Monday, November 27, 2023

COCKTAILS! YOU KIDS NEED COCKTAILS!

Best line on the internet sofar this morning: "That's nice sweetie, do you need a cigarette?" Presumably said to a ten-year old. And I can now imagine all my responsible readers of the Karen-persuasion reacting in outrage. Because today's cigarettes are NOT as good as the smokes available in the early fifties, when America was prosperous and on top of the world. Top knotch tobacco, toasted for flavour, and recommended by nine out of ten doctors to maintain your girlish figure and avoid pudge. Instead of candy.

Yes, I'm sorry, Three Castles rolling tobacco is no longer available either. That was some of the best rolling tobacco, sweet aged Virginia in the iconic pale pistacchio green tin. Damn'!


Although I didn't experience it, I miss the post-war period when people felt that they had won the lottery, had scant care about the long-term ill effects of their horrible lifestyle, and lived at full tilt. Asbestos was everywhere!

Did you know that cigarettes could increase your bust size?
The magazine advertisements dramatically showed it.
They just couldn't print it if it wasn't true.

You must, you must, increase your bust!
A reader left a comment underneath an essay from 2014.

Asking whether blended Scotch could be substituted for Bourbon in a mixed drink.

THE HENRY DARGER
Two ounces Bourbon, a Maraschino cherry, and a dash of grenadine. Icecubes, highball glass. Squirt of ginger ale. Two or three drops of bitters optional.


I don't see why not. Blended Scotch is quite similar to American style whiskey.


Like all middle-aged Dutch Americans, I relish thinking about alcoholic beverages while on my second cup of coffee in the morning. Anything to chase away the Monday blues. And in that vein, I also enjoy being reminded again about bikini briefs, which have a low waistband, in contrast to granny panties, whereas French cuts have high leg openings canted forward. Note: high cuts have deep leg openings more in-tune with a natural design and a waistband slightly on the high side ('boy shorts', also called 'tap panties', and 'boy cut panties' are a low-cut style that covers most of the bottom and hips. They resemble boxers somewhat, and are both flattering and modest, as they do not show the typical pantie line). And, precisely like the alcoholic beverage discussed above, I shan't indulge. It's more for the intellectual frisson.

That 2014 post was a gay bit of risqué blather. It also mentioned undergarments.


Fourteen years ago I invented the Henry Darger and taught it to several local bar tenders. Cool, refreshing, perverted, and delightful on a warm day. I am glad to see that it is gaining wider traction. Do not assume that I will have it soon, though. Instead, I'm thinking about lunch, tea, and what book to grab for later, while indulging in a bowl of Cornell & Diehl's Carolina Red Flake (small batch) from a year ago, when I laid in a stash.

I have tobacco. I have tea and other caffeinated beverages.
Likewise hot sauces, sambal, and other condiments.
As well as a tonne of books to read.

What I do not have are panties.
Those are quite lacking.
It's an emptiness.



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2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Well, I did it. I broke down and purchased a bottle of Bulleit Bourbon, Grenadine with real sugar, and Ginger Ale. The bitters, I already had. I am still working out the proportions but the grenadine alone with the bourbon is a lovely treat. The two bars I used to order the drink from, ten years ago or so, are both gone, casualties of the lockdown.

The back of the hill said...

For years I'd keep a bottle of decent bourbon in the fridge, because after seeing Bart Simpson mixing Manhattans for Fat Tony and his friends at The Legitimate Business Man's Club, I like to sometimes have a cocktail upon coming home. I don't drink anymmore of course, because it could interfere with my meds. Which means that the bottle of single malt in the bookshelves near my computer has been going down very slowly. It's been there for over a year and a half, and there is still more than sixty percent left.

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