In his suit filed in Manhattan federal court last month, James Bonomo, a former paper sales manager for Mitsubishi International Corp., alleged that his career effectively ended after the humiliating incident during what should have been a routine business trip to China in April 2005.
Bonomo joined MIC's New York office in 1999, and his suit said that during his tenure, annual sales grew tenfold, from $3.5 million to $39 million.Well done, sir. You are an exemplary paper sales manager and a credit to the company.
The suit also says that during a trip to Beijing, Bonomo and his Tokyo-based superior, Tetsuya Furuichi, and a China-based Mitsubishi exec had dinner with a potential customer.The world is flat, global village, etc. Just wonderful.
Afterward, Furuichi took everyone to a bar for some liquor-fueled karaoke, telling Bonomo beforehand, "You will be the target tonight," the suit charges.Hijinks! I bet that they made him sing "Livin' on a Prayer."
Later that same night, Furuichi allegedly pressured Bonomo into visiting a bathhouse for what he said would be "a non-sexual massage" with the clients. En route, Bonomo's boss regaled him with an analysis of his admiration for the purported genital size of Italian-Americans, he said.Very flattering. People don't say these things to WASPs.
Despite Bonomo's discomfort, Furuichi continued on in that vein [sic], allegedly saying, "Italian men have penises 'down to here,' gesturing to his knees."Ibid.
At the bathhouse, a colleague from Mitsubishi's Beijing office, Yue Zhibo, took a picture of Bonomo's penis on his cellphone and then "refused to delete the picture" when Bonomo demanded he do so, the suit states.This is why I'm always yelling at you fuckers about your camera phones. One minute you're taking snapshots of pretty flowers and puppies at the park, and the next thing you know you're sneaking snapshots of your coworkers' wangs and and dongs being all drunk and belligerent about it. In the future, if I see you whip out your cameraphone, I'll just assume that I can never trust you when we hang out at the massage parlor/bathhouse.
After the incident, Bonomo's boss, Furuichi, compared Bonomo's penis to an "Italian sausage," the plaintiff said.
Moral of the story: Business trips to China are wacky fun until drunken Asians flip out about your huge ethnic penis, entrap you into getting erect at the massage parlor and take pictures of your boner with a cameraphone. By the time you're back to the office, the legend of your penis has grown and you're stuck listening to stupid meat jokes instead of being celebrated for your paper sales.
I couldn't find the South Park clip I wanted, so this will have to suffice.
12 comments:
From now on when I am out, I'm going to use the line, "I like the size of your genitals."
Dude, does Flop even post anymore? Has anyone checked in on him? Is he alive?
He's really into coloring books right now and doesn't have time to post. He did, however, e-mail me about dogfighting today. I trust he's fine.
Flop is the #2 man behind Vick. I knew it.
So small, so small....
This is why I love the Post. You can always count on them to feed you an unecessary amount of cracked-out, hilarious trash, with no significance to your life whatsoever. Sweet.
I'm happy to have a commentor named Brooklyn Bitch.
My favorite Post touch was "vein."
Fl-op? Never heard of him.
This is exactly the kind of post I would write if I knew how to read. I think I may have even smiled.
Excellent work.
The pun of the use of the word "vein" went completely unnoticed by me. I am ashamed.
Even though it was completely unintentional, I could not have said it better myself.
no one has to make anyone sing livin' on a prayer. it is always a privilege and a pleasure.
JHC: Flop is barking man-child who won the George Michael Bluth look-alike contest at the 2005 Queens County Fair. When not throwing bananas or trying to french girls, he infrequently posts here. And it is our honor.
Blythe: Somewhere on here I might have posted the karaoke story about how I ended up in a hick town in Michigan for a wedding, decided to hit the nightlife on my own, befriended a bar staff, and ended up hopping a ride with them to a roadhouse where I karaoked "Bad Medicine" with local whitetrash. Good times.
that is what i'm talking about. (both drunken karaoke and george michael bluth look-alikes.)
excuse me while i email that video to everyone in my office.
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