GIRLS AND SNACKS

A reader recently found this blog site by typing the words "good girls" into his search field. Which is peculiar. You don't come here to read about "good girls". Or any girls.
I never mention girls. There are no girls here.

Years ago I concluded that "good girls" were like Japanese Manga characters. All of them, no exceptions, are insanely curvaceous, and homicidally insane. Or they're defective vampires with nosebleeds and a taste for garlic. This was shortly after my break-up, and I haven't dealt with the subject or subjects since then, having also concluded that a middle-aged Dutch American fellow who smokes has no business dealing with matters of the heart.
That I actually have a heart is medically demonstrable.
But not otherwise evident.

Women exist. I am, dimly, aware of that fact. But unlike a friend in Toronto, I do not worry about it. The vast majority of them do not hang around with pipesmoking Dutchmen in San Francisco, and have no taste for hot sauce, Indonesian food, or discussions about illustrations, and the linguistic peculiarities in Malayo Polynesian languages. Or how the Republican Party is on a self-destructive course the end result of which will be raving insanity, anomie, and cult-like behaviours, some of which are already quite obvious.


There is more to life than chili peppers, good food, graphics, orthography, and manifestations of social dysfunction, idol worship, heathenish religions, and murderous rightwing political ideas, of course. Unless you're in Texas, in which case the last four are a way of life.


Non-work related conversations in the last month, some of which have been with women, have involved dogs, Perry Mason, the Philippines, perfume essences, refraction, burritos, pastries, diseases, motor cars (about which I know next to nothing), warm clothing, tea, flying saucers, religion, intestinal gas, cicadas, barn owls, and shrimp.

Also, whether turkey vultures belch.
Particularly after over-eating.



Kookaburras, we now know, make weird little growling sounds.
Especially when happy about a snack.
Wriggly protein.



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