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.

Tuesday, August 16, 2016


What is totally totemic, and brings a smile to the haggard face of every cigar-smoking middle-aged dingus? What, in fact, tells them that all is well with the world, and even though their wife left them because they are dreary sexist spread-gut pigs with body odour and a lack of tact, they have made some good decisions in life?

If I had to hazard a guess, it would be seeing a dashing middle-aged pipe-smoker happily shouldering a lovely Hello Kitty backpack filled with pipes, tobacco, pipe cleaners, tampers, and wooden stick matches pilfered from a place where one may light up.

Plenty goodies!

To the best of my knowledge there is only one such person in the entire San Francisco Bay Area, which is where that scene may be most likely observed.

I like bringing joy to shrivelled little hearts.

A few years ago I purchased the accessory detailed above, because there is no reason why a backpack should not radiate hostility toward potential thieves at bus stops or in coffee shops. "Take me", it seems to say, "and you will be marked for life". Or at least for the next two or three hours, while the legitimate owner hunts you down and kills you.

It's very useful on working days.


There is only ONE other person I have seen with the exact same backpack. She's about three feet tall at best, of Cantonese extraction, and wanders up Sacramento Street in Chinatown with her mommy and her little brother when school is out.

No, I'm never going to introduce myself, nor explain to her that my own backpack is exactly the same as hers. Primarily because little girls need to feel unique. It might inspire her to stupendous rage and ultra-violence if she found out that an adult owned a backpack featuring Hello Kitty.
And, precisely like hers, stylishly white, pink, and black.
Those colours speak of dark things, secret things.
Things a grown-up should not know.

Like half a dozen fine briar pipes, two or three fine tobacco choices, pipe cleaners, etcetera.

And probably too much social exposure to cigar smokers.

See description above.

I also own a soft leather pipe-carrying case with room for several items as well as a pouch, but I rarely, almost never, use it. Reason being that it seems too femmy, like a man-purse.

On days off, when I head into C'town for snackies and milk tea, there will be pipes along with tobacco in my coat, and a little tube containing fluffy cleaners and a tamper jutting out of the top right hand pocket.

I flatter myself by assuming that Hello Kitty would never associate with cigar smokers, but would share a fondness for snackies and milk tea.
Though probably not the same pipe tobacco.
Maybe something Latakia instead.
Possibly Bengal Slices.
Balkan funk.


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All correspondence will be kept in confidence.

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