Confession Speech (Déjà Vu, Of Course )
My grandfather is a great, great man. If I have to choose one person to entitle (I only say so because it makes me feel like a big deal) him as my life-altering hero who inspired my passion and dream, it should be him, with Alan Shore, Don Draper off the table. A true warrior, a modern Achilles who have survived actual firearms shower. He even got a fraction of one bullet stuck in the knee bone. The entire republic was brought forth by the giant hands full of his and his fellow people’s injuries, and founded on the keystone within which lives and blood belonging to his countrymen was pooled.
My grandfather is one of the few least chatty men in the whole world, though from time to time his unexpected remarks stir your being from the very core. So he is not a man of words, but surely a man of his words. He never talked about the bullet buried in his knee. The whole family doesn’t know a thing about it until the time he went to the hospital for check-in. They X-rayed him, with the knee being covered. The scene couldn’t be worse: there was a big creepy shadow right in the middle of the photo, and it looked like the black stuff was about to pop out into your face in any minutes. I think it wouldn’t be a good time to not to cry even if it is a diamond that grows right out of your bone. The doctors were convinced that chance was bad it was a good thing. It really freaked my family out. My mother and my aunts cried like babies. Finally they calmed down and brought the news to my grandfather. To everyone’s surprise, the old champ spoke up lightly, “It’s a bullet, no big deal.”
Kids in my family wonder frequently why our grandfather talks so little about his glorious days and all the war stories. When I grow up, I start to know a little by a little: man like him doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone. Just take a look at the country we have now. Damn good feet to stand on.
Because he is such a hero to me, I buy everything he ever says to me. When I was a toddler, it was a time of big change. The biggest sucker in the history of communist revolution, Gorbachov, was busy tearing down the Soviet Union for his Nobel Peace Prize. With the advantage of hindsight, people like Stalin or Khrushchev is nothing but a bunch of duchebags to me. But I do remember Gorbachov, because he has this ugly and stupid birthmark right in the middle of his bald head. So, what you say, when it comes to knowing your audience or public relations, presentation is everything.
There is another reason why this Gorbachov person impressed me so much. Every time he showing off his ass face in the TV, my grandfather would grab me by his side and asked me, “What would you like to do in the future?” Then I was at the age having no idea about what was “do”, not to mention future. So as soon as I appeared to be lost in sea, my grandfather would answer for me:” To be the president.”(Because that duchebag Gorbachov crowned himself with the title “President”. Pretty cool for a communist guy calling his colleagues “comrades”, huh? ) Whatever my grandfather nurtured me with through this very conduct is so inspired, except the fact that he said,”当棕桶” rather than “当总统”.
This honest mistake was due to his Shandong accented mandarin. If there is anyone to be blamed for, CPC should shoulder the entire responsibility. Because for the sake of kissing Stalin’s ass, they forced him and men of his age to learn to speak the freaking Russian which of course had many of his time wasted, which should be spent on the practicing of mandarin.
Fortunately I get my taste of language directly from my grandfather, not his taste of Russian language.
No matter what, if he considered me as a president material, it would be wrong I am not to be one. Even though at that time I had no idea about what was president, because we didn’t have one in our country. However, I was still pretty convinced it was my destiny to fulfill my grandfather’s prophecy. So I went to the US, not only because they actually own a president, but also they say in the US, the dreamland, anybody can have a shot with the presidency. To some extent, it is true. You see this Bill Clinton person, a ginger boy with his hair dyed white, broken childhood and a redneck drunken junkie stepfather who shot his wife and son for fun. Seriously, who can be more white-trashier than he is? If he can be the president, hell yeah I should be one. They say one apple a day keeps the doctor away. Given my pre-condition as a Chinese, there is no chance I could get health insurance, I choose New York, the big apple.
Unfortunately, my first attempt bumped into the idiot bushie kid. He has a deep-pocketed and ex-president father, the kinds of people by whom I simply don’t have a shot to be given birth. I’m not sure what he did in Vietnam or whether he went there or not in the first place, but it seemed like the whole country bought the idea that his a war hero. So I lost in a landslide. I didn’t blame anyone. For I am just a pale yellow skin without blue blood in my veins, while he used to be an oil field worker. How the hell am I supposed to be more tanned than him? Like I said before, presentation is everything.
So I got myself tanned and tried to hit the ground going again 8 years later. But this time, my effort lost in vain again, for the one I was up against was Barack Obama. How the hell was I supposed to be more …….? Seriously, are you kidding me?
Truth was at first I didn’t lose heart. Though I couldn’t afford a blackberry to do all those harassing textings, and I failed to pay the bill for my lan so there was no way I could set up a webcam using my facebook profile, which of course were my shortcomings. Still I was pretty sure I’ve got a shot. I mean, he is a half black and half white. If you wanna make a real change, you should start from a real stuff, like a pale pure chink, rather than some fake African-American beautiful face.
Besides, this time I got savvier, slicker and more sophisticated than ever before. I knew even those American stupid kids nowadays worshiped brainless space cowboy increasingly, it didn't conflict with the fact they still loved Big Warrior, or GI Joe more than nearly everything. I worked my ass off sucking up the butt of my prospective voters like I never sucked before. I chose my campaign catchwords carefully, , not some "Yes We Can" or "Change We Can Believe" retarded craps. Those were not slogans. Those were things you would say when you failed to come up with anything to say in the first place.
So, my slogan was, wait for it. Listen up. Yes, it was "To Be the President". It served as the warmest and the most inspiring reminder of my grandfather, the great great War Hero.
Actually, it got almost the full package. The ambition, the GI Joe sensation, and totally picturing me as a humble boy, who merely escaped the persecution of an underdeveloped country's despotic tyrant, pursuing his own American Dream.
Furthermore we Chinese people are the hardest working type in the US. Not being dramatic, part of Uncle Sam built on our sweaty foreheads and damp backs. I think you got my point.
Right, exactly. The American Dream of a hardworking Chinese boy like me, is all wet dreams!
Come on, who wouldn't love it?
That time, when that stupid CNN reporter trying to ambush me with his creepy camera and micro, I shouted out loud my catchwords without hesitation.. I thought I handled this very PR crisis pretty cool except the part I said, "当棕桶！"
This accident got me something to blame for the second loss. It is a sort of tradition when people fail, they start finger pointing as soon as possible. I didn't want to lose face for not name-calling the members of my campaign team just because I didn't have one in the first place.
Maybe it is not the best thing to confess I lose one general election twice. But surely it is a shame to be afraid of admitting the failure, facing it and dealing with it. I’m a civilized gentleman. What I should do is to show my manners. Congratulations, President Barack Obama. You are my president. Please don’t deport me back to China. I know my visa is going to be expired for I fail to get this job again. But I’m also a man who will never be shy from warfare. Next time we engage in the battleground, I will show my true colours. We are at the frontier of big time change. Surf on top of the defining moment and dive for the breakthrough.
My grandfather is one of the few least chatty men in the whole world, though from time to time his unexpected remarks stir your being from the very core. So he is not a man of words, but surely a man of his words. He never talked about the bullet buried in his knee. The whole family doesn’t know a thing about it until the time he went to the hospital for check-in. They X-rayed him, with the knee being covered. The scene couldn’t be worse: there was a big creepy shadow right in the middle of the photo, and it looked like the black stuff was about to pop out into your face in any minutes. I think it wouldn’t be a good time to not to cry even if it is a diamond that grows right out of your bone. The doctors were convinced that chance was bad it was a good thing. It really freaked my family out. My mother and my aunts cried like babies. Finally they calmed down and brought the news to my grandfather. To everyone’s surprise, the old champ spoke up lightly, “It’s a bullet, no big deal.”
Kids in my family wonder frequently why our grandfather talks so little about his glorious days and all the war stories. When I grow up, I start to know a little by a little: man like him doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone. Just take a look at the country we have now. Damn good feet to stand on.
Because he is such a hero to me, I buy everything he ever says to me. When I was a toddler, it was a time of big change. The biggest sucker in the history of communist revolution, Gorbachov, was busy tearing down the Soviet Union for his Nobel Peace Prize. With the advantage of hindsight, people like Stalin or Khrushchev is nothing but a bunch of duchebags to me. But I do remember Gorbachov, because he has this ugly and stupid birthmark right in the middle of his bald head. So, what you say, when it comes to knowing your audience or public relations, presentation is everything.
There is another reason why this Gorbachov person impressed me so much. Every time he showing off his ass face in the TV, my grandfather would grab me by his side and asked me, “What would you like to do in the future?” Then I was at the age having no idea about what was “do”, not to mention future. So as soon as I appeared to be lost in sea, my grandfather would answer for me:” To be the president.”(Because that duchebag Gorbachov crowned himself with the title “President”. Pretty cool for a communist guy calling his colleagues “comrades”, huh? ) Whatever my grandfather nurtured me with through this very conduct is so inspired, except the fact that he said,”当棕桶” rather than “当总统”.
This honest mistake was due to his Shandong accented mandarin. If there is anyone to be blamed for, CPC should shoulder the entire responsibility. Because for the sake of kissing Stalin’s ass, they forced him and men of his age to learn to speak the freaking Russian which of course had many of his time wasted, which should be spent on the practicing of mandarin.
Fortunately I get my taste of language directly from my grandfather, not his taste of Russian language.
No matter what, if he considered me as a president material, it would be wrong I am not to be one. Even though at that time I had no idea about what was president, because we didn’t have one in our country. However, I was still pretty convinced it was my destiny to fulfill my grandfather’s prophecy. So I went to the US, not only because they actually own a president, but also they say in the US, the dreamland, anybody can have a shot with the presidency. To some extent, it is true. You see this Bill Clinton person, a ginger boy with his hair dyed white, broken childhood and a redneck drunken junkie stepfather who shot his wife and son for fun. Seriously, who can be more white-trashier than he is? If he can be the president, hell yeah I should be one. They say one apple a day keeps the doctor away. Given my pre-condition as a Chinese, there is no chance I could get health insurance, I choose New York, the big apple.
Unfortunately, my first attempt bumped into the idiot bushie kid. He has a deep-pocketed and ex-president father, the kinds of people by whom I simply don’t have a shot to be given birth. I’m not sure what he did in Vietnam or whether he went there or not in the first place, but it seemed like the whole country bought the idea that his a war hero. So I lost in a landslide. I didn’t blame anyone. For I am just a pale yellow skin without blue blood in my veins, while he used to be an oil field worker. How the hell am I supposed to be more tanned than him? Like I said before, presentation is everything.
So I got myself tanned and tried to hit the ground going again 8 years later. But this time, my effort lost in vain again, for the one I was up against was Barack Obama. How the hell was I supposed to be more …….? Seriously, are you kidding me?
Truth was at first I didn’t lose heart. Though I couldn’t afford a blackberry to do all those harassing textings, and I failed to pay the bill for my lan so there was no way I could set up a webcam using my facebook profile, which of course were my shortcomings. Still I was pretty sure I’ve got a shot. I mean, he is a half black and half white. If you wanna make a real change, you should start from a real stuff, like a pale pure chink, rather than some fake African-American beautiful face.
Besides, this time I got savvier, slicker and more sophisticated than ever before. I knew even those American stupid kids nowadays worshiped brainless space cowboy increasingly, it didn't conflict with the fact they still loved Big Warrior, or GI Joe more than nearly everything. I worked my ass off sucking up the butt of my prospective voters like I never sucked before. I chose my campaign catchwords carefully, , not some "Yes We Can" or "Change We Can Believe" retarded craps. Those were not slogans. Those were things you would say when you failed to come up with anything to say in the first place.
So, my slogan was, wait for it. Listen up. Yes, it was "To Be the President". It served as the warmest and the most inspiring reminder of my grandfather, the great great War Hero.
Actually, it got almost the full package. The ambition, the GI Joe sensation, and totally picturing me as a humble boy, who merely escaped the persecution of an underdeveloped country's despotic tyrant, pursuing his own American Dream.
Furthermore we Chinese people are the hardest working type in the US. Not being dramatic, part of Uncle Sam built on our sweaty foreheads and damp backs. I think you got my point.
Right, exactly. The American Dream of a hardworking Chinese boy like me, is all wet dreams!
Come on, who wouldn't love it?
That time, when that stupid CNN reporter trying to ambush me with his creepy camera and micro, I shouted out loud my catchwords without hesitation.. I thought I handled this very PR crisis pretty cool except the part I said, "当棕桶！"
This accident got me something to blame for the second loss. It is a sort of tradition when people fail, they start finger pointing as soon as possible. I didn't want to lose face for not name-calling the members of my campaign team just because I didn't have one in the first place.
Maybe it is not the best thing to confess I lose one general election twice. But surely it is a shame to be afraid of admitting the failure, facing it and dealing with it. I’m a civilized gentleman. What I should do is to show my manners. Congratulations, President Barack Obama. You are my president. Please don’t deport me back to China. I know my visa is going to be expired for I fail to get this job again. But I’m also a man who will never be shy from warfare. Next time we engage in the battleground, I will show my true colours. We are at the frontier of big time change. Surf on top of the defining moment and dive for the breakthrough.
有关键情节透露
