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Birds Do It, Bees Do It, Monkeys Pay For It

19 Wednesday Jun 2013

Posted by Bangkokbois in It's A Gay World, Smells Like Science

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That's Gay

A happy monkey is a sated monkey. At whatever the cost.

A happy monkey is a sated monkey. At whatever the cost.

They say that money is the root of all evil. They say that money can’t buy happiness. I’m not sure who ‘they’ are, but suspect it is a bunch of poor people who’ve never bought a happy ending in Thailand. Money is a wonderful thing. It makes the world go round. Everyone wants it. Everyone needs it. And if you don’t think it is a fair trade for that which puts a smile on most people’s faces, you don’t know jack. Or capuchin monkeys. Or chimps, or bonobos. Sexpats in Pattaya, may well lend themselves to your argument, but even they readily spend their money on happy endings. It’s just that they love often their limited, dwindling cache of cash more than what it can bring. And by short changing the source, they often find themselves the ones who end up being the monkey’s uncle. ‘Cuz some of us just haven’t made it very far up that evolutionary tree.

And yup, that smells like science to me.

Economic researchers at Yale University managed to successfully train capuchin monkeys to understand and use currency. The result? The monkeys used their new found currency to buy sex. But wait! There’s more! Once they got the hang of what money was all about, our not-so-distant cousins began acting quite human-like. Yale’s capuchins responded to the vargarities of the market place, took to gambling like a duck to water, failed to save, stole when they could, and used money to buy more food than they could eat. And to buy a bit of nookie too, of course.

The capuchin, a New World monkey about the size of a scrawny one-year-old human baby, has a small brain. One that is pretty much focused on food and sex according to Yale economist Keith Chen. Along with his colleague, psychologist Laurie Santos, he set out to teach his capuchins to use money to buy grapes, apples, and Jello, a conditioning he thought possible considering their natural glutton-like desire for food. “You should really think of a capuchin as a bottomless stomach of want,’’ Chen says. ‘’You can feed them marshmallows all day, they’ll throw up and then come back for more.’’ Exchange ‘gin’ for ‘marshmallow’ and that starts sounding like a familiar tale. But then ‘a bottomless stomach of want’ probably already took you there.

But just like with humans, that’ll cost you.

But just like with humans, that’ll cost you.

Step #1, which took several months, was to teach the monkeys that small silver discs, the currency Chen decided on, had value as a means of exchange for treats, and would remain valuable again the next day. Obviously he didn’t factor in exchange rates. But then many potential sexpats when planning their big move don’t either. Step #2 involved presenting each monkey with a set handful of currency and allowing it to decide how much of its limited funds to spend on the treats it wanted to purchase. For example, that monkey might prefer grapes over cubes of Jello and would be willing to fork over twice the amount of silver discs for a grape. Much as a sexpat might value his next glass of gin over the cost of a cheap all-you-can-eat buffet dinner. This supposedly taught them the concept of budgeting. The monkeys, not the sexpats.

Next Chen introduced the idea of fluctuating monetary values to see what the monkeys would do if, for example, the two coin value of grapes dropped to the cost of one coin. And just like sexpats responding to a sale at their favorite boy bar, the monkeys adhered to the rules of utility maximization and price theory: when the price went down, they bought more (cue memory: they’ll throw up and then come back for more).

Following the idea that if you love food and sex to excess, you’re bound to love gambling too, Chen next introduced two gambling games to the primates. Both offered the same gamble, but one game started the monkey out with a grape and if by a flip of the coin he won, he got to keep his grape and won a bonus grape to boot. The second game started out with the monkey owning his original grape and a bonus grape. If he won he got to keep both, if he lost he had to give up his bonus grape. The games’ odds were identical and the laws of economics state because they represent such small stakes both games of chance should be treated equally.

And you thought some sexpats checking out  bar boys were invasive.

And you thought some sexpats checking out bar boys were invasive.

But along with small stakes you are dealing with small brains and the monkeys responded favorably to game #1 while #2 they were not so big on. This phenomenon – known as loss aversion – is prevalent among humans too. No one likes to be a loser, even if there is no difference to your pocketbook. Even monkeys. Which wasn’t surprising to Chen. What he didn’t expect, however, was what he observed during the hectic gambling binge in the monkeys’ cage.

During the betting chaos the capuchins proved that they’d totally grasped the idea that the most distinguishing characteristic of money is its fungibility, the fact that it can be used to buy not just food but anything. While some of the monkeys were busy gambling (probably those who’d lived in Asia before their capture) one of the non-involved male monkeys traded one of his coins for something even more satisfying than a grape: he paid a female monkey to have sex with him. Proving prostitution probably is the world’s oldest profession, dating back even before the advent of man. And to prove it wasn’t just a fluke disguised as a bit of sex for sale, immediately after reaching orgasm the female monkey traded in her pay for a grape.

Anti-prostitution proponents like to cite all of the other horrible crimes that they love to lay at prostitution’s feet. Sadly, they may be onto something. Chen’s capuchins weren’t just into paying for sex. They were big on counterfeiting and thievery too. During a different experiment using cucumbers as a treat, but using the same monkeys, a research assistant sliced the cucumbers into discs. One capuchin picked up a slice, started to eat it and then ran over to a researcher to see if he could use it to buy something else (the study failed to note if he wanted to use the funny money to buy a grape or a quickie). And while none of the monkeys tried to save their money, instead spending every penny they had as soon as it hit their hot little hands, several were not above grabbing what wasn’t theirs.

Hey honey, wanna date?

Hey honey, wanna date?

Soon after Chen’s monkeys figured out what money was for, the researchers noted they would try to grab an extra disc or two more than their allotment whenever they could get away with it. So much for the phrase ‘human greed’. The coins were handed out in a chamber adjacent to the monkey’s communal cage. Once, one wily primate outdid his brethren in his quest to nab what was not his by grabbing the entire tray of coins, throwing it back into the main cage and then scurrying in after his loot – a combination jailbreak and bank heist. The researchers had to use grapes as tea money to get the coins back from the monkeys who’d all joined in on the thief’s good fortune, a reinforcement that in effect encouraged more stealing. Kinda like paying a bar boy who fails to perform.

While other primates tend to leave the baser crimes associated with the underworld to capuchins, they too give an opposable thumbs up to prostitution. Anthropologists studying wild chimps living in the Tai National Park in the Cote d’Ivoire found that female chimpanzees often offered sex in exchange for meat from male chimps. And, perhaps not surprising, the best male hunters ended up having the greatest number of paid sexual partners. Even chimps recognizee the value of a wealthy sugar daddy.

But more on point, the scientists also found that these acts of prostitution were seldom one-offs. “Our results strongly suggest that wild chimpanzees not only exchange meat for sex, but many do so on a long-term basis,” said Cristina Gomes of the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology in Leipzig, Germany. Her study, published on-line in the Public Library of Science, suggests the phenomenon of a moneyboy turning into a LT relationship is not unique to Thailand. Chimps mastered that form of relationship long before Patpong and Pattaya were established.

I’m guessing this one hangs out in Sunee Plaza.

I’m guessing this one hangs out in Sunee Plaza.

And then there are the sex-crazed bonobos, the only species of ape other than humans to have sex facing each other. Sharing about 98.4% of our DNA, they are also one of the only species sexually active nearly year round, along with humans. Unlike humans, however, bonobos are almost entirely peaceful, being mostly vegetarians and pacifists . . . just when you thought I was gonna segue back into comparing Pattaya’s sexpat population to monkeys and apes.

No fear, there are some similarities: Bonobos regularly have gay and lesbian sex. And they have sex as much as several times a day, which would seem to be too often for purely reproductive purposes. Not that the gay and lesbian sex thingy promotes that agenda either. And for Beachball’s edification, since he considers self-awareness a hallmark of being a ‘genuine’ human being even though it is something he has not yet mastered himself, bonobos are one of the few animals that have passed the mirror-self recognition test, which is the capability of understanding that their duplicate in a mirror is not a different bonobo on the other side of a window. But more importantly, bonobos frequently exchange fruit and other goodies for sexual favors too; prostitution among primates is a popular economic transaction. But then we can all agree that money in and of itself has no value. It’s what you can use money to buy that counts. And an orgasm, evidently, is one of the animal kingdom’s most highly valued consumer goods.

Though just like not all humans – or sex tourists – engage in prostitution, not all apes do either. Some are just as happy to barter their goods for some good whacking material (uh, I’m talking about apes now, not Boo Hoo). A study out of Duke University showed that male rhesus macaques willingly give up something they value highly (juice) just for the chance to drool over the sight of female macaque’s hindquarters. Yup, rhesus monkeys are ass men. Or as the researchers put it, “Virtually all of the male monkeys will give up juice to see female hindquarters … they really value those images.”

 . . . and when the money is all gone.

. . . and when the money is all gone.

Macaques, however, are not as big on gay sex as bonobos are. Duke’s scientists found that to get their monkeys to look at boy booty researchers had to bribe them with larger glasses of juice. So even monkeys will go gay for pay. But at least they understand the economic prerequisite of paying bigger bucks to be sexually satisfied by a straight boy, or one who would otherwise not want to have anything to do with you. We can only hope that Pattaya’s sexpats may one day come to that realization themselves.

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More Pix From Beachlover’s Photo Album

19 Wednesday Jun 2013

Posted by Bangkokbois in Blogs & Message Boards, Gay Thailand

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Beachball, Gay Thailand Forums

Mom and Pop Beachball enjoying a day in the park

Mom and Pop Beachball enjoying a day in the park

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Wednesday Wetness #77

19 Wednesday Jun 2013

Posted by Bangkokbois in It's A Gay World, Wednesday Wetness

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Nude Dudes

naked wet asian guy

My Wednsday posts are turning into a variation of Where’s Waldo. How long did it take you to notice that extra pair of feet in this shot?

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True Blood Season 6: It Ain’t Over ‘Til The Fat Ladyboy Sings

18 Tuesday Jun 2013

Posted by Bangkokbois in It's A Gay World

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Movies & Television

Bill is a newly minted ladyboy without breasts in True Blood Season 6. And boy is she pissed.

Bill is a newly minted ladyboy without breasts in True Blood Season 6. And boy is she pissed.

With the recent upswing in interest in my article from last year that provided all the spoilers for True Blood Season 5 it can mean only one thing: Spring is in the air and the fancy of young gay men is once again turning to the hot undead bodies of the gentlemen from Bon Temps. Season 6 is upon us and the latest instalment of HBO’s hottest show debuted last Sunday night, starting the season off with a fang. As in Joe Manganiello’s bodaciously delectable naked ass, quickly reminding us of all the goods things about watching True Blood. Which for the last two seasons has only been Joe Manganiello’s bodaciously delectable naked ass.

Last season held great promise with Christopher Meloni’s guest starring role as a vampire of authority and the expected joy of watching Keller’s penis at work on the small screen once again. Despite the aging body it is attached to. Unfortunately Meloni’s penis never made its debut; it turned out to be a cheap ploy by the producers to get the audience to accept the idea that ancient male flesh that really looks like ancient male flesh could still be hot in hopes we’d give a pass to Stephen Moyer’s love handles posing as abs on a body that only those turned on by the sight of an elderly lesbian would find sexy. Which may explain Anna Paquin’s pregnancy.

Joe Manganiello’s bodaciously delectable naked ass makes its season debut in True Blood.

Joe Manganiello’s bodaciously delectable naked ass makes its season debut in True Blood.

Before we got to the good stuff (the aforementioned bodaciously delectable naked werewolf ass) we were treated to a recap of last season’s ending when Bill gulped down a bottle of the vampire goddess Lilith’s blood, gets all choked up and gasps out a horrible rendition of the true death – proving the dangers Michael Douglas already discovered about getting too up close and personal with vagina – before coming back to life, transformed into the new Bill with a good dollop of Lilith thrown in, a freshly minted ladyboy sans breastesses. So she obviously went with the Angelina Jolie look. And as any post-op ladyboy who just discovered her doc forgot the tits would be, boy is she pissed.

Eric, the hunky Norseman whose also frequently naked ass is the second best thing about the show, mimics the battle cry of countess numbers of visitors to Thailand when accosted by an aggressive ladyboy hooker hanging out on Sukhumvit and yells, “Run!” A handful of exploding vampires and a bit of lesbian sex later (to remind us that True Blood does in fact belong to the horror genre), we finally get to what everyone was waiting for: Alcide’s nakedness. Whose on-screen time is far too short. Which may have been a homage to Manganiello’s best buddy since rumor has it rather than a Big Dick Richie he’s packing a Little Joe.

The best thing in True Blood: Werewolf ass.

The best thing in True Blood: Werewolf ass.

Meanwhile Bill finally puts some damn clothes back on and starts getting in touch with his new inner ladyboy by syncing up Jessica’s period with his own, causing Jessie to writhe about on the ground in great pain which should give you a small inkling of what Oprah’s audience goes through when she pulls the same damn stunt. Rather than just give the poor girl the Tampax she needs, everyone stands around bitching at each other and Eric gets all prissy with Pam ‘cuz he’s no more happy about finding out his girlfriend is bisexual than Johnny Depp was.

Jason – whose also frequently naked ass is the third best thing about the show – exits stage left ‘cuz the producers couldn’t find a flimsy excuse for him to be naked; Tara takes Pam to the beach for a lesbivamp pity party in hopes that with a bit of luck, some super glue, and a quick munching session before Pam gets her latest Brazilian wax job she might finally get those eyebrows she so desperately needs; and the rest of the gang heads to Bill’s house to see how he’s used his newfangled feminine wiles to redecorate, where upon arrival Sookie promptly stakes him. Lesson learned: never ever go with plaid curtains.

Bill eyeball fucks a shirtless Eric . . . now this is where True Blood’s plot was supposed to go.

Bill eyeball fucks a shirtless Eric . . . now this is where True Blood’s plot was supposed to go.

Bill rolls his eyes, says, “Ha, ha, you gap-toothed bitch, I’m a ladyboy now and sticks and stones may break my bones but your little wooden dildo will never hurt me,” kicks everyone but Jessica out and immediately sets to proving he can be Jessie’s Girl by warming up a nice cup of True Blood for her, which she almost spills except Bill uses his newly minted ladyboy powers to pause it in mid-spill amazing Jess who goes, “Wow. Neat trick. Did you know you could do that?” and Bill goes “No, I’ve been a man up until now and didn’t even know what happened when you spilled shit all over the floor ‘cuz only women pay attention to crap like that,” and they hug, united in sisterhood.

Which of course pisses Sookie off to no end ‘cuz she the only bitch – including the post-op – not getting any vagina on the entire show and is the only one in real life who swings that way. So she does what any woman pissed at the world would do and takes it out on a man. Back at her place she reminds Eric of the joys of fairy pussy, who – forgetting that incest is best and his sister’s vagina is waiting for him out on the porch (and speaking of unnatural sex acts, did you know Skarsgard’s home country just recently got around to making bestiality illegal? So any hopes of Alcide and Eric hooking up is probably off the table now. But I digress. Now. Not before. ‘Cuz that subject used to fall under the heading of masturbation not broken dreams) – immediately signs over the deed to the house to Sookie. Which, of course he has to do by stabbing his hand with a pen and using his blood to sign the papers. ‘Cuz that’s just how vampires roll.

Ah those were the days when gay sex on True Blood included penis.

Ah those were the days when gay sex on True Blood included penis.

Sookie shows her appreciation by saying thanks and get the fuck out of my house which causes Eric to put on his hurt, lost puppy dog look – which might explain why Pam decided to go lez ‘cuz if your mate is gonna act like a little girl you might as well snuggle up with a real one instead – which only goes to show you Skarsgard obviously has no white male friends who bought their bride from your choice of country in SE Asia ‘cuz that’s their version of Social Security for their entire family or he wouldn’t have been so surprised.. Welcome to America.

Oh, and Rutger Hauer, this season’s villain, shows up looking like Beetlejuice. I think. But that may have been Betty White.

True Blood Season Six’s tag line is No One Lives Forever, which has the blogosphere all atwitter – see what I did there? – over a main character meeting his true death with many wailing that it will be Eric which is just plain stupid ‘cuz everyone knows even the undead can only die once and Skarsgard’s career already met its in last summer’s not-a-blockbuster movie Battleship. The obvious reference, of course, would be the freshly minted ladyboy Bill’s no longer necessary dick – but Game of Thrones already pulled that trick (I did warn you!) – so as y’all will find out the lucky winner of leaving a hit show before its producers ruin it to the point of cancellation – which for True Blood will be Season 7 – is Pam. Oh. My bad. Spoiler Alert!

Ooops, I was right. That is Betty White.

Ooops, I was right. That is Betty White.

HBO has always taken good care of its gay viewers (that’d be the aforementioned best parts of True Blood numbers 1, 2, and 3) and I applaud their decision to bring the T part of LGBT into True Blood’s plot even though considering the looks Moyer gives Skarsgard every time he takes his shirt off they might have done better going with the B. Ah the memories of a childhood spent at an all boys school back home in England. But this lesbian crap has to stop. I try to take even better care of my readers and purposely neglected to mention in Manganiello’s ass’ opening scene there was the unfortunate incident of a little girl on girl action that the producers tried to pawn off as a three-way when we all know, at worst, a three-way involves only one vagina. And that’s just for show so the two guys can do their thing and still claim they are straight.

So we’ve had werewolf lesbian sex, vampire lesbian sex, real-life lesbian wished for lesbian sex, and transgendered lesbian sex – which I’m never quite sure about but think still counts as lesbian sex – all in the first episode. With not a single U-Haul trailer in sight. Throw in a scene shot in a sushi bar and the entire cast would be getting wet. Which might explain that casting Rutger Hauer thingy, though admittedly he fits the elderly fag hag role better than the elderly dyke one so maybe things are looking up.

The second best thing in True Blood: Viking booty.

The second best thing in True Blood: Viking booty.

But then there are the additional cast members for the new season and it looks like the producers just couldn’t get past the L to feed us at least a bit of G. Luke Grimes, who rocks the Justin Bieber lesbian look and is a doppelganger for Robert Pattinson – the one all the little future dykes get all hot over from Twilight (the movie, not the bar, though you never know) – is set to appear mid-season as a circa ’70s-made vamp who is a cross between Jim Morrison and Gary Clark Jr. and who interestingly enough back in 2005 lost out in playing the lead role in the miniseries Elvis to Jonathan Rhys Meyers who will be starring in this fall’s NBC’s vampire offering, Dracula, so at least there will be one gay boy sucking his little heart out on the small screen this year.

And in a nod to all the ginger dykes who hate to shave, Rob Kazinsky from Eastenders (not the scruffy gay character ‘cuz like Theon’s no longer long penis Game of Thrones snatched him up first) joins in as a new love interest for Sookie, though considering that out of the last two guys she was gaga over one went tranny and the other is beginning to act like a woman his chances at not turning into a lesbian are slim to none. There is also rumor of a new gay black character, but ya know what happens to black characters in shows where death is a way of life. So don’t blink.

The third best thing in True Blood: Young, Aussie bubble butt.

The third best thing in True Blood: Young, Aussie bubble butt.

Alan Ball, the producer whose well-lubed guiding hand brought us plenty of naked male flesh, a healthy dose of guy on guy action, as well as a great gay anal sex scene – that taught us a breaking condom is not the only danger when bouncing on your buddy’s buttocks – during the first five seasons has left the show either pissed that HBO didn’t let him feature Meloni’s cock last season or in fear that they would force him to feature Rutger’s this year, leaving the show’s gay viewers at the mercy of some idiot who must be straight ‘cuz so far the show has been a lesbian over-dose even for fish who like fish. And that’d explain the decision to turn Bill into a ladyboy too. As for who in the hell is Warlow, if it turns out to be another lesbian I’m gonna switch over to watching Veep instead. At least that show only has a single lesbian in it.

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Losing My Religion

18 Tuesday Jun 2013

Posted by Bangkokbois in It's A Gay World

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That's Gay

holy crap!

I dunno, I think it’s all the new pope’s fault. First comes word there is a gay lobby at work in the Vatican, and then the news is about Venerabilis, an on-line hookup site for gay priests, and now instead of the traditional spotting of the Virgin Mary’s image on a greasy wall at a local taquería, Jesus has shown up on a dog’s ass. I’m not sure what the proper protocol is in worshiping that, but I keep hearing that pix of cute puppies and kittens are a must for any successful blog so I’m gonna consider this a Hail Mary pass and call it a done deal.

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Tighty Whitey Tuesday #77

18 Tuesday Jun 2013

Posted by Bangkokbois in It's A Gay World, Tighty Whitey Tuesday

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Nude Dudes

nude asian dude

There is a god. And his name is Calvin Klein.

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Respect The Hot Cock

17 Monday Jun 2013

Posted by Bangkokbois in Thailand Travel Tips and Tales

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And More!

What’s Thai, red, makes your mouth water,  and is extremely hot?

What’s Thai, red, makes your mouth water, and is extremely hot?

There are symbols of Thailand that immediately spring to mind whenever the kingdom is mentioned. You can’t think about the country for long without elephants entering the picture. The glorious face-wide smiles that gave the country its nickname is what does it for some, the oh-so fabulous ladyboys do it for others. You need barely say the word ‘Thailand’ before many start drooling at the thought of a steaming plate piled high with their favorite Thai dish, while others immediately start to giggle over the ubiquitous street stalls selling a variety of fried insects. The bar boys, bar girls, happy endings, and no holds barred sex shows are what resonate for many, while the more salubriously inclined picture gold covered Buddhas, majestic temples, and the Grand Palace. These visions are what those of us who readily argue that Disneyland is not in fact the happiest place on earth reminiscence about. But as pleasant as those memories may be, short of a photo album of your most recent trip, when you are back home all you have are your thoughts to tide you over until your next visit. Unless you are like me and that fiery hot cock is what sets your memories ablaze. And your taste buds afire.

Nam jim Sriracha, or sot Sriracha, is a popular condiment, a staple you’ll find on the table when eating just about anywhere in Bangkok. My first introduction to the spicy sauce was – like for many first-time visitors to the Kingdom – accidental. There was a slightly faded unlabeled plastic squeeze bottle on the table at lunch one day, more orange in color than the traditional red container that holds catsup elsewhere in the world, but then I’d already noticed Thais tend to put their own little twist to what should be the common and ordinary – like paper napkins that are a quarter the size you find anywhere else on the planet – so no problemo. I squeezed out a healthy pool of the goop onto my french fries and dug in. Yikes! It was the gastronomical surprise equivalent of finding out the lady you picked up the night before is really a boy. And just like many punters who have found themselves addicted to a whole new world when that happens, I too immediately became hooked on Thailand’s chili sauce and its perfect blend of sweet, sour, and heat – with a wonderfully stimulating incendiary kick. My friend Ann, to whom I passed the bottle sans warning, was not quite as appreciative.

For a newbie to Thailand, eating Thai food amongst the locals can be confusing. You can’t help but wonder why there is a bowlful of white sugar on the table when you sit down for your first meal of pad thai. Watch the locals and you’ll know. And as dubious as you may find the custom to be, a liberal dousing of that sugar on your plate will teach you what pad thai is really all about. As long as you didn’t forget to sprinkle a few spoonfuls of chopped peanuts on top too. There is no question about how to use sriracha sauce, You put it on everything. No self-respecting Thai will chow down on an omelette, noodles, or anything that has been grilled and deep-fried without adding a few good squirts of sriracha.

This is what heaven looks like.

This is what heaven looks like.

The new tastes you are introduced to when visiting a foreign land often leave a lasting impression. One your taste buds want to experience again and again. Short of immediately booking a return ticket to that locale, you can do without and dream of the day when you can drool in person once again. Or you can fly home with what you hope is a large enough stock until you have the chance to fly back and get more.

Every trip I make to Bali I load up an empty suitcase with Bali coffee; there is no other way to get that inch thick layer of mud at the bottom of your coffee cup than going to the source. On my first visit to Cambodia I fell in love with amok – tried to convinced myself I shouldn’t eat the exact same thing every day for both lunch and dinner and then negated that concern when I found out you can have the dish made with fish, pork, chicken, or beef – and stocked up on small pre-mixed spice packs to create the same taste sensation back home. Trying to smuggle in a few cases of Thai chili sauce isn’t quite as easy. If the Customs agent is a fellow sriracha addict, it may be confiscated.

Fortunately a quick visit to the Asian food aisle at my local supermarket took care of my Thai chili sauce withdrawal problem. They did not stock any orange squeeze bottles of the stuff, but one glance at the clear glass bottle sporting a feisty rooster as its logo was all it took. The name sounded Thai, the indecipherable calligraphy on the bottle suggested a SE Asian origin, and the angry, liquidy red-orange paste looked just like what had become my favorite topping for any dish. As soon as I hit home I dug out a spoon and mainlined a healthy dose of the stuff. It tasted like world peace.

Huy Fong’s Sriracha Hot Chilli Sauce is available at your closest Asian grocery store. And Walmart.

Huy Fong’s Sriracha Hot Chilli Sauce is available at your closest Asian grocery store. And Walmart.

Huy Fong Foods’ tangy Sriracha Hot Chilli Sauce is not the exact same thing you get in Thailand. A bit spicier, with more garlic and a little sugar, it is a close second. And despite what many assume, it is not a product of Thailand either. It’s made in California from pureed and aged ripe jalapenos, salt, vinegar, garlic powder, and sugar. The now famous red rooster can be found at most supermarkets in the U.S., and is a ubiquitous condiment at every Thai and Vietnamese restaurant in the States. In 2010 it was named Ingredient of the Year by Bon Appétit magazine attesting to the country’s top chefs’ love affair with the tangy sauce. Even Lay’s Potato Chips has come out with a sriracha-flavored version of their popular snack food.

And as many have learned, sriracha is more addictive than crack.

Some fans profess the only things you shouldn’t put sriracha on are your eyeballs and genitals. True aficionados only agree on the eyeball part of that short list. Google ‘sriracha recipes’ and you are in for a gastronomical treat with thousands of concoctions your little heart could never have dreamed of. Check out this one for Sriracha ice cream sandwiches and you’d swear the merit you’ve gained from letting all this caged birds fly free in Thailand is paying off early. And if the red cock gets you really hot and bothered, you can buy Sriracha water bottles, aprons, hats, t-shirts, and even boxer shorts to add a little Thai-inspired spice to your best buddy’s best buddy.

If setting fire to your taste buds is your thing, you know hot sauces are a dime a dozen. It seems a week doesn’t pass that someone somewhere hasn’t brought a new one to market in hopes of capitalizing on America’s love affair with heat. But Huy Fong’s Sriracha is different; it’s not just a condiment that immediately reminds you of what you had to eat the night before while taking your morning constitutional. The company’s version of the chili sauce indigenous to Sri Racha – a seaside town in Chonburi Province south of Pattaya where homemade chili pastes are favored and from whence Huy Fong’s version gets its name – is not even hot when you put it in your mouth. At first it is just a complex, earthy kind of chili-pepper flavor, thick, robust and almost like tomato sauce. It’s more of a chili-relish than a traditional hot sauce.

Fiery poetry in motion @ Huy Fong Foods’ plant in Southern California. .

Fiery poetry in motion @ Huy Fong Foods’ plant in Southern California. .

But then somewhere between swallowing and digesting, it hits you. Your eyes water, your nose begins to run, and you start stealing every glass of water in sight. A few minutes later that burn starts to set in on your tongue. Permanently. A few minutes after that you begin craving another hit from that clear plastic bottle with the green cap and text in five languages surrounding the cocky rooster logo that will haunt your dreams. And David Tran, an ethnic Chinese man born in Vietnam is to blame. Well, the 1984 Olympic Summer Games held in Los Angeles is partially responsible too.

“After I came to America,” says Tran, “after I came to Los Angeles, I remember seeing Heinz 57 ketchup and thinking: ‘The 1984 Olympics are coming. How about I come up with a Tran 84, something I can sell to everyone?’” Knowing that the hordes of Vietnamese who’d settled in the area would want a hot sauce for their pho – a beef broth and noodle soup that is the de facto national dish of Vietnam – Tran wanted to cash in on that need, but also wanted a product he could sell to more than just the Vietnamese.

Back in Vietnam Tran had made his living from making sauces from peppers that he sold to small shops and restaurants around his village just north of Saigon. The most popular was an oil-based sauce he sold as a dip for the small morsels of beef found in bowls of pho; it was more popular as a sauce for roasted dog. Though he never named his spicy concoctions, he decorated each cap with a rooster, his astrological sign. Keeping his trademark fowl for his American brand of the sauce, and hoping to appeal to a wider, multicultural dining audience Tran used five languages – Vietnamese, Chinese, English, French and Spanish – on the bottles’ labels. Huy Fong’s Sriracha is not quite the version found in Thailand, nor is it a match for the spicy sauces of Tran’s home country, rather it is a conglomeration of ethnic chili purees aimed at pleasing American palets too. “I know it’s not a Thai sriracha,” says Tran. “It’s my sriracha.”

hot cock 5

Tran likes to tell people that all he did was grind peppers, add garlic, and bottle it. That’s like saying Muhammad Ali was just a good dancer in the ring. His simple and yet complex condiment is an American success story, even if it does taste like SE Asia. And fans of the Red Cock are legion; more than 10 million bottles of sriracha now roll off of Huy Fong’s production line each year. The product’s popularity has given birth to an industry of competitors, a dash of karma with a nod to Asia’s well-known affinity for producing knock-offs of any successful brand of anything. Grocery store shelves are now filled with imitators, some from Vietnam, some from China, and yes, even some from Thailand. All bearing its company’s namesake animal at the center of the bottle, some copying Huy Fong’s signature scripts, many topping off their bottles with Huy Fong’s distinctive green cap.

I fell in love with Thailand’s version of sriracha a good twenty years ago, then happily settled for – and became addicted to – Huy Fong’s Sriracha Hot Chili Sauce for use back home. And have since realized it is a gateway sauce to an even spicier jones. Today I sneer at the wimpy sriracha Huy Fong produces and head straight for the company’s Chili Garlic Sauce – a thicker, more garlicky, and twice as spicy chutney-like product that easily spoons into any dish you are making. Substituting it when mixing a Cocky Rooster – an Asian riff on the Mexican beer with hot sauce michelada – will cure whatever ails ya. It also goes great with chicken, or as I like to think of it: a little chicken added to your chili garlic sauce ain’t bad. Except when I’m in Thailand. Then, before taking a seat at a local restaurant I just make sure one of those orangey, off-colored squeeze bottles is present. Because then I know all is right with the world.

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Monday Muscle #77

17 Monday Jun 2013

Posted by Bangkokbois in It's A Gay World, Monday Muscle

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Since he’s sporting Nike’s logo, I’ll go with: Just Do Him.

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16 Sunday Jun 2013

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Jabba The Butt discovers he needs a housekeeper more than he does a Phi Mo.

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Timmy!

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Stay In Bed Sunday #76

16 Sunday Jun 2013

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I know. But it is not photoshopped.

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