have a very low opinion of our species, I now find the idea of inflicting damaging physical violence on others, other than when one is defending oneself or others, abhorrent. It makes me wonder how parents and the schoolteachers of my day could have dispensed corporal punishment so easily. 
   The whole system ran on the threat of physical violence and it continues to do so in one way or the other. And it is by no means just a male problem despite it not being fashionable to acknowledge the existence of female violence.
   Actually, I never liked seeing others suffer, but when I was younger I had a very different outlook when it came to two evenly-matched adults choosing to fight each other. Nowadays, although I enjoy watching the techniques employed in MMA, I do not like it when the fights do not end in submissions, which often means they end with one of the contestants suffering a pounding to the head. I find it particularly disturbing when the ref lets it go on for an unnecessarily long period to satisfy the blood lust of the crowd. That however, is to be expected within the form of capitalism we choose to live under. 
      Although many people watch MMA to enjoy the technique many watch it because their brains deliver to them a cheap sadistic thrill when they see a fighter getting bashed. And they are prepared to pay for that chemical hit.  
    The more primitive part of my brain makes me aware that I would in one respect enjoy participating in MMA if I had my youth return to me, but if I am ever able to drink from the fountain of youth and retain the brain I currently possess I would not box or practise MMA on a full contact basis, as my primitive drives are outweighed by the sense of empathy I have acquired over my lifetime as well as my desire to protect my own brain cells. 
   I'm saying I find the thought of deliberately trying to bash someone’s brain disturbing, even if one is up against an evenly matched and willing opponent who has the same objective. I would however, continue to practise the striking arts in a non-competitive way with mates, because the process gives me joy. I would also grapple recreationally and possibly competitively, as the objective when grappling is not to damage one’s opponent. 
    That does not mean I would like to see MMA banned. In the system we live under some frustrated young men feel a need to participate in that sort of thing, particularly if they can earn a living from it and have been suffering as a result of being unemployed and living under an impoverishing dole or undertaking work they find pathalogically boring. Our species did not evolve to live in this sewer, and some people are better adapted to it psychologically than others.  
   Today’s Australian ruling class has emulated the Romans, who were able to keep the masses quiet and vulnerable to exploitation by providing them with the basics and bloody entertainment by way of the Colosseum (bread and circuses)Today’s “circuses” are in the form of professional sport, preferably of the type where the spectator is aware that the participants may suffer serious injury or death or may fight with each other, or that violence may erupt between supporters of opposing individuals or teams as occurs in many soccer games.
    (When watching major games today we are inundated with advertisements that attempt to encourage viewers to participate in wholesome activities like gambling, drinking piss and eating junk food. Yet the club board members, who mostly have the morality of tiger snakes, for the sake of their PR insist their athletes behave like choirboys in their private lives).  
    A link that follows will take you to another far less philosophical and more amusing anecdote that revolves around another martial arts event that occurred in the Berra in the early 70’s. It is entitled Give me back my butterfly swords.” It also goes into the history of the martial arts within the ACT. 
   The photo that follows the link will give you a hint of what it’s about.
http://acanberraboy.blogspot.com.au/2014_08_01_archive.html
   Otherwise scroll down for more stories or hit the Home button up the top and take your pick.
    


For more mainly Canberra-based yarns hit the Home button above.


Wednesday, 4 October 2017

TONY QUINN’S “A CANBERRA BOY’S ADVENTURES IN THAILAND"

TONY QUINN’S “A CANBERRA BOY’S ADVENTURES IN THAILAND”
The first story is:
“AN EMAIL FROM THAILAND” or "CROOK IN THE GUTS".
by Tony Quinn
  The following story was largely copied from an email I sent to Dave Wheeler, from Thailand on the 26/1/14.
  Gooday you mongrel,
   We left Bangkok on Sunday and went south to a place on the coast called Cha Am. We stayed in a hotel which was very quiet and had a big pool. I could also run along the beach. I hired a Honda CRV and on Tuesday we drove further south to a place I can't recall the name of to visit a mate of the Mrs named Nataya.
  I met Nataya a couple of times before and she thinks I'm really nice (good judge of character). She gave me a shirt last time we met. When she saw me this time she ran over and hugged me. She's very wealthy and owns a lot of properties. Her husband's been active politically.
    She was a beauty queen in the 70's and the last time I saw her she looked okay for her age but this time she looked hideous. She obviously had plastic surgery on her face but something went horribly wrong. Her nostrils were pointing straight out like a pig's snout. It's a pity, because she's a nice woman but now advertises herself as being mutton doing a bad job of trying to dress itself as lamb. Why can't people just grow old gracefully? It's good to keep fit as you age but we can't do much about keeping our looks.
   She took us to a restaurant for lunch and was so happy to see us she ordered beer after beer. As I'm a very polite person and didn't want to offend her I drank several glasses. The food was fried fish, crab, prawns, oysters, pork, noodles, etc. I was turned off when I was eating because every time I looked at her I could see a pair of nostrils staring back at me.
   She told me I looked like a movie star but could not think of his name. I suggested it may be Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, George Clooney or James Bond. She said I was very handsome. I said "If you had a few more beers I would look even more handsome."
   After lunch she wanted to show us some of her land holdings and insisted on driving the hire car. I was shitting myself as she was driving all over the road. I took over at an appropriate spot.
    I wasn't feeling too good at that stage so we commenced the drive back to her place. I started to feel really sick. I had severe stomach pains and my bowels were moving. I pulled over to the side of the road, staggered around to the other side of the car, dropped my pants, and in a half squat position while leaning against the vehicle let fly. The shit flew out of me like a geyser and must have looked a great sight. The Mrs said she was lucky not to be standing behind me as it went about 2 metres. I wonder if Nataya still thought I looked like a movie star.
   I remained in that position for about 15 minutes with multiple shits coming out. Unlike Australia the main roads in Thailand have houses and shops along them. It must have impressed the locals. To make matters worse the wife started yelling at me that I was getting shit all over my white RM Williams jeans (I wore them especially to impress Nataya). I was in no mood to listen to her claptrap so I summoned the last remaining bit of energy I had, to respond with "Get *******!
    After shitting I was too weak to wipe my arse so the Mrs washed it with a bottle of drinking water. While still in the half squat position leaning forward and with much difficulty I started to pull up my now not so white RM Williams jeans trying hard not to expose my genitals in the process. This would have provided even more amusement for the locals. I crawled back into the driver's seat and continued on my way despite feeling sick, as I had no faith in the driving ability of either Nataya or the Mrs. The nagging started once again. This time the Mrs was complaining that I had spray-painted shit over the front passenger car door.


  I only got about 10kms when I started to feel even sicker, so I pulled over to the side of the road again and had 3 vomits out of the car door. I felt a bit better and drove on, but by the time we had dropped off Nataya I began to feel sick again and we only just made it back to our hotel, where I had several more shits and many more vomits. I thought I was going to die. I could not even drink a mouthful of water but I later on managed a bit of green tea.
  I felt a bit better in the morning so I did some exercises and went for a swim. I forced myself to eat some food and I didn't shit all day, although I had a severe headache and a hot forehead. I also felt my blood pressure was through the roof.
  That night I forced myself to go for a 20 minute run along the beach and didn't feel any worse. I’m still not 100% and I'm looking forward to eating some decent food when I return to the Berra.
Regards,
Tony 26/1/14
“ANOTHER EMAIL FROM THAILAND" or “A DEAD MONK LIVES ON”
By Tony Quinn
  I sent the following email to Dave Wheeler on the 10/2/14.
Gooday you mongrel,
   A mate of the Mrs rang yesterday morning to ask if we would like to go with her and her husband to visit a temple a couple of hours drive north of Bangkok on the road to Lopburi. I jumped at the chance as it had been several days since I had been to a temple (sarcasm).
   They picked us up a few hours later and off we went. The temple is a large establishment and is a rehabilitation centre for drug addicts. Western drug addicts also reside at the temple. Evidently the hardest addicts to cure are the glue and petrol sniffers.
   We spent quite a lot of time at the main temple as it contained some Buddha images and relics. There were a lot of coloured lights around a structure in front of the images. On closer inspection the structure was a large glass tank filled with water containing the body of a head monk who died 3 years ago.The head of the head monk, with its hair supposedly still growing, was pressed against the side of the tank. A live monk in the hall came over to tell us the details of the preservation of the body. Next to the tank was a bottle containing water with a yellow substance floating on top. The substance was fat from the dead monk's body! I was surprised that the body could be preserved only by using water.
   The live monk told us how every so often he would drain the tank of water,remove the body and clean it up. He switched on his computer and showed us the various images of the body. He would remove the dead skin and dead finger and toe nails which he said would grow back. He obviously enjoyed his work as he had a big smile on his face. He also said there were another 5 bodies out the back in a similar state. It was like a house of horrors!
  We left the hall and went to a different part of the complex where the abbot was. We sat with him discussing various topics (I could not understand a word as it was in Thai). The husband went and sat at a table and started eating a bowl of soup. He waved me over to join him. I hadn't eaten since I had a breakfast of oats and bananas so I was quite hungry. He was hoeing into the soup so I thought it would be okay. It was a grey, slimy gruel and floating in it was what appeared to be fish balls and raw chunks of liver. The fish balls ended up being bird's eggs. I ate about a third of the bowl. The stomach would not take any more.
  We went back over and sat near the abbot and he gave me a ring with a precious stone attached plus a stone by itself. These he said would bring me good luck and good fortune. He then offered me a glass of water to drink. It was very cloudy-looking so I declined, saying I had a weak stomach. He said the water had healing powers and would cleanse my body of illness and injury. I still declined as the thought of my recent food poisoning was still in my mind. He assured me the water was okay and proceeded to dip his finger into it and dab the water droplets onto his tongue. Against my better judgement I lifted the glass and gulped the contents down. Maybe the water would cure my training injuries. The water tasted foul and I grimaced.
  The abbot then told me where the water came from. You wouldn't believe this, but the water came from the tank containing the dead body! I was shocked! No wonder the water looked cloudy and tasted so foul! I didn't know what to say. I wondered how long it would take for the symptoms of cholera to appear.
   The abbot then produced a bottle containing a dark brown liquid. The drug addicts drink it and it makes them vomit uncontrollably. It's part of the cure. I was tempted to take a swig.
  Shortly afterwards we headed home. We stopped off for dinner at a restaurant but I wasn't in the mood for eating.
   I have attached a photo of the abbot. The brown drink is to his right.
MY LIFE OR MY HONOUR
by Tony Quinn 

   It was late September 2012 when we flew from Bangkok to the city of Trat in far eastern Thailand close to the Cambodian border. From there we boarded a ferry for the one hour trip to Koh Chang Island. Koh Chang is the second largest island in Thailand. Over 70% of the island is covered in tropical rainforest with topography ranging from high mountain peaks to white sandy beaches.
  After arriving on Koh Chang Island, we took a taxi to a resort located at the southern end of White Sand Beach. The main road from the pier runs along a contour line quite a way up the side of a mountain range. The track leading to the resort is made of bitumen but is very steep, winding and covered in overhanging rainforest. On the way down to the resort I thought to myself what great fun it would be to run back up the hill to the main road. 
   The resort was virtually deserted as it was the low season due to the daily monsoonal rains. After checking in, I put on my running gear including my 5 toed Vibram runners and away I went up the hill.
   The legs were really working, the heart and lungs were pumping and the sweat poured off me due to the heat and humidity. I was really enjoying myself until about half way up the hill when I rounded a bend and noticed some monkeys on the track ahead.   Could be trouble I thought and with good reason.
   I have had problems with animals in Canberra and elsewhere, particularly when I am out running. Goshawks and magpies have attacked me on several occasions in the Berra, as has a spur winged plover. I was also threatened by a large kangaroo when I was doing survey work west of Bourke. Had the roo sat on its tail and disemboweled me with the sharp claws that are attached to its powerful rear legs it would have ruined my day and made it very difficult for me to focus on the calculations I was required to do for the job.
  Being bitten on the leg by a large dog outside a public toilet in Iran was also not a very pleasant experience.
   As I reached the monkeys, I called out politely to them, asking them to get out of my way. Next thing I heard was a loud screech behind me. I looked around to see a large male monkey rushing out of the jungle straight at me.
    It was screeching and hissing, mouth wide open with large yellow fangs hanging out. I thought it was going to jump on me and rip me to pieces. I came very close at that point to losing control of my bowels. 
   The second thought that came to my mind was the story I read about the poor woman in the USA who had her face ripped off by a monkey and recently had a face transplant. “That's going to happen to me,” I thought as I started running backwards up the hill at 100mph whilst at the same time yelling expletives at it as it chased me. I may not be Asian but I don’t like the idea of losing face. 
   The monkey was very solidly built much like a dwarf on steroids. It had dark brown hair sticking straight out on either side of its head. All the years of martial arts training came to nought as my mind went blank as far as a self defence strategy went. Running away was the only instinctive thing I was capable of. After I had run backwards for some distance away from the group of monkeys the male monkey stopped chasing me. I was still wary so continued running backwards up the hill for several more minutes.
  Eventually I reached the top of the hill. I hadn't had enough exercise so I walked about 100 metres down the hill and did some sprints back to the top of the hill. On the fifth one I pulled a calf muscle. I couldn't help myself so I did another sprint which made the calf even worse. 
  I then wondered how I was going to get back down the hill to the resort. I could walk along the main road for miles and make my way to the main beach then come back to the resort along the beach front but that would take hours particularly with my torn calf muscle. I looked around and found a large branch to use as a weapon against the monkey then started limping down the hill. 
   A few minutes later a young Thai bloke on a motorbike stopped and asked if I wanted a lift. He was very friendly and smiling. Looked like he was wearing lipstick and makeup. What a choice – I could accept the lift and maybe end up with a sore arse and a dose of AIDS, because for all I knew there may have been a gang of lady boys waiting for me. Or I could walk down and possibly get my face ripped off. It was a difficult decision but I went with the faceless option and declined the lift. I am proud of the fact that my arse is still a virgin.
   I continued walking down the hill and started waving the branch around as I approached the monkeys. I couldn't see the one that attacked me - thought he may be up a tree waiting to drop on me so I waved the branch above my head. I managed to get through and past the monkeys without incident. Decided to stick to running on the beach from then onwards.
Tony Quinn
ANOTHER DOSE OF FOOD POISONING
By Tony Quinn
   This anecdote and the following two were written in September 2017 and concerns my most recent trip to Thailand.
   On virtually every trip to Thailand I experience some form of food poisoning. Some are quite bad as detailed in my previous yarn when I ate off seafood.
   I recently experienced a similar bad dose after eating lunch at a restaurant in a shopping complex around 1hrs walk from the house.
   During the walk home I started to feel very ill. I was getting very bad stomach pains, felt sick and dizzy. I kept having to go off the sidewalk onto the road to avoid all the obstacles such as food venders, motorbikes etc. The vehicles on the road were belching out fumes which made me feel worse. I tried to get home quickly before I fainted but my wife was walking like a snail. 
   When I reached the entrance to the housing complex I had to start running before I shat my pants. I just made it, ran up the stairs, ripped off my clothes and jumped onto the toilet. Out it flowed - I wanted to vomit also - could not hold back and it went all over the floor - it was coming out both ends at the same time. I then broke out in a cold sweat - it was dripping off me. I felt I was going to pass out so slid onto the floor - lying in my vomit and faeces. I thought I was going to die. 
   I managed to summon up the last remaining bit of energy I had and reached up and turned on the cold tap of the shower. I lay there for some time before crawling out of the bathroom and making my way to the top of the stairs before yelling to my wife to bring me some water. She brings me a bottle - I had trouble lifting it to my lips - she did not realise I was sick - good one. I crawled into the bedroom and dragged myself onto the bed - both feet then cramped up - I was in agony. 
   Eventually after several pots of green tea I started to feel a bit better. In fact I felt so good that I thought about going for a run. My sensible self took over and pointed out that the most likely reason I was feeling so good was the kick from the caffeine in the tea. I would have already been dehydrated so running in the heat would have made things worse and I may have passed out.
   The following morning my wife suggested we go for a massage at a nearby massage establishment- I said okay. She asked what areas of my body were painful so she would tell the girl to concentrate on those areas. I said my groin area was very painful. Anyway she rang and made a booking. We arrived, the girl behind the counter was very attractive. The two girls arrived - one was young and very pretty, the other was old and fat - looked exactly like a sumo wrestler right down to the hairstyle - guess which one I got. She was washing my feet in a basin and asked me which one I thought was the best looking - being the gentleman that I am, I said both of you are beautiful. 
   I had a massage just after I arrived in Thailand and the girl looked like a bowling ball so I thought I am not going to tolerate this again. I said I wasn't going to be massaged by the fat one - I wanted the young one. I'm not sure if the fat one understood English but I didn't care. I then had a very pleasant 2 hour massage. She said I had a very nice nose and may get plastic surgery to get one like me. They don’t like flat noses in Thailand.
THE KING AND THE PRINCESS
by Tony Quinn
   We were invited along with some others to travel from Bangkok to a place called Wiang Haeng in far northern Thailand on the Burmese border to participate in a ceremony to honour the former Thai King Naresuan.
  King Naresuan ruled Thailand from 1590 until his death in 1605 from an illness most likely either smallpox or septic shock at the age of 50.
   January 23 is a national holiday and celebrated as the anniversary of the elephant battle in which King Naresuan and the Burmese Crown Prince Mingyi Swa fought in single combat sitting atop their elephants.
   This occurred during the battle of Nong Sarai when the largest Burmese invasion force ever assembled marched into Thailand. The fight ended when King Naresuan virtually cut Mingyi Swa in half with his ngaw - a long pike with a curved blade at the end. The now leaderless Burmese army immediately turned and headed home.
  The story starts when we arrived early one morning at the Bangkok house of the woman who had organised and paid for the event. Two minibuses arrived to pick us and others up. Three university professors were in our minibus including the woman and a two man film crew. The whole event was to be filmed and shown on Thai TV. A 35 minute youtube video was produced. The link is at the end of the story. I play a starring role as one of the kings soldiers. The woman who organised it is quite small and is highly visible throughout the video.
  We travelled to the northern city of Chiang Mai which is about 9hrs drive. We stayed overnight in a hotel then assembled next morning at the house she owns in Chiang Mai. A very large house on a big block. The video starts at her house. I can be seen sitting at a table in her house eating breakfast earlier on in the video.
  From there we travelled in convoy with army escort to a place called Wiang Haeng in far northern Thailand right on the Burmese border. The top army and police officers as well as govt officials were there. You have to keep a close eye out for me but I stand out as I am one of the tallest people there. I am dressed in red. Near the end of the video I am in normal clothes shown kneeling with my hands together praying. I knew my days as an altar boy would come in handy. I was the only farang so received plenty of attention.
  As you can see, a bronze bust of King Naresuan was transported from Chiang Mai to Wiang Haeng in the back of a ute. The countryside is quite mountainous with the elevation over 2000 metres above sea level. Also very cold and foggy at night.
   We stayed two nights in the area before returning to Chiang Mai.
 The following day we attended huge celebrations at a temple 40kms east of Chiang Mai that went on for several days. A Cambodian princess was a special guest. That evening we attended a formal dinner for the princess at a functions centre. Lots of music, dancing, speeches and presentations.
   The next day was full on visiting yet another temple on the outskirts of Chiang Mai, large gardens and hot springs. We arrived back at the functions centre where we dined the previous night with the Cambodian princess. The time was around 5pm.
  We were the first there but not long afterwards other people started arriving. Once again the princess was to be the guest of honour. Several times we lined up outside the front door to greet the princess but she did not show. The tables were set with food. I was starving.
  Around 7.30pm panic set in and we all went rushing back to the temple for the start of some ceremony. I was sitting there getting grumpy as apart from some nuts, fruit and milk I had not eaten since breakfast. I was taken to the temple kitchen and given some leftover pork and rice. Afterwards I adjourned back to the temple and took my seat in the VIP area.
   About 8.30pm there was more panic. The princess had arrived at the temple but without having any dinner. The wife in her cool and calm manner called me from my seat. She was with the princess, her personal assistant and an older bloke. We were rushed into a mini bus to be taken to the functions centre for dinner. The inside of the mini bus resembled a disco dance floor with flashing lights, mirrors etc. The driver turned off the lights just after we left but the princess liked them so they went back on.
  We arrived first at the function centre and proceeded to sit at a table away from the VIP one. After getting out of the minibus I noticed the princess and her personal assistant walk towards the toilets. I was most surprised as I was always under the impression that royalty did not have bowel or bladder movements. She was not long so must only have had a No.1. When the princess sat down at the VIP table she waved me over and told me to sit opposite her and next to her personal assistant. She obviously took a liking to me. Although her English was not perfect we had a very good conversation. She asked if I would like to come with her to the hot springs after dinner. Obviously I could not refuse a royal request and accepted her invitation. I suggested we could have a swim together but she said she could not swim due to a back injury caused by a car accident. Also she invited me to visit her in Cambodia.
   By this time the functions centre had filled up with the princess receiving many requests for photos. I had a few taken with her as well. There was a commotion at the front of the building as several police cars had arrived with lights flashing. Evidently the princess had neglected to tell her bodyguards that she was going with us in the mini bus. They thought she may have been kidnapped.
  A Pakistani man of around 40 years of age was also sitting at the royal table, a couple of seats down and on the opposite side of the table. He had a very miserable face on him (far more miserable than my usual face) and would not eat any food. A woman standing behind him kept nagging him to eat but he wouldn't. Eventually she went and got him an omelette and gave it to him to eat. He refused. Shortly afterwards I asked him if the woman was his mother. He looked at me with what appeared to be an even more miserable face and said nothing. I later found out that the woman was his wife and part of the Cambodian royal family.
  An older man was sitting next to the princess. His English was not the best but I managed to have a conversation with him. During the conversation he told me that he was Korean. I asked him whether he was from the north or south which didn't go down too well. I then said that I didn't think he was Cambodian as he had very slanty eyes. To make matters worse I placed my fingers at the corners of my own eyes and pulled them into slits just in case he didn't understand me. He didn't talk to me much after that. I doubt if I will get an invite to sit at their table again.
  When the dinner finished we went back to the bungalow rather than the hot springs as it was getting late.
I WAS POSSESSED BY A DEMON
by Tony Quinn
   This story is about a very painful experience I had when staying in the Burirum area of Thailand.
  It started out as a small drive with the 2 children of the wife’s niece to visit a nearby temple. I was really looking forward to it as it had been almost a day since I had last visited one.
   The temple was quite new and very well built. The whole temple including the inside walls, ceilings and pillars appeared to be finished in highly polished timber but was actually painted concrete. Michelangelo would have been proud of it. It was so realistic that the police had come to arrest the abbot as they thought it was made from illegal teak.
   We had a good look around then sat down to have a yarn with the abbot. He reckoned I had a very bad demon inside of me. This diagnosis was based on what the wife had told him about me. No wonder. However, he was a very smart man as he went on to say that she had far worse problems than me. He then explained where these demons often come from. They come from eating at Thai, Lao, Cambodian and especially Vietnamese restaurants. The worst restaurants of the lot are Sri Lankan and Indian. He said he never eats at restaurants because of this. I told him that I rarely eat out so it wouldn't apply to me. But no, I got the demon from eating at the Thai restaurant in Manuka that we go to each Christmas. Now I know what has caused all my training injuries and for being miserable at times. For those readers who have had cancer or other medical conditions and eat at Asian restaurants you now know what has caused these problems.
   He said that prior to opening these types of restaurants, hot candle wax is dripped around the restaurants. This is done not only to honour the ancestors but to bring good luck and lots of customers. The down side is that all the bad luck and demons go out with the customers. All these years I have avoided eating at restaurants as I am scared of getting food poisoning, flu and other viruses but I had no idea that the real threats were demons and other evil spirits.
  However all was not lost as he could rid me of my demons and restore my good health by giving me some acupuncture Thai Buddhist style. The needle to be used was a long wooden stake similar looking to a very large pencil. He is holding it in his hands in the picture below. Also smiling in anticipation of what he was about to do. The pointy end is pushed very hard into various pressure points all over the body. I was a bit wary after the bad experience I had in Lopburi when I drank the water taken from a tank holding the body of a dead monk. That was supposed to cure all my training injuries but didn't.
   He started on my back. After this was completed, I had to lie face down and face up on the floor while the implement was driven into various parts of my body. I broke out into a sweat. It was agony when pushed into my feet. I have a very high tolerance to pain but this would have to be the worst ever. Even worse than the fillings I received at the dentist as a kid. High rep squats to failure are a pleasure compared to this. He also pushed it into my skull on both sides just above the ears. The left side was very sore the next day.   
    The 2 children were laughing their heads off while this was going on. The girl took 2 short videos of me but were taken after most of the painful stuff had happened.
   During the painful demon releasing process the wife was continually telling me to relax. What a stupid thing to say. When it came to her turn it was a completely different story. Yelling and screaming much to my delight. I said comforting words to her like "suck eggs" and so on. I also laughed a lot.
   The abbot said that some people pass out while getting treatment and have to be taken to hospital. That is due to all the problems they have inside their bodies. Nothing to do with the agonising pain of course. He said one farang he did it to jumped up straight away and was so angry the abbot thought he was going to punch him out. He then ran off. Later he and his wife returned to thank him as their relationship had improved due to the treatment.
   After it was all over, everyone commented how good my face looked. No longer miserable and stressed looking. Probably due to it being lathered in sweat and red. The demon had now left me. The abbot suggested I return the next day for a second session but unfortunately I was busy doing other things. He also asked if we would like to go to Cambodia with him but that will have to wait until my next visit as he cannot leave the temple for awhile.
   The following day the wife said how relaxed I was and that I was back to being the old Tony she once knew. She also reiterated how good my face was looking. A week later she reckoned my face was looking like that of a baby. That worried me - if I started to regress in age too much, by the time I returned to Australia I could be in a pram wearing nappies and sucking on a bottle. To be perfectly honest I must admit to being so glad to have endured that torture.
  Two days later we took the children's parents to the temple as the father had problems and wanted the treatment. I felt very sorry for him as he is only a small bloke and was writhing in pain. His children were not laughing this time. The abbot asked if I wanted another go but I declined. Later he said he only wanted to check me out. He did some prodding in my hands then stuck the stake into my ankles. I just stared at him and showed no emotion. I was ready for it. No way was I going to show any pain. He then said I was cured.
   The boy who was laughing is 14 and loves sports - soccer, running etc. He also plays 3 musical instruments. They day before we went to a nearby lake for a run. We decided to do two rounds. I set off at a fast pace but he kept up. I glanced at him a couple of times but he was not even breathing heavy. He also checked out his mobile phone a few times. 
   About 200 metres from the finish I told him to sprint. I left him well behind. That night having dinner he mentioned he was the second best in the district for the 800 metres. I asked him why he didn't try to beat me. He said he didn't want to walk home. On the way driving to the lake I told him if he beat me he would be walking home. They don’t understand the Aussie humour.
  The following two youtube clips show my demon/s being “exorcised” by the abbott. 

Lost on Chao Lao Beach

by Tony Quinn
   Chao Lao Beach is located in the far eastern part of Thailand close to the town of Tha Mai. The city of Chanthaburi is not far away to the east. The border with Cambodia would be less than 2hrs drive further on.

  It is mainly a holiday destination for Thais and was very quite when we were there. Apparently it is quite popular during the peak holiday period.

   Arrived late in the afternoon and after looking around ended up staying in a bungalow at a resort backing onto the beach. The beach is fairly narrow and very long. Got up the following morning and did my usual exercises while the wife went for a walk on the beach.    After finishing I went to the beach. Decided to go for a long walk just to relax and warm up the feet before running. I had a slightly sore left foot and a slight strain of my right Achilles tendon caused by running on the hard concrete roads in Bangkok. Wife was just returning as I was starting off. 

   The tide was in so the sand part was not very wide. Not long into the walk I noticed a girl in a bikini sitting at the back of the beach in the shade. As I am conscious of avoiding possible skin cancer, I walked in the shade and passed very close to her. Being a friendly person I said hello to her. She just looked at me and said nothing. Probably thought I was an old perve (completely untrue of course).

   I walked for a long time along the beach then turned and started running back. When I reached the girl she was standing up. We exchanged glances but said nothing. After running for some time I looked at my watch and 20 minutes had passed. I thought I had better start looking out for the resort. I began to worry as after more time I could not recognise the resort. My stupid fault as I left it without taking much notice of what it looked like. I was getting close to a jetty so thought I must have gone too far. I turned and went back. Couldn't recognise any of the places as the resort. I had gone a fair distance before coming up behind a woman in a bikini. I followed her for some time before thinking that the resort may be closer to the jetty so I better turn around again and go as far as that. Just as I was going to turn around she did. I had no option but to turn around myself which must have been a bad look.

   I went all the way to the jetty but could not find the resort. A small fishing village was on the other side of the jetty so I had definitely come too far. I did not bring my phone so could not ring the wife. Normally she worries when I am away for a long time. Generally thinks I am up to no good. Also I had no idea of the name of the resort. A bit of panic was setting in. I was getting thirsty and hungry. I turned around once again. The beach in that area was covered in rubbish washed in from the ocean. Foam, bottles, plastic and other crap. Just my luck to step on a used syringe. Two small sharp shells had already embedded into my heel. Along the way I went into 2 resorts in the hope it was mine but no luck. 

   Around 2hrs later I passed a resort and there she was, sitting in the restaurant overlooking the beach having just ordered breakfast. I told her I had got lost. As suspected, she thought I was showing off by running flat out in front of girls plus talking to them. She had waited a long time in the room for me to come back before thinking, “Stuff him, I’m going to breakfast”. 

   After breakfast we went back to the room. It felt like something had stuck to the second toe of my left foot. I lifted my foot up to remove it and found there was a large blister under the toe. There was one under the same toe on the other foot but far smaller.
Tony Quinn

The Kung Fu Man

by Tony Quinn

   We were invited to the opening of a large new restaurant by a woman the wife knows from a scouting movement she is involved in. The restaurant is located in a place called Samut Sakhon which is not too far south of Bangkok.

   A bloke who is also a member of the scouting group lives in the same general area as us so offered to give us a lift. He is very fit. He runs marathons, teaches kung fu and breathing exercises at several universities as well as self defence to the police. He also does part time acting in films and live shows.
   He arrived in his car which was a Honda Accord. It looked a bit knocked about with quite a few dents in various parts of the body and made all sorts of noises.
   Off we went with him driving like a maniac. I was stuck in the death seat. He put on some head thumping music which seemed to make him drive even faster. We made our way onto a tollway and though packed with traffic he drove faster reaching speeds of up to 170kph. He told me he was a Christian and asked if I was one also. I told him I was a lost sheep. However, just a few kms down the road I found God again and started praying.
   We arrived at the restaurant in one piece. A very large restaurant plus functions area and a bakery. Lots of people and lots of food. Most people were dressed up especially the women. The woman who owns the restaurant also owns many other businesses including fleets of taxis and minibuses. I had my photo taken with her. She held my hand while the photo was being taken which I didn't mind as she is very attractive. As usual, I was the only foreigner there so received quite a bit of attention. I sat at a large circular table with all the other seats occupied by women. I was introduced to all of them. One of the women said I was very handsome. I often get that type of comment but I suspect they are only being polite plus their English language skills are very limited to a few basic phrases such as that. I replied that she was very beautiful (lying).
   After eating our meal we all lined up at the bakery for cakes and other pastries. We wandered around the complex for some time before leaving for home. Another hair raising trip.
   The following week we went for lunch again. The Kung fu man picked us up. The engine of his car sounded better but the transmission was making noises and clunking. He was wearing a police top. 
   The restaurant was located on the other side of town near the river. Once again the car trip was a nightmare with me in the death seat. We took toll ways where possible. He was driving very fast, in and out of traffic. On the left hand edge of the toll ways is a narrow strip like a bike path. He would squeeze down these at high speed to get in front of vehicles. He had a pass for the toll ways so did not have to stop to pay. However, a wooden arm would raise to let cars through. He would barely slow down when approaching these - terrifying.
   We arrived early and only a few people were there. I was first introduced to an attractive woman in a very short skirt and top. Her face and hair was all done up. We shook hands and said hello with her face very close to mine, mouth wide open and smiling. She said that she was single - I replied "I am not surprised". I thought how it would be a good idea if she changed dentists. She left shortly afterwards.
   We were seated at a table with a small thin bloke about 40 and an older woman all made up with an obvious nose job. The bloke runs lots of businesses and frequently travels to China and Hong Kong. He makes around $130,000 a month. I told him that it takes me 2 months to make that. His mother recently gave him $1.3mil. He said he used to be involved in mafia type operations when younger but not anymore. At the end of the lunch I noticed him leaving in a huge Mercedes.
   On the stage a bloke was playing a piano and there was a Karaoke machine. The woman sitting at our table got up and sang several songs. She was under the delusion that she was a pop idol. She was wearing sequenced jeans thinking she was a teenager. When she sat down I made sarcastic remarks about her singing ability but they went straight over her head. She owns a large factory. I felt sorry for the workers as she appeared to be a very conceited and aggressive person.
   Lots of other people got up singing. Terrible on the ears. I was cajoled by one of the women into singing a duet with the husband of the restaurant woman. I also did some dancing which went down well with the audience. There was a group of women who danced and sang. They looked like a bunch of Michael Jacksons due to the amount of plastic surgery done to their faces.
   The food was very Thai. Never eaten stuff like it before. Several courses were brought out. Someone was having a birthday so we had to sing happy birthday and eat some cake. Then had to face a screen on the wall and sing as words flashed across it. 
  Another hair raising trip home. He wanted us to go to a church function with him later that day but we declined. Felt exhausted so had to go to bed for 2hrs. Must have been the chemicals in the food. Dragged myself out of bed and went for a 30 minute run in the heat which helped.
   A few days later the wife had a scouting function to attend. A friend who is a fellow scout arrived at the house to pick her up. Dressed in her scouting uniform and looking very attractive. I was in the kitchen in my shorts and singlet eating breakfast having just finished a good weights workout. The wife brought her in to meet me. After being introduced, she said I was very handsome and very muscly. I responded by telling her she had a very good figure so must work out. She liked that. To impress her even more, I held my breath and tensed my muscles while talking to her.
  Later in the arvo the wife rang. The kung fu man asked if we would like to go to Nakhon Sawan with him that evening. It is about 250kms north of Bangkok. I could hear his voice in the background. He said for me to take my runners. Wife must have told him I do some running. There is a steep 3.5km hill he wants me to run up with him the next morning. If he thinks he will beat me on the run up the hill he has another thing coming. Little does he know I run up the various mountains in Canberra several times per week so am used to it. I get the impression he thinks I will be like the rest of the shufflers I see running here. He is in for a big shock. There is no way I would go in his car so insisted on driving the hire car I had.
   The wife and her friend returned home from the function around 7.30pm. I went outside to meet them. The woman was smiling and waving at me. She obviously thinks I am a really nice bloke when in fact I am a complete arsehole. The kung fu man arrived in his car as well. It was making terrible noises. 
   About 8pm we left for the trip in the hire car with me driving. He was in the back. It was pouring rain. I had to get onto the main road which is 4 lanes wide both ways separated by a concrete barrier. Worse thing was I had to get into the farthest lane then do a u turn about 100 metres down the road. It was peak hour and the traffic was bumper to bumper and travelling fast. I had no choice but to push out into the traffic and barge my way across. Making the u turn was just as bad.
   After we got out of Central Bangkok I noticed him asleep in the back. Resting up in preparation for the run I thought. The road was 3 lanes wide and full of trucks, buses, cars and motorbikes. Around 11pm he stirred and said we only had about 15 minutes to go before we reached the resort we were staying at. The word "resort" covers anything from a pig pen to a five star hotel. He wanted to stop at a service centre. He went into a 7/11 and bought some stuff. Next thing I know he was seated in a massage chair getting his feet massaged. He said it would help with the run. The process was to take 30 minutes. I started to get cranky as I thought he was doing it deliberately so as to delay my sleep. 
   Ten minutes after resuming the trip we arrived at the "resort". It was on the highway. At the front of it was a place with coloured lights. Music was blaring out of it. We selected a bungalow furtherest from it. 
   He said we would head off for the run at 5.55am. Not 6am, but 5.55am for reasons unknown.
  I decided to have a shower. Held the shower head and turned on the tap. The water shot out of a hole lower down. It was well after midnight when I finally got into bed. Set my alarm for 5am which would give me time for a bowel movement, wash and some exercises. That was a complete waste of time as at around 4am a rooster started to crow loudly right outside the window. It never let up except for a few short breaks. I did not sleep much before that anyway due to all the rumblings of the traffic on the adjacent highway.
   I got out of bed when the alarm went off. I was worried about managing a bowel movement but luckily things went well. About 5.45 I had finished my exercises. I looked out the window and there he was. Dressed in black ankle length tights, a Kung fu T-shirt and scouts cap. He was stretching and doing breathing exercises. You are going down I thought to myself.
   Out I went along with the wife. She was going with us. There was no way I would be waiting for her though. Noticed the rooster perched on a structure just outside of the bungalow. We started off walking with him swinging his arms. We went down back streets through old temple ruins. After about 10 minutes of this I was getting agitated as I wanted to get on with it. We arrived at the base of the hill with a track leading to steps that went all the way to an old temple at the top. He started a slow run up the track and so did I. The time of reckoning had come. I increased the pace but he did not. I then went flat out and left him for dead. My pace never slowed even as I went up the steps. I waited up the top for him and the wife. More walking around then down onto a rural road. He started to jog. I took off and ran flat out. I kept running until I got out of sight then turned around and ran back to them. What a downer. I had psyched myself up for a good battle but it was not to be. I think he is used to the average wreck trying to keep up with his gently jog. Most people would be stuffed just going for a fast walk, particularly in the heat.
  I kept this routine of running out and back for around 1.5hrs. We ended up on the highway and down by a river. I had to be very careful of dogs. Heaps around and vicious. 
   We ended up at a large temple complex which included a small school. It was 7.30am and the kids were just arriving. He got them to form a circle and took them through a series of breathing exercises. They were laughing their heads off. As a foreigner I attracted a lot of attention. Once all the kids arrived, the headmaster got him to stand on a table and take the whole school through the breathing exercises. I had to stand on the table with him and hold the microphone. All the teachers were there and introduced themselves to me. At the end, had to have photos taken with different groups of kids. Finished off having eats and drinks with the headmaster.
  The headmaster gave us a lift back to the "resort" where we showered and changed. We then went and visited the local mayor. It was around lunchtime by then and I started to feel completely stuffed due to the lack of sleep. He wanted to stay that night in Nakhon again but I could not face the thought of sleeping another night in the "resort" so drove back to Bangkok.
Tony Quinn

A CANBERRA BOY GOES TO THE PICTURES IN CANBERRA

by Tony Quinn
      Haven't seen a movie for years. Can't stand watching make believe bullshit. The same as fiction books. Documentaries are the exception.
   I read a critique of the film “Hustler" the other day. Good write up and was given four stars. Stars Jennifer Lopez. About a bunch of strippers ripping blokes off. I decided to go to the 12.15 session today to see what movies these days are like. Some brain dead entertainment. May even see some nice looking girls. Can't just walk in and sit anywhere. Have to select a seat. Got there early and selected a seat in the middle halfway from the screen. Sitting there when a fat grub in his late twenties came and sat next to me. There was only a handful of people in the cinema. Could not understand why the fuckwit would select a seat next to one taken.
   Trailers from upcoming films were shown. All violent and sick. No wonder there are so many head cases in the world. The prick next to me was wearing ear phones and when the sound of the trailers stopped I could hear shit from his head phones. He started eating bags of crisps and drinking something. I was getting furious. Thought he might move but he didn't. I waited until the movie started then moved several seats away. Prick.
  After about 5 or 10 minutes of watching the movie I contemplated getting up and leaving. Watching a bunch of disgusting and horrible women gyrating in a strip club made me feel sick. Jennifer Lopez is well past her use by date. Her and the rest of them had terrible flabby bodies, massive amounts of makeup and lots of plastic surgery. Constantly swearing and lots smoking. They must have thought they were sex objects. In their minds. 
    Dirty, filthy things. The acting and storyline was pathetic. The blokes in the strip club were equally as bad. I thought about when Kevin Rudd was sprung in a strip club. I would have to be forced at gunpoint to go to one.
   It was so depressing sitting there watching it. Several times I thought about leaving. Kept looking at my watch. So relieved when it finished.
   I was glad I went as it reinforced my view of these places and the women and blokes who are involved in them. How blokes could watch and lust after these horrible women who are only friendly to them because they are a dollar is beyond me. I thought about all those stupid old grots who go to Thailand, sit in depressing bars and delude themselves that the younger bar girls like them.
   I recommend everyone goes to see it. That was you can judge for yourselves whether or not you feel my critique is correct. I give the film zero stars.
Tony Quinn


A CANBERRA BOY COMPETES IN THE KOH CHANG BIKINI BEACH RUN

                                       by Tony Quinn

Saw the large billboard on the side of the road a few days before the run. Rang up but too late to register but could still run. Supposed to be 300 entries.


The run was along the beach starting and finishing from the Chai Chet Resort. The distance was 3kms.
Check in time was from 3pm with the race starting at 5pm. Arrived there at 2pm in order to get a car park at the resort. Lucky as there were very few parks left.
Wore my Thai police cap. The police at the entry saluted me as I walked in.
A row of under cover food stalls were down one side and a stage at the front with a heap of chairs. A very good set up. Speeches were going on. A slim young girl with skimpy white shorts up her arse was wandering around with her phone on a stick filming and talking. Did it the whole time. Last night I googled the event and a link came up with a video by her. It went for over 5hrs. She is an influencer. Makes money out of producing videos.
Wandered around and along the beach a bit. Terrible looking beach as very narrow in places and covered in stones and rocks. Normally run on beaches in bare feet but wore my Vibrams just in case. Good move.
Got a couple of chairs and sat under a palm tree overlooking the water and near to the check in area. Some interesting people turned up including lots of women of various ages in bikinis. A bunch of beauty queens arrived all dressed up and posed for photos. Later stripped off to bikinis. One came over close to us for photos. I kept getting told off for twisting my neck to look at girls. She reckoned they would think I liked them. How silly.
One horrible boiler was getting around in a black bikini bottom with a pink top. Half her twat was hanging out. She was also wearing a cap with the word "Gamecocks" written across the front of it. Very appropriate.
Shortly before 5pm, people gathered at the start point. More speeches. The beauty queens and other women in bikinis were at the front. The competitive runners including young army and police blokes were also at the front. I was in about the middle of the pack right behind a number of arses. Two drones were flying overhead filming.
The sound of a horn blasted out and the race was on. Had to run to a checkpoint then return. A bit slow to start with trying to get past runners but eventually got some open space. Picked up the pace then. I took it hard. Approaching the turnaround point about 20 runners or so were already on the way back. A band was placed on my wrist at the turnaround point and I headed back. Quite a few people from adjacent resorts were sitting, watching and clapping the runners. I passed a couple more people. A young bloke was in front of me. I tried to catch him but he just beat me to the finish line. A medal was placed around my neck as I crossed the finish line.
I walked up to the car to leave my cap in it. Close to the car were four girls. As I passed, one asked if she could have my medal. I just laughed and kept going. When I walked back she offered to give me a massage. I asked what sort of massage. She said a massage all over. Massage everything. Tempting but could get myself into trouble so I returned to the festivities.
Shortly afterwards the wife crossed the finish line. Sat in some chairs facing the stage. The beauty queens were parading around and presentations made to the winner plus second and third.
The chairs were packed up and large round tables set up. All the food and drinks were free. It was really good. Sat at the table eating and drinking and watching the show. Singing and dancing. A few people came to sit at our table. An English bloke sat next to me. He has lived in Koh Chang for 22 years and owns the Paradise Palms Resort. Runs it with his Thai wife. His wife was with him and also a couple who were staying at their resort. The bloke is Bavarian and is a 3rd Dan in jujitsu. Also does yoga for 1hr each day. Had a good yarn with the English bloke. Because of the lockdowns he had to return to England to work as a carpenter. Didn’t like doing it. Said there are so may rules to working on building sites. Have to be inducted on every site, cannot wear shorts and not even allowed to bring milk onto a site. I told him about my run where I got chased by the monkey. He said he walks up the hill every morning. Stops where it flattens out a bit and does pushups. Said the hill is known as “cardiac hill”. Lots of monkeys there he said. Also goes up a very steep staircase to a memorial not far from his resort several times per week.. He said the walk up is really hard. He likes a beer and was downing a few.
A fire show started on the beach. We left shortly afterwards. On Saturday decided to call in to see him as he invited us to do so. Beforehand drove up to the memorial and parked at the top of the hill. Walked down the road then around to the bottom of the staircase. As the English bloke said it was really hard, I took it hard. Went flat out two steps at a time. Got to the top in 44 seconds. Wasn't hard at all. All other staircases I have run up take two minutes at a minimum. As it was easy, I ran up it another two times then ran up the road. Then went to his resort. Only has 4 bungalows. He showed me around while the wife yarned to his wife. He had a beer in his hand. The Bavarian bloke came out also with a beer in hand. He said Bavarians like drinking beer. The time was around 2pm.
Yesterday decided to run up Cardiac Hill. Saw no monkeys driving down thank goodness. Parked the car at the White Sand Beach Resort. The car next door had the bonnet up. A tall thin bloke who looked about 80 walked past in runners and started walking up the hill. An old foreign woman got into a small white car with a young Thai bloke. Stretched while waiting for her to go. She took ages but finally left. Off I went then. Caught the old bloke but he was going at a good pace. Further up the old bag’s car had broken down. Bonnet up. I ran past.
Got to the top then started walking back down. As I passed the old bloke he said “well done”. As I walked I started thinking about the monkey and decided the best way to exorcise it from my mind was to run up the hill again which I did. Felt easier the second time around. Then finished off with a nice swim in the ocean.
I ran up Cardiac Hill again on another 3 days. Made sure I took my Dog Dazer with me. It is a device that sends out an electronic sound that only dogs and some other animals can hear. Repels attacking dogs and also stops them from barking. I have tried it on a number of monkeys also. Some run away but others don't. The last day I ran up Cardiac Hill I finished off with some sprints at the top. I did 2 sprints then when walking down to do a third I noticed a large monkey following me. I zapped it with the Dazer which made it stop. However, shortly afterwards it starting following me again. I zapped it a couple more times which got rid of it. Decided not to do another sprint. As I walked down the hill I noticed more monkeys in the trees. Zapped them and they took off into the jungle.
Went to the car to change into my swimmers. As I walked through the bungalows to get to the beach a flock of geese were wandering around. The gander attacked me. I had to fight it off with my towel. For reasons unknown I seem to get attacked by all sorts of animals. They must be able to tell a wrong'un.