Tuesday, June 18, 2024

RESOLUTELY UNHIPSTER

Dined with two old friends yesterday evening in C'town at a place where I've known the owner for roughly ten years. It was great. Sadly, we didn't end up at a bar swilling multiple shots of whisky -- one of them now has a pacemaker, and I don't drink alcohol anymore because of possible interactions with my medications -- but all three of us were in fine spirits. After our meal we went to observe the rats in one of San Francisco's city parks.

Rats are splendid creatures, as you know.
Intelligent, very social, and organized.
Altogether quite admirable.


Well, except for that nasty rumour about the bubonic plague.
That may have caused some bad press over the years.


If you like rats (and who doesn't?), there is probably no better way to encounter them than at a protest encampment at a local Ivy League university. Discarded kale chip bags and half eaten cans of tofu are a magnet. As are musty smelling hoodies and sweatshirts.
And vegans are, of course, averse to killing vermin.
Which is what the protests are about.

That and the irresistible urge to be hip and with it.
As you have probably figured out by now, I am not hip and with it. My friends aren't either.

A large part of that is the tendency to see many shades of grey, whereas all the hippest with it people can only think in terms of black and white. Plus their knowledge of the world consists only of easy soundbites, and is virtually content free.
Some of them are simply stupid, of course.
Or stoned.



Vegans who are high as kites are sour and bitter, because they can't snack on so many things. Icecream and pizza are out of the question. So are yogurt and granola bars.
It's very sad. Dialectic is grim when you can't even eat yogurt granola bars.
Or labneh. Or musakhan. Or kabobs. Or pita chips.
So very very sad.




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