What I write for the Sunday column usually hits me around 2am Saturday morning, while standing in some god-forsaken nightclub, starring down at the bottom of a whisky bottle, trying to find the meaning to life. Whisky bottles are bottomless, I tell you, but that's neither here nor there.
Friday night in a taxi (drinking and driving is unhealthy), the driver was raving about the border clash that led to one dead Cambodian soldier, one dead Thai villager, five captured Thai rangers (despite initial reports, four were captured and later released) and several people injured.
''We should destroy them,'' he moaned. ''We are bigger and stronger, we can wipe them out,'' he groaned. ''They shot at us first,'' he blasted.
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About the author

- Writer: Voranai Vanijaka
- Position: Political and Social Commentator


