The author, Peter Man, shares his personal experiences, secret thoughts, and outlandish ideas on the multifarious subjects he is interested in, which is practically everything under the sun, as well as beyond the solar system to infinity. Be sure to comment if you wish to learn more, especially about the mysteries of the trilogy.
AuthorBorn and raised in Hong Kong and educated at an English Catholic school, the author immigrated to Canada and established Canada’s first national Chinese language television station. He later worked in China in the broadcast and telecommunications technologies industry for two decades, witnessing the country’s meteoric rise. Archives
August 2026
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(7/11/2021)
Originally posted on Quora The following is a true story. Decades ago, I left Hong Kong for the first time to attend university in Canada. I was eighteen and a freshman at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario. At the time, I ran at the tracks every night with my dorm buddy, Tai Pang, who is still my best friend. I was equipped with a rather odd pair of running shoes I had brought over from Hong Kong. They were green and laced with green shoelaces. I would say the shoes were rather unique at the time. One evening, after running 400 or 800 meters with Tai Pang, we returned to our dorm, Whidden Hall,* to realize I had lost the shoelace on one of my running shoes. Since I didn’t believe I could find another green shoelace in the whole of North America, Tai Pang and I went back to the tracks to look for it, but in vain. I even combed the tracks again and went to the school Lost and Found the next day, but I found no green shoelace. As time went by, I forgot about the green shoelace. It was insignificant, and I had other more pressing matters to attend to. By the end of school year, I started hunting for summer jobs. Eventually, I found a job working at the bar in the Men’s lounge of the Dundas Valley Golf and Curling Club, a private club for the privileged. In order to live near work, I looked for a summer rental in the small town of Dundas not far from the university. I found a perfect rental of a second floor of a house with a private entrance. The owners lived downstairs. They were an old couple who immigrated from Austria. The old man’s name was Manzl,** and my name was Man. We hit it off immediately, and the deal was done. The house was perfectly located in a quiet back street only minutes away from the club by bicycle. One day, the old couple told me they would be away for a week to visit their daughter in Vancouver. They said I could watch TV downstairs and if I needed tools for anything, I could find their toolbox in the garage. Before this, I was never invited into their living space. My best friend Tai Pang got a summer job at Cambridge, which was not too far from Hamilton and Dundas. During weekends, he would come to visit me. He would usually wait for me to get off work at my place, and afterwards polish off a bottle of vodka together. Those were the days. On this particular weekend while the Manzls were away, Tai Pang rode his bicycle to the club. Dundas Golf and Curling Club sits on a bit of a hill, and we have to go downhill to get back to town. Being young and fearless—some say reckless—and accustomed to riding the bicycle on this route everyday, I rolled downhill with my arms stretched sideways, mimicking the wings of a plane. It was a Sunday with not a car in sight. Tai Pang, on the other hand, came from a well-to-do family and learned to treasure his life. He went down more carefully behind me with his hands securely controlling the brakes. As my bike flew into town and through stop signs where no cars ever appeared, Tai Pang shouted behind me about the stop signs. I foolishly turned around to ask what he was saying. But since my hands were not on the handle, the bicycle swerved and hit the only electric pole within a mile. I jumped off without hurting myself, but the cross bar of the bicycle was bent. To make a long story less long, I went to the garage to look for tools. When I opened the toolbox, I found my lost green shoelace inside. I would later learn Mr. Manzl had worked at the university as a part-time gardener, and he found my shoelace at the tracks. Having survived the Second World War, he did not like to throw out anything. So he kept it in his toolbox in case it might come in handy. For me to meet my shoelace again, I’d have to find a job in Manzl’s town, rent his home, he and his wife had to go away, he would for some reason tell me to use his toolbox, Tai Pang would have to visit me at the club and yell at me about the stop sign, I would have to foolishly turn around, my bicycle would have to hit that single pole, and viola, I find the green shoelace. The odds are minuscule, but a series of events conspired to help me find my green shoelace, and my best friend Tai Pang was present as my witness. This tale amazes everyone who hears it. Aftermath: I showed Mr. Manzl my green shoes with the missing shoelace. He was also amazed by the coincidence and gladly returned the shoelace to me. I don’t remember wearing those shoes very much, though. I believe green running shoes went out of style. * Legend says that Ivan Reitman stayed at Whidden Hall while studying for a university degree at McMaster. The residence was all male and therefore resembled a fraternity. Supposedly, Reitman's experience at Whidden inspired Animal House. As for the incredible experience of Whidden Hall, it's another story for another post. Sadly, the shenanigans would eventually be banned and Whidden Hall is now Co-ed. The boys will have to find some other respectable things to do. ** Mr. Manzl, by the way, fought during the Second World War. He showed me pictures of him as a soldier of the Third Reich. Comments Charlotte Neumann: It’s a nice story - but any statistician could tell you this is not the way to look at an event. My response: “If a man speaks in the middle of a forest, and there is no woman to hear him, is he still wrong?” — George Carlin. Ashok Lulla: But what happened to the bike? Did you manage to fix it? Did Mr. Manzl take it kindly that his bike had a ‘crash’? My response: It was my bike. I found my green shoelace but I paid with my bike. I junked it. Life’s not perfect. At least I got a good story to tell at dinner parties and now to share with Quora readers. Samina Naz: I hope you have not lost the other shoe lace by that time. Sabrina Couture: Amazing!
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(22/10/2021) Last year, I wrote a few articles about Taiwan, making bold predictions and wild suggestions*, and sharing them with a small circle of friends self-styled as China Writers Group. At the same time, I sent the articles to a few venues which I thought might be interested. Rather unexpectedly, I received a response from Professor Justin Yifu Lin (林毅夫), who is the Dean of Institute of New Structural Economics and Institute of South-South Cooperation and Development, and the Professor and Honorary Dean of the National School of Development at Peking University. This is an internationally respected economist who, for some reason, commented on an article from someone he has never heard of. Since not everyone knows who Justin Yifu Lin is, here is a short introduction. Professor Lin was originally from Taiwan. He was a model ROC military officer and was posted to Kinmen (or Jinmen 金门) off the coast of Fujian in the late seventies. In May 1979, Lin was reported missing and was presumed dead. In fact, Lin had jumped into the sea and swum about two kilometers in the dark to the mainland. At that time, China's per capita income was about a third of the average income of people from sub-Saharan Africa. Lin wanted to help the Chinese people improve their lot. Even in those early days of China's reform, only a few months after the US and China established official diplomatic relations, Lin already could see far into the future. He believed Taiwan's reunification with the mainland was inevitable. He wanted to contribute to the Chinese renaissance rather than to engage in counterproductive internecine strife. He could not tell his pregnant wife, who was looking after their young son at home. He also had to risk his life, with no guarantee he would not drown or be caught. Captain Lin must have felt the full force of destiny when he took that fateful plunge. Lin crossed over safely and became a private citizen in China. At first, his story was kept a secret and few people knew his background. He got his Masters Degree in Economics from Peking University and, after receiving a recommendation from Professor Theodore Schutz, a Nobel Laureate in Economics, went on to obtain his doctorate from the University of Chicago, the breeding ground of Nobel Laureates in Economics. Lin was, in fact, one of the first Chinese citizens of the PRC to receive a PhD at the university. Lin's wife and children joined him in Chicago, and the family later settled in Beijing, teaching at his alma mater. In 2008, Professor Lin was appointed Chief Economist and Senior Vice President of the World Bank for a four-year term. At the time, it was the highest position any private Chinese citizen had held in an international organization. Professor Lin is one of the most prolific contributors of academic papers on economics coming from China. In addition, he is a current member of the standing committee of the 13th National Committee of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC), and the Deputy Director of the Economic Committee of the National Committee of the CPPCC, providing consultation to the Chinese Central Government on economic policies. In short, Professor Yifu Lin may have achieved much of what he had set out to do, although much work remains to be done. Since making this connection, I have kept up a rather lively correspondence with Professor Lin for the past year. He has occasionally sent some of his translated articles and speeches to me and I would help with a bit of editing without being asked to do so. I explain apologetically to the professor, as an amateur writer, it has become a habit. Professor Lin good-naturedly approves. A couple of weeks ago, I read an article by David Goldman (Deputy Editor, well known financial analyst and true identity of conservative political pundit, Spengler) on Asia Times, titled "China Marches on Towards Fourth Industrial Revolution" quoting heavily from Justin Yifu Lin. It turns out the professor has recently published another book, and his publisher is probably getting some exposure for it. An excerpt for his book Justin Yifu Lin on China's Economy appeared several days later on Asia Times. I promptly and dutifully reported the sighting to the professor. One week later, this was what I got in the mail.   * I predicted in August of 2020 Trump would lose the election. I predicted Biden would at least continue Trump's China policies if not redoubling the attack on China, including regularly stepping on or over the Taiwan red line. At the time, much talk went around in China about Biden being friendly to China. It was wishful thinking. I predicted Trump would not go quietly. I predicted Trump would try to subvert the result of the election. All of these came to pass. I was only wrong on the date of the Trump insurrection. I had expected his advisors to plan for disruptive action in December to block the legal processes, not the formality in January of 2021. I gave Trump's team too much credit. I did not have any insider information; all of my predictions were based on observation of facts available to the public, making use of simple logic and not believing in lies. (04/04/2022) As a follow up to the above story, I have received an even better present from Professor Lin. The title of my trilogy is "Planet of Perpetual Peace." The story will include an actual socioeconomic plan for making such a society possible. I condensed my theory in the form of a short thesis and asked Professor Lin to comment on it. I frankly did not expect the super busy professor to indulge me. I was wrong. This is his reply.  Here is Professor Lin's recent speech
New World Order to come amid China's growth Caveat: links to Wikipedia are for casual reference only. One should be aware that Wikipedia articles are not always accurate or without bias. Readers who are interested in the subject should conduct more in-depth research.
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(22/9/2021) The following shares a correspondence I had with a Chinese-Vietnamese-Canadian scholar. "Xu Shen's [许慎] Lexicon [说文解字] is not a perfect source for Chinese etymology. It's not Xu Shen's fault. He didn't have Oracle Bones and archeology to help him with his research. For example, you had explained the word for "philosophy" [哲] at your Confucius-Plato lecture as a hand, an axe, and a mouth. On the surface, that is correct, but [哲] is actually a word with a phonetic component on top and the pictogram of a mouth below. But even that is incorrect. The earliest form of this word (so far discovered) is a Bronze character [金文] with several variations. Check this one out.  The top part is the phonetic [折], meaning "break," with the optional "eye" to indicate learning from observation. I would like to add that the phonetic may also carry the connotation "to break apart," hence to analyze. The lower pictogram is a "heart" rather than the "mouth" in the modern character. The heart is of course for learning and understanding, and in ancient Chinese culture, equivalent to the "mind." The phonetic [折] is a late derivative from Oracle Bone script. It is incorrect to describe it as a hand and an axe. Check out the Oracle Bone character.  Those are not hands on the left but a piece of wood cut in half by the axe on the right (the wood is broken, hence the meaning "break").  While the superficial etymology of philosophy [哲] is violent with a hand and an axe, and relates to expatiating with the mouth, the true etymology is based on observation and analyzing with one's heart and mind. It is closer to the Greek etymology for "philosophy," which means "love of knowledge" or "love of wisdom."
This is not to say the Lexicon is useless, far from it, but we should understand that it is no longer the Bible. It hasn't been for a long time."
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The following is an account of how my mother from a Hainanese family living in Saigon--now Ho Chi Minh City--during the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937-1945) and the second phase of the Chinese Civil War (1945-1949) got an education from a well-known school in China, and what happened to that school. The following is what I gathered about my mother's secondary school at Guilin, known as Hanmin Middle School 汉民中学. Hanmin is from Hu Hanmin 胡汉民, who was an early revolutionary and a right wing leader of Kuomintang 国民党 (KMT). The principal and founder of the school, Ren Zhongmin 任中敏, was the secretary of Hu Hanmin. He founded the school in 1937 at Nanjing, or Nanking, at that time the capital of the Republic of China under Chiang Kai-shek. He named the school Hanmin to commemorate Hu Hanmin, his old boss, who passed away in 1936 from brain hemorrhage. At the time of Dr. Sun Yat-sen's passing in 1925, Chiang Kai-shek was in charge of the Nationalist army, while the Nationalist party KMT was under the control of a triumvirate consisting of Hu Hanmin on the right, Wang Jingwei 汪精卫 on the fence (he was a hero of the 1911 Revolution but later became a famous quisling by agreeing to act as the leader of the Japanese occupation's puppet government), and Liao Zhongkai 廖仲恺 on the left (husband of famous women's rights activist He Xiangning 何香凝, father of the famous Communist leaders Liao Chengzhi 廖承志 and Liao Mengxing 廖梦醒). Liao Zhongkai was assassinated shortly after the death of Dr Sun. Although the case was never solved, the prime suspect was Hu Hanmin, as he afterwards joined Chiang Kai-shek in the bloody purge of communists from the KMT (it is not a well-known fact that under Dr Sun, many communists including Mao and Zhou Enlai became members and executives of the KMT), during which the ranks of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP, later CPC, the Communist Party of China) were decimated and Mao's wife Yang Kaihui 杨开慧 was executed by firing squad for refusing to renounce the CPC and Mao. At the beginning of the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937-1945), Principal Ren moved Hanmin Middle School from Nanjing--shortly before the Fall of Nanking and the infamous massacre by the Japanese army--to Guilin 桂林, the provincial capital of Guangxi 广西 in the south-west of China, where my mother attended the school. She probably went there in 1940, when she was fourteen years old, by sea from Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City 胡志明市) to Zhanjiang 湛江 (then known as Guangzhou Wan 广州湾 meaning Guangzhou Bay), and then by land to Guilin. She went by herself without her father's approval and was financed by her mother who had to sell some of her jewelry. At the time, the school received funding from Chiang's ROC government and was renamed National Hanmin Middle School 汉民国立中学. It was probably the only middle school in China at the time with national status. My mother returned to Saigon in 1948 for a one year break, granted by the school to all expatriates, most of whom had not seen their family for many years. My mother was twenty-two and had graduated from high school. She planned on taking continuing studies in mainland China. During her stay in Saigon, my mother witnessed the escape of Tsinghua Professor Wang Zhou 王洲--then known as Wang Anzhou 王安洲--from the colonial police. At the time, the professor's family and my mother's family both being from Wenchang 文昌--hometown of the Soong Sisters--lived in the same three-story house. Wang Zhou was a young communist from a wealthy family. The police came knocking in the middle of the night. He escaped by the night-pot opening--through which people pushed out their daily refuse into the back alley for the poop collector--to Paris, where he became an expert in nuclear physics. Prof Wang returned to China in the eighties to teach at Tsinghua. My mother cannot confirm it but the professor probably still lives at the campus at the ripe old age of 90. After the one-year break, my mother was supposed to return to Guilin for continuing studies in 1949 but got stuck in Hong Kong during her transit (by sea from Saigon to Hong Kong, and then by land to Guilin) as Chiang's regime collapsed during that year. That was how my siblings and I ended up being born in Hong Kong.  My mother and Bliss (my elder daughter) visiting Prof Wang Zhou (with his Russian wife) at Tsinghua in 2003 Prof Ren never left China despite his connections with the Nationalist government. He was much more of a scholar and educator than a politician. In addition to his not insignificant contributions to ancient Chinese literature, Ren was famous for being strict with his students. According to my mother--as it is not recorded elsewhere, but this is probably a true story--he expelled his only son, a handsome young man idolized by the teenage girls (i.e. my mother, as the school had few female students) at the school, from Hanmin for committing a minor mischief. Afterwards, the old man personally carried his son's luggage to attend a lesser boarding school in the area. His son later joined the Nationalist air force and died during the Sino-Japanese War. My mother said he died in a training accident. When the report of the son's death arrived at Hanmin, it was a sad day for Principal Ren and for everyone at the school who knew the young man. After the establishment of the PRC in 1949, Hanmin Middle School became Guilin First Middle School 桂林市第一中学, making it the top rung school of the city if not the entire region. Ren continued educating and became professor of Chinese studies at Sichuan University. He returned to his hometown Yangzhou 扬州 to teach at Yangzhou University during the early eighties. Few people knew that Prof Ren came from the same city and was a fellow student as well as good friends with renowned writer/educator Zhu Ziqing 朱自清, whose famous essay "Shadow of My Father's Back" 背影 we learned as a part of secondary school syllabus in Hong Kong. Prof Ren passed away in 1991 at the age of 95. He is now fondly remembered by his students and colleagues, and a bronze bust of him was erected in the campus of Yangzhou University in 2007.  My mother never knew what happened to her middle school principal and, after I told her the rest of Prof Ren's story, regretted not having visited him before he passed away. Hanmin Middle School was highly influential for my mother's career as a teacher. She did not have her credentials when she started looking for teaching jobs in Hong Kong. When she applied at a private school and hoped the principal of the school would believe her, it turned out the principal's son was a fellow student at Hanmin, although several classes lower. The principal knew a lot about Hanmin from his son's letters, and my mother's description of the school checked out. She was hired on the spot, as Hanmin was a sort of ivy league school in those days, famous even outside of mainland China for churning out high quality graduates. Thanks to the principal's unselfish character, he sponsored my mother to take the Hong Kong Teacher's Certificate Exam, as she couldn't take it without any credentials. The certificate would allow my mother to teach at public schools at much better salaries and benefits as a government employee. It was a difficult exam and the principal's wife took it ten times over ten years before finally passing. My mother passed it on her first try. Her increased income allowed me to attend university in Canada and later become Canadian. The rest is history.
Caveat: links to Wikipedia are for casual reference only. One should be aware that Wikipedia articles are not always accurate or without bias, especially when it comes to KMT and CPC or ROC and PRC. Readers who are interested in the subject should conduct more in-depth research.
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(10/8/2021)
Rent is a Scam by Caitlin Johnstone Caitlin Johnstone is a well respected left-leaning political writer with a large readership. My comment is not meant to denigrate Caitlin or her work, but to bring to light a particular problem most of us will not notice. My Comment: Quoting from the article: "The mass media just spent years leading the world on a wild goose chase for Trump-Russia collusion that never existed and now have the absolute gall to act like people are deranged lunatics for not trusting them about elections, viruses and vaccines." But the people and the president and all the politicians from both sides of the aisle believe the mass media that China is evil and China is to blame. Where do the people get the gall to criticize the liars when they choose to believe in the lies from the same liars that satisfy their own bias? We have met the enemy and he is us. By the way, in America, not only is lying an inalienable right, hypocrisy is a virtue.
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(4/8/2021)
9/11 has nothing to do with Afghanistan By Ted Rall Ted Rall is a brave political cartoonist to the left of the Democratic Party who got on the nerves of too many people. Mainstream media has basically shut him down, meanwhile threatening him with oppressive lawsuits. Undaunted, Ted continues to write articles for what he believes in. This comment is not meant to denigrate Ted or his work, but tries to call a spade a spade. Peter's Comment: Invading Afghanistan was a mistake? Sorry Ted, not nearly good enough. It was a crime. What is America going to learn? That in future wars they will never allow the truth to slip out, that's what. Look what happened after the Vietnam War. The Military Industrial Complex learned how to corrupt the free press. Now Americans live and die in the cesspool of misinformation, false narratives, and war propaganda. If America really wants to learn, then (1) stop funding the MIC; (2) stop giving power and impunity to the war-mongers; (3) severely punish and fine the mainstream media and free press, including owners, CEOs, editors, and journalists, for working as the propaganda arm of the war-mongers; make it a criminal offense and confiscate their properties; (4) set up monuments to remind us of the war crimes and atrocities committed in our name; (5) make full and long term reparations to individual victims and the nations attacked and sanctioned; (6) severely punish all those war-mongers and their lap-dogs/bull-dogs, especially the decision makers including politicians and elected officials, who have committed or are culpable of crimes and atrocities against humanity; take away everything they own and throw them into an oubliette. Make statues of the chief criminals kneeling in front of their victim's monuments showing everlasting contrition, and allow righteous people to spit on them. Then maybe they'll learn something. Come on Ted, I had expected a lot more from you.
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(3/4/2021) Online Concert in Memory of Leslie Cheung on the 18th anniversary of his passing (d. April 1. 2003).  Actually, I do not know Leslie Cheung (張國榮) well, although our paths did cross. When his career took off in Hong Kong, I was toiling in Toronto doing something fraught with difficulties, totally thankless and, certainly, not very rewarding financially ... starting a national Chinese language television station on a shoestring. When you're young, naïve and full of impossible dreams, you'll do the darndest thing. But that's another story. Today, I'll talk about my remembrance of Leslie Cheung. For those who have never heard of Leslie Cheung, I'll provide the following short introduction. Leslie Cheung was simply one of the most popular and iconic singer-actors in Hong Kong during the 1980s and 1990s. His unforgettable performance as the opera singer in Chen Kaige's masterpiece "Farewell My Concubine" established him as a serious actor. Leslie had a handsome face and was, therefore, a heartthrob for his female fans. He came out, however, as a bisexual person and was having a long-term homosexual relationship. On April 1st, 2003, Leslie jumped off a tall building and ended his life. Now, onward to the story of my encounters with Leslie Cheung. It started with me finishing school in Canada.  (From Farewell My Concubine) After graduating from McMaster University with an engineering degree in 1977, I returned to Hong Kong upon the expiry of my student visa. Although I had applied for immigration to Canada, the process would keep me in Hong Kong until the end of 1978 or early 1979. When I saw an ad from RTV (later ATV) hiring production assistants, I decided to apply and see where it would lead. It was not something I went to school for, but I had grown up watching movies getting made in a film studio. My uncle's (mother's younger sister's husband) father was a film studio boss. Many famous Hong Kong movie stars of old came from his National Studio (國家片場). In Hong Kong's television industry of those days, production assistant (PA) was the euphemism for a slave. You did anything your boss told you to. If anything went awry, you're the goat. "No" and "can't" did not exist in your vocabulary. Once, my producer was in charge of a dance-a-thon; I was on my feet for three days straight, outlasting all the dancers. You had no home and no family, no weekends and no holidays. You didn't eat, drink or sleep if you didn't have time. You only had your job ensuring programming went on air on time, on budget and without a hitch. And the salary wasn't enough to pay for bus fare. I later had a single business lunch in China that cost more than twice the monthly pay of a PA. Many PA newbies did not survive past the first week. Those who did were probably deranged (and what does it say about me?). Most TV producers started their careers as PAs. If you could survive and thrive as a PA, you could probably succeed in anything, anywhere. I built a national TV station from scratch in Canada with a shoestring budget and ran it under very adverse conditions. They did not give orientations at RTV, unceremoniously tossing me into a production team desperately needing a PA. Given the job description, we can expect PAs not to last very long. They would get promoted, or they would quit, usually without notice. My group was composed of three producers and three PAs. We produced five half-hour youth programs each week. The show was titled "New Generation" (新一代). One of the hosts became very famous. He is Lawrence Cheng (鄭丹瑞). We worked closely together for almost a year. Another host became the top-billing actress in a well-known comedy with the Hui brothers, The Contract (賣身契), but I didn't hear much more of her afterwards. Her name is Tiffany Bao (鮑翠玲). My direct superior, producer-director Philip Chow (周偉材), would go on to head the Commercial Radio Hong Kong organization (香港商業電臺). Bravo!  (Lawrence Cheng) Incredibly, my most awesome experience at RTV happened on my first day. I did not know anyone yet. No human resources staff showed me around or introduced me to people. I was still finding my bearings. When lunch hour struck, I went to the canteen and ate lunch by myself. It turned out the canteen was not popular and was the eatery of last resort. Their only other customers were the staff of a variety show's studio shoot, occupying two large tables. I sat at the opposite corner of the room, not bothering anybody when something strange happened.  (Deanie Ip) A young woman walked over and, without introducing herself or saying hello, pointed at me and warned, "Young man, do not marry before thirty." This weird woman was the star of the variety show "Have a Laugh with Deanie" (德嫻笑一笑). Her name is Deanie Ip (葉德嫻), who would become a big movie star and eventually win the Venice Film Festival's Coppa Volpi for Best Actress for her performance in "A Simple Life" (桃姐). On the day we first met, she was already the star of her own show, and I was a lowly PA on his first day at the job, with poor odds I could last the week. Completely on her own initiative, with absolutely zero staring or ogling on my part—I was minding my own business chewing a piece of rubbery chicken—she sashayed across the breadth of the room to befriend me in such a strange manner, and we became fast friends. I did not heed her admonishment, and we can guess what happened. All the producers and PAs at RTV worked out of a large room, so everyone knew everyone else, even if they had never worked together on any projects. After settling down at my job, I noticed a skinny young man in bell-bottom pants and platform shoes frequently wandering into the producers' room. He was a contract artiste, an euphemism for any lowly contract performer who was not a star. RTV had many contract artistes who would never make it in the show business. I didn't know any of them, and when we needed someone from the list, it was usually for something inconsequential. So, when I started calling people from the list, they would have all kinds of excuses to avoid showing up, such as being in the hospital, getting married, or someone in the family died; this is no joke. I would get so frazzled I'd say, "I don't care if your father died. If you don't show up for work, you will never work at the station again." It sounds harsh, but someone taught me to say it. He said people would walk over me if I acted too Canadian—Canada was a very different place in the seventies. In any case, the artiste would show up; no one died. Everyone had a good laugh. Lying was natural; it was not personal. No one harboured hard feelings. The show must go on. It was business as usual. So, I observed with interest this young man traipsing with some regularity into the producers' room, politely accosting everyone and chatting up the variety show producers and PAs. Some producers didn't think much of such behaviour because if all the artistes did the same, the producers and PAs wouldn't be able to work. By showing up even when he didn't have a job, the young man made sure all the producers and PAs remembered him and knew he was dedicated and available. His name is Leslie Cheung. For a long time, he did not get any breakthrough jobs. But he never gave up. In late summer of 1978, Commercial TV (佳视) went bankrupt. Their Wuxia master director, Siu Shang (萧笙), joined RTV, taking along his protégés, one of whom was Virginia Lok (樂易玲), who would eventually become the top executive of TVB, the only major broadcaster in Hong Kong after the demise of ATV. Virginia was a hot babe then, and they sat right behind my group. Director Siu was a master of his arts, no question about it. One of my fellow PAs immediately jumped ship and joined Siu Shang. His name is Siu Hin Fai (蕭顯輝). We were good friends. He urged me to leave our group as well. I did not because I knew I was immigrating to Canada by early 1979. Siu Hin Fai gave me a parting gift—a book on Chinese Mythology. I still have the book with me. He would follow Siu Shang to TVB and become a successful executive producer of many popular shows. I never met most of these friends again after I left Hong Kong, except for Brenda Lo (盧葉媚), a well-known Hong Kong musician and variety show producer at RTV, who came to Toronto and worked at my station for a short while (Brenda and Leslie were, of course, old friends), fellow PA Celfen Leung (梁蘊紅) and Siu Hin Fai, my old colleague at "New Generation." Siu Hin Fai returned to my life after many years in a strange twist of fate, but the twist ended badly for him. He passed away alone at home at the early age of fifty from a stroke. Unfortunately, the incredible story of what happened between us cannot be told here for privacy reasons.  In my opinion, Leslie Cheung's first breakthrough was his starring role in Siu Shang's first Wuxia series at RTV (浣花洗劍錄). You probably won't hear people make such a claim, but Leslie was a nobody before the show. Out of the blues, he was the star occupying top billing of a Wuxia series directed by a well-known master and aired during prime time. He also sang the theme song. We now know this is no accident. Suddenly, people in Hong Kong knew who Leslie Cheung was. I know I took notice. Leslie certainly grabbed the opportunity and kept on making his steady ascent. Leslie was, in my opinion, probably the only one among his peers during those heady days of Hong Kong filmdom to possess natural star quality. Sometimes, it's lonely at the top, and the higher you rise, the harder you fall. In the summer of 1997, I was back in Hong Kong to witness the handover ceremony of the British government returning Hong Kong to the People's Republic of China. I was also preparing to set up a company in Guangzhou as a subsidiary of ACE, one of the largest television and telecommunications technologies companies doing business in China. A friend, Roks Lam (Hong Kong radio jockey of golden oldies), got in touch and invited me to have dinner with him. His wife at the time was a senior producer at RTHK (Government-owned media), and they were having dinner with a famous executive producer, Manfred Wong (文雋), and his actors who were doing their rounds to promote a new release. I was indifferent to Hong Kong movies in those days and did not know the beautiful girl beside me at the table was Shu Qi (舒淇).  (Shu Qi) ... It's almost as embarrassing as not knowing I spent an entire evening chatting with Chiang Kai-shek's grandson, Chiang Hsiao-yen (蔣孝嚴). After dinner, the whole group went to their favourite watering hole to have drinks. Shu Qi, miffed at not getting my attention, left early (just kidding; she probably wondered what this guy was doing here?). Guess who we bumped into on the street? Yes, the star of our story, Leslie Cheung. He was a superstar, yet he knew everyone in my group except little old me. He was with friends, and we went our separate ways. At the end of the evening, when Manfred asked for the bill, the maître d' came over and discretely whispered Leslie had picked up our tab. According to people in our group, it was typical of Leslie. The next time I heard of Leslie Cheung was the shocking news of his demise. You'd think someone who had succeeded as he had, with all the fame and wealth a lot of people could only dream of, for which or much less some people would sell their daughter or kill their brother, he had no other choice but to take his own life. My favourite Leslie Cheung film is Rouge (胭脂扣). I like the original song, too. It was written by Leslie's mentor and music director of RTV (when I worked there), Michael Lai (黎小田). Michael was a La Salle alumnus (I'm a true blue La Sallite, attending the school from primary one to form seven). The song is, however, sung by Leslie's co-star and another Hong Kong singer/actress superstar whose life was tragically cut short, Anita Mui (梅豔芳). She passed away from cancer only nine months after the passing of Leslie.  (Scene from Rouge with Anita Mui and Leslie Cheung)
Excerpt from Vincent "For they could not love you But still your love was true And when no hope was left in sight On that starry, starry night You took your life as lovers often do But I could have told you, Vincent This world was never meant for one As beautiful as you."
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(17/1/2021)
Martin Luther King, "Americans Betrayed Their Country In Vietnam!" Now in Yemen Syria Libya Somalia Iraq Afghanistan -- by Jay Janson Jay Janson is a well respected political writer, historian, and author who is a Korean War veteran and a nonagenarian. I have followed his political commentaries for at least a couple of decades. I discovered Jay Janson when I was reading I. F. Stone's "The Hidden History of the Korean War." While I. F. Stone peeled off the lies by meticulous research, Jay Janson provided personal experience to enrich my understanding of the forgotten war. My comment is meant to be sarcastic and should in no way denigrate Jay's very salient point. "It's not fair to say that Americans are silent about everything. Americans are very vocal about China stealing, and China having no freedom, and China having no human rights, and China having the largest concentration camp for Muslims. All these must be true because our politicians and free press say so. If we don't believe them, who can we believe? Americans are right to stand up against China imperialism of Belt and Road. Americans will never be silent about China trying to take over the world's islands and oceans. As for the Capitol insurrection, we blame China for poisoning the minds of Americans with their Hong Kong revolution footage. We also blame Hong Kong freedom fighters for taking American money and training, and then messing it up. In fact, China gave Trump the royal treatment and suckered him into a trade war which damages America. China is to blame for Trump and his trade wars. China is to blame for discovering the Covid virus. On top of that, China had to make a big stink and shut down the country. China has few Covid deaths but China also has no freedom and no human rights. Don't forget some spokesmen for some secret American agency not known to be transparent and forthright said that China might have corrupted American elections. If they say so, then it must be true. Therefore, China is to blame for destroying American democracy. Who can we believe if we don't believe in patriotic American elected officials, the free press, and secretive American agencies? Don't worry Jay, Americans will be very vocal about China. They will support more patriotic wars against evil China. God bless America.
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(12/12/2020)
Dave Lefcourt's Article: Will the American people wake up? Dave is an author writing from the left of the Democratic Party. My comment is not meant to denigrate him or his work, but hopes to raise awareness on what I believe is the true problem. My comment: Dear Dave, Even if the American people wake up, it will not help because they'll have to first look in the mirror. The American people are not pawns. They elect the war-mongers and give them impunity. They give up their income and go into debt to feed the dogs of war. They send their sons and daughters to commit atrocities for the corporate class and the ruling class. As long as the American people continue to blame others for their problems, waking up will not help. Ask yourself how is it possible for 99% to be ruled by the 1% in a democratic and free society if the people don't allow it? It won't even happen in an authoritarian society. Don't blame it on the ruling class and the war-mongers because the American people have empowered them. Don't blame it on the free press because the people want the freedom to lie and slander. Why else would Americans accept 250,000 deaths (unfortunately to become a million in eighteen months) and blame everything on China? In fact, if this happened in China, the liars and imbeciles would be festooned on trees. China does have a long and rich history of peasant rebellions. In fact, disgruntled peasants have directly or indirectly caused the downfall of almost every Chinese dynasty since the Han dynasty more than two thousand years ago, which was established by a peasant. Don't blame our problems on that nebulous "they." Blame ourselves. We have met the enemy and he is us. By the way, globalization is an American idea. America has the dollar hegemony. It buys everything with money it creates out of thin air (actually through debt owed by the people). Others must earn that US dollar in order to pay for essentials that they need for survival, development, and trade. America is the wealthiest, most powerful, and freest country in the world, why would the people want slave wage jobs mining or making shoes? In American politics, everyone wants jobs. Have the American people lost their marbles? Why would they need 80-hour a week shit jobs that pay two dollars an hour so their children can grow up without a family? China sacrificed a generation of its people to working in shit jobs so China's children can get educated and be more competitive in the global market dominated by America and the West. Americans don't need jobs. They need the basic guarantee of a home, healthcare, education, food, and the means to communicate. Then they need to stop bombing other countries, stop sanctioning whoever whenever for whatever reasons, and use their spare time to travel the world to learn about how to live in peace with the rest of the world. The American people are not pawns. They are America. Wake up indeed and look in the mirror. Change yourself and then go out and change America. Only by changing America that we can change the world for good. That is the only hope for America and the only possibility of peace for the world.
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(15/8/2020)
Dr. Godfree Roberts writes many well researched articles about China. He asked me to write a short anecdote about China for his book. He wanted something to soften his non-fiction book which is full of hard data and graphs. I submitted the following. It was January 1981. I finally got to see the land where my parents and my parents' parents and their parents scratched out an existence for millennia, surviving through constant floods, famines, plagues and wars. Growing up in colonial Hong Kong and being brought up Catholic in a boys-only English school, China was so near and yet so far away. By 1981, I had already started a career and a family in my newly adopted country of Canada. China was as foreign and distant to me as Timbuktu. When the chance to visit China landed on my lap, with encouragements from a friend who had smuggled himself into Hong Kong from mainland China and then ended up in Toronto, it did not take much for me to give in to my curiosity and desire for adventure. I hopped on a plane to Hong Kong, and continued with my journey into mainland China on train. My first visit to China was an unforgettable experience, especially since I went without joining a tour group, making it possible to see a lot more of the country and the people beside the normal tourist traps. The following is one of those experiences that made my visit so memorable. I stepped off the train with the trepidation that normally accompanied foolhardiness. In those days, traveling with a foreign passport in China was restricted to a few major cities, namely Guangzhou, Shanghai and Beijing. With the help of a friend of a friend, a bit of blind faith and my handsome Chinese face, I decided to smuggle myself to Changsha (长沙), a city which was off limits to foreigners. I was young, foolish and adventurous. To me, the whole exercise was harmless fun. I was protected by the invincible armor of ignorance and good fortunes. It turned out that the Chinese Communist Party had more pressing matters to deal with than worry about a Chinese Canadian in Changsha. I tried to blend in with the crowd but my jeans gave me away immediately. Everyone wore blue and grey. No one wore jeans. There were probably no jeans in China. I was advised by the hotel security guard not to dine outside of the hotel, suggesting ominously that it would not be safe. Since I was already breaking major rules to be in Changsha, I wasn't going to let a fear-monger stop me from eating wherever I wanted. In fact, just to prove that I was fiendishly clever, I invited the guard to dine with me at any local culinary establishment except the hotel. We ended up in a canteen which was converted from a performance hall with a stage. There were probably fifty tables each seating four. The dishes were simple, tasty and inexpensive. The place was packed during dinner hours. When I wanted to order rice, the waiter said that rice was free and that it was self-served. A gigantic vat of steamed rice was placed on the stage and patrons lined up with a bowl to get their own rice. There was an unlimited supply of free rice. Only in a communist country, I said to myself. I also noticed something very odd. Standing against the walls of the hall were men, women and children with their bowls. They wore clean clothing, and they just stood there quietly without causing discomfort to the diners. As I finished my meal and put down the bowl, several people who were standing at the wall nearest us began to walk slowly and orderly toward us. There was no rush, there was no jostling, and no one tried to cut in. The first to arrive was a family of three. The child was perhaps seven or eight years of age. They were well-kempt and respectably dressed. The father asked politely if we were done. I was perplexed. The security guard who was dining with me then told me the truth. It turned out that there had been a flood of the Yellow River in Henan province (河南). Many peasants lost their homes, their fields and their crops. Some of the refugees were moved to Changsha where the local government would have to help resettle them. In the past, this would have been disastrous. Many victims of the flood would have starved to death or would be sold to slavery. Instead, they survived by eating free rice and leftovers. I watched in wonder as the family put some of the leftovers on their rice, thanked us, and walked away. They knew two young men were lined up behind them, so they left some of the leftovers for the young men. I did not see any police or government officials organizing these refugees. They seemed to be following some form of natural law that allowed the young, the old, and the weak to eat first. There was unlimited rice, so no one needed to go hungry. As for the leftovers, everyone lined up at one table seemed to be able to mentally allot a share for everyone at the queue. I did not feel that these people were beggars or that they did anything that was undignified. Quite the contrary, I was totally impressed by how they were able to share food orderly, and how they comported themselves with dignity. I could not know that twenty years later, I would return to Changsha to do my first project building a digital television production facility for Changsha Television Station. The Changsha I saw again was a bustling city with lots of foreign businessmen coming and going. At the start of the twenty-first century, China's economy was just beginning to take flight. I would experience the fighting and jostling and chaos trying to get a McDonald's hamburger meal that would cost the same as a dinner for four at a local canteen. China would change beyond recognition, and it would continue to change. I would end up spending nearly two decades working in China, traveling all over the country and learning all about China and its people. There is much about China that I have grown to love, but I cherish most of all the memory of that China in a Changsha canteen so many years ago. |
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