Sunday, October 29, 2006

The Rant

The Challenge: Imagine you are a Japanese geisha in the year 2025. Globalization is fully realized and foreign white devils are starting to take away your business. The worst of it is that wacko tourists who speak with terrible accents from countries like Kazakhstan are starting to commodify you. Deliver a rant against global economy from your perspective as a practitioner in the art of private nonsexual entertainment who is in danger of losing her job.

The Rant:


I can’t take it. If I see one more Ukrainian prostitute walking in traditional geisha dress and wooden sandals I will kill every Ukrainian prostitute in Kyoto! I don’t care how long it would take!!! Gaijin Toro! [cough from other person in the room] sorry, I am not usually like this with clients. It may seem unfeminine, but I assure that language is but a sharply pointed tool, a tool as able to carve the final glorious curl on the emperor’s bust as to castrate a swine. Of course the art of my words is lost on you. You are just another Kazakh tourist who came here looking to get lucky. In Japan for the first time and too dumb to realize that the Japanese word for no is the Kazakh word for yes. I’ve had enough Kazakhs here to know. For the record I said I wasn’t going to be having sex with you. That’s it nod, nod like you are agreeing, it will be fun to work out later especially since I used infrared scanner hidden in my hair pin to record and charge your pension account the moment you entered.

Hah! The Japanese men are no better, GAISEN! We only have the Ukrainian prostitutes because those are the only ones they will go to! How am I supposed to compete? Who will pay to talk to me when they could pay half as much to go and fuck someone who is naturally as white as the color I paint myself? Even by tricking you into coming here I am still under quota. I wouldn’t even have a quota if the latest tax decree hadn’t lumped the street walkers in the same category with us and forced us all to pay the same monthly ‘licensing fee.’ Their Tajik pimps must have called in a lot of favors. Isn’t world wonderful? You can buy whatever you want and whatever it is comes to you. Only to have what I need to get what I want, I need to make you want me, not cherish or love me, just want me. Come here you stupid octopus, look at me as I talk, imagine being able to let your tentacle slither all over me. Even if I let you couldn’t squeeze anymore life out of me. I am dry.

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