At the back of the hill

Warning: May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here
strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Monday, June 04, 2018


It was a sentence that I wish I had not heard. "You mean he's Dutch?!? Oh my gawd, I knew he smelled bad!" To the best of my knowledge, that person was not referring to me. Because I speak impeccable English without a trace of a Dutch accent, and, of course, I don't smell bad.
At least not that early in the day.

It's different matter when I head back home after work. At which time I may whiff a bit of the cigars that are smoked around me all day.

When I got off the bus, I could still smell stogies.

"You mean he's Dutch?!? Oh my gawd, I knew he smelled bad!"

Having had some experience with the Dutch, I cannot say that I associate a particular odour with the type. Some smell delightfully of herring, others do not. A few reek of cheese. But other than that, no particular fragrance.

At times I am in a position to hear the tinfoil hat brigade.
I seldom encourage their conversation.
They'll still say things.

I wish they wouldn't.

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