China and The Carpenters

If there is something about mainland China which I never expected before, and absolutely amazes me now, it is the connection its citizens have with the music of the Carpenters. You might think that, when referring to best-known American music, people in Beijing would mention Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson, or various jazz artists like Louis Armstrong or Dave Brubeck. Instead, I encounter evidence almost every day that mainland Chinese have a special place in their minds and in their hearts for Richard and Karen Carpenter.

The Carpenters popularized their brand of soft-rock music in the U. S. during the 1970s, and became that decade's top selling popular music act. That makes it all the more remarkable that they are so revered in mainland China, where millions of people spent the same decade dying of famine during the Cultural Revolution. Add to that the irony of Karen Carpenter's anorexia-related death to Chinese suffering from a lack of food and you have the makings for an amazing TV documentary, or at least a follow up episode of "True Hollywood Story."

I've heard the Carpenters' music inside bathrooms, bars, and bookstores in Beijing. I even heard a taxi driver singing along -- in English -- to a Carpenters tune on the radio. When I asked one of my co-workers about the Carpenters' music, she said, "oh yes, it's great. Everyone knows a Carpenters song." "But it's some of the most bland, dull, non-threatening pop music ever recorded in America," I replied. Yet it appears those are the qualities about the music that appeal to some Chinese listeners the most.

It seems that in the late 1980s, Carpenters music began to be heard on radio stations in mainland China. In those days, that was virtually the only kind of foreign-produced music allowed to be heard from the West in Beijing: something safe, sweet, and unlikely to make a serious political situation worse. Glasnost had just brought down the Soviet Union. There was no way the Chinese in charge were going to let rock artists like the Rolling Stones help finish the job of dismantling Communism. As the years went on and China grew in economic clout, the Carpenters became a staple in kareoke joints and KTVs. Drunken Chinese businessmen staggered out of bars with "Close To You" and "We've Only Just Begun" bouncing around in their heads. "For All We Know" became a sentimental favorite at wedding receptions. Kids in English class learned the lyrics to "Rainy Days and Mondays" alongside Dr. Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" speech.

In the U. S., critics labled the Carpenters' work as the music of politically-conservative, stationwagon-driving, flat-and-sterile, white middle-America. Karen Carpenter's death changed some of that, but I hardly knew anyone who ranked the Carpenters ahead of anyone on the radio, except for maybe The Captain and Tennille, when they unleashed "Muskrat Love" on the masses. In Beijing, Carpenters music continues to stir the feelings of many people who grew up in a certain generation. While most teenagers today prefer Avril Lavigne and Linkin Park, their older siblings and parents indentify the American brother-and-sister duo as their favorite Western musical artists, connecting their songs to quiet walks in the park, or a stroll along the water in Houhai, or maybe sightseeing at the Summer Palace.

At least until they hear the sounds of muskrats making-out in the lakeside weeds.

Pimp My Ride

What would happen if Xzibit showed up in Beijing at the request of Chinese President Hu Jintao? After all, President Hu desperately needs some new wheels from which to review the massed troops in the 14th Military Parade on China's National Day.

President Hu Jintao's ride is a Hong Qi, also known as the HQE, China's only domestically-produced luxury limo. It is 6.4 meters long, 2.05 meters wide, and 1.72 meters high, originally built at the First Automobile Works of Changchun in Jilin Province. But due to China's rapid economic growth and emergence on the world stage as an international playa, the HQE looks horribly out of date. But all that is about to change. In short, the HQE is in need of some serious TLC. President Hu doesn't know it yet, but we're about to pimp his ride.

"I am Hu Jintao. I am the President of the People's Republic of China. And this is my ride."

It is an ordinary black limousine. "While mainland China boasts a rapidly developing upper class that can afford fine cars like this," says Hu, "most of our nation is poor and its people lacking in what you in the West could call the 'social graces.' These will come in time, but I have only a half-hour before I must review the country's top military detatchments during a globally-viewed parade in Beijing. We need to impress the leaders of the world's developed nations, as well as frighten the lesser countries in our region of East Asia. We cannot look weak. We cannot make a mistake. We cannot fail. So please, pimp my ride."

Xzibit shows up outside the gates of Zhongnanhai, home of the Chinese political leadership, and sees the Hong Qi for the first time: "What we have here is a basic black, bulletproof, no-frills, no-style, no-character, piece of s--- Soviet-era automotive engineering. We've never pimped a car like this one before. But there's always a first time. Let's go meet President Hu."

Xzibit knocks at the gate and an excited President Hu walks out: "This is a great moment for our people. I knew you would come. So where is Shaq?"

Xzibit: "???"

Xzibit and President Hu look over the vehicle. Xzibit observes the exterior: "I see that the favorite color for official cars in Beijing is black. Did you ever think of updating the style of this car?" President Hu: "It is updated."

Xzibit: "???!!!"

Xzibit and President Hu check out the interior. Xzibit: "There is...wait, that is some nasty...hey, do people spit in your car?" President Hu: "The people spit everywhere. Everyone knows this." Xzibit: "But inside your car? The next thing you'll tell me is that they let small children pee on the back seat." President Hu doesn't respond.

Xzibit: $@#^%???!!!

Xzibit squirms into the driver's seat and President Hu hands him the keys. "Off to the west coast," Xzibit says. "We do not have a west coast," counters the President. "Only east coast." Xzibit drives across the street and arrives in the Forbidden City right after the commercial break. Workers at the shop throw up their hands in exasperation upon seeing the Hong Qi pull into the garage.

"Here I am," exclaims Xzibit as he hits the HQE's metallic-sounding horn, "...in the President's Robo-Car!"

The workers hurriedly convene their staff meeting in the shop's conference room: "This is the car which will carry the President of the world's most populous country. The people of his nation make everything we buy, including many of the parts we will be pimping his car with. Paint, what you got for us?"

"We are going to repaint this fine car in basic black. Or maybe not."

"OK, interior?"

"Not only will we remove that nasty spit-and-crap-stained back seat, but we will give the President enough room to stand up if he wants."

"All right. Body work, what ya got?"

"We are going to cut a hole in the roof. YES, THE ROOF! President Hu can stand at attention and reward the crowd with his presence and, POW, review the troops directly from his limo's sunroof. Oh yeah, we're going to attach Chinese flags above the headlights for a patriotic touch. It is National Day, after all."

"Nice. Electronics?"

"We will outfit this ride with an audio system like no other. We will mount four, count-em, FOUR microphones on the roof, which will transmit President Hu's words through wireless technology to speakers up and down Chang'an Jie. His booming voice will be heard from the Forbidden City all the way to Wangfujing and back."

The meeting ends. "Well, President Hu, take one last peek at your Hong Qi. It will never look like this again. Well, not exactly like this, but it will be pretty close."

Twenty minutes later: President Hu and Xzibit are in attendance at the shop with several bodyguards as the workers unveil the newly-pimped HQE. The bodyguards gasp as President Hu nods in approval: "A fine job."

Hu Jintao climbs into the limousine, pokes his head out of the sunroof, and faces the microphones. The driver proceeds to power the car through the gate and heads toward Tian'anmen Square.

President Hu's voice blasts through the streetside speakers, amid the throng of 300,000 parade watchers and participants:

"Xie xie for pimping my ride! Now go Serve The People!"

Mooncake vs. Fruitcake

It is time for the Chinese to celebrate the annual Mid-Autumn Festival. It is an event marked by the traditional giving of mooncakes, similar to the holiday gift of fruitcakes in other countries. I decided to see how the two delectibles matched up in a classic, stomach-churning, tale-of-the-tape comparison.

So, for the 1.3 billion Chinese citizens in attendance, and the half-dozen fans reading this blog around the world..."ladies and gentlemen...L-L-L-L-LET'S GET READY TO RUMB-L-L-L-L-L-E!"

Ingredients: Fruitcake is a heavy and sometimes alcohol-fueled cake packed with candied fruit, dried fruit, and nuts. Mooncake is not even a cake, but actually a dense pastry about the size of a Hostess Twinkie, which includes fillings of kidney bean paste, or lotus seed paste, or yolk from salted duck eggs in the center. At least 4 or 6 come in a highly-decorative, holiday-themed box.

ADVANTAGE: FRUITCAKE. Fruitcake occasionally features alcohol. Mooncake features paste. Any food that uses something called "paste" in the center should automatically give one pause. The last time I remember anyone actually eating paste was during pre-school activity time.

Calories: Fruitcake = 250 (per slice). Mooncake = 800 (per cake).

ADVANTAGE: FRUITCAKE (given that the slice of fruicake and the mooncake are the same basic size). In terms of health, neither is a good option. If you decide to eat one slice of fruitcake, hope that a lawyer remembered to leave his business card in the package. Your fruitcake might be soaked in so much rum that you'll earn a DUI violation on the way home from the holiday dinner. On the other hand, consume an entire box of 4-to-6 mooncakes and put your cardiologist on speed dial.

Gift Value: Fruitcake is a traditional staple for Christmas parties or wedding receptions, and one cake be used several times per year. Even if consumed by the recipient, it can accurately be called the gift that keeps on giving. Mooncakes can be tossed in the fridge, but the filling won't last long. Besides, the packaging is so cool that you'll want to buy new ones each year, anyway.

ADVANTAGE: MOONCAKE. Some people determine the value on the artistic packaging alone. After all, it's the thought -- and the colorful design on the box -- that counts.

Humor Value: Older, rock-hard fruitcake has legendary alternative uses, including but not limited to: sledgehammers, doorstops, tire blocks, and various blunt force trauma-inducing instruments of violence. Mooncakes are at the center of a Yuan dynasty legend which says messages got smuggled inside the pastries in a plot to overthrow the Mongols.

ADVANTAGE: EVEN. Curious how both can be counted on as weapons of some sort.

Post-Gift Use: One U. S. city hosted a festival in which a time-hardened fruitcake was fired 1,400 feet from a purpose-built, air-compressed cannon. I suspect China will find a way to appropriately blast mooncakes into outer space, once engineers increase their rockets' weight-to-lift ratio.

ADVANTAGE: MOONCAKE. Maybe fruitcake's already been enjoyed on the International Space Station, but mooncake has the capability to reach lunar orbit.

WINNER: MOONCAKE BY SPLIT DECISION, despite the fact that few people in China see anything funny about either food.

The line, "nutty as a mooncake" doesn't seem to fit, somehow.