Notes From Hong Kong: This is going to hurt if you're a Fox Newstard.

Wow.

Have run into this a couple of times already and it happens when meeting people who travel abroad for business. If you have an American accent, you are suspect. You have to clear a couple of hurdles: 1) Are you from New York? If yes, go to 2) Are you a banker? 3) Do you educate yourself by listening to Fox News?

If you answer these questions wrong, you are pegged as an imbecile.

When I first came to Hong Kong in the Nineties, if you had and American accent, people warmed to you immediately.

Don't cry.

It is what it is.

Notes From Hong Kong: Twit at my 9 o'clock.

While happily downing a rice bowl of ginger and grilled pork in a crowded food court in Kwun Tong, I heard someone clear his throat. A tall gentleman with a handlebar mustache, umbrella, looking like a stand in for John Cleese from Faulty Towers was standing at my table. He looked overwhelmed. He asked if he could sit.

I said sure, be my guest.

He just stood there.

I said no problem, have a seat.

He looked slightly annoyed and said, "I'm sorry, I don't understand your English. Is it okay for me to sit?"

He said it with an American accent. It is understandable why there could be confusion. I have a Midwestern accent which nobody ever hears in AMERICA. He had thin sliced and in his blank frightened ironically mustached head predetermined that I did not speak English. I did the only reasonable thing you could do.

I pretended not to speak English.

I pointed to the chair like Slingblade and he sat down. He had ordered a burger and fries. We exchanged looks and I did the awkward smiling and nodding thing, looking at his burger, looking back at him, then smiling and nodding again. I made sure to stretch it out so the whole experience was ETERNAL.

He looked back nervously, quickly downed his burger and left.

Maybe I was a dick. It wouldn't hurt to cut him some slack. I should have told him to try the Chinese sausage.

I hate Chinese sausage.

Notes From Hong Kong: 2011 Edition

Once again it's time to move the studio to Hong Kong for a month, spend time with Abby's family, and become my own little outsourcing operation. Still clearing the cobwebs as Abby has been furiously scheduling time with friends who want to see me.  She as no idea why I am so popular.

I do.

It's because I don't speak Cantonese.

I'm much more charming when my mouth is shut. The glassy eyed look I have from jet lag adds a mysterious quality. Mrs. Yang smoothing out my asinine comments in translation also doesn't hurt. It's nice to know there is something else I'm good at besides illustrating. I'm a savant when it comes to being arm candy for Mrs Yang.

Abby tells me we have friends to see in a couple of days.

I better start doing sit-ups.