What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and at time of posting I’ve been back in Ptown for just over 24 hours. It means I’ve only got one night of redlight fodder for a blog, so I’m padding it with stuff you don’t care about…namely, the 8,000+ mile journey from LAX to beer bar babes by way of Tokyo. I’ll dole out the redlight-related stuff for you first, though, since most of you are only interested in that, and then if you want to be spared the rest of my ramblings, you can be.
Last night, my brother (who’s in town for a month of debauchery) and I were In American Grill on Soi Lengkhee for Western Chinese. One table over, a 50something dude had taken his young teenage kids to dinner with his new Thai wife/gf. They were very polite, and everyone got along well. It warms my heart to see a happy ending to a story that undoubtedly started with some farang cunt filing for divorce. Thailand is the great equalizer for the scourge of misogyny in the West.
Compared to December, Soi Buakhao didn’t seem as crowded. My brother chose a thick chick in a yellow dress at a random beer bar and got roped into playing Connect Four while I sat watching the traffic. He barfined in five minutes and suddenly I was on my own. I flitted straight to Las Vegas for BOGO b ruskies and immediately noticed an improved view onstsge, namely three hot fillies I’d happily conc up. Rota two was chubbier but still had two 8s. My one remaining Ptown concubine messaged to say she’d changed to working at a gogo on LK so I sought her out for a drink and some tittie shaking. She asked to come by for a BJ the following day and I begrudgingly acquiesced.
Then I jetted up to Soi 6 just to get a looksee. All my usual drinking buddies were either MIA or already engaged except for Beam who was happy to only have a chin wag as she was already drunk. “Where you been?” she asked. “I look for you every day.” Apart from hanging with her, The 6 didn’t have much else to offer. It was moderately crowded—still nothing compared to the previous month—and so I didn’t stick around.
Then I baht bussed to Walking Street just to make the rounds. ‘Twas Chick first to say hi to the boss and look for two specific pieces of ass that get regularly Seven’s tip. I spotted no less than 20 new faces. God bless High Season and the truckloads of country girls it brings.
There are two contrasting sets of punters in the gogo—young firsttimers who have an expression of bewildered expectation. They know they’re supposed to transition from spectator to fucker, but they don’t know how to make it happen. Like larvae without a chrysalis. And the seasoned monger, blessedly relieved of all urgency. Like a Venus fly trap or an old spider on a web, they wait and watch, knowing when and where to strike. The youngers emote angst, and a fear of missing out. The old-timers exude a quiet potency.
Then I skated to Pin-Up to see a gal whom I hope is a futureconc. She’s 19 and full of the kind of vigor that an old man like me can siphon off of, not unlike a sex vampire. A transfer of her youth to me through the rough contact of gonad to gonad. She’s a promise of an inevitable heart-to-groin connection. The life blood of every true monger. The lineup had a lot of new clunge…nothing that stood out to me but new just the same.
Then I slid to Fahrenheit in search of an old galpal from Patpong. She has a way of massaging one’s balls that is both loving and cruel. The desire it inspires is the kind of yearning that the likes of Alexander the Great fought wars for. After that, the jetlag caught up with me and I Bolted home for some much-needed shuteye.
In sum, my split-second impression of Ptown after just one night back is there are 1—fewer cunting tourists and 2—slightly more hot chicks. By next week’s post I’ll have a better evaluation but for the moment, things are looking up. Now, here’s a hideous retelling of my trip to-and-from Los Angeles, USA, starting with departing from BK via Starux Airlines…
Suvarnabhumi Departures was strangely less crowded than usual. I guess most people don’t want to leave TLOS in the middle of High Season. I checked in online the day before and I had the boarding pass and no luggage so I skipped the queue and went straight to the gate. I paid a gut-punching 600b for krapow gai and a beer in an eatery before boarding. If you skip check-in at the terminal, you have to go to the desk at the gate and get a real boarding pass printed. Plus they have to ask the usual questions that don’t actually matter. “Did anyone else pack your bag?” Fuck no. “Did you let your bag out of your sight at any time?” Jesus. “Are you a terrorist bent on blowing up the plane?” Just ask that, why don’t you?
Five seconds after boarding, the Chinese lady next to me asked if I’d switch seats so her husband could is in the extra leg room seat i paid $40 extra for. Funny she didn’t offer her cushy seat to the dude sat next to her husband. I said no, and the stewardess backed me, but it was a sour way to start the flight. After takeoff, I moved to another empty front row seat so the dude could sit with his wife, but he chose to stay where he was.
The Starlux website had the seat selection backwards, so for the long leg, I mistakenly reserved a seat in the back row instead of the front. I was livid. First, though, I had the short leg to endure. The flight staff are very polite, but the Chinese in them still shows up now and then. If you don’t do exactly what they say when they say it, they get testy. And since half the stewardesses on the flight were drop-dead gorgeous, I was aroused for most of the flight.
The Taiwan Airport was deserted. The layover was just 45 minutes before boarding. My online seat change blunder turned out to be a blessing, as the seat next to mine was empty. The food is usually good on Starlux. Not this time. Dinner was beef goulash with potatoes. Breakfast was egs, back bacon, and British beans with a shriveled-up croissant.
We landed exactly on time. The walk to Immigration is long but I made it in 10 minutes. Then a quick facial recognition scan and I was at the Flyaway pickup point. It began to rain as the bus pulled up. Once on the bus, one dude immediately pulled out his phone and had a loud conversation on an otherwise silent ride. Another jackass argued with the driver about the best route to the freeway. And just like that, I was back in LA mode.
14 hours after getting to my mom’s house, I wanted to get back on a plane to Thailand. The US is a hellhole. There’s a reality show called Ru Paul’s Drag Race that is pure gay pornography on regular TV. 75% of all broadcasts is adverts, the content of which is pitched at a first-grade level. It’s something straight out of Brave New World, where all media is dumbed-down in order to create a populace of brain-dead nitwits. It ain’t fiction anymore, folks.
Rather than ramble on about the prison sentence that was my time in LA, I’ll sum it up with the following…
Every day the fucking govt emergency broadcast would take over my phone with unhelpful announcements. A mudslide 180 miles away. A child abducted in San Diego. It’s a system that was put in place to condition the public to freak out and obey when our overlords say “jump.”
A woman in grocery store stole a case of Diet Coke by putting three in the basket bottom and telling the clerk she only had two. I think the clerk knew but did nothing to stop her. These days, people run into stores and steal crap by the buttload. California has a law that you can’t prosecute a thief if they steal under $1,000 worth of merchandise. Can you believe the commies that run that State? Unfuckingbelievable.
I spent nearly half the time in bed, either trying to sleep away the hours or seeking an escape from my mother’s endless prattling.
By week three I always get a sinus infection from the dry climate.
We had 14 days of rain followed by a week of frigid winds. It was as if God was punishing me for not staying in TLOS.
I survived by chugging chocolate Russians (that’s a black russian and hot chocolate) and black santas (that’s egg nog with Kahlua).
Coyotes now roam the suburbs in broad daylight. There’s a dead skunk on every street.
Every chain store and fast-food joint asks if you wanna round up your bill for needy kids. It’s a total scam.
I made a deposit at the bank. I walked in with an envelope of cash. The teller put it in a machine that ate the money and then claimed the total was $300 less than the actual amount. They couldn’t verify it because the plebes put the cash in a black box, because the banks don’t trust their retarded employees not to steal it or miscount it. That’s now the machine’s job. So the teller canceled the transaction which zeroed out my entire deposit entirely. It took three employees an hour to break into the box and recount all the day’s deposits to confirm the correct amount of mine. This is the current state of the West. Everyone is stupid. Everything is designed to steal from you and/or fuck you up in one manner or other.
After what seemed like forever, January 15 rolled up and I was finally headed back to Paradise with my brother in tow. Getting to the Flyaway bus terminal to LAX was a blessed relief. My bro and I crammed into our seats (he’s 300 pounds) and waited through 40 minutes of gridlocked traffic. A young Mexican couple behind us fretted the whole way because they didn’t leave early enough and would likely miss their flight. It made me wonder how often things like that happen now that most Americans are total morons.
The Star Alliance Business Class Lounge was per usual. I managed to chuck down four mimosas before boarding ANA Flight 5 to Tokyo. The plane for our first leg was fucking old. Thank God BC is always roomy. The stewardesses were a Japanese porn lover’s wet dream. Dinner was artichoke and salmon canapes, marinated shrimp and cured pork, beef cheek and mash, strawberry cheesecake, Bordeaux and champagne.
The Business Class Lounge at Narita was horrible—rammed with Americans and very little food, and the wifi didn’t work. Japan’s supposed to be the tech capital of the world and their goddam airport free wifi didn’t work. Ridiculous.
The second leg was just over six hours and I slept the entire trip. We touched down at 23.50 and VIP service at Immigration from Thai Visa Centre took 20 seconds. My taxi by Taxi247 was waiting to jet to Ptown. We saw one fatal car crash near the halfway point. Other than that and loads of semis, there were few other cars were on the road. We got to South Pattaya in under 90 minutes.
The handful of things I usually love about Cali just didn’t hit the same on this trip. In-N-Out burger was just meh. The bottles and bottles of wine that I consumed fell flat. Even mom’s cooking was only OK. I think I’ve finally had enough of the West. Annual perfunctory visits are unavoidable as long as my mum breathes, but fucking hell what a soul-crushing experience it’s become. These visits always remind me how fortunate any of us are who escaped to Thailand from the prison of our Western lives. And traveling, while tedious, is a privilege.
In other news, Thailand’s biggest cunt, aka Bob James aka Bob the Knob aka Dave the Rave recently humiliated himself by posting on X that Sony had sponsored him by giving him a free camera, in recognition of being “the best photographers” in Thailand. This is hilarious on several levels. First, there ain’t a bat’s chance in hell Sony would sponsor a redlight photog. That’s just fucktarded. Second, nobody at Sony is looking at Bob’s pics of ladyboys and saying, “Goddam, those are the best photos coming out of Thailand at the mo.” Third, Bob’s photos are as mediocre as photos can be. He’s legally blind, so the only way he can hang onto the meager handful of jobs keeping him afloat is by taking 100,000 photos hoping that six or seven come out OK. And props to him—that strategy seems to work. But it’s not skill. It’s (literally) blind luck. Plus, the girls all revile him. He’s a weird, fat, hobbit-looking albino that makes the hairs on the backs of girls’ necks stand up. He has no clue what “composition” is, which is Photography 101, and so most of his photos showcase girls with bad posture, bloated stomachs, and/or the most unflattering poses.
And then, to add self-own to injury, after someone (I swear, it wasn‘t me) contacted Sony about Bob’s announcement and their reaction of horror at being lumped-in with that lumpy turd, Bob again took to X to say he was just joking, and anyone who took him at face value is stupid. Jesus, Bob. I know you’re mentally retarded, but for fuck’s sake. Recognize when you’ve stepped in it and fucking shut up. It’s pathetic.
And look, I hate to make fun of the retarded. It’s never a good look to punch down. But most retards are really nice people. You ever meet someone with Down’s? They’re lovely. The thing that sets Bob apart is, he’s mentally handicapped AND an utter scumbag. I can’t feel sympathy for a dunce if they’re also a raging asshole on top of it. But Bob, I want to help you buddy. It’s not fair that karma made you stupid AND ugly AND a piece of shit. So here’s a couple of pointers to help make you a better photographer. Spoiler alert, dickface—you’re not the best photog in Thailand. You’re not even the best photog in your apartment complex. So let this be the first steps toward making you at least a decent picture-taker…
First, stop posting pics of gogo dancers who look bloated. Back in the 90s, Mtv did a documentary on the Victoria’s Secret supermodels. They asked Stephanie Seymour “What’s rule number 1 of modeling?” “Suck in your gut,” she replied. This is, like, so obvious I can’t believe I have to explain it to you, but if a girl looks gassy, or appears as though she needs to take a shit, DON’T PUBLISH THE PHOTO. You do it 8 out of 10 times. The dude actually had the gall (or the delusion) to say the photo at the left was good enough to post more than once. The chick in the middle has bubble gut, and the ass of the one on the left looks funky, like she’s flexing one cheek but not the other. These are things an amateur photographer should catch at first glance, buddy. I’m just trying to help you become better at your job. There’s no chance you’ll learn to be a better human being, but maybe if you aren’t total shit at everything you do, you’ll be less of a dickface in real life.
Second, learn how to pose a lady. I know, I know—they hate you, so it’s hard to get them to follow instructions. Maybe Tip Two should be to be kinder to them, but you don’t know how to be kind, so instead, maybe learn a few basic poses that don’t look like shit. Here are a few examples:
And I’d consider buying the book, “How to Pose Inexperienced Models” by Olivia Bossert. It’s a fact that a lot of gogo dancers don’t know how to pose. Why would they? But that’s where your skills should intervene. First, though, you must acquire some skill. Just, you know, make an effort to do better. Telling yourself you’re the best, or going on X and trying to convince us you’re the best by saying “Sony thinks I’m the best” doesn’t make you a good photog. It makes you a douchebag. Anyway, I hope this helped. I’m looking out for you, man.
For any old Members who miss my photo albums, or for anyone wanting an eyeful of redlight content, I managed to swap out a new paywall, so now, 10 years’ worth of redlight photos and videos are accessible with a $16 one-time payment for lifetime access. Click on the “Members Only Content” link at the top of the homepage and use the PayPal button.
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Sorry for all the typos. I didn’t proofread. Check back next Sunday for another summary of this redlight life. In the meantime, you can read more Bangkok-centric stuff on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Slideshows from previous blogs and the redlight scene going back several years can be found at https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
My buddy Jack and I host a growing Facebook community with lots of nightlife-related content at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/thaiagogo
and I’ve got a small but robust group of pervs posting photos daily at a group called Super Hot Asians here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/374120690195407
Follow me on Twitter/X @BangkokSeven for daily monger material, along with these other profiles that’re chock full of photos of hotties:
@superhotthais
@BangkokNightli2
If you’re feeling generous, you can leave a tip on any of the above X profiles. All proceeds will go to creating more redlight content.
I’ve started to sell my artwork in digital download bundles, so if you fancy some gogo dancer-related pictures, mostly nude Thai chicks photoshopped as paintings, you can get ‘em on the cheap at my Etsy shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/ThailandNights
Right now I have several bundles of four to five pictures each for under $10 US apiece.
And until next time fellow beach Bukowskis and Bathshebas, keep your balls (or tits) warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.
Pro Tip Post-Script: If you’re a blind, mentally retarded redlight photographer who gets no attention because everyone hates you and your content sucks, don’t go on social media and lie about your clout.
