I’ve got a friend who shall not be named Speedicut, who’s currently bumming his way around China. China, as you might know, is a really enormous country where there is a large Asian population. Imagine the “chinatown” in your closest respective metropolitan area. Well, this is like a really big one of those, from what I can tell.

Speedy always brings me back something cool, because that’s what I would probably do if I ever went anywhere where there was anything cool to bring back. As I always do when he travels to a far-off land, in lieu of something fun or touristy, I told him that I wanted him to bring me back a forbidden or cursed idol from a lost temple or a secret underground city. If he had to run from the temple just a few feet in front of a mob of angry villagers wielding spears and blowguns or a giant spherical boulder, well, it’s not a requirement, but it’ll make the gift even cooler. Extra points if he gets hit with a few poison darts while running away. Jackpot prize if he’s wearing a fedora through the whole thing.

Alas, he doesn’t seem to be getting around the forbidden temple circuit much, but he is getting around the hotel circuit. Via our super-secret spy-satellite wrist-communicator delta-comm-link (fine, it was Google Chat) he told me that, instead of a bouquet of flowers and candy in his latest hotel room, he was pleasantly surprised to find, on his way to bed, a colorful bouquet of assorted condoms arranged artfully in a basket.

Condoms, you might not know, are used for, err… you put them on your… like a small, tight fitting jacket for your… and a tip on the end for the, uh… you know. It’s a precautionary anti-family device.

Speedy, in the interest of fostering international relations, read the package to himself and decided he liked the condom company’s attempt at English so much that he emailed me a photo along with a note that urged me to share it with the world. So, here you go.

I can’t make it past “crisply crisply itches” without giggling like a maniac. I’m guessing that this particular brand of condom has some sort of built-in vibrating device, but it’s hard to tell from the directions. It could just be a euphemism.

Here’s a bonus picture of a menu item that Speedy saw for your additional enjoyment.

“Fry the pheasant’s cry residue”?! Those monsters! Also, if you’ve never enjoyed fried pheasant’s tears? Well, IS BECAUSE HAD NOT DISCOVERED!

Far be it from me to point out hilarious parts of a foreign culture for the amusement of myself and other, but not that far.