It’s tough being stuck here in Asia’s backwater.
The world’s media is focused like a “laser beam” — as former US president Bill Clinton used to say — on China.
It’s got Tibet protests. It’s got an Olympic torch going up Mount Everest. It’s got rabid Chinese nationalists mobbing Carrefour hypermarts (actually a conspiracy hatched by Wal-Mart, but that’s another story).
Basically, the world is breathlessly focused on the Chicoms as they prepare for the most politically charged Olympic moment since the Soviet commie-fest in Moscow in 1980.
And what’s the global media reporting on in Taiwan?
“Nothing fishy about Taiwan nuke plant, snorkelers say.”
That headline — which should be punishable by law — comes courtesy of Reuters.
“As Taiwan heats up ahead of the summer, hundreds of beach bums are splashing down at a beach next to a nuclear power plant that spews cooling water straight into the ocean.”
Alarmed? You should be.
A few lines later, from the “why you shouldn’t talk to journalists because you’ll probably sound stupid, even if you’re not misquoted” department, we get this spectacularly vapid comment from a beachgoer:
“‘Taiwan people think that if you can’t see the danger, then danger basically doesn’t exist,’ said You Hui-chin, 37, as she dipped her toes in a tidal pool a few dozen meters from the cooling water outlet.”
All the article’s missing is the following:
“‘There’s no problem here,’ said Mu Tant-guy, 36, as he shoveled a local seafood specialty — irradiated skipjack — into his two mouths.”
But Reuters got the spooky details down all right:
“The brown domes of two nuclear plant towers loom in clear view of sunbathers on the white sands, while snorkelers paddle in a coral-rich inlet right next to the open, cement-sided cooling water outtake channel.”
Knuckle-tightening stuff, to be sure. Until you get to the clear statement from Taipower, at the veeerrry end of the story.
“‘Taiwan Power expels nothing radioactive, only water used to cool the reactors that produce seven percent of Taiwan’s electricity,’ said plant director Chen Pu-tsan.”
So is swimming near the reactor hazardous or not?
Er ... um ... not sure. But it made for a funny human interest story, didn’t it?
Then, in the “just when you thought the Americans couldn’t be more stupid” department, comes this gem from Agence France-Presse (AFP).
It reported that in 1958 the US Air Force was planning a nuclear strike on China, including sites in nearby Xiamen, if cross-strait conflict escalated.
Then-president Dwight D. Eisenhower insisted they change their planning, annoying the Dr Strangeloves in the Pentagon who wanted to take their tactical nuclear weapons for a test drive.
So what was poopy-pants Eisenhower so concerned about?
Says AFP: “What led the White House to change the ground rules was the recognition that atomic strikes had ‘inherent disadvantages’ — fallout would cause civilian casualties not only in China but in Taiwanese territory and the risk of nuclear escalation could present itself, the report said.”
So Washington looked at a map, basically. That allowed them to notice that their allies in Taiwan were just a few kilometers across the water in Kinmen and Matsu — and would inhale some serious second-hand smoke if the US nuked the Fujianese coast.
Gee, at least there was a time when US presidents were more intelligent than their advisers.
So much for the watchdog stuff this week. Frankly, ever since the 221 million Chinese Internet users began bellyaching about the global press and Tibet, media criticism has gotten a bad name.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m no slobbering fan of CNN — and that was before one of their more annoying anchors was stopped in Central Park with a sex toy in his “boot” and a rope around his pecker (gives “Zuoren bie tai CNN [Don’t Be Too CNN]” a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?).
But when millions of chauvinist Chicoms are devoting their time to photo-cropping analysis and intellectually bankrupt, misspelled rants in the “comments” sections of all major media Web sites, we have to wonder whether the Internet was really such a great invention after all.
At any rate, my recent sabbatical from the column gave me time to reflect and consider new career options. One conclusion: political satire isn’t cutting it anymore. It’s time to aim for the silver screen.
With that in mind, I’ve embarked on screenwriting to supplement my meager Taipei Times income.
It’s either that or sell betel nut — and as my gal Cathy Pacific can attest, it’s been at least three decades since I looked good in hotpants and glitter stilettos.
Besides, who can resist the dramatic possibilities in the current cross-strait courtship?
Herewith is my Hollywood treatment. Can a Best Foreign Language Film Oscar be far behind?
Look Me Strait In The Eye
It’s Brokeback Mountain meets Reds as cross-strait power politics takes a personal turn. Jet Li (李連杰) and Infernal Affairs’ Anthony Wong (黃秋生) star as Taiwan and China’s star-crossed presidents — separated by 60 years of cross-strait impasse, but brought together ... by destiny.
(The scene: Fernando’s seafood restaurant, Macau. Romantic lighting. Hu Jintao (胡錦濤) and Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) have just polished off a spicy lobster feast and two bottles of vinho verde. There is an uncomfortable silence. Hu fidgets with his napkin.)
Ma: So, all that stuff I said earlier this year about Tibet, um well, I didn’t really mean it. I just—
Hu: It’s okay, you ... you don’t have to explain.
(More uncomfortable silence.)
Ma: By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you all night, but haven’t had the courage. You’ve got really nice stats — your GDP is amazing.
Hu: Thanks, I’ve been working out. (Clears his throat) Say, I’ve got some Miles Davis CDs back at my hotel room. Have you ever heard his version of The East is Red? It’s really something ...
Ma: (coughs, squirms in his seat) Well, maybe another time, I—
Hu: (quickly) It’s okay, I shouldn’t have suggested—
Ma: It’s just a bit ... fast, you know?
Hu: Yes, yes.
Ma: And I’ve got to consider the 42 percent of the electorate that didn’t vote for me.
Hu: Certainly.
Ma: It’s not you, it’s me.
Hu: Please, there’s no need to—
Ma: Maybe another time ...
Hu: Yes, yes. (An embarrassed silence, then yells in a sharp Jiangsu accent) Waiter, the check!
(Two weeks later, the same restaurant. A bottle of vinho verde sits unopened on the table as Hu and Ma quarrel in low voices.)
Hu: I thought I told you not to make those kinds of comments anymore.
Ma: Listen, I had to say it, it was for my political base.
Hu: But on June 4? Just before the Olympics? Do you realize how much face I lost?
Ma: (annoyed) It’s about democratic politics — you wouldn’t understand.
Hu: Oh, there you go again.
Ma: We’re just from different worlds, that’s all.
Hu: (sharply) Stop baiting me!
Ma: (weepily) I was a fool to think it could work at all ...
Hu: (eyes darting around nervously) Shhh, stop crying. You’re embarrassing me.
Ma: A-bian was right. (Sniffles, dabbing eyes with napkin) I’m naive — hopelessly naive.
Hu: Don’t be so melodramatic — get a hold of yourself, man.
Ma: (gets up suddenly, his napkin falling to the floor) Call me when you’re grown up enough to understand democracy (stalks out, leaving Hu with the check).
Hu: (crying after him) Ma! Ma!
FINIS.
Interested film directors and studios can contact my agent, Dirk — try to catch him at Carnegie’s before he’s embarrassed himself yet again by cavorting on the bartop with a lingerie-clad 50-something.
Got something to tell Johnny? Go on, get it off your chest. Write to dearjohnny@taipeitimes.com, but be sure to put “Dear Johnny” in the subject line or he’ll mark your bouquets and brickbats as spam.
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