I believe that the genius mind of $1.99/lb. founder, Raf, has been doing some freelance branding and marketing consulting for a banana distributor here in China. Although he is not likely to admit it, I can not imagine that anyone else could come up with a product name that is as descriptive AND memorable as "Ick"; especially for a consumable.
It may well be that this is one of those times where there is so much complexity that it circles back to simplicity. I'm not sure; and if I start thinking too hard about this kind of infinite loop my fingers will start to tingle and my eyes will dry out.
Or maybe, the concept here is to come up with a name that is on point, but not too detrimental. In other words, a sort of distraction that stops the natural progression of increasingly unappealing adjectives at a level that is still somewhat palpable to the consumer. My thinking would have gone as follows: How-Much-Are-The-Apples?, Ick, Nasty, Rotten. When my mind would have gotten to Nasty or Rotten, I would have crossed bananas off of my list. Instead, I was subconsciously advised to stop at Ick and, for me, that meant dig around for one that is edible.
Regardless of how Raf conjured this up, it is good to see a product that doesn't try to hide what it is or what it does. Unlike the market where I bought my Ick banana - it's english name is "Fresh and More".
I was eating dinner about an hour ago and all of a sudden I heard someone singing "Say You, Say Me" by Lionel Ritchie. It was obviously not Lionel Ritchie, unless he picked up a severe Chinese accent. There was a TV showing some music video channel that had subtitles ala karaoke style. This particular tune struck a particular cord in a particular fella and he threw all inhibitions aside to vocalize the words and sounds that had been muffled by the remote's mute button. It wasn't top of the lungs loud, but I'm sure everyone in the restaurant heard. Nobody else seemed to pay mind, but I found myself quietly singing along. Now, had it been "All Night Long", then it would have been on like fillet mignon and grey poupon.
Side note: I know of one Lionel Ritchie fan. She has a collection of at least one 45 record. I would not be surprised if she came out and, on this blog, admitted that she was a back up dancer in some of the more recent tours.
The sun came up this morning in Dongguan to welcome a brand new day. The morning wasn't as muggy as yesterday and the taxi I jumped in to the factory was clean. I enjoyed the entire ride with the window rolled down and watch the people all start their day at a leisurely clip. There was something in the air (or something missing from the air) that made if feel like today was going to be special.
I arrived at the factory and the taxi meter showed 1 RMB less than the normal 19. I gave the driver a 20, said thanks and let him keep the change. If I could do it in a manly way, I would have skipped, instead of strutted, through the factory gate. Parked outside the building, where there are normally two identical Hyundai Sonatas, was a brand new Honda Odyssey (not the minivan that is sold in the US, more of a X-over sedan-van). I admired it a second, but proceeded onward, fighting the temptation to do cart-wheels.
I got to the office area and started to work. When the lunch bell rang (there is literally a lunch bell) and after the workers stampeded down the stairs to the cafeteria, the president invited me to lunch. This is not atypical, but there was an underlying motive to this invitation. He wanted to show off his brand new Honda Odyssey.
Another worker from the factory joined us and he took shotgun. I sat in the back passenger side and found sitting next to me a bouquet of flowers and the Nova Glitter Gel air freshener. In appreciation for my business partner dropping some heavy coin at the car dealer, they in turn threw in some flowers and a brand new little jar of scented spontaneousness. I wanted to go to the dealer and buy a car right away.
The new owner was spouting off all the features the car has, but I was hypnotized and mesmerized and had no interest in anti-theft anything.
This is the first time I held a Chinese car cologne canister with my own hands. As you can see, I was able to get a more detailed view of the magic juice, and I can now answer everyone's question as to what keeps the things from sliding around the dash. Minnesota's own 3M double stick tape, that's what.
I can't expect every day to be all brand new like today, but it sure is nice when it happens.
I spent the last two days in Macau. It was a much needed break encouraged by the necessity to comply with the Chinese customs authority visa requirement. I had a choice of either heading to Hong Kong or Macau. Either way, I technically exit China and upon re-entry renew my stay limit. I was still a few weeks off of hitting the magic number, but there had been a slight lull in work and I decided to head out before things pick up again.
Macau was pretty cool. It is hyped up to be the Las Vegas of Asia. There is an MGM, Sands, Wynn, and Venetian. These all are in addition to local joints such as the Fortuna and Lisboa and a bunch of other casino/hotels. There is a huge difference in the "entertainment" angle that is presented by US based casinos vs. local Macauan counterparts. The original Macau casinos have the feel of what I imagine Las Vegas had 20 years ago. While the US based casinos are almost identical (if not a better "learned from our first try") to their present Nevada counterparts (Venitian Canal and all). The big difference is that even though most of the casinos are bunched up, there isn't a "strip" where you can walk down and have casinos on both sides of the street. They are more in a cluster or a taxi drive away.
I refused to play at the US based casinos. I wanted to feel the grime and keep my lungs primed with second hand smoke (they have been processing nicotine for over 40 days, why purify them now?). I spent most of my time and money at the Casino Lisboa. Nothing glamorous, just an overly decorated room with obnoxious carpeting and tables arranged in the standard form that invite players to walk around and find a seat while pit bosses oversee the action.
To my disappointment, the Macauan casinos don't have craps tables. To my even greater disappointment, their tables are about 75% baccarat. I had always saved learning baccarat until I was either (a) so loaded that I could play in the exclusive Roger Moore bow tie high roller VIP rooms or (b) at the point where I'd squander my social security check minutes after $2.99 worth of eggs over medium, bacon, hash browns, and some Celestial Seasonings chamomile tea just as each month got started.
Baccarat held a certain mystic. I've always felt that it held no middle ground for me. It was heart breaking to see the game being played as if it were blackjack (no offense to those that like blackjack). It was either play some strange variations of poker table games or figure baccarat out. I did the latter. It was alright. I lost money, but, even worse, lost a piece of my future. I'll play baccarat again, but it won't be because of the resulting gains or losses of my life. My future isn't as clear now as it was last week. Who knows on what vice I'll blow my social security checks after breakfast?
Today was a busy driving around day. It started off with me jumping into a VW Santana 3000 with the most well protected driver in China. Most taxi cages are made out of tubing spaced to allow for the exchange of payment and also to prevent an average fist from getting through and making contact with the driver's right cheek bone or an average size fist from coming out of the protected region while it is clenching RMB bills. Either way, today's taxi's cage had an additional lining that kept anything except finger from getting through. I'm sure there is a really cool story behind the motivation to add the additional protective coating. I wouldn't doubt if the driver has a little button on the dashboard that runs juice and electrifies the cage if you go buck wild.
Now for the good stuff. On my ride between factories, I got chauffeured in the elegant luxury of a gold colored Honda Civic. It had camel tone velour seats hidden under lace seat covers (shown in the photo), power everything, and was impeccably clean on the inside. The driver was charismatic without being obnoxious. All the ingredients for a nice ride. The bonus? Well...on the dash was a Glade A/C vent air freshener AND a Monte Carlo 700! Can you believe this? Double the pleasure! Every detail was considered, the Glade wasn't filled with the nasty yellow colored freshening fluid I reported about earlier. Instead it was filled with a red smell juice that matched the MC 700 perfectly. I couldn't enjoy the scent combo because the new car smell still lingered on this ride. But it was one of those times where you just sit back, look out the window, and realize that being solidgold has its benefits.
It has been so long since the last time I wrote about a Chinese car air freshener. Well folks, your wait has ended. Look what I found. I think it is supposed to either be a lotus flower or maybe a rose, but the color of plastic that was chosen makes it look more like a head of cabbage. It did smell nice and look at the perfect fit. It is as if it is designed to sit in a regulation size cup holder.
The driver was courteous and not too talkative. Most drivers talk the whole while, knowing I don't know how to tell them to be quiet like native speakers, they laugh to themselves, turn to me and I join them with a fake chuckle as if I understand what's going on, and they commence to relive their fondest memories, hardest frustrations, or just daily happenings. If I don't feel like listening to their stories, I point to the radio as a request for them to put on some music. Most know the words "dancing" and "disco". The radio either ends up on a talk show (just as bad as hearing the driver) or on some techno station which loops Gwen Stephani / Chinese Super Star Singer remixes. But like I mentioned, this was a pleasant 45 minute ride. My eyes were telling my brain about the dinginess of the city, but my nose was telling it that it smelled spring time fresh.
This is one of the most memorable evenings of my entire life. It is definitely a moment that I will reflect upon, years from now, and stare blankly into a room - making the nursing home wardens believe that the sedatives they injected in me are working, but by that time I'll have developed a tolerance and will self medicate by humming Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam tunes in my mind. I won't need the meds, but will take them anyway just to have boss track marks on my arms and earn a bit more cred at the home. In order to keep up my charade I'll purposefully drool so they have to wipe my chin, not flinching, but keeping my glance into nowhere in tact. They will then talk crap about the crazy old man that keeps mumbling, "shine, shine, shine". The isolation I'll have been in by that time will make it difficult to communicate with others and the social awkwardness will make it impossible for people to believe that I am the solidgoldlovechild - for I will be as far away from child as ever.
Why tell them about the many solid gold statues of me that litter China? They won't believe it. By then, I will look nothing like what had been immortalized in precious metal. This internet thing will be archaic so there will be no record of my writings. Yes, they will have heard of the solidgoldlovechild, but never imagine that they are wiping his chin spit.
This evening I found the first attempt by the Chinese government to commemorate the impact I've had on this land over the last 6 weeks. I can't say that they nailed my likeness, but it was a first shot. I appreciate the effort, but there needs to be some revisions made. I'm sure they are working on the hair system. It is probably the most difficult part. I plan on writing a letter to the local government so they can do something about the pose as well.
The only thing that sucks is that I was not notified about the grand unveiling. I just happened to stumble upon my statue by chance. I'm modest and all, but I would have enjoyed thanking diplomats and government officials, taking photos with the fans, and even saying a few words about how solid gold only tarnishes, but does not corrode. Even when it dirties up a bit, just polish it and watch it shine shine shine.
The other thing that bummed me out is the location they chose. It is in an obscure corner on the top floor of a shopping center. It should really be out somewhere public, near a water feature of some sort, with a bench so weird people can sit and rest and feed rancid bread to the pigeons. Besides, it doesn't shine as much as I'd like it to under fluorescent lights. I don't know, I hate to be picky. I'll fall back on knowing that this isn't the last or largest statue that will be raised in my honor.
