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Two skull rings.

The Yucch-meter’s deliberations on LitWit Challenge 3.12: Conversations in restaurants will appear this weekend, followed by the announcement of the winner.

Photography by Anton Corbijn. ‘The Dark Clown on a Chicken Farm’

Today’s Tom Waits songs is a request from our columnist Jon Morales. It’s a Christmas song, perfect for when you’re sitting in heavy traffic wondering where that peace and goodwill to all men is off to.

Where exactly do you ask for directions? South Africa, 2009 by Jaime.

samutsari: The author of Men Are From Mars . . . was right. Men don’t want to ask for directions, even if they’re driving around in circles and you’re late for your meeting. Are you like that too? Is this something inherent in the male chromosome?

Jon says: I’m not lost. I’m exploring.

I actually ask for directions quite often but only because I’m in foreign cities so often. In my ‘home’ cities I will absolutely refuse to ask for directions. Because being able to say “See? I told you I knew where I was going” smugly is far more satisfying then getting there in a reasonable amount of time.

Using Google Maps is cheating in case you were wondering. And yes I’m sure this alley leads to the restaurant.

samutsari: The men in my family hate going to the doctor. The women if they feel something want to know what’s wrong right away. The men don’t want to, until they’re about to die. What’s a good explanation for this?

Jon says: It’s a little funny this question should come up right now. At this very moment my list of injuries includes: a damaged middle and ring finger on my right hand (since end of August, not sure if it’s broken or maybe just ligament damage), I can’t straighten my right arm because there’s something wrong with my elbow (since last Saturday), and a bad cough (since Sunday). I haven’t gone to see the doctor and I don’t intend to.

I usually don’t go to the doctor until the final moment when I’m on the edge of not being able to take myself there. Hence my question regarding ambulances in Manila; it’s a rather pressing concern for me considering my penchant for getting injured or sick and waiting for the final moment to do anything about it.

It’s probably a combination of wanting to tough it out, laziness, and distrust of doctors. In my own case I tend to know that I probably won’t follow through on treatment on something I consider fairly minor so a diagnosis doesn’t really benefit me in any way. For example, my fingers still mostly work so I wouldn’t get surgery, and immobilizing them I could very well do myself so why waste a day going to the doctor? Just rub some dirt in it kiddo, you’ll be fine.

RightClicker: How do you go about dating when you’re in a foreign land i.e. China? Do you tend to date local girls or expats? In dating local girls, what quirks should you take into consideration? Lastly, with all the girls you’ve dated (I’m assuming plenty hehe) have you noticed any universal dating behavior across different cultures so far?

Jon says: Examining your own tendencies is always difficult but I don’t think I have any strong tendencies either way. The major factor to take into consideration as an expat when dating a local girl is that they are in the place they live, usually they place they have always lived. When you are an expat there is always a feeling that this is probably just temporary, a chapter in your life. That chapter may end up lasting 40 years and the rest of your life, but it may just as well end tomorrow.

I know, I know, you can say that about life in general and carpe diem and live every day like it’s your last and so on, but the reality of it squats in the corner of your room every day when you are an expat. “If things go down the drain I can just take a runner.”

That thought is always there, some times more consciously than others. The local girl you are dating? She’s not taking a runner anywhere. So there’s that. Without a specific location though it’s hard to say what the specific quirks of ‘local’ girls are.

Expats, though, have quirks that can be generalized I think. They tend to be self-centered. I don’t mean that in a derogatory way. Just that the mindset it takes to up and leave the place you have known all your life on your own, for whatever reason, means that you can break the social ties that bind everyone easier than the average person. They tend to be a little weirder than the average person from their own society. They tend to be self-sufficient and dating one means that not only do you have to contend with other people (third-parties) but also with their comfort and ease in being alone since it clearly doesn’t scare them. Oh, and sometimes they take runners.

Across different cultures the only universal truths about women I’ve discovered is they all wish I’d shave my goatee after about a month, clean my room more often, and stop smoking.

As for the how, well I just meet as many people as I possibly can. That’s just the basics of survival when moving to a foreign city. You have to get involved and I try to make it a balance between ‘local’ activities, ‘expat’ activities, and ‘mixed’ activities. Just meet as many people as I can, find the prettiest, coolest girl and say “Hi. I’m Jon.” Winning smile. Hope she smiles back.

kumagcow: If you had a chance to run this country, what would you do differently?

Jon says: I want to answer this question very badly. In fact the delay in this post was me mulling over whether I could get away with saying something on this question. In the end it’s probably best that I don’t express my genuine feelings on this subject as a matter of permanent public record; I’d have to pull so many punches I might as well not say anything at all rather than waste your time with empty words and motherhood statements. If you see me wandering around Manila feel free to ask me though, and I will talk your ear off about it until you wish you had never asked me in the first place.

I don’t want that to be an implied criticism of Manila or a suggestion that I don’t like this city or country though. I think, though, that it would be dishonest not to admit that there are a lot of things that need to be fixed here. Which is good for me because I’ll probably have a job for a long time.

One thing I would definitely do if I could do things differently that I can say out loud is get rid of the people who do ‘security’ checks everywhere with the magic stick. I’d put them to work doing something even just a little bit more productive, instead of making it more difficult for me to get into the MRT station every morning and night. Like oh, I don’t know, making people not stand in front of the doorway and block it when it opens so exiting passengers can get out.

Got a question for Jon Morales our straight guy advice columnist? Post it in Comments and Jon will get back to you next week.

Our favorite singer-songwriter celebrates his birthday on December 7. We hereby declare it Tom Waits Week on this site, and every day we are going to post videos of our essential Tom Waits songs.

Here’s one we love, from his early years: it pretty much sums up our relationship histories. Unfortunately they never made a music video of it; then again our histories ain’t pretty.

There’s an earlier version of this song here; spot the differences.

“They have a cave troll!”

Psychological research has proven again and again that anonymity increases unethical behavior. Road rage bubbles up in the relative anonymity of one’s car. And in the online world, which can offer total anonymity, the effect is even more pronounced. People — even ordinary, good people — often change their behavior in radical ways. There’s even a term for it: the online disinhibition effect.

Read Online, Anonymity Breeds Contempt in the NYT.

Conversations in restaurants: the Pulp Fiction hommage.

– Garcon, I would like a Milo McFlurry please.
– What did you just call me?
– Garcon, it means “boy”. . .I’m sorry, I had not realized. . .your hair is very short.
– Are you calling me a transvestite?
– Of course not, my view was blocked by the planter.
– Are you suggesting that I’m short?
– I am not suggesting it, I am stating it as fact.
– My height is average for Filipinos.
– Oui, I understand. I would like a Milo-
– How tall are you?
– Pardon?
– How tall. Are you.
– I am 1.93 metres tall.
– How much is that in feet?
– I do not know feet, I am French. We use the metric system.
– Just because you’re a pituitary case you think you can call people midgets.
– I do not know that word “midget”. I called you “garcon”.
– How would you feel if I called you kapre?
– Nothing, I do not know what that is. May I order now please. I would like a Milo McFlurry.
– Where do you think you are, McDonald’s? This is a fine dining establishment, we don’t serve McFlurries.
– Ah, my mistake. Then I would like a Royale with Cheese.
– We’re not in France. Here it’s called Quarterpounder with Cheese.
– But I do not know pounds. . .
– Yeah, yeah, the French, metric system. You want French fries with that?
– French fries?
– You don’t know French fries? Fried potatoes.
– Oh, pommes-frites. Yes.
– You want ketchup with that?
– Mayonnaise.
– (Freak.)
– (Midget.)

There. We are hommaged out. Write me a conversation that is not about itself.

Listen to the Parisian trio We Are Enfant Terrible.

We Are Enfant Terrible – Wild Child (Chew Lips Remix) by Last Gang Entertainment