At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Thursday, October 10, 2013


Today's most avidly read posts on this blog indicate that despite the queering of the American economy by rabid Republicans determined that the undeserving poor and middle-classes should NEVER get a whack at decent healthcare, my readers still have their heads screwed on straight, their priorities in order, and sound values solidly in place.
Which tells me that I've got the right demographic.
All writers want the right demographic.
My demographic is special.

The three most popular essays for the past twenty-four hours are about portions of the female anatomy and manly appreciation for same, good things to stick in your mouth, and underwear.

No. 1: fifty four years old, but still an adolescent at heart.

No. 2: places for your delicious little dumplings.

No. 3: helpfully sharing my knowledge.

See, that's why you come here; the zesty combination of investigative journalism and useful recommendations.

Of these three, my own personal favourite is the one about good dim sum restaurants in San Francisco. It's more immediately useful, and far more relevant to my present life. Food is always fascinating.

The fact that I'm fifty-four is neither here nor there, given that only women are ever seriously concerned about age -- there is no woman in my life at present -- and I consider myself far younger than I really am.
Rather timeless, in fact. Like all amiable eccentrics.

And the last one is, if you think about it, rather sad.
There are absolutely no French or High cut items in my life. I didn't steal any when I had the chance, not that I would have done so, nor would they do me any good now.
Both French and High cuts are vastly improved by the right wearer. Mere possession of them rings hollow; they're cold and impersonal without the proper contents.

The only things that empty panties are good for is bringing bad luck to a business where one has been ill-treated, or for winning while playing mahjong. I am not a resentful man, so I will not shove less than new feminine underwear through the mailbox of any establishment, and I do not play mahjong, so I shan't wear them underneath my clothes to defeat the other players with my powerful yin-energy.

That doesn't mean I haven't been tempted.
But manfully I resist the urge.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


  • At 10:46 AM, Anonymous quizzically amphibious said…

    "Bringing bad luck to a business where one has been ill-treated"? Um, what? Is this some recherché form of voodoo?

  • At 12:16 PM, Blogger The back of the hill said…

    Yes. Powerful yin energy. Counteracts the yeung hei.

    Did it once.
    That shop is now out of business.

    But it took nearly twenty years to work.

  • At 7:46 PM, Anonymous Thing said…

    But what if they have an ox, a camel, or a ba-qua mirror?

    You could loose double.


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