9

I hate grocery shopping by myself, especially when my parents make me come here to Culver Plaza, the Chinatown of Irvine and ergo Orange County. It's always crowded with Asian people of course, all looking for a wide selection of cheap Asian goods. Now when I say cheap, I don't mean just the price; I also mean the quality. Many people are aware of lead toys manufactured in China, but not many are aware of cadmium-laden kitchenware, which has been linked to birth defects and cancer; or chopped up pieces of bleached cardboard in frozen wontons; or contaminated, toxic pet food that has killed a copious number of animals here in the United States; or milk and baby formula laced with melamine, a banned industrial chemical, the same chemical used in the contaminated, toxic pet food; or the extreme levels

— of formaldehyde normally for embalming dead bodies used in clothing, and unbelievably,—
also in noodles, which prompted the shutdown of one of the biggest noodle manufacturers in China. Not to mention the complete violation of human rights and the advocacy of slave labor, but of course, Asians don't care because it's always about the money, so ethical and moral values go out the window.

It's not just with the Chinese; the Vietnamese also use formaldehyde in their noodles, and the Thais fry their foods with thin layers of plastic lacquer for a crispier texture whatever— it takes to make a buck, never mind your health. I find it interesting that Asian people like to buy the most expensive houses and the most expensive cars, yet, they shop for the absolute cheapest food, groceries, cleaning products, kitchenware anything else, you name it. Asians—
will only spend lots of money on items that they can show off but be cheap with items that they can't.

In Asia, for instance, there is a flood of counterfeit aka knock-off items from fake — —
designer clothes and accessories to fake Rolex watches and mobile phones anything else,— you name it. Remember what I said about Asians wanting to show off? Asians love to buy fake name-brand clothing and other fake name-brand items in order to show off Asian Pride— Theorem Number 2: Status; because it's cheap Asian Pride Theorem Number 1: Money;—

—

 

and it gets them attention from people Asian Pride Theorem Number 3: Power.

Getting attention is a personal power that really means nothing to anyone else, but as long as they can impress their friends and family, then that's the only power that they need— just like Asian parents with personal power to control their kids; it means nothing to anyone else, but it means everything to them. You can see how all of this goes back to my Asian Pride Theorems; I really can reveal the truths about Asian culture with just my three Asian Pride Theorems.

I completely check off everything on my shopping list so I head back to my car without haste, since my parents always get on my case for taking too long. As I approach my car, I can see a short, old man with whitish-gray hair, wearing a shirt with the acronym CIA and below it: Chinese In America. I giggle a little, thinking to myself, What a FOB, then opening the trunk of my car to put the groceries. He's proud to be Chinese in America that's cool; I— have no problem with that. In fact, I think that's great!

This reminds me of a job fair that I attended last summer at UCI. I saw a group of Chinese students handing out flyers and pamphlets, which proclaimed the burgeoning surge of Mandarin, the traditional Chinese language. They even had a huge banner with the title: Mandarin, The Language of the Future. How is Mandarin the language of the future when it's already been here for thousands of years? I understand what they mean about the growing importance of China politically and economically, thus, the growing importance of Mandarin,

— —but how many people do you know that are not Chinese who actually speak Mandarin? And I'm sure that the Chinese students at UCI are proud of the fact that Mandarin is the most

— spoken language in the world well, duh! There are over a billion people in China alone! Mandarin is localized to Chinese people. I don't see how it's the language of the future when only Chinese people, and maybe a few missionaries in China, speak Mandarin.

It's like with Yao Ming, a Chinese-born NBA basketball player; every person in China claims that he's the best center in the history of the NBA, yet he's never won a NBA championship, let alone winning even just one playoff series. Chinese people just jump on the bandwagon, only if it's something Chinese.If Yao Ming wasn't Chinese, people in China wouldn't say the same thing about him; if Michelle Wie wasn't Korean, people in Korea could care less about her; same with Paradorn Srichaphan if he wasn't Thai. Asians love to follow based on their own ethnic skin color. But following "yellow" doesn't necessarily mean it's good. Would you want to follow Mao Zedong, Pol Pot, or Kim Jong-il? If Asians want to follow, then follow on principle, not skin color. Anyway, in regards to Mandarin, it's not even the official Chinese language! China's official language is Simplified Chinese so even they don't use the real Mandarin!

I get the feeling that someone is looking over my shoulder so I turn around and sure enough, I see the old man with the CIA shirt staring right at me. I decide to stare back, not blinking or moving, like we're engaged in a dual yet the old man wouldn't budge! So I walk—
slowly to get inside my car and my eyes continue to lock with his to maintain our rigid, coupled stare. He's lucky that I have to get to the bank before it closes or else I'd be in big trouble. I guess no one's ever told him that staring is impolite.

I also hate going to the bank, especially when my parents make me do it, while they sit at home and watch the news all day, particularly on Asian news channels. Auntie does this as well; Gabriel's parents are the same. I can save them time and tell them what's on the news every single day: bad news, murder, bad news, war, bad news, and on and on. Since every day is the same crap, why bother watching it? The next day will air more bad news anyway, overshadowing the day before, so there's no point in watching it every single day if the news just gets worse and worse.

Besides, all news channels are owned by corporations so you get a daily overdose of corporate propaganda. Most people don't know that NBC is owned by General Electric or that ABC is owned by Walt Disney. And since these corporations have investment sponsors, that means that their financial interests come first, not the news. In fact, corporate mainstream media has been caught red-handed many times for airing "fake" news in order to boost ratings. If you don't believe me, just go to prwatch.org. But my parents don't care because they're completely brainwashed by watching so much television every day. It wouldn't hurt if they actually read once in a while instead of watching so much TV; I can't believe I'm having

—to say this such role reversal!

At least the line at the bank isn't long today. I usually come here to make a quick deposit each week for my parents, since I'm such a good son or rather, I'm such a bad son—
since they're making me do it. I feel a light tap on my right shoulder so I turn around to see an old lady, wearing a navy-blue voile print dress, her white hair pulled back with a large clip. She stares at me like a puppy that just peed on the rug.

“ ”Young man, what is your nationality? the old lady asks, not knowing that her inquiry is quite discourteous. I almost got into a scuffle with an old man earlier so I'm not about to make my day worse by messing with an old lady.

“My nationality is American, I reply correctly.”

 

“ ”No, no. What is your nationality? the old lady repeats, mistaken with her terminology.

I feel bad for correcting her, but she needs to learn not to be so impolite.
“My nationality is American. Nationality means your national status, as in the nation of
your citizenship. Perhaps you mean ethnicity or racial heritage, I correct her, with luminous”
clarity.
“ ”She looks at me with a confused gaze. So what are you? she asks for a third time.
Luckily, it's my turn to go up to the teller window so I leave her standing there, already
answering her question twice. I wish people would understand the difference between
something as simple as nationality and ethnicity. If she looks at her U.S. passport, it clearly
states: Nationality - United States of America. It doesn't state: Nationality - Old White Lady—
for crying out loud!
I don't know why I'm having to deal with old people today. This is the exact reason why
Americans put them in nursing homes. Too bad Asians don't put their parents and
grandparents in nursing homes, due to their austere obedience to culture and custom or so—
they would have you believe. In reality, they don't want their friends and relatives to talk bad
about them for putting their parents and grandparents in a nursing home, in order to save
face. Many Americans can't stand taking care of their parents and grandparents when they
get old. For the younger Asian generation, we don't have a choice in the matter, since our
parents and grandparents live with us when they're old. But on the bright side, when they start
living with us, it'll be our turn to spank and discipline them, like what they did to us when we
were kids! We'll get to tell them what to eat, what to wear, when to go to bed—I can't wait!
Payback's a bitch. Now that I'm done running my—I mean, my parents'—errands, I have to
get home and start doing my homework. Abject slavery never ends!
I enter my house, enjoying the silence, and walk into the kitchen for some organic
orange juice. As I pass by the kitchen table, I notice a pile of letters, most of them opened,
sitting on top of some junk mail. What catches my attention is the fact that several of those
opened letters are addressed to me. This really gets me angry. I hate it when my parents read
my mail. Asian parents think they have carte blanche to go through your mail, read your
personal diary, wiretap your phone using electronic eavesdropping and surveillance devices— okay, maybe that's a bit extreme. But it's not like I have a secret life outside of UCI, like being an agent for the FBI or running tactical reconnaissance missions for Special Ops; it's just simply a matter of respect. I don't go through their mail because I respect their privacy so they should reciprocate as well. Too bad Asian parents don't know what this word means, literally
andfiguratively.
My enjoyment of silence comes to a halt as I hear the piano playing from the living
room, which means that Jordan's back home, probably practicing to become an acclaimed
concert pianist just so that she can prove how much better she is than me not that it's really—
all that hard. Many Asian kids have spent countless hours at the piano, like Jordan and me.
My parents forced me to play the piano since I was in elementary school, telling me that I
would be successful in life if I played well. It's interesting how they started making me play the
piano per the advice of one of their Asian friends. I'm sure that Asian friend advised, Playing“
the piano looks good on the resume, for a good-paying job. It's sad that Asian parents force”
—their kids to play the piano or any instrument for that matter not for the love and—
appreciation of music, but just as a way to get ahead since it looks good on your resume. I
personally love playing the piano, from classical to contemporary, for the pure inspiration of
music. I resent my parents butchering this with their lust for a good-paying job.“ ” “ ”Jordan! Johnson! Come here! I hear Mommy crying from upstairs. Jordan and I rush
up to my parents' bedroom. Mommy is sitting on the bed, while talking on the phone, her eyes
filled with tears, yet, none of them falling. She raises her arm, beckoning us over and mutters,
“Grand Ma pass away this morning.”