Fourth Blood

by Nic Olson

If you want an accurate depiction of what Myanmar is like, you should watch Stallone’s First Blood, First Blood Part Two, the third one which I cannot remember (Rocky III maybe?), and the newest one, Rambo, or as makes sense to me, Fourth Blood. First Blood doesn’t really give you any ideas about Myanmar, as it is just Rambo killing Americans in America, but for your own good and for a more followable plot, I suggest you watch it as well. Fourth Blood was actually set in Myanmar, but I don’t know about the other ones. So, watch Fourth Blood especially carefully.

Being there for a week really opened my eyes to how many men I could kill in one day. I mean, I killed everyone. Bow and Arrow, gun, bare hands, bamboo shanks up the shank, you name it, I killed a man with it.
I think, no, I know, that mainstream media doesn’t properly represent a place like this. I suggest that when you see pieces of Myanmar from Lloyd Robertson or Kevin Neuman, or even Peter Mansbridge, believe very little of what you hear. If you are going to trust anyone as to the status of a foreign land, trust the writing of Stallone. He has never told a lie.
I visited a place called Kalay, north part, near India. A friend stays there. The people were so nice, nicer than any person i’d ever met, that I don’t see how Stallone could kill any of them….

When I was in Rangoon I met a friend. He is about 50 years old and is from Myanmar. He is famous worldwide for poor English that is nearly impossible to decipher. He talks like he is speaking in hieroglyphics, but not even that simple. When he heard I was in town he traveled all night by foot (i think) with a giant bag of dry fish and peanuts slung over his shoulder, meant as a gift for the special visitors. He was also sure to mention that lunch was his responsibility. But the way he said it was, “You eat. My duty.” Unreal. This changed my life.

But now I’m in India again. Caught a sleeper train from Kolkata to Bangalore, and now I’m chilling in the technologically advanced world of Bengaluru. Tourists are crawling all over this city and this whole country. I think it all started with a little blog I call Balls of Rice, two years ago. I was obviously the first white North American male to visit India since Jesus did before his ministry.

Right?

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