Baronjutter posted:

You've posted some really vile and shocking poo poo, but the fact that you watch big bang theory is by far the most unsettling thing I've read in this thread.

Bajaj posted:

Rude. Why so salty?

Chomp8645 posted:

Problem: alcohol reveals the fact that your population is severely dysfunctional, depressed, and ready to blow on a hair trigger.

Solution: ban alcohol.

angel opportunity posted:

Cheng Guang knew he had to poo poo, but it wasn't time yet. He clenched his cheeks as he shouted down the mineshaft in completely unintelligible garbles of redneck dialect. He even managed to get an "er hua" onto several non-vowels, which should have been impossible.

He wandered down the mineshaft with his hands clasped behind his back. As the boss of the mineshaft, it was his duty to inspect the work unit personally.

He passed by a group of miners squatting down in a pile of garbage, their picks piled on the ground and covered in a layer of coal. They smoked cigarettes and grunted at each other. Cheng Guang grunted at them as he passed by.

His stomach rumbled, and a stream of liquid poo poo escaped into his sole pair of soiled underwear which he hadn't hand-washed in two or three days. He clenched his cheeks harder to stem the flow. The liquid poo poo was hot and warmed him as he walked further down the cold shaft.

He passed a half-dozen more miners all sleeping in a minecart. Their legs were hanging out of the cart as they snored loudly. One miner was managing to smoke a cigarette even as he snored and drooled.

Cheng Guang nodded at him and gave a hearty grunt, praising his ingenuity.

At this rate, Cheng Guang's work unit would definitely not meet the party's quota, which was fine, because the quota didn't need to be filled for two more weeks, and was thus not an immediate problem. Probably in two weeks, on the day of the quota and the day the party's inspectors would arrive, Cheng Guang and his work unit would frantically and ineptly start swinging their pickaxes as they realized the problem, but right now, everything was great.

Except for his need to poo poo.

It wasn't time yet.

Everything in this new country had a time. On September 22nd, the first day of Fall, it was time to put on your thick clothes. The bitter cold hit Xinjiang in early September this year, but only on September 22nd was it time to put on the coats.

7:00AM was the time for breakfast. Cheng Guang's new country only had one timezone, which made a lot of sense for a country more than 6,000 kilometers across. Cheng Guang's village was so far West, that the sun had barely set at 7:00 AM. Still, because 7:00 AM is the time that you eat your breakfast, so Cheng Guang and his family slurped their breakfast in the pitch darkness of 7:00AM.

Around Noon, which was the good time for lunch, the sun finally began to rise, and Cheng Guang and his comrades slurped their lunch and gnawed on their lunch bones while enjoying the Noon sunrise.

10:00pm was the time you go to sleep. The sun wouldn't set for several more hours, but everyone knew you should sleep at 10:00pm if you wanted to be able to wake up in total darkness to slurp your breakfast at 7:00AM.

All of those other times were irrelevant to Cheng Guang in this moment, however, as he waited with tight asscheeks for the time he most craved: communal toilet time.

"Coal Mine Boss Li," the voice near him grunted.

"En?" Cheng Guang grunted back.

"Didn't you hear me?" The voice was Little Foreigner. That's what they called their comrade who had the weird white skin and blue eyes.

"I didn't understand your language," Cheng Guang lied to save face. He hadn't heard him because he was focusing so hard in holding his poo poo in.

"I speak Mandarin," Little Foreigner said. "Your parents brutally colonized my country and forced this language onto me, I've spoken it since birth. I'm not even allowed to learn my parents' langauge."

"Ah," Cheng Guang grunted, retroflexing the poo poo out of the sound, "Yes, you've always been part of China, little foreigner."

Little Foreigner sighed. "Why don't I dig you a hole with my pickaxe, and you can poo poo into it, Coal Mine Boss Li?"

Cheng Guang furrowed his brows at Little Foreigner, then slapped him with a hearty backhand. "We poo poo together! And I don't need to poo poo now, it's not communal bathroom time yet. How could I poo poo if it's not the time to do it? Idiot Foreigner."

Little Foreigner apologized, which was very foreign of him, and Cheng Guang threw a lump of coal at him as he crawled back down the shaft and out of Cheng Guang's view.

Cheng Guang squatted himself down, pressing his rear end onto the cold, hard ground so that his poo poo wouldn't escape his body. He waited like that, squatting as deep as a Chinese could hope to squat, until communal toilet time finally arrived.

He blew his whistle, and the miners all woke up.

They hustled and bustled out of the shaft, but none faster than Cheng Guang.

Upon exiting the shaft, they all rushed together to the collective toilet. It was one big trench dug into the soil. It took a lot of work to maintain a trough this size, as they always had to dig it deeper when it filled with poo poo and piss. With a work unit of over 40 miners, a huge trough of this size was the only way to accommodate the entire work unit's communal poo poo. A small trough would only be able to hold three or four miners at a time, which would make no sense, as all 40 miners need to poo poo at 3:30pm, which is the time that everyone takes a poo poo together.

Back in the village away from the mineshaft, all the villagers would wake up from their naps to crowd into the village's communal troughs.

When the clock struck 3:30pm, all bowels released. It was like a cacophony, but a cacophony that sounded good instead of bad, as all of Cheng Guang's work unit let their shits rip into the trough. The smell hit him like a wall, and he sighed relief. That smell always reminded him of how good it felt to not have to poo poo anymore.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, then he looked down at the man squatting next to him, and they grunted at each other as they smoked and blew smoke into each others' faces.

Once the clock hit 3:33 pm, it was time for them all to pull their pants up without wiping. They did this in unison, and Cheng Guang grunted at everyone to get back into the shaft. He'd spotted a nice dark corner in the shaft, and now that he'd lightened his load, he was going to go have a rest in the musty hole until it was 5:00pm, the time everyone wakes and leaves work together.

Baronjutter posted:

You've posted some really vile and shocking poo poo, but the fact that you watch big bang theory is by far the most unsettling thing I've read in this thread.

angel opportunity posted:

Cheng Guang knew he had to poo poo, but it wasn't time yet. He clenched his cheeks as he shouted down the mineshaft in completely unintelligible garbles of redneck dialect. He even managed to get an "er hua" onto several non-vowels, which should have been impossible.

He wandered down the mineshaft with his hands clasped behind his back. As the boss of the mineshaft, it was his duty to inspect the work unit personally.

He passed by a group of miners squatting down in a pile of garbage, their picks piled on the ground and covered in a layer of coal. They smoked cigarettes and grunted at each other. Cheng Guang grunted at them as he passed by.

His stomach rumbled, and a stream of liquid poo poo escaped into his sole pair of soiled underwear which he hadn't hand-washed in two or three days. He clenched his cheeks harder to stem the flow. The liquid poo poo was hot and warmed him as he walked further down the cold shaft.

He passed a half-dozen more miners all sleeping in a minecart. Their legs were hanging out of the cart as they snored loudly. One miner was managing to smoke a cigarette even as he snored and drooled.

Cheng Guang nodded at him and gave a hearty grunt, praising his ingenuity.

At this rate, Cheng Guang's work unit would definitely not meet the party's quota, which was fine, because the quota didn't need to be filled for two more weeks, and was thus not an immediate problem. Probably in two weeks, on the day of the quota and the day the party's inspectors would arrive, Cheng Guang and his work unit would frantically and ineptly start swinging their pickaxes as they realized the problem, but right now, everything was great.

Except for his need to poo poo.

It wasn't time yet.

Everything in this new country had a time. On September 22nd, the first day of Fall, it was time to put on your thick clothes. The bitter cold hit Xinjiang in early September this year, but only on September 22nd was it time to put on the coats.

7:00AM was the time for breakfast. Cheng Guang's new country only had one timezone, which made a lot of sense for a country more than 6,000 kilometers across. Cheng Guang's village was so far West, that the sun had barely set at 7:00 AM. Still, because 7:00 AM is the time that you eat your breakfast, so Cheng Guang and his family slurped their breakfast in the pitch darkness of 7:00AM.

Around Noon, which was the good time for lunch, the sun finally began to rise, and Cheng Guang and his comrades slurped their lunch and gnawed on their lunch bones while enjoying the Noon sunrise.

10:00pm was the time you go to sleep. The sun wouldn't set for several more hours, but everyone knew you should sleep at 10:00pm if you wanted to be able to wake up in total darkness to slurp your breakfast at 7:00AM.

All of those other times were irrelevant to Cheng Guang in this moment, however, as he waited with tight asscheeks for the time he most craved: communal toilet time.

"Coal Mine Boss Li," the voice near him grunted.

"En?" Cheng Guang grunted back.

"Didn't you hear me?" The voice was Little Foreigner. That's what they called their comrade who had the weird white skin and blue eyes.

"I didn't understand your language," Cheng Guang lied to save face. He hadn't heard him because he was focusing so hard in holding his poo poo in.

"I speak Mandarin," Little Foreigner said. "Your parents brutally colonized my country and forced this language onto me, I've spoken it since birth. I'm not even allowed to learn my parents' langauge."

"Ah," Cheng Guang grunted, retroflexing the poo poo out of the sound, "Yes, you've always been part of China, little foreigner."

Little Foreigner sighed. "Why don't I dig you a hole with my pickaxe, and you can poo poo into it, Coal Mine Boss Li?"

Cheng Guang furrowed his brows at Little Foreigner, then slapped him with a hearty backhand. "We poo poo together! And I don't need to poo poo now, it's not communal bathroom time yet. How could I poo poo if it's not the time to do it? Idiot Foreigner."

Little Foreigner apologized, which was very foreign of him, and Cheng Guang threw a lump of coal at him as he crawled back down the shaft and out of Cheng Guang's view.

Cheng Guang squatted himself down, pressing his rear end onto the cold, hard ground so that his poo poo wouldn't escape his body. He waited like that, squatting as deep as a Chinese could hope to squat, until communal toilet time finally arrived.

He blew his whistle, and the miners all woke up.

They hustled and bustled out of the shaft, but none faster than Cheng Guang.

Upon exiting the shaft, they all rushed together to the collective toilet. It was one big trench dug into the soil. It took a lot of work to maintain a trough this size, as they always had to dig it deeper when it filled with poo poo and piss. With a work unit of over 40 miners, a huge trough of this size was the only way to accommodate the entire work unit's communal poo poo. A small trough would only be able to hold three or four miners at a time, which would make no sense, as all 40 miners need to poo poo at 3:30pm, which is the time that everyone takes a poo poo together.

Back in the village away from the mineshaft, all the villagers would wake up from their naps to crowd into the village's communal troughs.

When the clock struck 3:30pm, all bowels released. It was like a cacophony, but a cacophony that sounded good instead of bad, as all of Cheng Guang's work unit let their shits rip into the trough. The smell hit him like a wall, and he sighed relief. That smell always reminded him of how good it felt to not have to poo poo anymore.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, then he looked down at the man squatting next to him, and they grunted at each other as they smoked and blew smoke into each others' faces.

Once the clock hit 3:33 pm, it was time for them all to pull their pants up without wiping. They did this in unison, and Cheng Guang grunted at everyone to get back into the shaft. He'd spotted a nice dark corner in the shaft, and now that he'd lightened his load, he was going to go have a rest in the musty hole until it was 5:00pm, the time everyone wakes and leaves work together.

quote:

Speaking to a foreign journalist is usually a stressful endeavor for a Uighur in China. Uighurs belong to a Muslim ethnic minority and speak a language closer to Turkish than Chinese. These differences from China's dominant ethnicity, the Han, have been at the root of a tense and sometimes violent relationship between Uighurs and China's government.

But there's another difference many Uighurs possess that the rest of China is attracted to: their appearance.

Speaking to a foreign journalist about that is easy for Xahriyar Abdukerimabliz, a 19-year-old model from Urumqi, the capital of the Xinjiang region in China's far northwest.

"Not to brag, but we are very good-looking," he says. "Our facial features are naturally attractive. We've got great eyebrows, big, beautiful eyes and double eyelids that weren't created by a surgeon."

Abdukerimabliz blinks, revealing his naturally creased eyelids. More and more Chinese are undergoing surgery to create a crease in their upper eyelids that about half of all East Asians are born without. Abdukerimabliz's "double eyelids" are topped with striking eyebrows, a long nose and expressive eyes that look either Asian or European, depending on his mood — or pose.

The demand for this look has roots in the birth of Chinese consumerism back in the 1990s.

"There were fewer local brands in China back then," says Max Liu, CEO of the Beijing-based modeling agency Fun Models. "All the famous brands were international, and they all used Caucasian models. As China has developed, local brands now want a local image, but not too local. So they've turned to models who have half-Asian, half-European looks for their brand identity."

Plus, says Liu, Uighur models are Chinese and they speak Mandarin, making it a cinch for agencies to work with them. That's why he's seen a 10 percent increase in Uighur models year to year in China.

"With their looks, they can easily flow through cultures," says Liu. "They can play multiple roles. If you need to cast a foreigner in a movie, they can do that while speaking flawless Chinese. They're incredibly versatile."

"In France, people spoke to me in French, thinking I was French. In Italy, they spoke Italian to me. The immigration officer in Europe wouldn't stamp my Chinese passport at first because he didn't believe I was from China," says Uighur model Parwena Dulkun.

At a teahouse in Urumqi, Uighur model Parwena Dulkun shows off a video on her smartphone of her dancing to a local song on Walk of Fame, a talent show on CCTV, China's largest broadcaster. Later, she scrolls to another video of her in a nationwide beauty pageant.

She's busy. Her shape-shifting appearance is in such high demand that she says she has taken to turning down offers of work from some advertisers. "I was in the States recently," she says, "and after that, I went to Europe — I was in Italy, France and Switzerland — and then I had a job in Hong Kong."

And wherever she goes, she says, she gets the same response. "In France, people spoke to me in French, thinking I was French," she says. "In Italy, they spoke Italian to me. The immigration officer in Europe wouldn't stamp my Chinese passport at first because he didn't believe I was from China."

The only country where she isn't mistaken for a local is her own.

"In many Chinese cities, people think I'm a foreigner," Dulkun says, giggling.

She uses these moments to educate her countrymen.

"They try to speak English to me, and I answer in Mandarin," she says. "Cab drivers always turn around and ask me what country I'm from."

She says she smiles proudly and concludes her lesson by announcing: "I'm Chinese."

Devils Affricate posted:

http://www.npr.org/sections/parallels/2017/09/27/553703866/for-some-chinese-uighurs-modeling-is-a-path-to-success


Uighur lady quoted in the article:



Must feel weird to persecute people while also furiously jerking off to them.

Devils Affricate posted:

http://www.npr.org/sections/parallels/2017/09/27/553703866/for-some-chinese-uighurs-modeling-is-a-path-to-success

We've got great eyebrows, big, beautiful eyes and double eyelids that weren't created by a surgeon."

Darkest Auer posted:

It's just that you wrote a lot of words about this ayurveda that balances life-energies or whatever and saying that it's fine because only the poors believe in it, which sounds like you're fine with bullshit quackery in India as opposed to bullshit quackery in China.

Fleta Mcgurn posted:

I think it's more an appreciation for not being hit over the head with "our traditional medicine cures everything!" That's how I read it, anyways.

Coolguye posted:

even poors in india will happily go to an allopathic doctor if one is available, the trick is that outside of a large city the chance of finding one is nil. they might ALSO go to a traditional herbalist, but you won't find many people in india who would turn down a whitecoat if one's around. sharp contrast to china, where TCM has an entire Face thing going on with actual evidence based medicine and everyone believes that there's a highlander dynamic in the medical field.

Baronjutter posted:

From what I gather the stupid and awful stuff in India is just stupid and awful, while in China it's parts of the national pride and people's racial identity you don't understand we chinese are different

Chomp8645 posted:

Problem: alcohol reveals the fact that your population is severely dysfunctional, depressed, and ready to blow on a hair trigger.

Solution: ban alcohol.

quote:

The masthead said Washington Post, the Chinese-language articles credited the Post’s reporters and the news of the day mirrored the selection on the US website.

The only problem? The Washington Post Chinese edition, which in a few months since launching has built up a loyal audience among Chinese readers eager for international coverage, was not run by the US newspaper.

The lookalike site illustrates the difficulties faced by foreign companies in China — particularly media groups, for whom the potential profits are matched by the complications of dealing with a Communist state.

“Every western media organisation that has tried to come to China has faced great difficulties,” said media consultant and former Reuters editor-in-chief David Schlesinger, who helped launch the news agency’s Chinese-language content in the 1990s. “If you lose control over what your content actually is, then the effort to build a brand in China can come back to bite you.”

The Washington Post only became aware of its Chinese clone when contacted by the Financial Times. After the FT’s queries this month, the newspaper’s masthead disappeared from the Chinese site, which adopted a new layout that no longer evoked that of the US publication.

In a country known for fake goods, fake GDP data and even a fake Goldman Sachs, the Chinese site at least had a contract to syndicate real Washington Post content. But the Chinese translations of the Post’s stories were mixed with articles on foreign policy and other topics from China’s state-run Xinhua news agency — and they, too, were labelled as Washington Post copy.

“Sun News is a client of The Washington Post News Service, which allows them to republish a number of Washington Post stories,” said Kris Coratti, a Washington Post spokesperson. “However, our agreement does not allow them to use our brand in the way they did. We believe this is a simple misunderstanding about the contract and we are working with them to correct it.”

Sun Media said it had not overstepped the two-year contract it signed in January, authorising it to distribute content from the Washington Post and Foreign Policy magazine online, on social media and to its own subscribers. It said the only complaints it had ever received from the US newspaper involved missing author attributions on articles, which it had fixed.

“The aim of making this website is to bring more various reports to global Chinese. The website targets global Chinese intellectuals,” a spokesperson said.

All Chinese domestic media ultimately answer to the Communist party propaganda department, and discussion of foreign policy outside the state-run media is extremely limited. At the same time, foreign news organisations enjoy greater credibility among Chinese tired of stodgy state-run coverage.

Amid a broader push for soft power and global influence, China’s propaganda apparatus has spent heavily on news services targeted at foreign audiences and invested in previously independent newspapers serving Chinese communities overseas.

The Sun News-Washington Post was freely available to mainland Chinese readers. Many Chinese-language sites offered by western media organisations, including The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal and Reuters, are blocked by China’s “Great Firewall”. The FT’s Chinese-language website is not blocked in China, although individual articles sometimes are.

Sun News is a division of Sun Media Group, a Hong Kong-based company founded by a mainland Chinese celebrity couple. Chinese television host Yang Lan has represented Beijing in its bid to host the Olympic Games while her husband Bruno Wu, a former media consultant, finances films and other video content in China and the US.

In addition to Ms Yang’s talk shows, the Sun Media Group produces ceremonies for Chinese government-sponsored events. Forbes estimated the couple’s worth at $1bn last year.

Unlike Chinese-language sites run by English-language media, which are driven by advertising revenues, the Sun News-Washington Post has no ads on its website.

Bajaj posted:

I mean that rather than TCM's "EVERYTRHING YOU DO WILL KILL YOU UNLESS IT'S HOT WATER!!!!", ayurveda is like "Suffering from too much acid? Eat foods on this other end of the scale from your normal diet." In ayurveda, people are born into certain body element types and should eat accordingly to balance their life energies or whatever they're called. It's largely a diet-based health system.

JaucheCharly posted:

Tell her, all your problems were solved by POWER KHAN™

Fleta Mcgurn posted:

I think it's more an appreciation for not being hit over the head with "our traditional medicine cures everything!" That's how I read it, anyways.

Kharnifex posted:

Feral rabbits, toads, geckos, carp and now e bikes.

http://www.smh.com.au/victoria/vermin-dozens-of-obikes-pulled-from-yarra-river-20170926-gyp1k1.html

quote:

By 2020 there will be 30 million more young men than women in China. In a one-party state that values social stability above all, this disaffected and frustrated element of the population is cause for concern

When Liu returned to his childhood village to celebrate Chinese New Year, his parents had arranged a familiar and depressing task for him: a series of speed dates. Over a week back in rural Jiangxi province, he met half a dozen potential wives in encounters he says felt more like job interviews. He expects to go through the same process next year, without much hope of success.

For Jin, who works with Liu in the factories of China’s Pearl River Delta, the cajoling matchmaker was his second cousin. “My cousin brought [the date] to meet me in a public square in the village, then left us together,” Jin recalls. “A few minutes in, this girl made it clear that owning an apartment would be essential, but she could wait till later for a car. And she’d be OK if the apartment wasn’t in the centre of the town, but I had to have a deposit of at least 200,000 yuan [about £22,500].”

In 2010, the main state-endorsed union surveyed thousands of rural migrants in 10 cities across the country, concluding that “the defining aspect of the migrant experience” is a sense of loneliness due to a lack of romantic prospects. A separate survey found that more than 70% of construction workers (almost exclusively rural migrants) reported emotional loneliness as the most painful aspect of their lives.

Without advanced education, Liu is only qualified for insecure, low-skilled jobs. The long hours and low pay make the practicalities of dating more daunting. “It’s not because I’m a shy person. I just don’t have enough money to feel confident,” he tells me. “When a man has money, every woman feels destined to be his girlfriend.”

By various metrics, China is ranked as one of the most unequal societies in the world. The architecture of this inequality is the system of hukou or household registration. Since the 1950s, hukou has cleaved the population into urban and rural categories, allowing China’s ruling elite to better control the lives of the country’s vast rural population in a planned economy. Today much of China’s economic life has been transformed, but key elements of hukou remain. This means that rural migrants who have lived and worked in a city for many years, contributing enormously to its prosperity, do not have the same access to employment, housing, education and healthcare as officially registered urban residents.

Roughly two-thirds of the migrant workforce is aged under 35. I’ve interviewed dozens of men like Liu and Jin in Shenzhen, and most have little interest in rural life in villages that have been left behind by China’s economic boom. But their prospects for settling in big cities are little better than those of previous generations. They’re unlikely to earn enough to own a home or even a car, prerequisites to be considered marriage material by the urban middle class. Access to the tertiary education which can unlock better paying jobs is restricted by fiercely competitive entrance exams, where many young rural men are unsurprisingly outshone by their well-resourced urban counterparts.

Increasingly, even workers in their late teens and early 20s are feeling the pressure. “These days, the only reason my parents call me is to tell me to hurry up and find a girlfriend. I’ve stopped answering their calls,” says Jiang, a 22-year-old Foxconn worker from Sichuan province.

Even if a match is made, things don’t always end well. Hasty weddings can lead to hasty divorces; in one county in Henan province, up to 85% of all divorces in the period from 2013 to 2015 involved rural migrant couples. The government has signalled its concern about high divorce rates and “temporary couples” – made up of individuals who marry in their villages and then return to cities to form separate romantic relationships there.

The abolition of hukou is crucial to bridging the rural-urban divide. Both central and local governments have tinkered with the system, but further reform is unlikely. That’s because increasing opportunity for rural migrants necessarily means increasing competition for the established urban middle class - themselves seen as a key stabilising social force in society. Unelected and perennially insecure, Communist Party leaders feel they can’t afford to risk instability by adopting meaningful redistributive social policies.

quote:

Unelected and perennially insecure, Communist Party leaders feel they can’t afford to risk instability by adopting meaningful redistributive social policies.

Boiled Water posted:

Jose posted:

https://www.theguardian.com/inequality/2017/sep/28/my-parents-say-hurry-up-and-find-a-girl-chinas-millions-of-lonely-leftover-men

Devils Affricate posted:

LISA was a great game

Devils Affricate posted:

LISA was a great game

Pirate Radar posted:

Just in case there was any doubt, the wall says "Don't dump garbage here"

Tsuru posted:

The Nongs - No Why

Ceciltron posted:

Does that article talk about "leftover women" because if not lol