Only last week he sold you a bunch of palm oil futures. 'Things are definitely looking up,' he said. 'Look at the rubber prices - they've bounced right back, thanks to AIDS, ha ha!'
This is a wonderful country to be born in. The food's good, people are talented, it's a lively blend of East and West, plenty of land, natural resources, blah blah blah.
So how come this week his villa in Damansara Heights is up for sale? Ah... he's joined the rest of his family in Toronto. Oh well, lucky bastard, managed to find himself a job in Canada. Probably did it for the sake of his children (they were terribly traumatised when the Minister of Education visited their school to promote the use of rubber hoses as a disciplinary device).
But will the kids grow up as Canadians? Will they someday qualify as Mounties? Or will they be mistaken for Eskimos? And does it matter? In the end we're all just human, aren't we?
Next year he might send you an invitation for the summer - and there'sll be a P.S. asking if you could smuggle in a couple of durians (for his wife). They're all going to really miss their curry laksa. But I doubt if they'll seriously regret being Quiet Emigrants.
The jingoist crudely declares: 'Let them go. Those who stay are going to cause less trouble.' Isn't that the crux of the problem? We are seen as a nation of potential troublemakers. Paranoia is rampant.
I hear France is a lovely country. Baby Doc seems quite well adjusted there. How about Honolulu? No need to speak Frog there. Too many bloody Japs, though. Maybe Mongolia. Outer... as far Outer as possible.
Personally I'm just about ready for a private dome on the moon. I need some time off-planet to recover from what they call Compassion Fatigue.