These are, of course, impious assertions to make in a place with some of the most marvelous feng shui ever bestowed. Because its harbor is shaped like a carp — a fish symbolizing prosperity — Hong Kong is thought to be the font of enormous bounty. Sinuous dragons make their abodes in the hills, from which bracing floods of chi allegedly flow, accumulating in the sea in great reservoirs of bottomless luck. Many of the principal buildings famously adhere to feng shui principles — using the expensive realignment of an escalator here, or the positioning of a highly costed fountain there — to supposedly funnel the chi out of the air and into the interiors, where its course is further channeled by canals of furniture. The Hong Kong Tourism Board even promotes feng shui tours to visitors, and everywhere you turn, there's always some crackpot heiress, anxious taipan or socialite architect wanting to talk about dragon energy and phoenix fire. But I want to grab them all by the shoulders, shake them hard and tell them to get their noses out of the I Ching and to forget about those flying-star combinations. We've been fooling the occasional tourist, each other, and ourselves, for far too long.