A tuhao's office is often lined with photos of himself next to big-name entertainers, who were all paid big money to appear at his functions. I once suggested to one that he should simply use PhotoShop because nobody coming into his office would dare question their authenticity, and instead of rigid poses, he could have the celebrities in more informal and relaxed settings with him so people would assume they are longtime buddies.

The litany of tuhao extravagancies seems to be right out of a book of sarcasm: building one's residence or office as a facsimile of the Forbidden City, the White House or other famous edifices; posing with a billion yuan in cash in a grand gesture of philanthropy, etc.

There are many name brands that are, in China, irrevocably associated with tuhao. They function as the instant token of big money and, maybe to the chagrin of their makers and sellers, bad taste. However, when Apple released its latest iPhone models, many Chinese were shocked. The company founded by Steve Jobs is reputed for its impeccable aesthetics. Now, iPhone has added champagne gold to its color, which unmistakably reminds most Chinese of the knockoffs in bright gold or studded with diamonds, fake or otherwise. Jobs must be turning in his grave when he hears Chinese nickname the new handset "the tuhao gold".

Maybe it was all intentional. Who with something to sell would reject China's newly monied as a target customer? Tuhao are undiscerning in their purchases. They would not search for a bargain but rather pay a premium for the chance to show off. In terms of profit margin, they are the best clients one could wish for.

For tuhao are not just the targets of derision, but also the objects of admiration. The following story is a testament of the love-mock relationship the Chinese public has with this small but eye-catching demographic:

A man asked a Buddhist priest: "Master, I'm wealthy but I'm unhappy. Can you give me some guidance?"

"But what is wealth?" retorted the priest. (Spiritual men talk in this way to enhance their mystique.)

"The money in my bank has reached eight digits, and on top of that I have three apartments at Beijing's most expensive location. Does that make me wealthy?"

The priest did not say anything, but put out one hand. The man said: "You mean I should learn to be thankful?"

"No," said the priest in a timid voice. "Can I, I mean, can we be friends?"

Tuhao may be laughing stocks, but those who laugh at them often turn out to be hypocrites. They put on a face of disdain when talking about the flagrant profligacy, but once face to face, they want some of tuhao's glitter, or glittering gold, to rub off on them.

There is one pervasive custom in China that may puzzle outsiders. When you visit a friend in another city, he as a gesture of hospitality will take you out to a banquet. It's usually one of those expensive places fit for business functions. You'll say to your friend: "It's unnecessary because we are personal friends, not business acquaintances." He may respond: "Oh, it's nothing. I have a friend you may want to know." Well, that friend sits there and may or may not actively join your conversation, which often is not within his area of expertise or interest.