Slices of Life 3

Like a much more famous billionaire, this pitiful man is boastful, exaggerates numbers and loves to play with girls. Insane people are lost in their fantasized greatness.

with gratitude to Linh Dinh at Postcards from the End.

Well Prepared for the Worst! — Aug 13, 2025.

Washington DC, 12/6/11

This pre dawn at Coffee Seven, there’s a new half face. The other half is hidden behind a mask. With his mouth muffled, it’s not easy to understand what he’s saying. Plus, he’s speaking very rapidly.

Sơn, “You have a new vehicle!”

“Yes, just bought it, for three billion.”

Since $114,000 doesn’t sound right, I ask him, “Why so expensive? Why not buy a plane?” I tease. “Or a house?”

“My house is a hundred billion! I just bought a cemetery.”

Sơn grins, “A cemetery.”

“Why?” I ask. “You only have one body.”

“To sell lots.”

“How many?”

“A hundred.”

“That’s nothing. You need a plot for a thousand!” Then, “How much is your motorbike, brother Sơn?”

“Three billion.”

I say to Mrs. Seven, “Since all your customers are so rich, you shouldn’t be selling coffee for 10K,” or 38 cents. “Sell it for 100K.”

“He’s so rich, but sometimes he drinks my 10K coffee on credit.”

Already this insane in his early 30’s, he’ll just get worse, for sure, though his agitation will likely decrease with age.

Washington DC: (L): on 3/2/15 ; (R): on 7/28/17

For a nation, too, unchecked madness must increase. Even with violent crime down in DC, Trump has called in the National Guard. Preceding this by days was a photo of Big Balls sitting on the ground with a bloody face and body. Sure looks like he smeared it all over himself for the most dramatic shot. Why was this 19-year-old out, partying, perhaps, at 3AM? More mysterious is his hiring by Elon Musk for DOGE, that personal data harvesting scam that saved no one a dime, but why dredge up ancient history? We’ve so moved on.

Daily Beast on 8/12/25, “White House Wants Big Balls to Get Same Medal as Rosa Parks—The move would appeal to Trump’s MAGA base.” Who can deny Swollen Testicles has done much more than Mother Teresa and Martin Luther King?

Meanwhile in LA, masked goons arrested a handicapped 15-year-old at gunpoint, right outside his high school. This boy was standing next to his grandma’s car, with her inside. In their excitement, ICE agents dropped bullets on the ground. Warriors so professional must be sent immediately to Ukraine, Syria or deadly Washington DC, so they can return to claim a modest lot in a discount cemetery. As with thousands of other cases, this kid was targeted because he was brown. Handcuffed, he was whizzed away as terrified classmates looked on. After an hour, he was released without even an apology. Who are the retards here? With a moronic commander in chief, they’re free to terrorize.

Four decades ago, DC was America’s murder capital. Going there often, I was never mugged, however, because I didn’t wander around drunk at 3AM. I attended Bullets games before the team changed its name to Wizards. I had second row seat for a spectacular performance by George “Ice Man” Gervin. Fourteenth Street right in Northwest was as seedy as NYC’s Broadway. Taxi Driver’s Travis would have been perfectly at home. Since America’s rich and powerful didn’t care to live in shitholes, DC and NYC were much gentrified. I imagine Manhattan below 116^th and DC’s Northwest are still fine.

Washington DC: (L): on 11/30/11 ; (R): on 8/28/10

Meanwhile in Gaza, “Al Jazeera journalist Anas al-Sharif, 28, has been killed along with three of his colleagues in a deliberate Israeli attack on a media tent sheltering journalists outside the main gate of Gaza City’s al-Shifa Hospital.” Al Jazeera also claims, “Israel has killed nearly 270 journalists and media workers since it launched its war on Gaza.” The Jerusalem Post begs to differ, “IDF kills Hamas terrorist doubling as journalist.” Unlike Israel, al-Sharif hasn’t killed one innocent civilian, but he’s the “terrorist,” while the genocidal Jewish state must be defended by the entire West.

After Kevin Barrett interviewed me recently, he posted our 1 ½ hour conversation at Unz with this headline, “Linh Dinh: ‘It’s a very systematic program to destroy opponents of the Jews’—Is the Great Replacement driven by economics—or by Jewish hatred of Esau (Europeans) and Ishmael (Arabs/Muslims)?” Nearly all 72 comments after it concern Barrett’s suggestion Europe would be better off by converting to Islam. Unlike Jews, Kevin isn’t advocating for Middle Eastern and Northern African Muslims to invade Europe, after their own societies are destroyed. That’s a Jewish project, gleefully executed. In any case, neither Kevin nor I have the power to effect anything. As American “influencers,” we’re a thousand tiers below Johnny Somali or Ice Poseidon. Big Balls wouldn’t spit in our direction. So invisible, we can walk through walls.

True to their Angry White Pussy code and calling, none of those enraged Unzians dared to say Jews. Quaking whites proudly wave white flags.

Going to meet Putin in Alaska, Trump said, twice, he was headed to Russia. A man this confused can’t be expected to formulate policies on Cambodia, Armenia or Azerbaijan, so he’s obviously not in control, so who is? Perhaps Big Balls. Just never say Jews. They’re the most misunderstood and discriminated against do gooders in history.

When a woman across the street asks our billionaire to help her lift a heavy pot, he simply says, “I can’t,” so creaky and slightly stooped Mrs. Seven has to do it. I’d have, of course.

Seeing his gaudy watch, I blurt, “That’s nice!”

“It cost eight billion!”

“So expensive! You should use that money to go out with your girlfriend.”

“I’m married.”

“Oh! How many kids?”

“Eight.”

“Eight!”

After he’s gone, Mrs. Seven tells me, “He’s not married. Who would marry him? His parents are rich, so he just rides around.”

He comes to Vung Tau to play with girls, chơi gái, meaning he visits whorehouses. Like a much more famous billionaire, this pitiful man is boastful, exaggerates numbers and loves to play with girls. Insane people are lost in their fantasized greatness.

As your people become increasingly destitute and outraged, you erect tallest flag poles, build the tackiest ballroom, stage a military parade on your birthday and, now, normalize having heavily armed troops on city streets, something unseen in any civilized country not at war. Who can claim, though, the USA is either?

Triggering the worst, Trump is well prepared for the worst, he thinks. Still, that constant stench from his own body is hard to ignore. It’s not just old age. Continentia in Latin means repression. Since this megalomaniac has never known any self-restraint, it’s all flooding out from every orifice as his cowed subjects endure his repression.

still from Jack from Thailand’s Thailand’s Father Day 2020 featuring Tony Cartalucci

Some Holes in Brian Berletic — Aug 13, 2025.

Between 7/26/25 and 7/31/25, I wrote five articles on the latest conflict between Thailand and Cambodia. Before giving you an update, let’s examine some contentions made by Brian Berletic, whose 28 minute video from 7/26/25 I saw just last night.

Though many of Berletic’s observations are astute, there are fundamental flaws in his world view. He keeps insisting Israel is doing America’s bidding, so Jews serve whiteys. More specifically, Israelis and all other bad actors globally are paid off, manipulated or fooled by the American empire. Ethnic or racial interests don’t trigger conflicts. If not for Uncle Sam, all nations and races would get along.

Like me, Berletic points out that many ethnic Cambodians live on the Thai side of the border, so they, too, were on the receiving end of Cambodian rockets. When there’s no war, Thais and Cambodians coexist well enough. This doesn’t mean, as Berletic contends, “There’s no real animosity between these two countries. A lot of people make this out as if it’s some sort of historical issue. People don’t go to war over history, over religion, over ethnicity. These are things people in power use to dupe people into fighting wars.”

(L): King Vajiralongkorn at Munich Airport, Germany, 2016 ; (R): Bangkok, Thailand, 1/3/23

People have always gone to war over ethnicity, race, religion or historical claims, even if these are grossly exaggerated or entirely fictional. Think six million Jews gassed to death in a Final Solution. To stoke Jews for genocide, Netanyahu said on 10/28/23, “You must remember what Amalek has done to you, says our Holy Bible. And we do remember.” There’s no need for Bibi to cite the entire passage. Every self respecting Jew already knows it, “Now go and smite Amalek, and utterly destroy all that they have, and spare them not; but slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and ass.” To a lesser degree, Christians have absorbed this bloodthirsty mindset.

Since Amalek is a long disappeared nation that has nothing to do with contemporary Palestinians, it’s simply a shorthand for any enemy of the Jews. Fueled by racial righteousness and hatred, plus a lust for revenge against an amorphic Amalek, Jews going berserk in Gaza, the West Bank, Syria or Lebanon aren’t Uncle Sam’s proxies. They’re acting out their nationalism, something most leftists insist only the worst whites have, when in fact, nationalism is weakest among those pale folks with blonde, brown or red hair. Blacks, browns and yellows still embrace nationalism without shame.

Berletic acknowledges this himself in a Jack from Thailand’s video, “Thailand Father’s Day 2020 feat. Tony Cartalucci.” Since Berletic is a Slavic name, his adoption of a pen name so Italian was certainly weird. Why the misdirection? Should I call myself Witold Wozniak or Levi Ben-Gurion? Names denote familial, clan or tribal relationship.

In Thailand, love of nation is directly linked with loyalty to king. Though I’d rather not live in such a society, I’m not Thai, it’s their business. My name is not Somchai Ayutthaya. More troubling is their current monarch, Vajiralongkorn. He’s a veritable creep who spends most of his time in Bavaria. Each appearance in Thailand, such as seen in this video, is pure theater. In private, he’s an abuser of women and borderline crossdresser. Since any criticism of the king will land Berletic in prison, he only gushes about Vajiralongkorn here. It is sweet, though, to see thousands of Thais gather to celebrate their heritage. They will survive Vajiralongkorn.

In Bangkok two years ago, I stopped at a high school to observe their lengthy morning ritual to honor Buddha, king and nation. Their national anthem begins, “Thailand unites the flesh and blood of Thais. The land of Thailand belongs to the Thais.” Then, “We will sacrifice every drop of our blood for our nation.” Around that time, I also noticed no photos of kings at one café. This was highly unusual. Talking to the barista, I found out his sister couldn’t stand the royal family. This was her silent protest.

Everywhere, there were photos of Princess Bajrakitiyabha. She had collapsed at age 43 while walking her dogs. During Covid, rich Thais would fly to the USA to get Jewjabbed. Thirty months later, the princess is still in a coma, supposedly. No Thai newspaper or blogger would dare to suggest she’s most likely dead.

Berletic, then, must be extra careful when talking about Thai kings and their policies. His encapsulation of Thailand’s role during the Vietnam War, though, is at best bizarre:

Thailand has had a relationship with the United States over many years. It is complicated. Thailand was in a region the US was bombing. They were bombing Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos. Thailand was next. The US even encouraged a Communist insurgency in Thailand. Had nothing to do with actual Communism. Thailand decided they would host US troops and they would play along. Then as soon as the war was over, US troops went home. That relationship has gradually faded since and it has long since been replaced by a much closer, stronger and more constructive relationship with China.

Thailand: (L): Chanthaburi, 3/23/18 ; (R): Bangkok, 1/4/23

The US had no intention of bombing Thailand. In fact, it used Thailand as a base to bomb Laos and Cambodia, primarily to destroy the Ho Chi Minh Trails. Thailand didn’t just play along but benefited financially from hosting American troops. Those not stationed in Thailand went there for sex vacations. Thailand’s sex industry became the world’s largest during this era. That legacy is on full display today in Bangkok and Pattaya.

Though US troops did go home after the Vietnam War, the Pentagon maintained its influence. One example are the ill fated guerillas headed by a Vietnamese-American, Hoàng Cơ Minh. I should know. He’s my great uncle. In Virginia, he actually asked me if I wanted to go to Thailand. From there, I could follow him back into Vietnam via Laos. Knowing exactly where he was, Hanoi tracked HCM when he crossed into Laos, just north of Pakse, then killed him near Attapeu in 1987. Having spent seven months in Pakse and Ubon Ratchathani, I’m familiar with the region, though not as a guerilla. Only with Pentagon coordination would Thailand tolerate Vietnamese-Americans staging an armed conflict against Vietnam. It was more farcical than the Bay of Pigs.

Berletic’s claim that Thailand’s Communist insurgency was “encouraged” by the USA and “had nothing to do with actual Communism” is also absurd. Its main backers were Vietnam and China. Vietnamese Communists played key roles in growing Communist movements in Laos, Cambodia, Thailand and even Malaysia. That these relationships soured later was only due to each nation’s innate nationalism. Oriental tribalism trumped Jewish gibberish.

From 1975 to 1990, Thailand had to absorb waves of Vietnamese, Cambodians and Laos fleeing Communism, so it responded, often, by allowing its soldiers and citizens to rape, rob and kill them. After all, the land of Thailand belongs to the Thais. During last month’s conflict, ethnic Cambodians in Thailand were attacked, so thousands have fled home. Half a century ago, thousands of refugees were forced to return to Pol Pot ruled Cambodia at gun point. Stepping on mines, many never made it.

Like Berletic, I’m no fan of American imperialism, but unlike him, I also acknowledge the selfish or evil aims that are at least latent in all nations, and in each man, too. To reserve such agency to only white men or nations is to be, simply put, the purest racists, even if you’re completely unaware or mean well.

Today in the Phnom Penh Post, “Fresh claims that Thai soldiers destroyed homes, installed barricades, in Banteay Meanchey.” So it can certainly flare up again. On 8/7/25, Prime Minister Hun Monet nominated Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize, so the Donald has five from world leaders. They include the heads of Israel, Pakistan, Armenia and Azerbaijan.

West Point trained Hun Monet’s cozying up to Washington has angered Beijing. In December of 2024, the USS Savannah docked in Sihanoukville, not far from Ream, a naval base upgraded by the Chinese at the cost of billions. On 7/31/25, I wrote “Sam Landing Jab Means Chinese Troops in Southeast Asia.” I still stick with this assessment. Having invested so much into Cambodia, there’s no way China will let the US reap the benefits.

Plus, Hun Monet and his daddy, Hun Sen, are surrounded by powerful Chinese, many of whom have only been granted Cambodian citizenship recently. Counting underworld bosses, Cambodia is dominated by Chinese. Much of the Huns’ wealth comes from the Chinese.

The Cambodian economy depends on exports to the USA, however. That’s why Hun Manet has parked his skinny ass between two chairs. Kissing Trump’s rump, he’s also assuming the Donald will last a while. China, though, will be there until eternity.

Busan, South Korea, 7/15/20

Warring Societies — Aug 15, 2025.

Talking to Kevin Barrett just now, I pointed out the obvious. Language’s primary purpose isn’t to communicate but to prevent outsiders from having access to our thoughts, jokes, abject longings, battle plans, animosities towards outsiders and underhanded plots against them. Through vocabulary and accent, we can already tell who aren’t in our tribe, gang or cohort, and these are people who supposedly speak our language. Their mispronunciation of every word tests the limits of our superhuman forbearance and preternatural capacity for charity. Exiled to Morocco, Barrett must daily improve his Moroccan Arabic to blunt, most pitifully if rather sweetly, a universal irritation or amusement his strained babbling must cause. Knowing abject defeat to be inevitable, most expats cling to each other and more or less sleep in the same bed, night after night, in their own minuscule theme park.

Halfway through that paragraph, I looked out a second floor window at Pato’s Bingsu to see a woman in her early 30’s on a bicycle. Stopped in the middle of an intersection, she was cursing someone down Ba Cu Street, then she turned to a second target on Trưng Trắc. She would look left and right to find more enemies, or just to see if anyone was laughing at her. This went on for more than five minutes. I had to assume some motorist had cut her off. Her “fuck your mother” was distinctively northern. Perhaps wisely, no one tried to calm her down. My effort to do so would have been self-serving. The male fantasy of saving a damsel in distress is universal. It would be sci-fi creepy if manifested in a stinking old fart, with blood oozing from one big toe, no less. Two times in three days, I stubbed it, walking barefoot.

With Coffee House at that corner, I asked its security guard what had happened. Nothing, he said. No one had done anything to her. It’s a pity, we agreed.

“It’s stress,” he added. “From society, the economy.”

“And she has no one,” I speculated.

“No lover.”

“Lover?! She has no dog or cat!”

When there’s less to go around, divisions become accentuated. The more diverse a society, the more conflicts it will suffer. Knowing street fighting will erupt, Trump is prepping his masked goons.

The best allegory of human fragmentation is the 7th essay in Chronicles of Bustos Domecq, cowritten by Jorge Luis Borges and Julio Cortazar. Through the persona of a pompous critic, Borges’ erudition and occasional lapses into a tongue-in-cheek formal language are exaggerated most hilariously. It’s criminal that Norman Thomas di Giovanni’s translation, as published by Dutton in 1976, is out of print. Stuffed in a carton box in South Jersey, my copy is irretrievably lost. Luckily this morning, I was able to locate an online version at archive.org.

Consider its dedication, “To those three forgotten greats—Picasso, Joyce, Le Corbusier.” Penned by Borges, “forgotten” here doesn’t just jar, but is nearly a wish or prediction. These “greats” won’t be so great. Of course, it’s only Bustos Domecq talking.

Podgorica, Montenegro, 7/15/21

In the piece we’ll examine, “The Brotherhood Movement,” there’s also a mention of “Ezra Fishpond,” plus Quo Vadis?, but misattributed. Like Borges, Domecq the fictional critic has a fantastic reading list. Here’s the story’s central contention:

Human kind, he explained away, is made up, despite climatic and political differences, of a multitude of secret societies, or brotherhoods, whose members are not only unknown to each other but who may, at any given moment, change their status. Some of these societies are more enduring than others—for example, the society of individuals sporting Catalan surnames, or surnames that begin with the letter G. Others, inversely, quickly fade—the society of those who, this very moment, in Brazil or Africa, are inhaling the odor of jasmine or, more cultured minded and studious, reading a bus ticket.

Beyond who you are, everything you do, or even think, from moment to moment, aligns you further with a tiny, select “brotherhood” or “society,” while pitting you against the rest of the world. “The most trifling act—striking a match or blowing it out—expels us from one group and lodges us in another […] the person wielding a spoon is the adversary of he who brandishes a fork, but very soon both are at one over the use of the napkin, only to split again over their Postum or Sanka.” With “wielding,” “adversary” and “brandishes,” conflicts are introduced. Just as in real life, there’s no real ceiling. Evil is infinite.

After +30 years, the most enduring image from “The Brotherhood Movement” is of a man getting off a train pulling a switchblade on a boarding passenger. Performing opposites acts, they’re natural enemies. I laughed so hard back then.

Walking to Cóc Cóc, I passed another masked opponent. Now, I’m subjected to a ruthlessly targeted and sustained sonic assault from tattooed enemies wielding video games and TikTok skits. Clutching my bleeding toe, I collapse, my brain damaged and soul soiled. Vastly outnumbered, I must nurse my wounds until one day, perhaps tomorrow, I’ll make them all pay.

With Bustos Domecq’s contention so airtight and unimpeachable, any counter argument deserves to be hissed at, nuked, flushed away or aborted. This feeble example, then, is only dished up for your amusement. Days ago, I passed a puppy tied to a motorbike on Ba Cu. Noticing his entreating eyes, I came over to introduce myself, which sent him into a joyful frenzy.

When his owner appeared seconds later, I asked, “Does he have friends?”

“Who isn’t his friend?” she smiled.

Though what I meant was, “Does he have dog friends?” she and her puppy didn’t make a distinction between men and dogs. Plus, this innocent hadn’t learnt, most bitterly, the meaning of enemy.

About Linh Dinh (@linhdinh):

‘Before being canceled, I was an anthologized poet and fairly prolific author, with my last book Postcards from the End of America. Now, I write about our increasingly sick world for a tiny audience on SubStack. Drifting overly much, I’m in Cambodia.

Born in Saigon, Vietnam in 1963, I lived mostly in the US from 1975 until 2018, but have returned to Vietnam. I’ve also lived in Italy, England and Germany. I’m the author of a non-fiction book, Postcards from the End of America (2017), a novel, Love Like Hate (2010), two books of stories, Fake House (2000) and Blood and Soap (2004), and six collections of poems, with a Collected Poems cancelled by Chax Press from external pressure. I’ve been anthologized in Best American Poetry 2000, 2004, 2007, Great American Prose Poems from Poe to the Present, Postmodern American Poetry: a Norton Anthology (vol. 2) and Flash Fiction International: Very Short Stories From Around the World, etc. I’m also editor of Night, Again: Contemporary Fiction from Vietnam (1996) and The Deluge: New Vietnamese Poetry (2013). My writing has been translated into Japanese, Italian, Spanish, French, Dutch, German, Portuguese, Korean, Arabic, Icelandic, Serbian and Finnish, and I’ve been invited to read in Tokyo, London, Cambridge, Brighton, Paris, Berlin, Leipzig, Halle, Reykjavik, Toronto, Singapore and all over the US. I’ve also published widely in Vietnamese.’

AHH: Please support this wonderful writer on his Substack! Thanks