Out of Water – Chapter Fourteen

Randal found them huddled under blankets near an emergency cache just outside the hull access corridor. Lauren was shivering slightly in spite of the warm air, her eyes focused somewhere in the middle distance and her clothes, those that he could see around the edges of her blanket, still wet and clinging. Herrigan had a blanket over his own shoulders and was hunched by another bedgraggled man. Both looked considerably dryer than Lauren, but then they were dressed for the local weather and she wasn’t.

Almost as soon as the three were in sight Sudbury and Hathoway pushed past him and hustled over to Lauren, both men radiating concern. Randal and Sam drifted over to Herrigan, giving the Aussies a few moments of privacy. Sam knelt down by his cousin and flipped the semi-conscious man he had in custody over. The three trenchman stared at him for a moment then Sam asked, “Anyone know who this is?”

“Never seen him before,” Herrigan said, straightening up and stretching. “I caught him, that means someone else gets to look into him. I vote for Ramon.”

Randal shook his head and leaned against the wall. “That’s something you can work out later. Do you want to leave him here until Walker gets the power back on or try and drag him into a holding cell now?”

“Just leave him,” Sam said. “I’d like to call in a proper team to move him. You never know what these unhinged types are going to try. We’ll get him somewhere we can help him get his head on straight but until then he’s pretty much the scariest thing we’ve had in the ward since it was built.”

Herrigan’s eyes slid over to the knot of Australians a few steps away. “And those guys?”

“I dunno,” Randal mused. “I think once they’re over your nearly getting a member of their delegation killed they’ll be ready to sit down and talk. I’m just not convinced talking is what they’re interested in yet. It’s been really hard to read their intentions when they’re worried because one of their delegation got dragged into a life and death situation!

“Lauren’s job here is to be a sounding board for our culture and provide the ambassador with the perspective of a normal person,” Herrigan said. “Was there a better time for her to see the rougher side of life down here?”

“What, she just told you what her job was?” Randal demanded.

“It was guesswork,” he admitted. “But it has a certain ring of truth about it.”

“And you thought the best way to let her sample the sights was to get her drunk and go chasing an unstable man through the guts of the colony.” Sam wasn’t asking a question.

“Best part of who we are, if you ask me,” Herrigan replied with a grin.

“Right.” Randal knew better than to jump between the cousins when they got like this. “And leaving the Newcastle girl in the middle of our technical hubs?”

“Her job is to communicate anything they find with the surface. From what she said when things here went south, I’m guessing communications is her specialty and what we’ve got here is ages behind Australia’s tech.” Herrigan shrugged. “I’m not a coding expert but I doubt she could parse our computer security set-ups in a couple of days, much less a couple of hours. I looked at some source code for the computers they run on the surface and if what we’ve got is Greek to me, they’re stuff is Hindi. If they’re going to talk to the surface they’re going to do it with something they’ve already got on hand. Thus, letting her look at our computers for a little while isn’t costing us much.”

“Other than showing them how far behind we are,” Sam said.

“Other than that,” his cousin admitted. “But if there’s someone here who’s going to try something underhanded my bet is it’ll be the ambassador.”

“Sudbury?” Randal raised an eyebrow.

“Well, he’d have diplomatic immunity on the surface, right?”

That was something he hadn’t considered before. “Yes, he would.”

“‘Course, no reason we’d have to extend it to him here,” Sam mused. “We aren’t exactly covered by those conventions…”

Randal laughed. Then realized Sam had definitely not meant it as a joke. “For now, let’s consider that he does. Shooting messengers isn’t just bad form, it’s stupid. And I don’t want my name living in infamy because we went off half cocked and started a war with Australia. Let’s just get them a place to stay and sleep on it.” Randal glanced at his watch and realized with a jolt that it had been less than twelve hours since he’d gone to meet Erin’s Dream with Sam. “I don’t know about you folks but I’m tired and it hasn’t even been a long day. Let’s just head home and see what the situation looks like in the morning.”

“All right, Randal,” Sam said, getting to his feet. “You’re the boss.”


Of course it wasn’t as simple as that. But in ten minutes or so the power was back, comm lines were open again and Ramon showed up with a couple of other deputies and took the as-of-yet nameless fish out of water off to find him some tranquilizers and trained psychiatric care. Once he was out of sight he offered Lauren a hand and pulled her to her feet. She was still shivering slightly, although Hathoway had given her something that seemed to have helped.

“Tomorrow morning, first thing, we’re getting all of you some clothes that will hold up a little better down here,” Herrigan said. “Otherwise you’ll catch cold and the fabrics will begin to rot. Assuming they’re not synthetic.”

“I have no idea what my clothes are made out of,” Lauren replied. “Is he going to be alright?”

“I’d like to say sure, but it’s mostly up to him now,” Herrigan said. “All of us down here are where we are because we were judged a menace to society, it’d be kind of sad to have to lock him up in the middle of the biggest lock up on Earth. But we might have to.”

“Isn’t that a little hypocritical of you?” She asked.

“Maybe. But we won’t stop trying to help him. Hopefully that will be enough of a difference.” He gave her a tired smile. “Hopefully you folks won’t give up on us, either.”

Lauren smiled back. “We’re doing the best we can. So far, I think it’s working.”


Out of Water – Chapter Thirteen

Herrigan grimaced as lukewarm water sloshed over the tops of his shoes. A gasp came from Lauren then she said, “Is there a hatch open already?”

“No.” Herrigan knelt and dipped a finger into the water, sloshed it around a moment to wash any sweat off of it, then touched the tip of his finger to his tongue. “Fresh water.” He spat out the water, which didn’t taste great but wasn’t salt water either. “The whole area would flood in minutes if there was an exterior hatch open. My guess is he plugged up the drainage channel and is letting it back up.”

He stood back up and waded a few steps further in, Lauren tentatively following. The light from her flashlight as she pointed it down to examine the floor. Herrigan wasn’t particularly interested, short of sticking a snorkel out of the water and lying in wait there wasn’t much chance that the fish could be anywhere in this section. They would have heard him by now.

“How deep in here can he be?” Lauren asked.

“Not too deep,” Herrigan murmured. “At this incline it would only be four or five more sections before he’d be under water.”

“And we’re not sure that’s what he wants?”

“I don’t know.” Herrigan reached down and slowly pulled out his riot gun, his body lapsing into a cautious, quiet state with senses alert and muscles half tense, the rest perfectly relaxed. “I’m not a psychologist. Quietly, now.”

He didn’t actually hear Lauren’s teeth click together as she shut her mouth. At least he was pretty sure that was his imagination. For a second he felt bad, since the silence was more to help him clear his head than to attempt stealth. Any sound they were making was being carried straight through the water in the drainage channel to wherever their fish was. Regardless of how much noise they made now the cat was already out of the bag. Question was what to do about it. With a flick of his finger he took the safety off of his riot gun.

With eight shots of quickly expanding foam that would adhere to pretty much any solid surface, riot guns were a great way to tangle up and take down someone without causing them any kind of serious long term injury. But in the current situation the weapon was less comforting than normal. For starters, the close quarters made it less useful than otherwise, although in tight spaces it was just as easy and almost as effective to stick foam on the walls or floor and let people run into it as shoot it directly at someone.

The problem was the water. Riot foam was designed to bond quickly on wet surfaces, which normally made it harden near instantly on the always damp clothes, walls and floors on Alcatraz. But hitting standing water caused the foam to deploy early and being submerged turned a sticky lump of foam into a football sized lump of hard but squishy plastic in a couple of seconds.

Then he had an idea. “Lauren.”

There was a half second pause. “Are we done being quiet?”

“Sort of.” He turned around and handed her his flashlight. “The cat’s already out of the bag, most likely.”

“Oh.” She took his flashlight tentatively. “And?”

“Cats like fish.”


“A truly stupid thing to say,” Lauren muttered five minutes and a quickly whispered explanation later. “A cat would never do something as silly as this.”

Herrigan didn’t reply because he had stayed in the previous compartment because he apparently thought he was a reincarnated crocodile. She’d been given both their torches and Herrigan’s revolver and essentially become the bait in their little fishing expedition. Another decidedly uncatlike thing. Cats expected their food delivered, they didn’t go hunting for it. Alcatraz didn’t have cats in the first place.

To be fair, the idea was pretty sound. She just wished she didn’t have to be the bait. Sure, it made sense to have the person who’d actually had a little hand to hand training be the one to try and catch their target by surprise but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about being dangled out on the end of a fishhook for whoever to come out and grab.

After some fumbling she’d decided to hook one torch to her belt and keep the other held out a bit to the other side at shoulder height, not only letting her see a fair bit more of the hallway but hopefully at least giving the impression of two people still poking through the corridor rather than just one. The gun he’d given her was in the other hand, it’s rubberized grip firm but scratchy. The torch, on the other hand, was made of that smooth, vaguely textured ceramic Herrigan had been so proud of and he’d assured her it was completely watertight which was good because the water was now all the way up to her mid thighs and soon the one on her belt would be completely underwater.

And she was so focused on where her lights were and whether they’d stay on under water that she almost missed the head bobbing up over the water just to her right. It wasn’t until they whipped their head around, short hair flinging water in all directions as the whites of their eyes suddenly came into view and focused on her, that she realized it was there and yelped.

Something grabbed one of her legs and yanked, she wound up in the water and got a mouth full of tepid, mold flavored swill before her hands found the floor and pushed her upright enough to get her head back above the surface. The fish, or at least what she assumed was the fish out of water they’d come for, scrambled to his feet, not particularly graceful but steady and deliberate. Lauren matched his steadiness with a frantic scramble backwards and, without thinking, threw the torch. It hit him in the shoulder but didn’t slow him down as he waded forward. Belatedly she remembered she had a gun in her off hand and swung the barrel around, firing.

Of course with both electric torches underwater there was no way for her to get a clear picture of what was going on and she was pretty sure the shots missed as the only indication of a hit was a a couple of inorganic sounding thumps further down the hall. She was trying to fumble her gun into her other hand and get the flashlight off of her hip when a sudden splash preceded Herrigan, who’d apparently masked his own approach by crouching down in the water just as the fish had, suddenly rose up out of the water with his arms wrapped around the other man’s waist and slammed him against the wall. Sodden chaos reigned in the hall for a second as people scrambled and grunted.

Lauren figured shooting now would be stupid, the foam from the pistol wouldn’t hurt either man but sticking them together would still be bad, so she swapped gun and torch and gingerly approached the two men as the grappled. As the light steadied she could tell the fish had somehow swapped positions with Herrigan and he was now the one against the wall so Lauren dropped the gun, wrapped both hands around the handle of the torch and rammed the butt end of it into the side of Herrigan’s opponent. That rocked him enough that Herrigan was able twist around and reestablish the dominant position, pressing the other man against the wall with an arm across his chest. The struggle looked like it would go on for another couple of minutes if left alone so Lauren reached over Herrigan’s head and clobbered the far man’s skull with the flashlight. He slumped a bit and Herrigan gave his noggin another bounce against the wall for good measure, on which the fish went entirely limp.

Herrigan nodded, stood up and gave Lauren an appreciative grin. “Nice work.”

She just fished the other flashlight out of the water and held it out to him. “Let’s just get out of here, shall we?”

He nodded and slung the unconscious man over one shoulder. “Lead the way. I’m ready to go somewhere dry and well lit myself.”

Out of Water – Chapter Twelve

Sudbury waited until Halloway had dropped a good fifteen paces back, with Sam and his deputy to keep him company, before broaching the topic. When he did he went about it in a suitably diplomatic way. “Mr. Holman, I know that here in Alcatraz things work a great deal differently than on the surface. But I have to admit that, much like Sergeant Halloway I find Deputy Cartwright’s priorities a bit… strange. I wouldn’t question them,” he hastened to add, “but in this case someone he and I are responsible for is at risk. So I have to ask…”

The two men hurried down the dark hallways of the station for a moment, Randal’s flashlight – borrowed from the equipment locker back at the engineering hub – turning the normally drab back halls where maintenance personnel spent most of their time into a bizarre maze of dancing shadows and half-seen paths branching into the dark. Even as a lifetime resident, Randal found it eerie. Sudbury wasn’t finishing his question so Randal gave him a nudge. “Well?”

“Let me put it this way…” Sudbury took a deep breath and settled his shoulders. “In Australia today suicide is considered a human right. Anyone who feels their life has lost meaning is free to leave it. It’s considered an act of compassion for those who are suffering.”

Randal gave the ambassador a sharp look, a flash of pure revulsion nearly driving him to step away before he controlled himself. Instead he demanded, “Is this going somewhere, Ambassador?”

A careful, placating gesture was the first response. Clearly finding a response that properly articulated his points was taxing even a professionally trained diplomatic mind. After another couple of steps Sudbury continued. “I know that, sociologically speaking, frontier settlements tend to insist on as much as the community surviving as possible so the notion of suicide becomes extremely unpalatable so it may not be a comfortable subject for you-”

“Historically Alcatraz has overcrowding problems, not understaffing ones,” Randal put in woodenly, the part of him that insisted on right facts being on the table at war with the part that was mildly horrified by the other man’s line of thought. “In the early days there were a lot of times when we nearly ran out of oxygen to breath. People were paid if they volunteered to get sterilizations and slow down population growth. There was talk of other measures.”

“I… see.”

For a brief moment Randal indulged his urge to make Sudbury just as uncomfortable as he was. “I’ve always suspected that the neoenvironmentalists who led the push to jail us enjoyed the irony of putting us at the mercy of one atmosphere after all the time we supposedly spent damaging another.”

“You must appreciate the irony of the current ice age, then.”

“I think you’re trying to avoid going back to talking about suicide. Weird, since you brought it up. Go on.”

Sudbury nodded. “Of course. My point is just… that your fish out of water has clearly suffered a serious breakdown in mental health. Many who are healthy would find a loss of mental health on this scale to be justification for suicide and we make it a point not to stand in their way if that’s what they choose. It sounds like you could let that happen for your fish and still keep everyone else in this section safe. Instead, Deputy Cartwright has put himself, Lauren Cochran and possibly the rest of this section in danger in an attempt to interfere with the human right of a person who’s name and circumstances we don’t even know. It seems to me like an overreaction. I don’t mean to judge-”

“You should.” Sudbury stopped in surprise but Randal kept going, forcing the ambassador to struggle to keep up. “In Alcatraz a man without judgement gets no respect from anyone. We judged the policies of the government we used to live under repressive and evil and decided exile was better than living under them. In the early days we judged not being the kind of people who encouraged euthanasia and suicide more important than finding an easy solution to our air supply problems. And right now I’m making a judgement.”

He let the statement hang in the air for a moment. “I’ve decided that, whether I know his name or not, that our fish out of water has a life worth living if I can only convince him to live it. Now. Whether that’s worth Lauren Cochran risking her life or not is something you’ll have to judge for yourself.” Randal threw a glance back, not at Sudbury but at Halloway beyond him. “At least one of you already has and I respect that. But if you want to just sit there and not judge your welcome to do it. Just do it from outside the hull access. I don’t want someone without good judgment getting underfoot in there.”


“How much of this is there?” Lauren asked as she waited for Herrigan to work the hatch between the section of hallway they were in and the next.

“Well, a section is shaped like an oval on it’s side and the internal hull access is at the top, bottom and the middle. The big hatches at top and bottom are all mechanical and have to be accessed from outside once a section’s in use and there’s three floors worth of these corridors around the outside.”

Lauren groaned. “You mean we have other floors to cover?”

Herrigan swung the hatch open. “It spirals up and down.” He looped his finger through the air to illustrate. “You may not have noticed but we’re going up at a slight incline right now. This next chamber is actually the top. And no, before you ask, we don’t have to backtrack to where we were. There’s a ladder in every fourth section you can use for quick access to other levels.”

“I’d wondered what those were for,” Lauren said, following him into the final section of hallway which was anticlimactically empty.

“You could have asked.”

“Didn’t seem like a good time.”

The end of the hallway had some kind of computer access built in to the wall over a large footlocker arrangement in the floor. Herrigan pulled out a set of keys and opened the footlocker. After a moment’s rummaging he pulled out two electric torches, both at least twice the size of the one he was currently carrying, and handed one to her. “These will probably let us see better. Let’s head down. We’re more than halfway done.”

Lauren nodded wordlessly, not feeling particularly encouraged by his reassurance. The torch was nice though. As she started down the ladder she asked, “Why put the hallways on an incline? I’d think level flooring would make getting equipment around easier.”

“You may have noticed it’s a little humid down here.”

“Not particularly.”

Herrigan snorted. “Flattery gets you nothing. Anyway, since the hull is so much cooler than the interior there’s a lot of condensation that forms in this section. We have to drain it away through the channels in the floor. While we’re at it we run it over a series of small hydroelectric turbines for whatever extra power we can get out of it.”

“And you need the incline for that.” She shook her head. “That’s a lot of effort for a couple of kilowatts of electricity.”

“Believe me, we need all we can get.” Herrigan stepped off the ladder two floors down. Lauren gamely tagged along. So far sections of the access halls were pretty much repeats of four basic themes. Empty hall, hallway with ladder, hallway with inner hatch, hallway with exterior hatch. The section beyond this one would thus be an inner hatch, presumably the one they entered through. Beyond that would be an exterior hatch… which now that she thought about it was the most likely place to find their quarry. “Say, Herrigan -”

He swung the hatch open to the next section and stepped ankle deep into water.

” – never mind.”

Dear Social Justice – Just Stop

Seven Years in Tibet was a film about a white guy going to an Asian country to find enlightenment. It was supposedly revolutionary and touching, a message about what the East had to offer Western culture in our decadent twilight years (or something). The Last Samurai was pretty much the same movie but with swords and Tom Cruise and it was supposedly a sign of a “problem” where white people go and save people who aren’t white. Apparently wanting to save people isn’t a good instinct in our politically correct climate. Who knew?

Now we have The Great Wall and people have lost it. If you haven’t seen the American Great Wall trailer yet here it is:

I stress this is the American trailer because I’m sure the one they release in China is going to be a fair bit different.  And not just because it’s being released in China but because this film is the result of a collaboration between a Chinese studio and an American one and so there are a couple of big name Chinese stars in this film, along with that other guy, who will probably get top billing in their home market.

Question is, why are people upset? Because it looks silly? Because we learn nothing about the story or plot? No, apparently it’s because of Matt Damon. Not that he got top billing in his home market. He just Doesn’t Belong There. When studios collaborate Social Justice seems to think that means Studio A hands over a huge chunk of cash and a little technical advice and lets Studio B do whatever they want regardless of Studio A’s wants and needs.

Pro Tip: That’s not a collaboration. That’s more like a hostile takeover.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Step back with me and let’s look at the bigger picture.

A lot of people seem to have their knickers twisted over how Damon’s character is just another white man saving a bunch of non-white people. But if you actually watch the trailer instead of stroking out as soon as Matt’s face shows up on screen (and yes, the typical Matt Aflecaprio flavor actor has that effect on me, too, but for different reasons) the truth sounds a lot different. He talks about being a mercenary and fighting wars for money. Fair enough. That happened plenty in the time period the film portrays. What rarely happened was that the mercenary found a war that brought about a spiritual awakening rooted in the justness of the cause. But Damon’s character has found a war worth fighting for.

Again, white guy goes to Asia and has a spiritual awakening. Tale as old as time. (Not necessarily a good tale, mind you. That depends on the execution, but no one’s talking about that, are they?)

Tell me, in that kind of a story line, who exactly is saving who? I’d say it’s the guy who suddenly finds meaning in his life. Is it such a bad thing to have a man go into a totally foreign environment and have his eyes opened? Isn’t that the primary reason so many Social Justice types bang on about going away from home and experiencing other cultures?

I grant you, China doesn’t have the world’s most admirable culture so maybe it’s not the best example for the film to hold up. For one thing, social pressures towards conformity in China is immense (although perhaps not as great as it is a short swim away in Japan). The tendency to fall in line with the culture as a whole may be one reason China produces so few actors who make it on the world stage. Creativity isn’t just undervalued in that kind of culture, it can pose an active threat to the status quo that conforming cultures demand. Of course, creativity can thrive in even the most hostile environment, it’s just rare.

But the glorification of Chinese culture and the Great Wall (the building, not the film) is not at issue here, in spite of the tyrannical culture and horrible slave labor that brought them about. No the average Social Justice stance demands social conformity to ideas about ethnicity, gender and ect, so long as those views are “progressive” so maybe these aspects of Chinese culture is not a negative from the SocJus point of view…

Normally when Social Justice starts hyperventilating about the cultural offense of the week is I look it over and parse whether there is a legitimate gripe at hand. If there is, I ask whether the proposed solution is worthwhile. Have a problem with the way police actions can unfold in our country? Sure, who doesn’t. Want to fix it by rioting in a poor community, stealing a bunch of stuff from said poor people and starting fires in their streets? Not interested in that kind of solution. When I don’t agree with the SocJus solution I try and formulate one of my own and practice it when needed. I have yet to agree with a SocJus solution so I’m not sure what happens in that case.

But if there’s nothing legitimate in their gripes I tend to tune out because I just don’t care. Epics could be written about the extent of my apathy. The lack of significance this little point of casting has on me reaches mythic proportions. In an effort to help you understand how little it means to me I’ve prepared a handy visual guide to my uninterest:

Illustrated Disinterest

The beard is a lie!

Normally I’d lump this Matt Damon mess into category two and just ignore it. That’s what I did with when Scarlett Johansson was cast as Motoko Kusanagi in the Ghost in the Shell live action movie. (For pity’s sake, the franchise is about transhumanism, the woman can quite literally change between bodies like a pair of pants. What does it matter what her primary body looks like?)  That’s what I did when Tilda Swinton was cast as The Ancient One in Dr. Strange. But at this point, I’ve had enough.

If you read my blog and Social Justice is your thing we need to have a serious talk. If you can’t tell from my last name I’m of Chinese descent (my father emigrated from Taiwan) and by the weird logic you guys operate under that gives me some kind of authority to speak from. I don’t like that point of view but I understand it’s part of how you think and I’m appealing to it in the hopes you can at least come to have understanding of my point of view.

There are basically three modes of behavior I see from people wrapped up in the Social Justice side of the “whitewashing” frenzy and they serve as pretty good parallels to the movement as a whole. I’m going to address each of these behavior patterns with no snide remarks, no funny pictures, just honest thoughts. They’re harsh. That’s intentional.

I’ve watched SocJus outrage culture snowball over the past few years from something fun to watch, in the manner of a train wreck, to something truly disturbing. I’ve known since my friend Mike Hudson’s pen name put him in the middle of a McCarthy style witch hunt that Chinese people aren’t exempted from the mindset in spite of the remarkable success they’ve had finding a place in American society. (Not surprising, people are people, but still somehow disappointing.) Maybe one man’s two cents make no different to people who can only rave about systems and cultures but those systems and cultures seem to exist mostly in your head and if I can pull you out of there it’s worth a try.

First I want a word with those of you who really, truly feel that they come from a culture of “whiteness” that’s poisoned the world and that they need to feel guilty about it. These are the people that will tell me that just because I’m not offended by Matt Damon being in The Great Wall that doesn’t mean it’s right. That there’s still a horrible wrong here and they have to fix it.

To these people: Your guilt over “whiteness” has driven you to act like the great white savior you claim to hate Matt Damon representing. You are telling me that you, knowing the horrible nature of your whiteness as well as you do, in full knowledge of what I think, are willing to ignore me and do “what’s right”. Again, you are trying to save me from you whether I want it or not. If this isn’t being a white savior I don’t know what is. You literally demand that I sit back and let you handle this situation because I’m too backwards and ignorant to make my own judgement on it.

You hypocrite.

Your guilt has blinded you and made it impossible for you to act in concert with your own beliefs. Why should I respect them? And it’s not healthy to try and carry that, either.

I am here to tell you that your whiteness is not that powerful. Not that horrible. Not even something worth feeling guilty about. Assuming whiteness were even a thing that could be properly measured it’s not a corrupting, racializing force that makes the meeting of China and America on even terms impossible. I know because my mother is American – qualifies for membership in the Daughters of the American Revolution in fact – so my family is living proof. If the fact that I’m “part white” bothers you, maybe you need to seriously consider whether you understand anything about the behavior of racists at all.

Look, Chinese culture survived three Kung Fu Panda movies and the Great Wall survived two white guys hauling a grand piano and a cello on top of it and remixing said film franchises soundtrack there. I don’t think it’s going to crumble from Matt Damon showing up to shoot a movie.

In short, your whiteness is not a threat to me, you or anyone’s culture anywhere. Please stop feeling guilty about it.

Now as for those of you going around and telling people to be ashamed of their culture? All those critics, editors and other self appointed cultural gatekeepers who have been wringing their hands nonstop over this kind of nonissue for years? Sit. Listen, if your haven’t deafened yourself with your own insistent prattle.

There are only so many kinds of people in the world. The modern trend in politics and culture is to call people like you “authoritarians” in acknowledgement of the way you find a position of authority and then try to bully people into doing whatever you like. However I have a much more specific term for you: Pharisee.

In the New Testament Pharisees tended to have two notable characteristics: 1. They made rules for other people to keep. 2. They preached those rules only to gain status, without any interest in keeping them themselves. In your response to Matt Damon and The Great Wall you’ve complained about what you expect to be a Great White Savior. Then you’ve turned around and posed as the Great White Savior for all of Chinese cinema and pulled all those guilt ridden people who can’t keep all the rules you make into doing the same. And you expect them all to praise you for it.

You hypocrite.

It’s like you vomited, shoved a man’s face into it and expected him to praise you. I see you for what you are. And I hold you in contempt.

Finally, a word for those Asian American actors who have been complaining once again that this was a rare role could have gone to one of them. I know the frustration – I do theater after all! – but let me make a suggestion. Rather than waiting for a project that could use Asian American actors, try starting one yourself. I’d suggest looking at a live action adaptation of Mob Psycho 100. You could play the part of Reigen Arakawa. You’ve already got his signature move down.


Okay there was one snide remark and funny picture in there. I regret nothing.