China to Become Technological Island

fter being left in the dust by 200 years of Western technological and economic development, China shocked the world this week by announcing a plan to shun all non-Chinese technology in the future, spurning Western gadgetry and culture in favor of whatever the hell they can cobble together on their own.

Once the undisputed technological king of the world, China had a rough go at the 20th century, falling behind Western nations and neighboring Japan. Some trace this development back to China failing to make the transition from chopsticks to forks and knives in the 19th century. China's current communist government sees technological isolationism as the nation's best hope at self-reliance, and for fending off exploitation by Western corporations hungry to sink their teeth into a largely untapped 1.3 billion-person market.

The plan is not without its critics, chief among them the 1.3 billion Chinese who cry out in pain at the thought of having to trade in their favorite roundeye technologies in favor of some kind of cheap, shitty Chinese knockoffs, a fear the government has written off as unfounded. Western critics of the plan, however, question if China's state of technological development, which most consider to be "equivalent to the rest of the world, in 1982," is ready for such a huge step.

One of the first tests of Chinese readiness to cope with technological isolation will be this year's release of the ToyThing gaming console, designed to replace the popular Japanese PlayStation and American X-Box in Chinese video-gaming homes this fall. Some Chinese gamers are unnerved by the first batch of titles announced for the ToyThing console, which include Pac-Person, Jouster, Run You Frog!, and Barrel-Throwing Construction Ape. The Chinese government has reassured gamers that the ToyThing will be just as good as the gaming consoles they've grown used to, and will come with an equivalent to the popular Grand Theft Auto title in a new Chinese-made game called Polish Position.

China's government has its highest hopes set on the new Chinese DVD equivalent, the EVD (Extra Very-Good Disc) player. Unsubstantiated government claims that the EVD is "like a DVD with super-powers" have yet to impress either Western critics or Chinese consumers, who doubt such a device actually exists and question the wisdom of naming China's new tech products in broken English.

Others wonder how the new video discs will fare without support from the Hollywood movie studios, a complication the Chinese government has actually been looking forward to.

"The time is come for Chinese to develop our own entertainments what is just as good as American," explained Ministry of Science and Technology Dr. Li Wenlei. "Already, Chinese is looking forward to great American-like film such as Little Deer Whose Mother is Dead, Kung-Fu Inside Computer and Look At Alien Flying Bike!"

Also drawing criticism is China's plan to forego the Wi-Fi wireless networking standard for a Chinese format known as WAPI (Wonderful Asian People Inside). WAPI won out over the competing WIMPI and OOPSI standards because the later two didn't work with the government's planned "WAPI to see you!" ad campaign for mobile video conferencing.

Many Chinese citizens expect these latest developments to be only the first step in a larger campaign of cultural isolation, a fear substantiated by recent government campaigns to encourage children to spurn Mickey Mouse for the Chokey Bear cartoon, and promotions for upcoming Chinese sitcoms such as Acquaintances and Bald Radio Psychiatrist Show.

One part of China's plan that has drawn little to no criticism in China or abroad is the government's decision to base all Chinese computers on a special Chinese offshoot of the Linux operating system, rather than the expensive and ridiculously security-challenged Microsoft Windows platform. Though some rumors have China abandoning the Internet entirely in favor of ham radios as a part of this scheme, most consider the package deal to be an overall upgrade for the lucky Chinese.

n a move pundits suspect was designed to improve the president’s poll numbers among the nation’s comedy writers, George W. Bush ate complete shit off a bike during a ride at his Texas ranch last Sunday afternoon. The president spoke for reporters while covered in several comical facial bandages and wearing an arm sling this week to address the topic of his crash, which Bush claims he participated in to prove a point about his increasingly unpopular Iraq policy.

“Even when things don’t go exactly as planned, and you hit a goddamned pothole on the road to liberation, you’ve got to climb back on that nation and ride her home,� Bush declared. Though the vaguely sexual imagery unnerved some, many felt that this was one of the most successful of the president’s many pathetic attempts to save face after an embarrassing mishap.

Many were reminded of the well-publicized shit-eatingº the president performed off a Segway human transporter at his father’s summer home last year, happier times for a higher polling president who was then able blame technology for his clod-like behavior. Others were also reminded of a January 2002 incident in which a pretzel got the better of the president during an attempt at eating, ending with Bush’s dramatic tumble into a coffee table. Though that incident shared little in common with the president’s latest tussle with gravity, many still enjoy bringing up the story at the flimsiest pretext.

Bush claims that a rabbit darted out in front of his bike on Sunday, forcing him to heroically swerve onto a treacherous rocky outcropping to avoid going Paperboy on the adorably wayward rodent. Other witnesses claim the president ate shit on smooth pavement after removing one hand from the bicycle’s handlebars to scratch his asshole.

The president was accompanied on the ride by his personal doctor, bicycle riding coach Noel Yongstrem, a Secret Service agent, and some neighborhood kids who tagged along to make fun of the Bush’s lame bike. According to eyewitness reports, Bush’s crash elicited peals of laughter, pointing, and sarcastic clapping from everyone in the group except the unnamed Secret Service agent, who panicked and ran off into the woods, leaving the downed president to fend for himself.

Bush suffered minor abrasions to his chin, upper lip, nose, right hand and both knees in the accident, but the most serious injury was to the president’s pride, White House spokesman Trent Duffy said. Despite the spill, Bush was able to bravely ride the rest of the way home with only minor sniveling and a snotty nose.

Surprisingly, the president sustained his injuries in spite of witness reports that he was wearing a helmet and mouth guard at the time of the accident. White House doctors believe this can be explained by the fact that Bush’s helmet likely came off during the crash, since the straps had been tied in a knot under his chin due to the president’s ongoing difficulty with latches, snaps and buttons.

According to the White House, President Bush has expressed a desire to ride in cars from now on, leaving two-wheeled transportation “to kids and the Chinese.� No word yet on whether or not he’s going to keep up with the helmet and mouth guard.

Can you believe those cheap ass pants-handlers at the commune? I just found out they're paying us the same this year, despite the double-barreled workload increase that comes with the switch to the weekly schedule. That is the Double Western Bacon Cheeseburger of bullshit. If I'm going to be doing twice the work this year, I demand at least an increase in the number of surplus novelty calendars we get to take home every month. Like the saying goes, "Time is calendars," and you know I deserve to be compensated for mine.

And then to add insoles to injury, I accidentally emailed that last paragraph to Randy "Machoman" Savage yesterday, while writing one my weekly emails about how he sold out when he stopped doing Shakespeare and joined the WWF (sue me, panda-fuckers). Goddamned Windows is all I can say about that. If you're gonna put the "send email" button right next to the "kill" button on Minesweeper, shit like this is just going to keep on happening to good people. And I was pissed about that times two, since not only did I send Machoman the beginning of my new column, which was likely going to sell for hundreds on eBay within the hour, that also blew a golden opportunity to break my Minesweeper record for blowing that little guy's ass up in under a second.

Weirdest thing of all, though, was that Machoman actually wrote me back. For the first time as far as I can tell, unless his previous messages got smurfed by my spam filter. Whatever happened, this one got to me and really put my colon in a twist. That meat mountain actually had the balls to suggest I've got an easy job, then he pressed his luck all the way by asking what in the hell I do the rest of the time if I've only got one column to write a week. What do I do? Shit man, what don't I do?

Who do you think writes Quentin Tarantino all those letters about how he never puts backwards-talking midgets in his movies any more? That's right, Roland McShyster. But who do you think mails that shit? Bludney Pludd, usually. Stay with me here. Who do you think covers the stairwell in grease-coated marbles before all this happens? Omar "Don't Tell Me You Didn't Know It Was Greased Marble Day" Bricks, that's who. Didn't think about that when you were so busy laughing at Bludney Pludd's hilariously broken body, did you? Somebody's got to put in the work behind the scenes to make this world go around, man.

Damn, that Machoman chaps my ass. Leave it to an ex-Shakespearean actor to underestimate how much this extra column cuts into my prank-calling time. I had to abandon an elaborate plan to sell Rok Finger the deed to a Nigerian gold mine just to give me the time to procrastinate about writing this column. And it just doesn't sit right with me, the idea of Finger spending his commune paycheck on bread and electricity instead of the commune in-office scam of the week, or Griswald Dreck's 1-900 answer line. Fucking Machoman.

It's time Omar Bricks proved to the world that he earns his paycheck, times two. I don't care if it takes a fake beard, fake tits, or imitation Alaskan king crab, Omar Bricks is going to find a way to get paid like he was two people, while maintaining the workload of a small child. This victory shall be my crowning achievement, making up the bulk of the text in my eventual obituary, and helping to pay for the ski jump I've been wanting to put in my back yard. Even better, the effort will likely kill the rest of the down time until they finish building my neighbor's new house and I can get all up in that biatch. Bricks out.

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