By Yoichi Shimatsu
Exclusive To Rense
10-26-24

This western-style perversion was kept under close watch by planted agents of the Guan, the federal intelligence service tasked with the mission of spotting potential foreign agents who could be compromised into following orders and running errands for the Communist Party of China, preferably on “voluntary basis” with copious unreported payments in cash. Hardly innovative, this secretive project was, of course, was straight out of the play-book of East Germany’s spy apparatus under the legendary Marcus Wolf - one of my favorite protagonists in John Le Carre’s spy-novel series - rather slow-going but packed with tension and the unseen side of recent history. As an itirnerant journalist (and the first journalism professor in 5,000 years of Chinese history) this skullduggery was a minor distraction absolutely worthless as fodder for investigative journalism in the context of the Afghan conflict and the War on Terror, plus the internal upheavals during the changes of guard in the Chinese leadership - and on top of all that the intriguing counterfeit currency eruption immediate prior to the Beijing Olympics.

Besides, being a confirmed skirt-chaser, the tedious affairs of queers and dykes were of no concern to mine other than the rare drunken occasion (like a clumsy Japanese businessman abroad) when misreading the signals I tried making a pass at a lesbian, invariable ignored or rejected offhand. Foolishly, my male chauvinism once prompted me to propose marriage to a female cop nearly as attractive as the Beatles’ lovely Rita the meter maid. Her circle of foreign lesbian school teachers should have warned me from the beginning instead of leading me on to a bear trap! So to me the gay-lez scene was a annoying distraction from the pursuit of all-too-complicated straight sex, rock-and-roll and the next hot scoop to palm off to a news magazine. In brief, mine was the life of a sewer rat swimming in the floodwaters of excremental overflow. Take a whiff of that - because it’s going to be the next morning’s headline. It’s a nasty job wading through the sewers of heinous crime and treasonable vice but somebody’s got to do it.

The Queerness of Walzing China

In China there’s is not a precise term for homosexuality other than the rather clumsy and somewhat evasive “long xing lian”. So here is a brief gay and lesbian lexicon. The most common vernacular term is “Tong-jing” or Tongjie for comradeship, misapplied with irony to a same sex partner. The deliberate offense of borrowing the expression for a wartime comrade - an army buddy - was an impudent twist much like flipping the bird at the Party elders and the PLA war veterans. Anti-patriotism is one of the hallmarks of rough-trade homosexuals haunted by all sorts of bad memories and tragic fates.

“Lala” is a lesbian, as musical as a tongue slurping on ice-cream. There’s nothing really offensive tossed at female queers due to the heroic perseverance of hard-working farm wives in the southern China regions of male depopulation by overseas labor contracts in South East Asia and the American West. To the contrary of public shame, those mutually aiding women - in the fields and in bed - are still honored in the public memory as heroines, the forerunners of working women in the modern economy. Thus, China’s lesbians usually get a free ticket, expect from rude guys like me who dare to make a pass. Without a stigma, these perverts get no harrassment and therefore tend to be ultra-conservative as opposed to wayward modern city girls looking to earn extra income for make-up and designer wear by getting laid. And you wonder why vagrant journalists like me - the wolf pack - are constantly broke.

Next, the down and dirty. Anal sex is inferred with “jing hao” - close enough to “bottoms up!’ No comment but please out of courtesy please don’t call-up your phone to play Jim Morrison’s “Backdoor Man”! Prostitutes are “mai de”, usually meaning the female variety. These tramps are usually regular girls on a lark looking for easy cash to buy the latest fashions. Bad company for wastrels - OK, like me. Why should fellows like me feel guilty for being charitable to women in need? In most situations despite attempts at humorous foreplay, non-traditional sex in pragmatic Beijing is sterile, lacking the “Fifth Element” of romantic love.

More remote in public parlance is “mai de”, translated as “money boys” aka male prostitutes. Strait guys who disdain homos call these suckers Ji lao or “old queers” and fellows with effeminate or twisted cutesy behavior are “wan nan”, which directly translates as “curved” aka bent. The point of these terms is that gayness is by no means elevated to saint-like status as in the deranged and morally sick contemporary American gay ghettos of the N.Y. Village or S.F. Castro Street. Queerness in China is properly considered dark, devious, desperate and cowardly, in violation of the Confucian code of moral propriety and self-controlled inhibition of animalistic urges. In general among Chinese, sex is best done old-style in the dark of night with an unappreciative wife, preferably when drunk. So why was the burgeoning gay and lesbian scene tolerated for three decades in the Chinese capital?

To make a long story short, the sinister motivation was to entice and entrap foreign gays, especially from targeted countries, into accepting their new status as compliant informants aka spies and secret agents for the Guan, the Chinese intelligence bureau. To train a monkey, bananas and watermelon are the easiest means to capture and train wild apes - instead of a noose, bear-trap or a hunting rifle. Thus, the feeding and care of queers became an obsession for the Chinese spymasters, with their compliant pets returning with far more insider info and state secrets than could be processed at Guan headquarters. Blackmail of politicians and business leaders - altough fumbled in the Rupert Murdock case - was the rocket fuel that propelled China into the stratosphere of global power.

Thus, from this perspective is it any wonder that the Chinese intelligence bureau, the Guan, is perfectly comfortable in exploiting a malleable expendable queer idiot like Tim Walz - a dishonorable gweilo or ghost - to flood the USA with counterfiet dollar currency, promote mayhem like the Black Lives Matter rioting with arson of vast swaths of Minneapolis and conspire for the total moral collapse of American society under a campaign official queerness as the running mate of a demented Kamala Harris? Whew, that was the longest riff ever! It’s nearly laughable all right, except for the victims of the coming mayhem across the self-wounded USA. The worst cause of treason is naivete.

Rough Trade by Tiananmen

On one of my hurried visits to Beijing, I was running late due to a slow train’s delay from Hong Kong, and so asked the taxi driver to break the highway speed limit for a few extra quai of folding paper. While zipping down Chang An boulevard and fumbling with Chinese money, the memory came back to me that I had dropped the hotel’s street address in a trash can with the remains of a box lunch. Stop! I shouted and paid the driver the fare and a hefty tip.

Stepping out onto a dark sidewalk, I noticed three shadowy young fellows attired in leather jackets and boots approaching me. So cautiously I nodded “Nihao!” They were smiling and asked politely: Where are you from? Answer: Japan, of course, Tokyo. That triggered a most friendly welcome. “How would you like some jing hao tonight?” That translates as “Bum Fun?” Well, I was about to say: That depends on who’s volunteering their rear end. Instead I kept my cool since there was not enough spare time for a fist fight. “Sorry to say, fellows, I’m late for a business dinner - next time, eh?” The trio faded back into the darkness to await the next gweilo or foreign devil.

I rushed past shoppers and strollers along the commercial Wangfujing Street, located not very far from Tiananmen Square. A tree-lined brightly lit corner a few blocks ahead was my destination. After checking in at the reception desk, I ran to the elevator and hit the roof button. At the top, the bartender greeted me to the open-air dining area where the sole guest was seated with his back turned to me, an old university colleague. Professor, good to see you again here in the Capital after so many adventures in the Gobi Desert!

Calmly, he asked: “Why did you not tell me about this wonderful place earlier? The night-time view of the Forbidden City is spectacular.” Well, you know, its my little secret hide-out. Busloads of tourists would ruin the ambience. So try to keep it a secret in case you have to entertain all the contenders to be wife number three. He had recently divorced to wed one of his former grad student. His evil smile showed appreciation for my esteem of his achievements.

The East Gate of the Imperial Palace was spotlit while points of light extended along the walls to the distant lake. The jovial scholar then disclosed: “Did you know that during the Qing Dynasty off-duty monks used the East Gate to sneak out at night in pursuit of lonely soldiers or even foreign adventurers?” Professor, do you mean for some bum fun?

He laughed. “You Japanese are so casual about sex as in your porn movies.” Well, sir, that’s actually total fantasy in a repressive society where most guys just get drunk at night. May I ask you why those old monks did not just hire female prostitutes for a shag. His response: “Because of polygamy. The aristocrats had huge harems, leaving very few available women on the public market.”

Oh, how unfair! A good reason to support monogamous democracy, eh? I get it now, you’re not really a nation of fags like the boys who just accosted me on the street. You’re just victims of a chronic shortage of females. He chuckled for being a winner among a city of losers.

After the waiter brought over the dumplings, I switched orders from a second round of Harbin beer to a bottle of Japanese whiskey. Leaning back with the snifter glass, the professor mentioned: “You know the more that China opens up to the West, the more our boys and girls become homosexual? What can be done to prevent a collapse of our population, given the one child policy?” Professor, you are a mega-trends thinker way ahead of the curve. How in hell do I know how to prevent queerness from overwhelming the world’s once most populous nation?

“You Japanese are just so casual about sex.” My nasty little response was: Is that why all your female professors and grad students were so eager to hop into bed with me? We both broke out in laughter at that ridiculous notion since the faculty were all old bags or drab feminists behind thick eyeglasses. And, professor, do not believe the Japanese porn fakery about fellows like me staining some sweet girl’s eyeglasses. I always make sure the glasses are off.

Know something, Yoi? You’re still a heartless bastard just like when you were teaching. Picking up his brief case and backpack, he stood up to pay the bill before heading for the airport to some hellhole in the Gobi desert. Professor, the bill is already on my hotel tab. Have a good trip.

Waiting for the elevator, he asked:“By the way, what are you doing here this time?” I came to Beijing to search for Ai Weiwei, that fake artist to see how he’s connected to a Dutch counterfeit currency ring. With a huge laugh, my old friend strode into the lift. “That’s typically you, always with some crazy conspiracy theory!” He departed just in time because the lights by the palace went dark plunging Beijing into a moonless night. Waiter, mind if I take the rest of the bottle to my room? The last thing I needed was a nightmare over a three-boy band.

The Gay Temple

Over the past two decades several of the capital’s lower-ranking ancient Buddhist temples once used as community centers across Beijing have been leased by the municipal government for conversion into tourist attractions such as luxury restaurants or social-activities centers. The first of those re-allocated Buddhist sites was taken over by a consortium of European and American gays (staffers attached to embassies or university exchange programs).

Following directions from the flighty daughter of a European associate, I meandered in circles through alleyways to eventually stumble upon an open area surrounding the small temple. I could never find the site again without a guide since it was sheer luck that I reached it in the first place. A large older fellow from India was presiding over a small group of Europeans in earnest discussion. My appearance was greeted by silence as an unexpected intrusion. After nodding at me, obviously puzzled by my presence, the Indian guru completed his conversation and then disappeared down one of many pathways. Among the five foreigners there was an American, a visiting scholar at a major university. Startng up a conversation, he was obviously attempting to uncover the reason for my uninvited presence at the planned festivities. His taller peers stared at me intensely, as I babbled on about my interest in architectural protection of ancient sites. Absurd as that cover story could be, I was an antiquities scholar of sorts having worked as a research librarian at the Met museum in NYC.

Gradually, the tension diminished as they wrote me off as a screwball, a typical Japanese tourist. Some foreign women arrived and the group went inside for cocktails. I sat down with the crew as if invited. After about twenty minutes the voices began to sound furtive with whispering as the women eyeballed me. I had detected from the female hair-styling or lack of it, these were not married couples or swinging singles but instead gays and lesbians. This sort of X-ray scanner perception was picked up during my earlier sojourn in San Francisco.

Finally, the American staffer leaned over me to say: “They’re here for a private party, so if you don’t mind -” Well, I did mind but realized that the gates were closing and that no disclosure of the purpose of the gathering was forthcoming. Plus I’m not as dedicated as James Bond. What I did pick up while listening to asides and whispering was that the participants were staffers with Western embassies, definitelu gay or lesbian, and that the meeting was partly about sharing Chinese state secrets and also a pecking order to select local Chinese partners - young girls and boys - for the upcoming holidays, presumably purchased from rural kidnappers. These were truly serious queers in constrast to Chinese poof play. I’d seen this sort of pedophile obsession before when stumbling on a Peace Corps camp in the far north of Thailand where naked American women volunteers had small young Burmese girls inside their sleeping bags in pup tents. Back then I had the temerity to ask those angry feminists for a cup of coffee, but took off after receiving the Evil Eye as they zipped up their tents. Likewise, I realized, this gender mixed group of pedophiles were awaiting young Chinese queers and lesbians to begin their private pleasures. Oh, well, namu Amida Butsu - Hail the golden Lotus!

Later in the evening, I caught up with my European friend’s visiting daughter in a tiny bar along one of the hutongs (old ghettos), who had informed me about that temple, and asked her: Did one of the lesbians invite you for an overnighter? Her response was candid: I told her that I’m not interested in over-nighting with an older woman, especially embassy staffers. I then asked: How’s your father? Her reply was: “He was so impressed staying at that small hotel you found that was once a workers’ dorm. All the kitschy memorabilia from the Mao era was totally cool.” We both gingerly avoided the obvious autumn-spring attraction out of respect for her dad, and so I headed for my buddy Travis’s bar, The Daily Routine, for a shot of absinthe and rounds of scotch whiskey in the hutong alley across from the huge Tibetan Buddhist temple.

Reconstructing History

The blossoming of a gay and lesbian scene in Beijing, without any apparent official pressures for conformity to traditional family values, was both innocent and fraught with risks of sexual abuse, disorientation, AIDS and police surveillance. I can still recall on one my early visits to the capital during the first bloom of public queerness inside a crowded sweaty disco located between the Sanitun music bars and the upscale Chaoyang clubs. There in a long dark hall a band played Chinese rock while a few same-sex couples danced in front of two separate crowds of girls and boys, gyrating to the music, some innocently and others closer together and on the fringe the rough trade queers. The hard-core thugs were into bum-grinding and in the darker regions slapping at the banana curve under tight denim. Their slang for an invitation to anal action is “fengtao”, which translates as “the groove in a peach” aka peachy keen.

Frankly, as a straight outsider who’d been through the AIDS crisis in SF and NYC, I was not as much appalled by their lack of enthusiasm for normal dating than their sullen lack of joyful playfulness, indicative of latent anger and disgust at being alive. This sort of psycho-sexual hostility is often vented in push-and-shove anger at foreign queers visiting Bejing’s gay-lez dance clubs, sometimes resulting in vicious beatings. The attitude was: Gweilo (white ghosts) are exploiters who just want to get their rocks off and have no sense of playfulness. On both halves of the peach, the missing factor was, as always, true love. Being gay in China is too often an expression of frustrated dreams and raw anger at being a preordained loser without any possibility of romance, a hopeless pipe-dream far out of reach. Nearly all the more sensitive gays had turned while at university in Europe or the USA.

And this hardened exploitative and, indeed, masochistic attitude explains why a Tim Walz and other gweilo (foreign ghost) gays prefer Beijing to San Francisco - as a great place to express self-hatred. This subliminal psycho-sexual disorder explains Walz’s treasonable involvement in counterfeit smuggling that is so destructive to the residents of his state and fellow Americans all the way down to the Tex-Mex border.

In Walz’s case, the burning desire for revenge against society likely arose from the curse of corporeal punishment from his mentally deranged father, a Korean War combat veteran. And this uncontrollable rage likely caused real damage to his mother, who the young lad could not possibly have defended from crazed battering. From helpless isolation in the Midwestern state of Nebraska, home to the pedophile factory known as Boy’s Town, Walz’s early adulthood journey to southern China must have seemed like entry into a paradise of human caring without the least threat of demeaning anger. So seeing civilized conduct for the first time ever, his heart defected to the other side. Given the brutality endured during childhood, I can accept his attachment to Chinese society. Then again, things are not so simplistic in the real world of competition, envy and pride, and at times sheer hatred.

That explains his eager enrollment in loyal service to the Chinese Communist Party - the only force that can deliver a punishing death blow to an archaic and brutal Nebraska and Minnesota, those philistine rural hellholes of his youth and early adulthood. Treason can be the best revenge. Beijing is therefore home for his wounded heart, a zone of anonymity and sublimated anger, where his crazed outbursts and hideous nightmares go unnoticed - enabling him to slip out into the dark alleys in the hunt for boy-flesh - the zone where twisted dominance compensates for feelings of helplessness - just like the castrati monks of the Forbidden City.

As a cultural footnote: How could a monk lacking the basic organs of manhood do it? With one of those carved stone or wooden dildos, which sometimes still can be found in curio shops in the backwater provinces of rural China. The human psycho-drama can be twisted beyond any stretch of a conventional imagination. Then, for a reality check, why should I have compassion to Tiny Tim Walz? Yeah, it’s a cruel world, indeed - so what? That’s not justifiable grounds for treasonable devaluation of the U.S. dollar.

White Cat versus Black Cat

Why then does the Communist Party and its Guan-bu Security Directorate recruit and coddle foreign gays like Walz? Obviously for Chinese subversion of their western homelands and to decipher culture-based logic (aka illogical Western thinking) for the Chinese to exploit with psychological warfare. Another high-risk overt reason for coddling voluntarily captive gays is entrapment of leading foreign leaders and policymakers in gay trists to extract state secrets or to gain economic or strategic concessions.

One question is: Why did the Chinese ruling elite put up with the gay surge for more than three decades? One motivation was venal mercenary greed behind the lively entertainment districts to attract foreign visitors to spend their money on wasteful diversions. That’s the black cat versus white cat formula of Deng Xiaoping’s economic reform era. Foreign gays - those white felines - have disposable income because they don’t spend money on raising a family and paying the kid’s tuition. The other Chinese motive was to trawl for foreign traitors - the Black Cats - given the notorious disloyalty of “internationalist” queers to their homelands. The added incentive is that gays are readily blackmailed and easily succumb to threats of exposure or a sound beating, therefore are easily sucked down into abject obedience to their paymasters. Thus, under this sort of psychological coddling and coercion - Tim Walz became the annual counterfeit dollar smuggler to the USA - probably from Beijing to Chinese-dominant Vancouver and across Canada to enter one of two international border crossing into Minnesota. It’s easy as pie, to use old-fashioned Midwestern slang.

The unmentionable reason for cultivating foreign queers to bond with homegrown fairies is to weaken rival nation’s culture of masculinity. Meanwhile, in the opposite direction a more cunning objective is to promote the role of homosexuality in strengthening the militarist state. This martial homosexuality was expressed in the modern era by the Prussian Army of King Frederick, an overt homosexual, who promoted masculine strength and none of the sissiness of England’s more feminized queers. Homosexuality reinforced comradeship in the Prussian miltary with its values of endurance, obedience, strength and self-sacrifice much like a dominant male’s wolf pack - standards also of China’s People Liberation Army (PLA).

All Queer Things must come to their End

As in Baudelaire’s “Le Fleur de Mal” (The Flower of Evil), the seed of perversion crawls up, blooms with a foul scent and then withers to its death, only to be clipped and composted, then forgotten by the gardeners and passersby that patch of bare dirt. That was in homage to anal sex. Such has been the fate of the brief flowering of gay euphoria in Beijing. After recruiting and vetting dozens, probably hundreds of foreign gays and lesbians, the Chinese method is the whittle down the cohort, saving the most effective peons and winnowing the slackers. Walz’s advantage as the golden boy was exactly the convenient geographic location of Minnesota as entry point for smuggling from the Chinese stronghold in Vancouver, Canada. That is the likely route for the vast financial bribery fund received in Chicago for Democrat presidential candidates Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton and Joe Biden - all stooges of Beijing. (a role that Obama never quite felt comfortable is due to Chinese acceptance of the race ladder.)

The attenuated list of willing Gweilo (white ghost) accomplices meant a downgrade for recruitment of new candidates for treason. Then COVID hit forcing the Beijing municipal authorities began to cut back the plethora of music bars, dance clubs and cafes in the temple hutong (alleyways), lakeside cafes, Chaoyang’s upscale clubs and even the rather tame Sanlitun beer street. Bar owners began to suffer monthly losses of income as the weekend crowds thinned and then disappeared altogether - bankrupting baristas at cafes, club owners and band musicians. Long before the plague, secret Chinese funding put Watz into the governor’s office in Minneapolis, from where he could control the train inspectors searching for shipments of counterfeit dollars at the border with Canada in International Falls.

Back to Basic Procreation

The COVID lockdown forces throngs of queers to return to their officially registered home counties and back to a life of grinding poverty of these villages. The end of good times was Home Sweet Home aka Rural Hell. My instinctive reaction to rural detention of the prettier girls in my journalism orbit was: Too bad, you really should have married me! Now you’re back to where you started - nowhere. Sour Grapes, eh? As a very cute artist/craftswoman used to tell me: Yoi, you’re a bastard! Guess what I called her in return. We truly belonged in the same league. But that was a while back, and I had to move on after the betrayal of my editorial assistant. Convergence - what a concept - everything going to Hell at once!

The gay and lesbian blossoming in Beijing and more remote Chinese outposts was an ephemeral moment in China’s multi-millennial cultural history. Even more repressive than pandemic, the queer phenomena was a quiet crisis for concerned parents who longed for grandchildren that could never arrive - at least not in honor and joyous pride - without heterosexual marriage. Countless past generations of ancestors - the ghosts were angry at the folly of their wayward spawn inside the discos and dark back rooms in betrayal of countless generations of their family lineage.

In hindsight, following the disastrous interdiction of two separate cargoes of printed-in-China counterfeit dollars at the International Falls border post in Eastern Minnesota, Tim Walz’s reputation fell from “hero of Communism” to reprehensible fool. The last shot for a comeback was his Vice President candidacy - which is inexplicable other than Chinese favoritism which the compromised Democrat Party cannot refuse. For the few clean Democrat heavies, Watz as the VP candidate is something like that scene in The Godfather, when the mod-linked producer wakes up to find a dead horse on his bed.

The Long Look Back and Forward

In the final analysis, Tim Walz served as the financial bursar overseeing the transfers of millions, perhaps trillions of dollars (surplus from Chinese trade to the USA) in secret cash transfers from the treasury of the Communist Party of China to the Democratic Party core leadership to ensure American cooperation and tolerance of China’s ever-wider global expansionist drive. His nomination to the Vice President’s post was a guarantee from the Democrat leadership of American compliance with the Chinese rules and demands, which basically was transforming the USA as a subsidiary colony of China. In this traitor’s trade deal, the U.S. would be relegated as the honorable lackey of Beijing’s global empire. This subservient role is a throwback to ancient China’s imperial empire, with the U.S. “king” aka president groveling and bowing to the Emperor aka President of China Xi Jingping.

Well, that’s one way to survive the chaos of an otherwise turbulent world. Maybe my doubts are validated by the legacy of queer imperial mandarins hunting at night for juicy boys, this time preferably blond, athletic and obedient. Thus, in this global-future perspective, Americans need to roll up the Democrat-enforced policy of promoting queerness as a precondition for his nation’s status as a subservient slave colony. My vote is no way in hell to that humiliation and disgrace to the America of the Founding Fathers. All the Dem wailing about the horrors of slavery cannot compare with what’s come under China's big thumb.

Well, it ain’t over till it’s over - and it’s nowhere near over yet. I am interested to see what the Dems and more importantly what the Chinese big brothers intend to do with Tim Walz if the Dems lose the coming election. I would not trade my life of poverty for his coming encounter with Destiny aka the big SNAFU.

This sunset on Beijing’s gay and lesbian withered bloom - so reminiscent of the decline and fall of the homosexual extravaganza at Oxford as recalled in the Evelyn Waugh’s “Brideshead Revisited” - is a last look back on a near-forgotten moment fading to nothingness. As the world faces a sterner era of war, tribulation and deadly pandemics, queerness falls into the category of mental illness, suicidal impulse and ostracism. Nations want stoic heroes - real men and women strong against all odds and capable of surviving the horrors. Mincing queers are, thus, relegated to locating explosive landmines by stepping on them.

Thus, the hopelessly twisted Tim Walz is the perfect poster boy for the risks of hedonism for future generations to condemn as the ultimate un-American brand of treason. Thanks alot, Tim, and by the way keep your filthy hands off our children, you over-the-hill pedophile - or else.

The Party can be ruthless toward failure, and undoubtedly Walz’s handlers await his abject return to China with an explanation for the screw-up with trepidation. Mistakes may be forgiven - on the surface at least - but never forgotten. In closing, this last chapter of my Election Year 2024, all that can be hoped for is the restoration of American Democracy without subversion and foreign manipulation because the White House is the sole property of the American people.

So it's up to you - vote Kamala and Tim - and be flushed down the tube with them - or do what is necessary to pull America out of its nosedive. It's not about whatever you or I would like to see - it's a choice of national survival.