Jesus, Thailand! You really need to improve your educational system. Obviously there are some gaps. Deplorable…
Bizarre restaurant opened last month in Bangkok
Images of Hitler have also been seen on t-shirts in Thailand
By DAILY MAIL REPORTER
BANGKOK: — Schoolchildren dressing up as Nazis and a billboard advert showing Hitler were just the start.
Thailand’s obsession with so-called ‘Nazis chic’ just won’t go away - and now a fried chicken takeaway called Hitler - complete with a logo showing the Nazi leader in a bow tie - has opened its doors.
The bizarre restaurant opened last month in Thailand and images of it are doing the rounds on Twitter as shocked customers take photos of the offensive eatery.
The fascist dictator’s head has been grafted onto the body of bow-tie wearing Colonel Sanders, the founder of KFC.
Among the grub on sale includes fried chicken and chips, burgers and kebabs.
Londoner Andrew Spooner, who spotted the takeaway, tweeted: ‘Very bizarre Hitler Fried Chicken shop in Thailand. I kid you not. Complete with pic of Hitler in bow tie.
Alan Robertson, 43, who lives in Bangkok, said: ‘The place opened last month and nobody quite knows what to make of it.
'I went in for a bite last week and got some fried chicken, which was pretty good, and asked the guy behind the counter why it was called Hitler.
’He just shrugged his shoulders and said the owners had thought it was good image.’
Full story: http://www.dailymail…er-bow-tie.html
I woke up thinking of the Twin Peaks series soundtrack, especially this song:
I don’t know, maybe I felt like I stumbled into my own Black Lodge. After my fever I was a smiling Bob looking at a bewildered Dale self behind a shattered mirror. Maybe. Or perhaps the world just felt as mysterious as the night as Julee sang to being.
Either way I felt like a terracotta kid hollow creaking through my empty Cambodian apartment. And my mind was a scattered nimbus shot with crepuscular light. Downed cool water with Royal D hoping someone would make plans for me.
Float back to bed, adrift like a man on a raft. I can hear the signs of life and light outside but I can not join them.
I awoke again a few hours later and decided it was time to go to the doctor. I went and waited for him to bless my presence, head among the clouds half-heartedly reading Dragon Ball on my tablet.
I don;t know why waiting rooms always make me think of early Bowie, especially Sound and Vision. Maybe he’s my cosmic doctor
They drew my blood and took my temperature while I laid the dutiful patient. But when I heard the blood test would take an hour, I opted to leave my phone number and have them call me later. And at home I decided to sleep until they did.
But that call never came, so I drowned myself in delivery pizza. Or half-drowned since I could only bring myself to eat 2 pieces. Mainly I sat swaddled in a comforter, on the couch staring blankly into the TV screen.
That night blurred into the next day when I finally heard back from the doctor. It turned out I had contracted Dengue Fever and my sickness wasn’t the fault of my massage at all, so I guess all those songs I’d been listening to were now officially my Dengue Soundtrack
When I was an adolescent, my musical preferences underwent a seismic shift. I moved from hardcore and punk to shoegaze, and it was all due to one video.
"Only Shallow" came on one night while I was up watching MTV’s 120 Minutes with Matt Pinfield and I could feel my whole life changed. My sonic landscape shifted like sand under my feet and I had to fight to catch up. It was that kind of experience. Unfortunately, one I don’t get so often anymore.
You know, I finally saw MBV a few years ago and when they played this song…. man, it felt like the fulfillment of a promise.
As you do when you find a sound you like, you chase more. And chase I did. I moved from MBV, to early Catherine Wheel, Ride, Swervedriver and onto a band that will forever hold a place in my heart, Lush.
I got their album Spooky one young Christmas and ended up sick come new years eve. I sat for a week under a blanket, with the heater turned up to high, and that album on repeat as the only disc in my 6-disc Sony stereo until I got better. Ever since, my mind’s imbued that crystalline jangly masterpiece and Miki Berenyi’s high-pitched breathy vocals with arcane curative properties.
My personal tradition continues to this day. So when I felt full of post massage toxins I once again turned to my adoescent incantations. But these spells have gone digital so I just narrowed my iTuned playlist down to their entire discography and listened from For Love to Desire Lines
Even down to Ladykillers
Though the Lovelife album doesn’t really fit into my restorative apocrypha, I put it in all the same. I implored Miki to heal me quickly when I pressed the space bar - I had mockups to make and V.2s to send to clients.
I drifted off into a trance that felt more meditative than infirmed. My states of waking and sleep were as different facets of floating geodes I landed on from time to time in a low gravity world. My body alternately burned and froze while I thought on all the things in my life I’d not done quite right. I had no desires - not for food, for contact, for proper sleeping positions - nothing. I existed only in the space I was in. And that was enough.
I awoke 2 days later
Just about a week ago, I got few up with my creaking back and muscle pain and decided to take a massage. My state of bodily discomfort arose from a month of a rigorous exercise program (minus proper stretching) and hours working on design projects in my wicker, decidedly non-Aeron chair.
The woman who worked on me must have been a cool buck ten but she cut the rocks flanking my spine like a jackhammer. It felt like nothing short of a revelation. but near the end when she was doing my shoulders final work over, something happened…
At the exact moment she cracked a particularly unsavory little knot on my right shoulder, a time bomb of nausea exploded in my gut and I became immediately light headed. I rag-dolled rest of the massage in a blur and spent about ten minutes on the mat after she left pulling myself together enough to get dressed, then another ten in the lobby drinking tea so I could leave.
Wobbly scooter ride behind me, and some cold water in my stomach, even laying on my couch watching Aljazeera proved to be too much for me. So I adjourned to the bed and knew now only music could save me.