Kate and Leo did it on the Titanic, so why shouldn’t Chinese? After all, the habit goes back five millenia…

Some netizens tried to justify the habit by quoting 5,000-year-old proverbs.

“We used to say that China is a so large a country that one spit from every Chinese may drown all people in a small country, which shows we have a long tradition of spitting,” said netizen Songbce in the forum of Sina.com, one of China’s largest portal sites. “Even foreigners like spitting,” he said, basing his argument on the scene in ‘Titanic’ where Leonardo DiCaprio taught Kate Winslet how to spit.

Some people attributed the spitting to Beijing’s bad air quality and others said, half in jest, that it reflected improved living standards: according to traditional Chinese medicine theories, meat leads to sputum.

Why then are the authorities cracking down?

Because it’s Olympics year, that’s why. And the capital city, which will host the games, is planning its first “No Spitting Day” this year with the goal of eradicating a top etiquette no-no. But the pronouncement by the city’s public health authority on Thursday drew decidedly mixed reactions from local residents.

If this sounds like a familiar, you’re right! That’s because every couple of months the authorities trot out a policy to stop the habit that some Beijing locals say is simply an attempt to put more moisture into the dreadfully dry city’s air (yes, I made that up). Remember a few years ago there was a little disease called SARS. Don’t worry, the government may have been slow to acknowledge it, even blaming the messenger, but it’s public information now! Anyway, the NY Times noted the difficulty and virtues of the 2003 campaign:

This week the Communist Party Central Committee’s Spiritual Civilization Office gave its imprimatur to the war against spit, issuing a ”Directive on Launching Activities to Transform Vile Habits.”

But old habits die hard, and in China there is hardly a more ingrained habit than this one, practiced frequently by men, from lowly peasants to powerful leaders. Deng Xiaoping, the Chinese leader who ushered in the era of economic reforms, was a famous spitter, renowned for his aim.

Hey if it’s good enough for “Leo and Kate” and Deng Xiaoping, who am I to complain! But the 2003 campaign never took hold. Three years later China Daily was at it again, assuring people things would be different this time:

Keen to present its best face to the world during the prestigious sporting event, the government in Beijing has declared war on expectorating in public in a county where phlegm is as ubiquitous on the ground as dog poop in some European cities.

Not sure if comparing humans who choose to coat the ground with slimy, disease-ridden liquid and animals who are so thrilled to get outside of their tiny urban apartments that they’ll poop anywhere is the analogy I would have chosen. But I digress.

If you think that this steady stream of anti-spitting stories means that the campaigns have utterly failed and the yearly re-launches are a waste of time (ie-, The Nader Effect) then you are wrong. Oh so wrong! Today’s story informs us:

A recent survey by the Beijing-based Renmin University found that in 2007, 2.54 percent of people surveyed in Beijing still spat in public, down by 2.36 percentage points from 2006. Or at least, that was how many admitted doing so. Many Chinese take the practice for granted.

At least you have to give them credit for a little honesty by letting us know the numbers are a little fishy. Hey, I’m not saying that more than 2.54 percent of people spit, I’m just saying if that number is accurate then that tiny proportion has been following me around the last five years.

So there you have it: spitting is ingrained into the rich 5,000-year history of China, the mighty “Leo and Kate” engaged in the activity and a monthly one-day ban on the practice will ensure that the Olympics go off without a hitch. I’ve said it before, but this is going to be the two most entertaining weeks of my life. I may just plant myself in a tiny pink plastic chair on Gongtibeilu, grab a case of beer, and watch everything around me. And I won’t even have to worry about locals lobbing globs of spittle in my direction!!

You fight back against your spittle-crusted charm. But haven’t we had some good times on your phlegm-filled sidewalks. Remember that time that man spit a giant wad on me as I biked past? Deep down I know you felt it too: that warm sensation all over. Mostly on my leg actually, but you know what I mean. Why do you hate yourself so, when you are so beautiful, so gray?

And your succulent, thick air, which drips through my lungs, intertwining our fates into one gorgeous black soup of zhou. You say you will close your factories and ignore the real you, but once all the visitors leave, and it is once again just you and I, will you not open them, and let us play together. Black air, and white man. A testament to what we can achieve, if only we see past our differences.

Your beautiful BBC-free internets tubes will be blighted by the racket of clever journalists who can turn a phrase like no other. Why subject yourself to their nasty barbs?

Oh, Beijing! They don’t love you like I do! Keep their slanderous words at bay, and let us only read the words about how bad Steven Spielberg and Mia Farrow are. Keep these fools in the 1970s, where someone might believe the filth that they spew! Only let us know about the benevolent giant in Darfur that is China!

Even our ballet of cars, jammed onto the 2nd Ring Road because cab drivers are blissfully unaware that there exist other paths in Beijing to many destinations, even these will be cleared. And for what? For a few days of clear sky? To show off to your new friends? They don’t love you the way I do. They only come here to use you for your medals, and temporarily abundant pornography.

Sure they will love you for a few weeks. But will they be there in the tough times? Like when the city runs out of water, or the CCTV Tower collapses?

You hide behind this opera mask of fear and shyness, worried that the world might not like what it sees. It is a mistake. For all of your vomit-filled ally ways, and stinky hutong toilets, you are beautiful because you are not ashamed. When grown men nap on concrete sidewalks, and women go grocery shopping in pajamas, you are bold and proud. When June 4th comes around and you litter Tiananmen with plain-clothed policemen, you stand proud…enough.

Oh Beijing, you beautiful bastard, why do you hate yourself so? One day, not that far in the future, there will just be you and me. And no matter how much grass you spray-paint onto your parks, or how many homeless people you ship to the countryside, you can’t pretend with me. For we know each other too well, mostly from that listening device you put in my chandelier.

In the end, it is just the two of us. And once we lie together naked, dripping sweat in your sticky summer heat, for all the world to see, I will still love you. No matter how much you hide your true nature from the peering masses trying to catch a glimpse of your grotesque inside, you will never fool me, and I will always love you. You will always be my beautiful bitch.