Rockefeller Without Borders attended the recent 20th-anniversary celebrations of Cambodia’s famed Brigade 70 military unit. OK, we weren’t actually invited per se, but we did have a really good view into the celebrations after our favourite popcorn-cart lady let us stand on the roof of her rig to peek in on the action. There certainly is something about expensive machinery that makes people get all giddy. All those salutes, speeches and back slaps. But a military tank parade? Really?! I mean, it just feels so 20th century. Judging by the way my popcorn lady suddenly dropped everything she was doing to stare at traffic, the truly powerful know how to unleash a Rolls-Royce parade when a proper 21st-century statement needs to be made (according to my watch, zero caramel popcorn traded hands for at least a minute). Sure, maybe a Bentley parade could work just as well or, I don’t know, a small cavalcade of ultra-pimped-out village pick-ups minus windscreens and doors.
The great thing about those power machines – especially the vampy vixen village vehicle (alliteration is an excellent way to sex-up the word ‘car’, isn’t it?) – is that you don’t even need a licence plate to drive them (nor an actual driver’s licence, for that matter). Just get in and feel the intercourse-induced therapy of throbbing thrusts (theoretically upon your thighs, but whatever). The true oknhas know the real meaning of prestigious parades. Now that Rolls-Royce has opened a dealership in Phnom Penh, it’s time they amp up their marketing and implement a strategy I call ‘Only Oknha’. The concept is simple: if you have the cash to buy a Rolls, you want to be treated with the respect of someone who has the cash to buy a Rolls, but what if Rolls-Royce took that respect a big step further? What if you could become the Rolls? You and the Rolls merging in natural man-machine harmony. Yes, I am talking about you, exclusively wrapped in rich Rolls leather and goblets of dashboard gold, the purr of your proud pistons announcing your arrival as the streets part like Moses’ Red Sea.
Think about it: a Rolls-Royce named after YOU! As it stands now, the Rolls-Royce Phantom or Ghost or Silver Spur is hardly a name an oknha wants to be associated with. Phantom and Ghost? Ahhh, hello! And silver? C’mon, Rolls-Royce Inc! Oknhas don’t hawk cheap jewellery on Riverside! If streets can be named after oknhas, cars can, too. Except the big difference is that people disrespect streets with their litter, bad behaviour and stale urine. You can’t disrespect a car named The Rolls-Royce Oknha X (replace ‘X’ with oknha name of choice). Oh, OK. Go on, all you non-oknha readers: try it for yourself! Enter your name and see how it feels to BE that car. Really be that Rolls! We are talking about being one-of-a-kind here. You, only you. Who doesn’t want to be one-of-a-kind, right? I put that theory to test with my favourite popcorn lady who smiled and whispered: “Yes, I like that, bong. You can call me ‘Caramel’.” I chuckled (nervously), took a handful of caramel and continued watching the tanks on parade, dreaming about The Rolls-Royce Oknha Rockefeller St Bernard and the parting of my very own seas. Even a few murmurs along the Mekong will do…