SWEET PROSPECTS

It behooves me to get out and do things early today, well before the mercury climbs into the stratosphere. Last night, at ten o'clock, it was still uncomfortably hot, and the weatherman had still not apologized for leading me so painfully astray.
I shall have to have a word with that fellow.
I do not like feeling sticky all over.
And I probably smelled iffy.

The other day I had a mild curry dish and rice, with some sambal, for lunch. Which, properly considered, is a cliché. Because naturally a Dutchman in hot weather would do exactly that. The orang belanda in Jakarta, and the merchants in Formosa and Canton. The beer-swilling tourists in Thailand. Oh wait, they're desperate for frikandel and broodje paling which sadly the Thais don't know beans about yet we'll have to teach them they'll be so grateful.

I note, by the way, that many Dutchmen in Arizona and Los Angeles would prefer rookworst (fatty smoked sausage), stampot (weird mostly vegetable muck), and hagelslag or muisjes (chocolate sprinkles and little sugared anise gravel respectively).
My fondness for sambal is not universal.
How sad.

From what I hear, you Anglo-Americans had ramen, water melon, plus peanut butter and jelly sandwiches during this heat wave. Washed down with slushies and tapioca ball and ice cube pink sugar beverages. After starting the day with a hearty breakfast of sweet artificially flavoured sawdust and wood chips.

Where we agree is that both you and I have coffee in the morning. And even there some of you lot are unmitigated and incorrigible heretics. You know who you are. Savages!

By the way: iced coffee and anything oatmilk are for infidels.


I can't wait till this heat spell is over.
I will be a nicer person then.


I can understand now why Texans are such toxic cretins. It's like this most of the year there. Except for that brief period when the power is out, everyone is freezing, and Ted Cruz goes to Mexico.



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