Sam spent his first couple weeks in Bangkok blindingly drunk, popping a cycle of Ritalin, Xanax and Viagra, and fucking every sizzling hot Asian slapper that struck his fancy.
Cancel Culture | Kim Cancer He’d spend the rest of his time sitting out on his hotel balcony, playing on his tablet, watching 1980s rock videos on YouTube and sipping cold beers.
His mind occasionally wandering, he’d tilt his head and stare wordlessly at the palm trees by the pool behind his hotel. He’d watch the palm trees sway in the humid breeze and would marvel at how they’d bend, those trees. But they never broke. Sam wanted to be like that, be like that tree, taking whatever Mother Nature, Man threw its way. Bending but not breaking.
But he couldn’t be that stoic. Truth was, deep down, the demons of regret clawed from their graves and returned to plague him. He started to miss his old life, his house, his man cave, even his ex-wife and the buttermilk pancakes and strips of bacon she’d make on Saturday mornings.
He missed his buddies, their poker games, and them together, drinking brews, eating nachos, watching football on Sundays. He missed his coworkers and the banter about Netflix shows by the water cooler… He missed his dog, the goofy golden retriever, playing fetch with him in the park…
And even though he was on an epic ass plundering spree, after the first 20
hookers he fucked, he was experiencing a diminishing return of joy. Soon, he started feeling nothing at all, basically like he was masturbating into a bag of warm flesh and bones.
It wasn’t that the Thai hookers made him feel sleazy.
He’d banged a couple call girls during his lonely days after his marriage ended, back in the States, and American hookers were always awful, always rushed and had a sense of shame to them. They were never fun. They made him feel like a big stinky piece of shit.
Cancel Culture | Kim Cancer But Thai hookers were different. They made it enjoyable, sensuous, made it feel like a normal thing. They kissed him. They smiled like they meant it. They were passionate, excited lovers, fucking gracefully and with expert precision.
The first week or two, they were incredible. Sam had imagined he’d be in heaven, always, fucking like this, fucking these exotic beauties, women far younger than him, him porn-fucking these college aged girls, girls that’d never talk to him in America, or would call him “sir” or “Mr. Philips” if they ever did.
But, somehow, the more hooker ass he got, the emptier he felt.
And one cloyingly hot afternoon, after a heavy binge of late morning drinking and Xanax, it occurred to him why he was feeling down. It was because he’d failed.
What he’d wanted to do, be a rock star, that was no longer an option. Not only was he too old, but no one listened to rock anymore. No one cared about rock.
Nowadays, it was all rap, EDM, pop. And all that music sucked. It all sounded the same. It was shit.
Not only today’s shitty music, but Sam felt disgusted at the turn popular culture had taken, too. People these days were selling their soul merely for viral fame, lip-synching and dancing like a fucktard for 6 seconds on TikTok.
There was such a thing as an “Instagram Influencer.” An annoying douchebag with a man-bun or stuck-up bitch posing and preening for selfies.
Cancel Culture | Kim Cancer He’d clutch his tablet in revulsion, the device burning under his fingernails, and he’d surf social media sites, snarling, thinking, “These were today’s stars? What was this shit? Why would anyone want to see this?”
Even worse, he discovered that there were people getting paid millions of dollars to play video games. Video games! Why would anyone be stupid enough to watch someone else PLAY video games?
The fact that YouTube video game stars like PewDiePie and Ninja actually existed made him want to vomit.
E-Sports? Professional gaming? This was a thing? A sport? What the fuck?
Playing video games was fun, sure, and he’d loved playing Nintendo as a kid. But watching someone else play video games? That was pathetic. People packing arenas to see THAT? Watch a scrawny nerd in a chair, with a headset, staring at a computer, playing VIDEO GAMES?? People PAID to watch that?
Sam just couldn’t wrap his head around it. What happened to rock n’ roll? Getting head in the backseat in the parking lot after a Mötley Crüe concert?
It was then reality set in. Sam realized his youth really was over. He was old.
When the moment comes that you think the younger generation sucks, their music sucks, you don’t “get” their hobbies, and you don’t understand them, that’s when you’re officially old. He knew it. He knew the sad truth.
And, if anything, too, he felt bad for the kids today. He’d see them, sitting together, only staring at their phones, never talking. That was all they did. He’d read online how the younger people were having less sex, too, just playing their
Cancel Culture | Kim Cancer stupid fucking phone games. That must be why they liked E-Sports. It was all they knew. Fucking sad.
He was glad he’d not grown up with smartphones and social media and E-Sports.
Sam knew how lucky he was to have seen bands like Mötley Crüe. Watched MTV
when it still mattered. Went to shows and parties where people talked to each other and got laid.
But those days were gone. It was the 2020s.
His time had come and passed. He could see jazz and swing band guys probably thinking the same about rock n’ roll all those years ago. Now it was his turn to be a dinosaur. He had to face it.
Bon Jovi was gone. Guns N’ Roses were pathetic old fat guys, old farts with hip replacements and hearing aids. Guns N’ Roses were hairy old geezers living off nostalgia. He’d seen a recent concert of theirs, and it was dreadful. Seeing it made him feel so old. Especially Axl Rose.
Axl Rose, who he’d come to detest, looked like a Karen meme. It was sad. He all of a sudden pitied Axl.
Axl Rose, the rock god, who stomped on, smashed his dreams to the floor like an insect, Axl was old as fuck and fat as shit. Axl had once been such a beautiful man.
Now look at him. A beached whale. Pitiful!
Not that Sam was much better. He too was an old fat guy. The lines on his forehead kept getting deeper, like slash marks from the scythe of time. The
Cancel Culture | Kim Cancer corners of his mouth were sagging farther and farther down, like a colorless rainbow.
And he’d been seeing pictures on Facebook of his college classmates, his former bandmates, and they all looked so fucking withered and old. Seeing their pictures, how aged they were, made him feel worse than when he’d look at himself in the mirror…
Dammit. He was such a fat old fuck.
What’s worse, he was an old fatso living off his ex-wife’s cash. Cash from shit, literally, from septic tanks.
Sam had never hated anyone as much as he hated himself. He saw himself in the reflection from his glass coffee table and winced like he just smelled a violent fart.
He grabbed a bottle of Black Label, guzzled a healthy slug of the smoky potion. He started thinking of heading back to America, maybe starting his own accounting firm.
But, for the time being, he’d try to enjoy the rest of his time in Thailand, bang hookers at a more sensible pace and maybe go see some culture, some museums, temples, the Emerald Buddha. He’d see wild elephants, tigers and shit and pagodas and teak triangle roof buildings. He’d hit the islands, eat coconuts and watch waves crashing into white sand beaches.
Shit, maybe he’d visit other countries in Asia while he had the chance, like Japan or Hong Kong…
Cancel Culture | Kim Cancer Sam decided to go for a cold drink at the bar out by the pool. Getting a healthy dose of sun would make him feel better. It always did.
To his delight, by the bar sat one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes upon. Early 20s. 5’5. Luscious skin the color of mahogany. Coal black, glossy waist-length hair. Long legs, trim waist, perky tits, big sloe-colored eyes, and an angelic face like a chinadoll with cheekbones so high and sharp they could cut a hole in the sky.
It was like she was an angel, glowing in the sun. She had the light!
She was sitting all alone at the bar, and, even better, she was flashing her perfectly white teeth, grinning broadly, and staring right at Sam, with a sparkle in her eyes.
Tipsy, he stumbled over, introduced himself. “Nok’s the name” she replied, tilting her head coquettishly, brushing a wispy strand of shiny hair behind her ear.
Sam thought the white bow in her hair was the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life, and he was ecstatic when he found that Nok spoke near perfect English.
Nok understood everything he said and they made small talk and she laughed at all his cheesy pickup lines and corny jokes, making him feel like a comedian.
When he asked her up to his room, he expected her to quote a price. But she didn’t. He couldn’t believe his luck. A girl this hot. She actually liked him! He didn’t even have to pay for it!
Cancel Culture | Kim Cancer As soon they entered the room, they were on each other like white on rice, and minutes later, naked, in the king-sized bed, Nok was doing things to him in bed that he’d only seen in porno flicks. Nasty, crazy, double jointed shit. Acrobatic moves he didn’t know possible. Things his ex-wife could NEVER do.
They spent the next few days together, mostly in bed, fucking, watching TV, and ordering room service meals.
He loved waking up next to her, seeing her perfect facial structure, and hugging her soft, warm body, his hands on her sculpted curves. He’d feel like he was in heaven with her in bed next to him, her long black hair splayed out on the pillows like a raven’s wing…