May 11, 2002

May 11, 2002: The voice was young, intelligent, and female. And she was impressed. God awfully impressed. So impressed she was, that she said it twice, with emphasis and meaning:

    "It's the biggest one I've ever seen!"

You got that right baby. OK, so I don't hear that all too often. She was the tech from the web hosting company, who hosts the main part of this site (which, by the way, is now being run on three separate servers). We were working on fixing the corruption of the site; apparently their latest server software upgrade interfered with the functioning of the main part of russbo.com. But, it brought to light the fact that we're growing, and growing at a horrible rate. So much so, that I can't keep up with it anymore. You see, almost five hundred megabytes for just this part of the site, is, well, kind of huge. (Like me! Oh my!) And that's just on one server. There's about fifty megabytes of slideshows on a secondary server, and the File Library and Photo Library are on a third server, with god knows how many megabytes. The temporary fix of using a PC computer as a tertiary server for the Library parts of the site has been working well, but, unfortunately, it just is not going to be enough to handle all the new parts  which are coming; especially with the recent exponential increase in visitation to the Library parts of the site. A real server is on order, and should be up and running a good portion of this site, within the next few weeks. It all would have been done by now if it hadn't been for some small minor happenings in the next few weeks or so. You know, little shit.

Ah, the little brother is getting married. Oh, the little sister is getting married, Did I mention that the ex-girlfriend is getting married? And I'm invited. Even to my brother's and sister's weddings. Imagine that. Not only do I have to paint the house in preparation for all of the parties and such (my idea of spring cleaning is taking a jackhammer and ripping up the marble floors), but I have to prepare a "best man" speech, throw a bachelor party, host a political action party for a friend of mine, and figure out why Max is barking at my ladder. Maybe it's because I moved the house plants outside. Did I tell you that they're dying in the sun? Yes, when it comes to plants, it's the old "survival of the fittest" rule. As if I don't have enough to do.... Sandra from Luxembourg writes:

    "By the way, as I'm trying to read all of your stories and also the comments and topics about them, I have to admit, that it is also very time-consuming. I'm trying already for 2 weeks to reach the end! But as you told me you are planning on updating your site again, there will be more hours for me read about your adventures.  Very good, go on and never stop it.. :-) "

Yes, reading all this shit is very time consuming. Without a doubt. Try writing it. Now if you really want to start thinking of wasted time, imagine the fifteen hundred or so visitors a day we're getting now, with the average visitor spending about ten to fifteen minutes perusing the site. Some people drop in, take a look, and wisely leave. Others, get "sucked in", as I've been told, and literally spend hours. Get sucked in and spend hours. Imagine. I asked Sandra if she had a life. Any sort of life. She didn't respond. Smart girl. Probably too busy reading. I should have asked her if this was the biggest one she'd ever seen. But, she's expecting more adventures, and, I just can't disappoint her. So, here's yet another one. Sandra, this one's for you. But, don't let me forget about the news. Oh, we have so much to talk about.

I noticed her across the room. It was dark, and smoky, as "church" usually is, with the typical parishioners parading around in their typical church outfits. Yes, being young and single in Las Vegas tends to lead one to some typical hanging out places, with nice music, interesting atmosphere, beautiful half naked women, and rather bizarre and overly drunk compatriots. Being old and single in Las Vegas usually lands one in church.  With nice music, interesting atmosphere, beautiful half naked women, and rather bizarre and overly drunk compatriots. And, if you've got friends like I do, very weird buddies, who tend to drag you to these places on a rather infrequent, but usually memorable, basis, this is what you do in Vegas. That is, if you're smart enough to stay away from the gambling tables. Yes, I noticed her from across the room. She looked like most of the other women in there, with some rather small and not so non-revealing outfit, surgically enhanced in the typical fashion, and cruising in a rather observant fashion, always searching out the drunk individual who appeared to be spending money. Preferably lots of it. But the reason why I noticed her, was because it had appeared that she had noticed me. And she was hovering. Yes, hovering.

Hovering is a term that I use, and if you haven't noticed, I tend to be creative sometimes in my use of the English language, when a woman appears to be interested in you for some god unforeseen reason, but is just too damn scared to approach you. So, she "hovers", that is, she kind of prances back and forth pretending to be just walking around, while she tries to figure out a way to approach you without getting the expected letdown. It actually happens to me quite a lot. Hovering. I've been told that I'm quite the intimidating sight, because of my size, and my attitude. And this "aura of confidence" that I somehow exude. Yes, imagine that. Some old experienced ex-whore stripper told me that. Or was she an ex-stripper whore? Regardless,  I've heard it far too many times. So, instead of the typical "jump in your lap and say hello" response that all of my friends get at church, I get hovering half naked babes who waste time and stare. It's gotten that I've actually found ways to have fun with it.

Fear. It all has to do with fear. Intimidation leads to fear, even when there truly is nothing to fear, and somehow, I cause that. So, eventually, when my little princess to be eventually gets the gall to jump into the throne of my lap, I usually respond to her usual first question of "Are you a cop?", with a very friendly "Yes, I used to work homicide but now I just do vice. I just couldn't deal with all those dead people; personally, I'd rather just shoot the bastards. But, when I was in narcotics, I blew away too many people, so they moved me to vice. Vice is a lot more fun. Whores are great to arrest. Kind of reminds me of my grandmother. God I  enjoy it far more. Shall we have fun tonight?".  If she stays, I'll talk to her. Some just can't handle the bullshit humor. And isn't it all about bullshit in these places? And everywhere else? The old "I'm a doctor" routine just never lead to any sort of believability. For some reason, the women felt that I was just, well, full of shit. I just don't have that "he's a doctor" look. I've been told that I have that "cop", or "special forces", or "hit man", or, "crazed mental hospital escapee" look. But never the "doctor look". So, if I told them I worked for the CIA as an assassin, or, that I was on vacation from the Secret Service, they believed me. And they all would ask me about Clinton. Oh, they loved Clinton. Single mothers struggling to get by, while trying to make their mortgage and drug payments, well, I guess it's all part of the expected demographics. But, anyway, I think you get the point. The point is, if you didn't get it, is that, inside the dark, sexually intriguing world of  "church", everything is bullshit. And church, interestingly enough, is a rather fairly comparable analogy to life in general.

    * But before we continue, talking about bullshit, did you read about the nonsense that I'm having trying to get visas for three Shaolin monks? Anybody got a Nobel Prize we can borrow for a few weeks? No? What's the matter with you? How about a Grammy, or an Emmy? Read about the latest travails in doc land, at Help the Monks. It truly will blow your mind. And when you're there, make sure you follow the directions, and write me a little ditty. I've included some samples if you're feeling literarily handicapped.
    * Talking about little ditties, don't be one. Haven't signed up for the DocTour 2002 yet have you. Wimp. No doubt you're just like all the rest of them. Just absolutely terrified of being embarrassed in front of millions of Chinese when Kevin and I trounce you in paddle boat races on the Summer Palace pond. Don't be a wuss. Don't bullshit us with some sort of "my mommy doesn't want me to go" excuse. Think about it. You've got time. We moved the trip to August. Two reasons. Not enough participants for June. And the boss said no. Yes, the boss. Didn't exactly want Kevin leaving for China in June because she had other plans.  And there's one thing that you learn when you get married. You don't mess with the boss. (I may go without him, anyway....) More info at DocTour 2002. Check it out.

OK, hey, let's talk about bullshit. What a topic. Back to our story....

Was she cute? Oh, hard to tell; it was dark. But it really didn't matter. She got through the initial "What do you do, are you a cop?" question, with my favorite response, without barely a shiver or a quake. Not a bit of nervousness, from what I could tell. A little on the chubby side, but proportioned accordingly. Not bad for the two kids she's had. A little young, around 20 or 21, but, well, I have nothing against that. Young strippers, uh, sorry, dancers, that have found the apparent wealth of dancing half naked for drunk Las Vegas tourists is one thing, especially if they actually have some sort of career goals ahead of them. Did you know that they all want to be lawyers? Oh, another story, one which I think I already talked about. The ones I have problems with, are the old dancers. The ones with three or four ex-husbands. The one's with three or four kids. The ones whose kids call them and tell that the city shut off the water to their apartment in the hood that day. The ones that ask my friends if they have some coke or crack. The ones who don't ask me if I have coke or crack because they all think I'm a cop. Yes, I have trouble with those women. I'm usually nice to them, and send them on their little way. But the young ones, I can deal with. Actually try to guide them to a better future, with long various discourses on their boyfriends who are in jail, who sell drugs, who beat them. Most listen, most don't really listen. But my little princess for the night was not only curious, but, talkative. In a delightfully entertaining sort of way. She liked the "I'm a cop routine", and quickly jumped into my lap. She squirmed a little bit, trying to find a comfortable spot somewhere between my waist and my knees, and eventually exclaimed:

"That's the biggest one I've ever seen!"

"I've heard that before."

Yes, the stripper that we had both watched walk by, was, well, rather huge. Watching her thong peek out every oh so once in a while, as if it were trying to catch it's breath, screaming in horror as it tried desperately to see a bit of sunlight, kind of amused me. I thought of eventually hunting her down and having her dance for a friend of mine. What a buddy I was. But, my little princess interrupted my little thong daydream.

"I only dance once or twice a week you know."

"Yes, I can see that. Are you going to law school?"

Ah, the typical "Are you going to law school" question. Got to head them off at the pass, before they bring it up. I always like the look of amazement, as they ponder my apparent ability to read their little minds and see their glorious futures.

"Wow, how did you know? Yes, I'm going to law school. In Los Angeles. I'm going to be a lawyer. How did you know? You must be a Leo...."

Yes, that was nice. A lawyer. And she was brilliant. One usually becomes a lawyer when one goes to law school. And for some reason, astrology takes a front seat in the conversation. They're big on it. We're going to have one hell of a lot of lawyers in the future who cite astrological signs for the defense of their clients. One thing that I've always been impressed with, is their ability to recognize the fact that I am a Leo. Whatever the hell that means. Most of the time I can't remember when my damn birthday is. Don't even bother asking me how old I am. What did I do yesterday?

"But, you know, I don't have to do this in Vegas. You know. I make a lot of money in Los Angeles. I've got my own clients, lots of really, really rich guys, that I dance for privately, in their homes. You know, doctors and stuff."

Really rich guys. Doctors and stuff. Yes, the law school thing was pretty standard, but now, now, we're moving into new bullshit territory. I hadn't heard this one before. Doctors with money? Where has she been?

"How much do you make with these private clients, if I may ask. I don't mean to be too inquisitively obnoxious, but, I'm just curious as to what an outrageously beautiful and gregarious young women with a body worthy of being immortalized as the Greek statues can make...."

One thing to remember when dealing with bullshit. It's more fun if you return it. But, I always like to return it in a nice gentle fashion, usually in a way in which the other side generally has no idea that I'm slapping the shit out of them as I do it. Big words, sentences, complicated phrases. It makes it interesting. It also makes them wonder. Always keep the other side wondering. It's the best way of dealing with bullshit. Frustrate them intellectually. But, in a friendly sort of way.

"Oh, I make a lot you know. With all of my clients there. I can get about five hundred dollars an hour. And I do it a lot, a lot. I make lots of money, so I can buy my boyfriend things."

Ah, the mention of the boyfriend. I knew it would come out sooner or later. It was sooner. But, I figured I would keep that for later. I predicted that he was going to be an incredible loser. Odds were, I was going to be correct. But, before we talk more about the boyfriend, let's talk about someone far more interesting. Let's talk about Sandra again:

    "A few weeks ago, I saw the Shaolin Temple monks with their show on a tour through Germany. I was very fascinated by the show and decided to find out more about the monks, their life, their powers, and their abilities. That's how I became to your site and was overwhelmed by the variety as well as the wealth of informations that you collected on the Temple and the monks. Therefore not only a praise but also many thanks for your work that you did. It allows people like me to learn more about a world that is so unusual and mystical.

     

    My admiration for your work is so high that I even forgot to introduce myself. My name is Sandra and I live in Luxembourg (probably a country that is unknown by most of the people in this world)."

Damn, got to say hi to Sandra. (Hi Sandra!) And, we have to thank Sandra. For out of the hundred or so emails I got this week, from young men all over the world who want to leave their homes and their loving families to become monks and spend the rest of their lives in the shits living near the Shaolin Temple, Sandra comes out of the woodwork, all the way from Luxembourg, and sends a small bit of praise. And she's a girl. Oh, just imagine. A fan. A female fan. Wow. I'm truly touched. I wonder if the world is going to come to an end.

 

    *

      Yes, to commemorate this joyous occasion, I think I need to return this small favor, with a brief introduction of, well, me, which, by the way, you've probably all seen before, but, this time, with two more previously unpublished pictures of the great bald one. Yes, never before seen photos of dear old doc. Yes, never to be seen again photos of dear old doc. One photo, of me, with, oh, horrors, my sunglasses off. Imagine that. A picture of me not wearing sunglasses. Yes Mariella,  of Barcelona, Spain, I do have eyes. Oh my! Lions and tigers and doc has eyes. And, the other photo, a truly classic photo, that I call "doc the barbarian", of me on a camel in the Gobi Desert. You decide which one of us is cuter. Me or the camel. So enjoy. All in the doc section. For my one fan out there in the world.

 

OK, enough  of this sentimental shit. I'm having trouble seeing the keyboard through the tears in my eyes.  Let's get back to my little princess and her loser boyfriend. Remember, she buys him lots of expensive things.

 

"Do you sleep with these wealthy clients of yours for that five hundred? I mean, that's a lot of cash just to watch you dance."

"No, of course not. I won't do that. I have morals."

They all have morals. All these budding lawyers. Must lose them in law school or something. Damn, these girls are some of the most moralistic and ethical people that I know.

"But I'll sleep with them if they give me a few thousand dollars."

That's my girl. Now we're getting somewhere. She's got a price. Gonna make a damn good attorney.

"So what else do you do with all of your money? You can't shop all the time. What kind of drugs do you like to do?"

"Oh, I don't do drugs. Drugs are dirty. I won't do that."

The typical "I don't do drugs" response. I kind of put it on the back shelf for a while, knowing that it might come in useful later.

"I bought my boyfriend a Rolex watch the other day. A really expensive one."

Hmmm. Ego. Greed. Pretend high standard morals. I was supposed to be impressed? Hey, this was getting good. And deep. I started to realize that the intellectual conversation that was coming, was going to be good.

    * Ego. Greed. Vanity. Oh, what does the typical attributes of a Las Vegas stripper have to do with, well, anything? Actually, a lot. I kind of view this as a microcosm of the world. Various attitudes and human behavioral qualities that you see so pronounced in "church" are really quite commonly found on an every day basis. In every day places. Human behaviors that are so pronounced and so widespread, in so small a geographic place, just makes it easier to analyze, dissect, and learn about. Very educational. But to make these experiences educational, some background reading usually helps. Ain't that usually the case. New, in this update, more on Buddhist theory. Lots of interesting things. Such as a really neat essay on American Buddhism, and a story on Buddhist theology called Amitabha. All in the Buddhist Theory section of the Foundations area. Lying, deceitful little whores and Buddhism. Quite the educationally mutually beneficial combination.
    * Can't understand women? Can't understand Buddhism? You've come to the right place. With a lot of recent activity about, of all things, love, in the Topics section and the Discussion Forum, you just can't go wrong. And if you're completely lost when it comes to Buddhist thought, a nice little primer on such things, in Bodhisattva Dharma. Great read. Great glossary. Really puts it all together.
    * Can't understand what's going on in the MIddle East? Neither can I. Though we've had some tremendous discussions about it in the Forum, it's still as mystifying as women and Buddhism. So, a little ditty on Justice in Buddhism, in the newly reorganized Foundations section. Reorganized? Yes. Are we accumulating a lot of stuff in that section....
    * Oh, more stuff in the Topics section. A brief analysis of the medicinal use of qi gong and gong fu, in Topic Ten, and, a simple brief run down on migraine disease, in Topic Eleven.

But enough on migraines and Buddhism. Let's get back to our story. Our little princess had bought an expensive Rolex for her boyfriend.

"Hey, I got a Rolex too. Actually, it's a fake one. Some Mexican sold it to me in Tijuana. I can't afford a real one you know. It's tough being a cop. Hey, you must love your boyfriend very much. That's really so kind of you. To take care of him like that. Wish I had a delicate sophisticated young woman like you. What does he do for a living, if I may ask?"

The last girl I asked that of, who, by the way, was so immensely proud of her new-found love, told me that her new boyfriend, Jose, was a rocket scientist in southern California . I immediately thought of a Mexican who walked around grassy areas with a rocket powered lawn mower.

"My boyfriend? He's a drug dealer. In LA. He's great, really great. He spends all sorts of money on me, and buys me all sorts of nice things. He's so good to me. You know, he makes around five to ten thousand dollars a day selling coke and stuff. He buys me whatever I want."

"Great boyfriend. My mother always wanted me to be a successful drug dealer when I grew up. I always wanted to be a doctor. Instead, I became a cop. Well, she's disappointed, but, hell, life is tough you know. Can't get everything in life that you want."

"I can. My boyfriend gets me anything I want...."

The bullshit had reached a new level. Well, for two reasons. For one, she was starting to present a contradictory story. For two, she was talking about this boyfriend, real or imagined, in such a proud fashion, as if he were some sort of demi-god. As if he were some kind of hero. Something to look up to. Well, you just don't do that to me, a dedicated guy who has spent countless evenings and nights, in ambulances, emergency rooms, intensive care units, and operating rooms, for a truly major part of his life, trying to save countless dying idiots from the scourge of drugs. No, it was a bad move. I decided to forego the Buddhist ideal of forgiveness and understanding. I decided that I was going to pounce and punish. Time to give this one a mind altering beating that she wasn't going to forget. But first, more news.

    *

      Oh, other site changes. If you hadn't noticed already, we have a slightly new look. Like, different colors. Apparently, the old teal on black was difficult to read for those of you with color blindness. Also, some changes with respect to site navigation, which should make things a little easier to get around. And an automatic notification system in the Site News section, which will tell you if you've read the latest stuff here. All with the purpose of making russbo.com easier to get around. It's getting to be so damn big, that, it's tough for the newbies. Hey, it's tough for me. You don't know what it's like when somebody sends me an email quoting something that I've said, somewhere in the site. Something bizarre and esoteric. Amazing what you people grab onto.
    *

      How could I forget. More changes to the site. Interested in Cambodia, Tibet, or other areas in China? Have I got photos. More stuff in the Photo Library. Interesting, the server that the Photo Library and File Library are on, is getting a lot of action. Like, lots of visitors. Like, an exponential increase in visitation over the past two months. Now, imagine what my life would be like if I had an exponential increase in "visitation". Talk about action. Oh, let's get back to my little princess.

"He sounds like a great guy. But, if he makes all that much money in one day, why are you working at all? If I were you, I'd be home on the couch eating Bon Bon's and watching Oprah. Why should you work all these horrible late nights dealing with all these low lifes,  just so that you can buy him a watch that he can buy ten of, in a day?"

She was confused. She, at first, didn't know how to respond, as I had twisted all her "facts" into a question that she was going to have difficulty answering. I could see the frustration level increasing. I knew that this was going to be easy. And painful.

"Well, I love him. He makes a lot of money."

"Yes, he certainly does. And if I were a girl, I would love a guy who made a lot of money too. Especially a guy like what you have. I bet your mother really likes him."

It was time to bring in the mother thing. The mother thing always had a good impact. Time to lead my little princess down the so-called "garden path", down the conversational trail, step by step, right to where I wanted her, so I could deal the final effective beating.

"My mother loves him. She wants me to marry him."

"Your mother wants you to marry a drug dealer?"

"Yes, yes, of course. She married a drug dealer. She loves him too."

"I'm sure she does. Drug dealers have feelings too. They need lots of love."

Yes, my boyfriend has feelings. He needs my love."

The frustration level was building; I could hear it in her voice. And in her conversation. She was getting so confused and flustered, that she was following my lead. Right down the garden path.

"How does your boyfriend like the fact that you're a stripper? That you dance for god knows how many different men each night, men that run their hands all over your naked body and nibble on your neck as you rub up and down on their crotches?"

"My boyfriend likes it. He likes when I strip."

She was starting to sweat, starting to glance around nervously. She wasn't walking down the garden path; she was crawling. Anywhere I wanted to bring her.

"Your mother must like the fact that you're a stripper too."

Ooh. I started to bring the hammer down. Time to end this little charade.

"My mother is a stripper."

"Hey, that's great. Wish I had a mother who was a stripper. My mom is just a boring housewife, can you stand it? Hey about your mom, does she work here? I'd like to meet her. I'd like to tell her what a wonderful delightful cherub her daughter is."

Bamm. And with that, she got up and walked away, tears in her eyes. She apparently never read Sun Tzu's "The Art of War". Just didn't know how to pick her opponent. Entered into a battle of bullshit with somebody who was much better at it than she was. And she got hurt.

    * Don't want to get hurt in a verbal bullshit battle with doc? Want to be in a better position in any kind of encounter? Well, you can prepare. Sun Tzu's "The Art of War". Now fully published, in the Foundations section. Originally designed to be a guide to warfare in ancient times, now, very useful not only in the business world, but also in the sphere of navigating interpersonal relationships. Read it. It's definitely worthwhile. I use it constantly in my dating life. Wait, I have a dating life?
    * Also in the Foundations section, if you've got the time, we've got the reading.... The Gospel of Buddha, originally compiled and written from ancient texts in 1894. Truly an awesome, and huge, piece of Buddhist literature. Hey, it's the biggest one I've ever seen. In the Buddhist Theory subsection of the Foundations section. Expect to spend a lot of time with this one.
    * Talking about awesome, a new addition to the site, on the Start page. Get your daily dose of the Dhammapada. A new verse from this awesome sutra, published every day, for your learning enjoyment.
    * More stuff in the Shaolin FAQ page, including some discussion of what it's like to be on television. (Don't do it). Should generate a little discussion in the future. I have more to say on this....
    * And  don't forget to check out the new Discussion Forum. It will definitely lead to some sleepless nights. Lots going on there now....

Lots of Buddhism in this update. Not sure why. Well, maybe it's because the gong fu videos aren't ready yet. Though, I've got lots of them, and, despite the fact that I've said this before, they are on the way. Along with the new server, and a very neat site wide chat room / instant messaging service. But, probably the real reason why Buddhism seems to be the main crux of this update, is because I've been reading a bit of it. And finding it very appropriate. And useful. Especially with all the bullshit that I've been having to deal with. God, I'm getting tired of the bullshit.

Yes, "church" truly is a microcosm of daily regular life, especially here in Las Vegas. Honesty, tradition, honor, dedication, devotion, and sharing. Good Chinese and Buddhist attributes. Not exactly attributes that you find on a routine basis. Lying, deceit, greed and self-serving behavior. Now, that's what you usually see in "church". And, unfortunately, it seems sometimes, everywhere else. Yes, the behavioral patterns that one observes in strippers is a rather common one, and not one that is limited to their place of work. Statistics are not exactly my favorite subject, as, despite all the various statistics courses I've taken in my foray through the educational world, I just never got the hang of it. But, the numbers are revealing. Las Vegas and the surrounding county has about one million three hundred thousand people living in it. We have a few thousand doctors, a few hundred certified public accountants, a few thousand bartenders, and a couple hundred taxi cab drivers. The sheriff's department here, that register all workers in this county according to their type of employment, keeps track of the numbers, along with other societies. To work as a stripper in Las Vegas, one needs to register as such with the sheriff's department. Guess how many strippers work in Las Vegas. A few hundred? A few thousand? Ten thousand? Ten thousand is probably a safe estimate.

But no, not ten thousand. In Las Vegas, registered with the sheriff's department as strippers, we have a little over one hundred thousand girls. Girls that live here. Girls that maintain residence here. Girls that fly in from all over the west coast. One hundred thousand of them. That's two hundred thousand breasts. One million fake nails. Tons of hair spray. Two hundred thousand thongs (they wear them in pairs). God knows how many cigarettes, Red Bulls, and lines of cocaine. Ah, statistics. Now if we talked about these types of things in college, I might have passed the damn course.

One hundred thousand strippers. God.

It seems like we have almost as many personal injury attorneys.

You've got to love Vegas. What a town. What a life. But way too much bullshit sometimes. Time to get back to basics. Time to train and read some sutras.

More to come.

Always.