A big, well actually huge in my eyes and in comparison to my own flesh and blood, wooden cock sits on top of my shop’s cashier table in Surin. I feel like I am in a lurid sex shop somewhere in a seedy neighborhood in Boston when I notice this monstrosity, especially the first time I noticed this. When I asked the wife and Sis why this wooden dildo was sat so prominently on our shop’s cashier’s table it was explained to me that this brought the shop “big good luck”, as usual. This was told to me as though it is an obvious explanation, and I should know this sort of stuff, all perfectly reasonable in their eyes.
“Wife, why is there a big wooden cock sitting on the table there?” I asked one fine morning after the shop had first opened and I saw the thing mocking my own manhood in all its wooden glistening erect glory.
“For good luck!” she replied, a bit enthusiastically I might add. I don’t know if she was enthused by the promise of good luck coming her way, or just by the sheer size of the damned thing.
“Well honey’, I replied a bit peevishly, “the only cock around here bringing us good luck and bringing in the cash, and the cash to build this homey little restaurant I might add, seems to be the real and true flesh and blood cock, namely your friend and love, Godzilla.”
“What you say, Sammi (husband)? Why you talk about Godzilla again?” she replied herself, a bit thrown by my talking about my love machine in broad daylight, as she always seems to be. It seems this should only be spoken of after dark most times. Fuck that. If they can display an enormous black wooden dildo in broad daylight I can talk of my own prick as well it seems to me. No one else knows much, if any, English around here anyways, plus Godzilla is a code word, a secret slang word private between us, and anyone who has read my stories as well.
“Well, it just seems a bit odd don’t you think to have a big wooden phallus sitting on the table, just a bit?” I query her with a grin and a raised eyebrow. “I mean, isn’t it a bit too sexy? It makes the shop look like a porno shop on Mass Ave in Cambridge or something just as rude.”
“All shop in Thailand hab. Bring good luck for shop! Bring customer! Bring baht to shop!” she snaps back, getting a bit peeved herself at my slanderous questioning of the big good luck prick’s magical abilities.
“What mean, this English, phalluh?” she enquires.
“Means ham kaeng (hard cock).” I enlighten her.
Where do they come up with these customs and ideas? They must be some sort of fertility symbol most likely. How ancient is this “custom” and belief in the powers of the erect penis? Is this a modern thing? Of what origin? Seems more Chinese or maybe Indian than Thai actually in my mind, and I wonder of its true origin, the big crank good luck stuff. Have these things been sitting in shop fronts and tables since the times of the ruins I clamber over whenever I get the chance? Did all the little bamboo and thatched roof noodle stalls and shops have these phalluses displayed prominently in days of old? Or is this another imported thing/belief from the more recent Chinese immigrants?
My wife truly gets angry when I desecrate this symbol of a healthy good luck baht flow by waving it around and asking her if it would be good luck to bring into our bedroom that night to add to our sexual repertoire, it was like a frigging sword really, and when I strap the bugger on holding it firmly in front of my groin like a true dildo and chase her around the shop with it she truly goes ballistic. It seems this is no joking matter, although Sis sits and roars at my antics, but then Sis sits and laughs at most of the sexy playing about and teasing I do with my wife. She’s more easily amused by this stuff than my more conservative wife is.
My wife stomps off, muttering something about crazy husbands who always are thinking of sexy thoughts and talking about their pecker and boom-boom stuff in broad daylight. I think she may have called me an ignorant fucking heathen, or something similar.
But really now, what sort of “good luck” business charm is a big wooden dildo anyway? This has to a Chinese thing. The Chinese are big on good luck symbolism and such stuff, and they are the true rulers of the business world in Thailand besides, and it just has a Chinese look to it. It is a handsome wooden cock, finely carved and intricate. I’m a bit jealous of the handsomeness of the damned thing. The carved folds of the detracted foreskin are superbly done, a true artist made this whacky representative of the male organ, and the Chinese are well known to exaggerate their member in art forms over the centuries. Actually I’ve seen some nice porcelain productions of these good luck diks as well in other shops around the country.
Maybe it is a reminder that starting a business, any kind of business, in the Land of Smiles is the surest way to get fucked as one can imagine. Bend over and spread ‘em, Bub! Here comes the “good luck” dildo. Shoulda bought a smaller one maybe, huh?
The big wood dildo still sits on our shop table to this day, almost two years now since I first saw it, along with a fine collection of smaller ones as well. There’s a lot of good luck diks helping bring in the baht now. Wooden phalli abound now, like they’ve been cloned while I go back to the states for a bit and appear one night with a visit from the cock fairy or something. And no matter how many of these things appear the flow of baht into the shop seems to remain fairly constant. I’m thinking of starting a wooden good luck dildo shop instead. There seems to be a lucrative trade in these ornaments. I wonder if white ones would be considered luckier than the black and brown ones?
As a bit of a footnote I’ll add this recent phenomenon as well that I came across on my most recent return to the Land of Odd Beliefs. One day recently I noticed something new lying about the table under the army of erect wooden penises. (or would the plural be penii?) It was a very small intricately ornamented orange round plastic box. Upon opening it I noticed it was crammed with some brown stuff that could have been mistaken for hashish really, and inside lay a clumpy yellowish brown mass that looked for all the world like dried clumps of flattened rabbit shit. Curious stuff this. I wondered about the nature of this and pondered its significance, seeing that it was also displayed along with the wooden peckers on the cashier’s table. I brought it over to where Sis was working and showed it to her and asked, “Sis, what the hell is this anyway?”
Sis giggles. I know this will be a good one, as she always giggles when I ask these questions about something she knows will probably have me in a fluster of cultural clash mystified shock at the latest edification of the ignorant farang. She knows I love this stuff, and am interested in this stuff, even if I am no Buddhist, nor a believer of their odd customs in luck and life. I’m merely a curious bastard who asks way too many questions more than likely, (they truly find this constant search for answers puzzling) but what the hell, it is all so damned intriguing. I just have to ask. They see it as a farang thing. We are such curious white devils.
“Is for good luck for shop.” she beams proudly, carefully taking from my over-sized meaty paw this delicate work of art. “Bring big good luck for shop. I get from big monk in Sang Krat.”
“Yes, yes. Okay. I get it, but what exactly the hell IS it?” I pester her for more information. She frowns as she tries to figure out the English words to translate this puzzle for me to understand.
“Baby cat.” she clues me in with.
“Huh?” I grunt in question, probably looking extremely puzzled at this bit of info.
“Those aren’t baby cats, Sis. They’re too damned small.” I press.
“Mmmm. (Thai/Lao for yes) Baby cat. Come from inside Momma cat, before baby cat born.” she elaborates.
“Whaaaaaaaaaaat?” I exclaim, “You’re telling me these are like aborted or miscarried kitten fetuses?!!”
“Yes, same.” she smiles back at me, proudly at that, for having the wherewithal to have procured these beauties for our good luck.
I must say I was a bit flabbergasted at this little bit of info. I was momentarily stunned into silence. I hardly knew what to ask or say.
“So you say you went to a monk and he gave you this for good luck for the shop?” I asked once I was able to think again through my amazement.
“Yep, bring big good luck to shop!” she says, and saying so she gingerly places the monstrosity back where I had previously found it under the guard of the row of various sized wooden penises.
I figured for the moment my curiosity was well sated, and the only questions I asked were to myself, in my mind. “Where the hell do the monks get this shit anyways? And where do they get these ideas and beliefs to begin with? What the hell do cat fetuses have to do with good luck in business?
I have endless questions. Hopefully one day I will have some of the answers to them.
In the meantime I have a phalanx of wooden good luck pricks lining my cashier shop desk, and three small pussies as well to bring us good luck. There must be a connection here somewhere. After all, this is Thailand.
Curious Cent
(The Central Scrutinizer)
taken from:
http://www.stickmanbangkok.com/Reader/reader1912.htm
“Wife, why is there a big wooden cock sitting on the table there?” I asked one fine morning after the shop had first opened and I saw the thing mocking my own manhood in all its wooden glistening erect glory.
“For good luck!” she replied, a bit enthusiastically I might add. I don’t know if she was enthused by the promise of good luck coming her way, or just by the sheer size of the damned thing.
“Well honey’, I replied a bit peevishly, “the only cock around here bringing us good luck and bringing in the cash, and the cash to build this homey little restaurant I might add, seems to be the real and true flesh and blood cock, namely your friend and love, Godzilla.”
“What you say, Sammi (husband)? Why you talk about Godzilla again?” she replied herself, a bit thrown by my talking about my love machine in broad daylight, as she always seems to be. It seems this should only be spoken of after dark most times. Fuck that. If they can display an enormous black wooden dildo in broad daylight I can talk of my own prick as well it seems to me. No one else knows much, if any, English around here anyways, plus Godzilla is a code word, a secret slang word private between us, and anyone who has read my stories as well.
“Well, it just seems a bit odd don’t you think to have a big wooden phallus sitting on the table, just a bit?” I query her with a grin and a raised eyebrow. “I mean, isn’t it a bit too sexy? It makes the shop look like a porno shop on Mass Ave in Cambridge or something just as rude.”
“All shop in Thailand hab. Bring good luck for shop! Bring customer! Bring baht to shop!” she snaps back, getting a bit peeved herself at my slanderous questioning of the big good luck prick’s magical abilities.
“What mean, this English, phalluh?” she enquires.
“Means ham kaeng (hard cock).” I enlighten her.
Where do they come up with these customs and ideas? They must be some sort of fertility symbol most likely. How ancient is this “custom” and belief in the powers of the erect penis? Is this a modern thing? Of what origin? Seems more Chinese or maybe Indian than Thai actually in my mind, and I wonder of its true origin, the big crank good luck stuff. Have these things been sitting in shop fronts and tables since the times of the ruins I clamber over whenever I get the chance? Did all the little bamboo and thatched roof noodle stalls and shops have these phalluses displayed prominently in days of old? Or is this another imported thing/belief from the more recent Chinese immigrants?
My wife truly gets angry when I desecrate this symbol of a healthy good luck baht flow by waving it around and asking her if it would be good luck to bring into our bedroom that night to add to our sexual repertoire, it was like a frigging sword really, and when I strap the bugger on holding it firmly in front of my groin like a true dildo and chase her around the shop with it she truly goes ballistic. It seems this is no joking matter, although Sis sits and roars at my antics, but then Sis sits and laughs at most of the sexy playing about and teasing I do with my wife. She’s more easily amused by this stuff than my more conservative wife is.
My wife stomps off, muttering something about crazy husbands who always are thinking of sexy thoughts and talking about their pecker and boom-boom stuff in broad daylight. I think she may have called me an ignorant fucking heathen, or something similar.
But really now, what sort of “good luck” business charm is a big wooden dildo anyway? This has to a Chinese thing. The Chinese are big on good luck symbolism and such stuff, and they are the true rulers of the business world in Thailand besides, and it just has a Chinese look to it. It is a handsome wooden cock, finely carved and intricate. I’m a bit jealous of the handsomeness of the damned thing. The carved folds of the detracted foreskin are superbly done, a true artist made this whacky representative of the male organ, and the Chinese are well known to exaggerate their member in art forms over the centuries. Actually I’ve seen some nice porcelain productions of these good luck diks as well in other shops around the country.
Maybe it is a reminder that starting a business, any kind of business, in the Land of Smiles is the surest way to get fucked as one can imagine. Bend over and spread ‘em, Bub! Here comes the “good luck” dildo. Shoulda bought a smaller one maybe, huh?
The big wood dildo still sits on our shop table to this day, almost two years now since I first saw it, along with a fine collection of smaller ones as well. There’s a lot of good luck diks helping bring in the baht now. Wooden phalli abound now, like they’ve been cloned while I go back to the states for a bit and appear one night with a visit from the cock fairy or something. And no matter how many of these things appear the flow of baht into the shop seems to remain fairly constant. I’m thinking of starting a wooden good luck dildo shop instead. There seems to be a lucrative trade in these ornaments. I wonder if white ones would be considered luckier than the black and brown ones?
As a bit of a footnote I’ll add this recent phenomenon as well that I came across on my most recent return to the Land of Odd Beliefs. One day recently I noticed something new lying about the table under the army of erect wooden penises. (or would the plural be penii?) It was a very small intricately ornamented orange round plastic box. Upon opening it I noticed it was crammed with some brown stuff that could have been mistaken for hashish really, and inside lay a clumpy yellowish brown mass that looked for all the world like dried clumps of flattened rabbit shit. Curious stuff this. I wondered about the nature of this and pondered its significance, seeing that it was also displayed along with the wooden peckers on the cashier’s table. I brought it over to where Sis was working and showed it to her and asked, “Sis, what the hell is this anyway?”
Sis giggles. I know this will be a good one, as she always giggles when I ask these questions about something she knows will probably have me in a fluster of cultural clash mystified shock at the latest edification of the ignorant farang. She knows I love this stuff, and am interested in this stuff, even if I am no Buddhist, nor a believer of their odd customs in luck and life. I’m merely a curious bastard who asks way too many questions more than likely, (they truly find this constant search for answers puzzling) but what the hell, it is all so damned intriguing. I just have to ask. They see it as a farang thing. We are such curious white devils.
“Is for good luck for shop.” she beams proudly, carefully taking from my over-sized meaty paw this delicate work of art. “Bring big good luck for shop. I get from big monk in Sang Krat.”
“Yes, yes. Okay. I get it, but what exactly the hell IS it?” I pester her for more information. She frowns as she tries to figure out the English words to translate this puzzle for me to understand.
“Baby cat.” she clues me in with.
“Huh?” I grunt in question, probably looking extremely puzzled at this bit of info.
“Those aren’t baby cats, Sis. They’re too damned small.” I press.
“Mmmm. (Thai/Lao for yes) Baby cat. Come from inside Momma cat, before baby cat born.” she elaborates.
“Whaaaaaaaaaaat?” I exclaim, “You’re telling me these are like aborted or miscarried kitten fetuses?!!”
“Yes, same.” she smiles back at me, proudly at that, for having the wherewithal to have procured these beauties for our good luck.
I must say I was a bit flabbergasted at this little bit of info. I was momentarily stunned into silence. I hardly knew what to ask or say.
“So you say you went to a monk and he gave you this for good luck for the shop?” I asked once I was able to think again through my amazement.
“Yep, bring big good luck to shop!” she says, and saying so she gingerly places the monstrosity back where I had previously found it under the guard of the row of various sized wooden penises.
I figured for the moment my curiosity was well sated, and the only questions I asked were to myself, in my mind. “Where the hell do the monks get this shit anyways? And where do they get these ideas and beliefs to begin with? What the hell do cat fetuses have to do with good luck in business?
I have endless questions. Hopefully one day I will have some of the answers to them.
In the meantime I have a phalanx of wooden good luck pricks lining my cashier shop desk, and three small pussies as well to bring us good luck. There must be a connection here somewhere. After all, this is Thailand.
Curious Cent
(The Central Scrutinizer)
taken from:
http://www.stickmanbangkok.com/Reader/reader1912.htm
