Life in Chinese

Read an article today about a funny study. Apparently, people who handle a warm object will be more positive for a short period afterwards than people who handle a cold one. For example, if you meet a friend for a hot coffee, you'll be more "generous, caring and happy" (scientific terms used by the study that have little to do with their layman counterparts) than if you have an ice coffee. This is going straight into my bank of studies on how to control people. Next time I ask someone for a favor, I'm sticking them in the oven first.

I've been cruising through Chinese the past few days, and their incessant politeness is getting to me. They are not my people. I always accept praise like it's due, regardless of how astronomically far I am from meriting it. When praise isn't being showered upon me, I manifest my own and collect nods of agreement. When there are no nodding people around me, I satisfy myself with echoes.

The Chinese take the extreme in the opposite direction. They tiptoe on their pinkies so as not to inspire jealousy. They verbally abuse themselves to not appear cocky. The last time a Chinese person accepted a compliment was in 1643, and it would have remained a secret if not for the security leak in 1984. Here's a typical conversation between two Chinese people, adapted from my textbook:

Old Wang: Li! How are you doing, long time no see.
Old Li: Oh, I'm doing great...but actually, I'm doing very poorly.
Old Wang: No, come on, no need to be polite, you're looking as handsome as you were when you were twenty years old.
Old Li: (takes out a knife and cuts off his face) Please! I am uglier than a lion's stomach lining.
Old Wang: Anyway, we both know beauty doesn't matter. What's important is cooking ability, and you are the best chef from here to Alpha Centauri B.
Old Li: (rips off his right arm) Cooking?? I can't even hold a pan and a pair of chopsticks at the same time. Anyway, my meager cooking skill pales in comparison with how you handle a soccer ball.
Old Wang: (takes a baseball bat out of his wallet and breaks his legs) What are you talking about? I can't even walk, let alone play soccer.
Old Li: Soccer's for little boys anyway. What matters is your wife is more beautiful than ten million dollars in an offshore bank account.
Old Wang: (takes out his nunchucks) I have to go Li. I'll see you later, you king of fashion you.
Old Li: See ya later, emperor of hair style.
(Old Wang goes home and murders his wife.)

How is there a billion and a half of these people?

Mario: apparently it's impossible to eat a teaspoon of cinnamon
Mark: that's ridiculous, i could eat a gallon of cinnamon
Mario: ugh. that's not the challenge. anyone can eat a gallon