Instead of doing what most civil servants do and spend most of the day twiddling thumbs — moyu (摸魚, “stroking fish”), as it’s known in Mandarin — Kuo is accused of living up to his job title (director of the information division in the Toronto representative office) by disseminating information … on the Internet under the pseudonym of Fan Lan-chin (范蘭欽).
In his “articles,” Kuo referred to Taiwanese as taibazi (台巴子, “Taiwanese rednecks”) and wokou (倭寇, “Jap pirates”), while calling Taiwan a guidao (鬼島, “ghost island” or “island of demons”) and saying the Chicoms should cleanse it with blood.
And to think that Kuo, who looks like former US vice president Dick Cheney’s evil Dragon twin, was taking our tax dollars all the while.
The furor over Kuo’s alleged handiwork has resulted in much discussion of the phrase “high-class Mainlanders” (高級外省人) — used for the elite of Chinese society who escaped to Taiwan with the Peanut clan, and which Kuo apparently called himself.
But I’m a bit bemused by what “high class” means here.
Does he mean “high class” in that it’s OK to live off the tax dollars of people you spend your spare time excoriating? Or “high class” in the respect that it’s OK to defraud people for 14 years while having dual nationality? Or “high class” in that it’s OK to weasel your way into the chairmanship of a high-profile company through family connections even though you’ve got absolutely no relevant experience — and without the slightest bit of shame?
Are these the kind of “high-class people” he’s talking about?
As for Kuo’s insults, I’ll take them as a compliment. I always wanted to be a pirate as a child.
Personally, I can’t see why everyone is so surprised. It’s not like we don’t hear this kind of stuff on a regular basis.
Why, only last week KMT Legislator Lu Chia-chen (盧嘉辰) said that Kaohsiung Mayor Chen Chu’s (陳菊) stroke was karmic retaliation for her decision to tear down a statue of the Peanutissimo.
What’s really surprising is that it appears the plebs who vote for these people really think that Lien and his KMT buddies are at home in the company of their xiangqin (鄉親, “hometown folk”).
Doesn’t the fact that hardly any of these blue bloods speak the lingua franca after spending practically their whole lives here tell you something?
As another example, one only has to think back to the expression on Ma’s face as he handed out red envelopes to the lumbering masses at Ma Village in Miaoli at the Lunar New Year.
It was like, “Beam me up, Scotty.”
For the urban gentry, pressing the flesh with your rustic cousins is like eating your mother-in-law’s food: It’s something you really don’t want to do. But you know you have to, otherwise you’ll be up Dabian Creek without a paddle.
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