GOOD LUCK WATERING HOLE

Two drinks, two pipefulls of tobacco, and a very peaceful dog. So started the weekend. Not at the karaoke place with the lovely portico where I sheltered from the rain during the wet season -- two months ago I got fed up with the arrogant snooty primadonnas who behaved like condescending deities, and gave them a piece of my mind -- but at a local establishment where the regulars have fewer issues and are more socially adept.
White people doing karaoke are an unpleasant lot.
Asian Americans and karaoke, ditto.
Attitudes and egos.

I am rather stupid. I like places where I can subside into routine. Which is probably why I tolerated the East Bay crowd so long as well as the karaoke dive (with the portico), and it's the same reason why I like certain bakeries and chachantengs in Chinatown. Places with a boisterous, loud, and engaging Toishanese clientele.

The latter category is far less abrasive than karaokers.

Not as hip, supercilious, and vicious.

And, truth be told, I'd far rather discuss food than whatever garbage subject fills the minds of karaoke mavens. Cantonese people often talk about food. Many of the folks at the "local establishment" also discuss culinaria.
Neither group are overly impressed with themselves.


When the rains come I'll be rather hosed. The karaoke joint had a peaceful and dry portico. That by itself, during that time of year, was a major draw.
But attempts at conversation inside were painful and frustrating.

The local place has no attitude-problem customers.
No brawls, no primadonnas, no "stars".


Also no Am-Filipinos.
Or Mỹ-gốc Việt.


Draw your own conclusion about the last data.
I will not say a damned thing.
I'm diplomatic.



And I have an umbrella.




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