THREE TIMES NINETY CUPS

Bob had gotten there before me, and endeavored to communicate his extreme ire that the small size cup was smaller than before. Which it absolutely isn't. And because I failed utterly to understand or sympathize, he ranted about it for ten minutes trying to force me to grasp that this was a crime against humanity. Then Stephen arrived, and I heard it all over again.

When Russel got there the subject changed to prime rib. He says he should have gotten the medium rare. Which is fascinating oh boy yes totally but at least we were no longer talking about the cups.

We also talked about Fong Fong, which was before my time. Right where the Peking Bazaar is now on Grant, just past Clay Street toward Jackson. It existed from 1935 to 1974.
Ice creams, sodas, floats, sandwiches, juices.
Hamburgers and hot dogs.


This related in some way to mooncakes.


Hello, guys? That was over fifty years ago. Many of the people we know had not even been born then. Even though the veal cutlets, gravied swiss steaks, and baked porchop-rices were SO much better. Good lunch counter chow is NOT conducive to friends and acquaintances being alive at that time. Don't know what it is. Bob mentioned inflation. Perhaps that's why.

It was too warm today to even think of Swiss steaks with gravy. Naturally, when I got home, my legs hurt like hell (circulatory issues) and I started thinking about water-borne illnesses. As one would.

Such thing were much more common in the old days. No doubt that is what it meant by the phrase "a kinder, gentler time". When you're exhausted from dehydration and stomach cramps, you lack the energy to be a rightwing Alpha-male hosebag or influencer.


Heck, RFK ('Bongo') Jr. hadn't even graduated from college yet.
And was years away from wishing us all dead.
Still a stupid teenager.

Now just stupid.



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DON'T WIG-OUT, JUST MOVE ALONG

Woke up this morning to the statement that birds are quite a bit more interesting than Dutch American males, why everybody wants to look at them, much more than some antiquated geezer, heavens, why the thought even. That goes double for dead Hollanders! This per a voice from the kitchen asking me to please move two of the pictures in the teevee room.
Self portrait of Vincent Van Gogh BEHIND the etching of a vulture.
So that we can see the handsome bird.

Far be it from me to disagree with a household consensus. Majority opinion.
Domestic tranquility is my watchword.
I have done it.


Probably the most vibrant data from recent reading is that necrotizing fasciitis can affect all parts of the corpus, but it is much more common in the extremities, perineum, and genitals.
Vibrio vulnificus, the causative agent, is present in tidal pools, estuaries, and at the beach. One more reason to avoid those places. It is related to the cholera bacterium, and likewise has a cell envelope consisting of a thin peptidoglycan cell wall between two membranes.
Most often infections will cause severe abdominal pain.
It can become quite nasty.

Key words: invasive sepsis, septic shock, and necrotizing infections.
Probably best to avoid raw oysters and undercooked fish.
Do not swim with open wounds in warmer waters.
Women are slightly less at risk.

Estrogen may have some protective effect. No, I shall not share that datum with my apartment mate. It might give her a false sense of confidence.
It has not been proven yet, in any case.

One of the people with whom I associate likes to head to the beach on sunny days with his spouse. Shan't mention any of this to him, or his significant other either, the next time I see him, as deaths from vibrio vulnificus are fairly rare, and occur more often in warmer waters further south. Neither of them are environmentally paranoid and likely to panic.

Severe flooding after hurricanes increases infection risk.
Florida and Louisiana have had more cases.

Global climate change has probably been the reason why the border zone of infections has moved north about thirty miles each year along the East Coast. And per the Rightwingers, global warming doesn't exist. I sincerely doubt that many rightwingers can read, or are even aware of scientific articles and disease statistics. Besides, science, common sense, and all health precautions, are strictly for woke lefties. Red-blooded Americans don't need that.


Nor will I myself actually worry about it, anyway.

I don't swim in the Gulf Of Trump.



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SOMEWHAT RELATING TO FOOD

There are German tourists in town. The splendid thing about Germans is that one can be reasonably certain there won't be any banjo music, and they've almost certainly seen tall buildings before. Plus they aren't loud. Americans from the interior, I don't know.

Interior Americans are large, walk three or four abreast, slowly, shouting. Plus if they can't eat at Cracker Barrel they tend to be unhappy. And we don't even have a Waffle House where they can scream and throw things.

The American tourists passing by while I was smoking my pipe while in Chinatown tonight were audible an entire blocklength before they waddled into view. The Germans could not actually be heard till they were almost in front of me. They were clearly speaking German, but they were melodiously softspoken, not screechy.


Also, Germans do not mind that we don't have civilized restaurants like Cracker Barrel and Waffle House. Sadly, wir haben auch nicht einmal einen Bratwurst- und Bierbunker.
Wir sind trostlos (nous sommes désolés).

We do have a mighty fine hamburger joint at the end of the street.
It's almost as good. And there's imported beer there.
Not just the inferior American swill.
Budweiser, Coors, Miller.

Having had a meal earlier while it was still light outside, I didn't need a burger. A plate of rice, something sautéed and sauced, and sambal. But if I were to have a burger it would be there. With some Sriracha. The breakfast, lunch, and dinner of champions.

To reward myself for being a good little patient and dutifully picking up my refills, I purchased some 五葉神 ciggies while in Chinatown. Actually, I would have gotten them anyhow. I relish being able to buy them so close to the hospital and so "far from the revenuers".
Many of the other patients there also like them.
As does my doctor's father.

By the time the bookseller arrived I had finished smoking my pipe. During our "pubcrawl" I downed three cups of tea. So I'm quite awake now, and wondering if I should load another bowl. It's very pleasant outside, there are no loonies, and not even the usual wandering eccentrics. Also, uphill from Polk Street there are no drunks.



One thing particularly of note: Anthony Bourdain on the telly at the bar, digging into a roast pig in the Philippines. It's been ages since I've had Filipino food. Which is very good.
It's not just the lovely lumpia your office auntie brings in.



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TAHOE ROULETTE

Three related bacteria are in some ways too familiar to human beings: Yersinia Enterocolitica causes yersiniosis, an animal-borne disease occurring also in humans. Most creatures recover from the disease and become carriers, potential sources of contagion showing no signs of illness. The symptoms often include minor inflammation of the lower intestinal tract, sometimes with loose stool. It doesn't last too long, and is over fairly soon. Consult your veterinary physician. Yersinia Pseudotuberculosis, occuring in both humans and animals, marked by fever and abdominal pain. Called Izumi Fever or Far East scarlet-like Fever. Lasts one to three weeks. It's particularly risky for the immuno compromised, and it may require treatment with antibiotics such as ampicillin, aminoglycosides, tetracycline, et autres. Please consult your doctor. And lastly, Yersinia Pestis, which is an over-achiever, the star player of the family, responsible for the plague and mass-deaths, as well as lessening the tourist impact in the Lake Tahoe area. Get help. Seriously.

The plague is now most common in forsaken hellholes like the Congo, Madagascar, Peru, and Nevada. Rodents are often the carriers; marmots, prairie dogs, and rats.
The Brown Rat, a friendly animal, often has fleas that are infected.
Infected humans can spread it through respiratory droplets.
Asymptomatic Republicans will through procreation.
They're often overly friendly, like Mormons.
Avoid all bars in the Tahoe area.
As well as missionaries.
And churches.

This blogger likes rats. They're intelligent and sociable.
Republicans, overwhelmingly, aren't,

Rats make clever and affectionate pets.
Republicans do not.


I cannot say enough about Republicans.



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THE MAJESTIC GASTROTICH!

Who is that galloping across the fine sedimentary bottom, leaping over algae and presumably roaring its fierce battle cry? Why, it's the imposing gastrotich!
I've never seen anything like it!

Actually, I haven't. It's too small. They are seldom more than a millimetre. And I am seldom focused on sedimentary garbage at the bottom of streams and rivers. Besides, the little fellas do not hold up large signs saying "hey look at me" or slogans of a revolutionary nature. And although they suck mightily (their muscular pharynx 'inhaling' minute organic particles for food), I have never noticed them, because I rarely visit slow moving bodies of water, my reading specs aren't strong enough for something that tiny, I've never actually looked for them, and I believe they might be rather shy.

While I was drawing this one (I'll call him 'Jack'), a person identifying herself as "Meghan from PGE" called. She too is rather shy; that probably wasn't her actual name OR real employer (she had a heavy Indian accent), and when I spoke in Cantonese asking her why she had called, she hung up. Many Indian phone scammers are fearful of Cantonese.
It flummoxes them. They don't know what to do next.

With precisely three exceptions, all phone calls I receive are spam. The three exceptions are, in fact, Cantonese language familiar individuals, who would likely interrupt me to mention cardiologists appointments, regular care physician's appointments down at the clinic or something else health care provider related, or my apartment mate off-site possibly reminding me of something medically connected or suggesting impending doom.

Many gastrotiches are less than a tenth of a millimetre long. So adding a banana for scale, as is the American standard, would be somewhat ridiculous. Besides, bananas are not usually placed at the bottom of streams. So Americans looking at this will no doubt be baffled. Indian scam artists, smarter than the average American, would be confused at seeing the banana and consider the Americans stupid and wasteful for putting it there.


I am not berserk. Therefore I shall NOT add the banana.


Someone on social media mentioned the gastrotich. Which spurred my sudden interest and the drawing of the illustration above. I do not normally consider the gastrotich. And do not want one as a pet.


Another internet poster mentioned Phoenician inscriptions in Cyprus. In connection with a chart of Semitic languages ancient and modern. Which naturally caused a dumpster fire, because the internet has a large population of strongly opinionated morons.
I did not feel like illustrating that.




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THE PASSIVE SCENERY

Recently I realized that it's only a matter of time before there's a local shooting incident involving unpleasant Republicans whacked in mid-gibber and some poor shmo who has been insufficiently coopted into the present status-quo. Which favours perpetually indignant Karens and prosperous and repressivly-inclined rightwing dickwads. And you know something? If it involves Marinites, I really will not care.
I am ever less vested in their weal or woe.

The other day I saw a suburban frump going full ranting middle-class bitch on a convenience store clerk over misprinted prices on her off-brand cheap ciggies. She was infuriated, it was an outrage, why this is fraud, I'm coming in on Monday to talk to your manager!

The clerk is paid so outrageously little that he really doesn't care. The customers there are all hosebags, and the manager probably doesn't particularly care either. If your entire suburban community goes up in flames during the wildfires, that's probably fine with them too. You are all a bunch of sexual organs. Okay?

Or, to put that in terms Marinites can understand: Your aura has a dark cast to it, and you should have some more apple cider vinegar and manuka honey. And please purchase the all-organic natural and good for your spirituality brand of cigarettes instead.

Eight thirty in the morning when I'm on my way to work is far too early to see some middle-class bag of excrement losing her entitled shiznit on someone who just works there.
He doesn't give a damn'. I don't give a damn'. None of us give a damn'.
And sadly, none of us will ever be soccer moms.

So, as a counter-point, here are some landscapes.

Dusk in Northern Europe. Please imagine bovines in the distance.

Hillside in Northern California. There are bovines in the distance.

The North Coast. No bovines. They can't swim. There is no grass.

The presence, or absence, of bovines is limited purely by your imagination. If you think of it, they will be there. There are bovines all around us. Somewhere, in a direct line from where you are standing, there are bovines. It may be one mile. Or over one hundred miles, even one or two thousand. There are bovines literally everywhere.

Miserable cheese comes from unhappy cows, unhappy cows come from Mill Valley.



A day off. I'm safely in San Francisco. Where there are no cows.
I am consequently not thinking of cows at the moment.
Marin County kan me gestolen worden.



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AMBULATORY

It was not actually a Holstein cow bicycling across the intersection upside down, but a some fellow with black and white clothes and a pink backpack. Life, sadly, is not at all like a Gary Larson Farside cartoon. But it should be. Bicycling cows would make it more engaging, and milk would probably be impossibly expensive. Because, of course, the cows would not work for peanuts anymore.

But other than that, it was the usual walk with a pipe in my mouth.
Good tobacco, with piles of dog pooh, and grey dawn.
The caffeine slowly taking over.

Many of my routines could be enlivened by cows. It has been ages since I've seen cattle. Outside of a plate. In Valkenswaard, a ten or fifteen minute bicycle ride would bring me easily within view of cows, because the centre of town was actually three streets away from the southern edge; most of the town lay north and eastwards. My grammar school was two blocks from the beginning of farmland.

The old railway station and the post office were considerably further away, and the sixteenth century cemetary was a bit of a hike. To get to the new school and Saint John's you had to go past there. We did not consider it ghost-ridden.

The entire place was slightly more like a Monty Python set than a Gary Larson scene.
Northern European urban industrial settlement, nearby agriculture.
Silly walks, twits, and gumbies.

On the whole I think I'd prefer people walking their pet moo-babies in the early morning to techno-yuppies with their dogs. A digestive tract terminating in a hyperactive colon on four legs, a part to sniff, a waggy bit, and parts that bark. Not always an engaging personality.

As I said, it has been several years since I saw a cow. And I rarely eat beefsteaks.



After waking up in the middle of the night, I read about disease bacilli for a while to help me fall asleep again. It didn't quite work. I am conscious of my thoughts doing queer things now because I didn't get enough rest. And I had vibrant dreams. Probably more because of the blood pressure meds than anyhting else, though. I am not infected.




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THE GORMLESS

Several of the people whom I encounter when at work are fervent fans of the rich fat orange pedophile. I do not speak with them if at all possible. Even hearing their nonsensical ranting rather turns my stomach, and as you can probably guess their discourse lacks even the intellect of a collection of sock monkeys.
Three years ago we banned the gentleman who occasionally had bathroom accidents. Just too damned senile. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

It probably should not surprise you to hear that some of my favourite creatures are, actually, sock monkeys. Remarkable creatures. And considerably more intelligent than Trump voters.


I'm off for the next few days.


One or two important tasks tomorrow, but otherwise plenty of time to look up viruses, bacteria, amoebas, and slime molds. And such things as vectors, symptoms, rates of infection, complications, medication, and fatality rates.

These are subjects which I find interesting and stimulating, but it turns out that at least one of the fellows is rather creeped out by all this. Desperate to change subjects.

Even something so innocuous as slime molds.
Which are strangely beautiful.
They have charm.


Gormish.



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THE POISONOUS SOW

Decaying stumps, logs, and rotten leaves. No, not an alternative life-style, but a home that a slime mold can love. Which I should have interjected into the conversation next to me, but I'm afraid my Mandarin just isn't good enough to stand even a chance of shutting the mainland mother haranguing her adult son over his many failings down. 绒泡黏菌属 (Physarum) as catalogued by Persoon in 1794, among the 變形蟲門 (amoebozoa).

Oh I say, old lady have you considered shoving your head into some rotten leaves? 哦，我說，老太太，你有沒有想過把你的頭埋進一些爛樹葉裡？(Ó, wǒ shuō, lǎo tàitài, nǐ yǒu méiyǒu xiǎngguò bǎ nǐ de tóu mái jìn yīxiē làn shùyè lǐ?)

Some mothers are parasites.

Some are poison.

But not my business. It's up to her patient college educated son to tell her where to get off.
I shall merely hope, fervently, that mildew eventually eats her brain.

Chinese family relationships are sometimes berserk.
Codependency enabling and toxic.

Surprisingly, the bus driver didn't holler back at her to shut the F up and stop being a bloody nuisance to the other passengers. On those crowded busrides back to the city I will still make space for passengers rather than keeping my bag on the seat. And I'll continue to pretend that I am both unable to understand a word if I have plausible deniability, and not at all bothered by some old bag ranting like a rabid dog at her relatives.


I shall be glad when the tourist season dies down.

Less chance of harpies.



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THE FAR END

The trip back to the city passed into fog a few miles before the bridge. Not cold fog. Room temperature fog. That means that somewhere inland it was hot as blazes. There were poor lost souls wandering around at the last stop before the bridge. Not freezing, but not happy. The famous sight was yet to be seen. How beastly and depressing! No visibility! Just fog.

Well, if you really want to see the bridge, you should come during Summer.
Which will be next year, I should think.

The coldest July in ober thirty years has segued seemlessly into the most lukewarm August in three decades. Quite nice.

Just for times like these there should be a coffeeshop at the northern end, with a terrace where there are tables and ashtrays. So that the pipe smokers can lurk in the Dickensian fog drifts. And let us tell no one else about it, we don't want them shutting it down because of smoking on the premises.

Tofu-snarfing wheatgerm freaks. Anti-tobacco fiends. Damned hippies.

Sadly, it must remain an unfeasable fantasy, though immensely appealing.


"Oh driver, please let me off at the forbidden café, as I must talk to an associate about cryptids."


In his groundbreaking work 'The Phenomenology of Selfness", famous Polish philosopher Wroclaw Chestenisko specifically refered to imaginary literature as a manifestation of existential angst: "to be or to be fictional is the paradigm of modern fearfulness."

All ego, he postulates, is inverted self-doubt (selbstzweifel).


I have just the pipe for that. Perfect for die vielen tiefgründigen philosophischen diskussionen as well as negotiating the purchase of a tauntaun to get me through the wastes.

According to my apartment mate, clearly humans are bound to go extinct, because they cannot deal with reality, and are a bit strange.

You know, she may be right.



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KIND OF STRANGE

Having put off several chores and errands till the last possible moment, I didn't get down to C'town for eaties till late yesterday. Forewent milk tea because they do not have that at the place where I ate. But lunch was excellent. Rice sheet noodles with pork and cilantro (豬肉腸粉，芫茜 'jyu yiuk cheung fan, yuen sai'). Normally cheung fan is more common at breakfast instead of closer to dinner, but it was the first food I had eaten all day, so really it was breakfast. With peanut sauce, chili crisp, and Sriracha. Delicious.

A pipe afterward while watching Toishanese grannies playing cards in the park.

Warm weather encourages them to stay longer.



In connection with a service centre call, I am aware that it's raining today in Manila, as well as fifteen degrees warmer than here. I've been there during the rainy season.
Visually it's rather lovely, but everything ends up slightly sticky.
There is no evening there. It's either day or night.
Dawn and dusk last all of three minutes.
Accompanied by salagubang.
Loud at darkness.

Salagubang itu, sejenis kumbang yang sangat berisik yang saya ingat dari malam hari di Kepulauan Filipina. Bertahun-tahun yang lalu.


At certain times of the day there are no techno-yuppies on the bus in either direction. Just normal people. More masks. Some of them are asleep and look extraordinarily peaceful.

Dogs occasionally. Sadly, no cat passengers.



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ORANGE EVERYWHERE

Just for the heck of it, I looked up what "cankles" are. As has been mentioned when Donald Trump's physique is described. You know, everytime I visit my own doctor or cardiologist, they check my legs to see if there is any oedema. So far nuttin'. I credit my excellent podal health to clean living, spiritual purity, high morals, and, of course, the fact that I walk regularely, instead of taking a golf cart everywhere.

Thanks to Trump, I now know what 'cankles' are. So there's that.
I'm mighty surprised that they aren't orange-hued.

BTW: his hands aren't tiny anymore.

PHOTO

A responsible clinician would recommend amputation. Everything from the sternum down. It's all rotten, and gangrene is probably setting in. Diminished sensitivity means that the patient won't notice necrotization of outlying flab till too late anyway. Put what's left of the fellow in a box on wheels and take him out for an hour of sunshine everyday. Just make sure the dogs don't get him. Chihuahuas can be real vicious if their enemy is at eye-level.


Icing is that he won't be able to run if they arrest him for what's in the Epstein files.




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THE LITTLE CHILDREN!

Several years ago a coworker had to organize a child safety seminar. So I posted a helpful list (see here: "safety" which may not have been precisely what he needed. But it still holds, the rules still apply. More than ever.

Friend of this blog Spiros commented "I have childproofed my house, and yet somehow the little buggers keep getting in." Which highlighted a recurring problem with children.


I have childproofed my house, and yet they keep getting in!


Cattleprods, roach spray, and a bug zapper were all mooted in the comment string.

The major problem with the little buggers usually being that they've drunk too much cappucino and want a kitten. Especially if left unattended.

I'm a doctor. I can say these things.

Children can be gainfully employed doing laundry and mining coal, for less than it costs you to hire a grown-up. They'll work long hours and also happily pick your agricultural crops as a school outing or outdoor adventure. And, because they're malleable and parts grow back, you need not pay workman's comp insurance.

Plus in many parts of the country they can be locally sourced.

Particularly in Kentucky and Tennessee.
As well as the Carolinas.
West Virginia.



As always, terms and conditions may apply.
Do not employ near heavy machinery.
Keep away from an open flame.
Check with your doctor.
Banana for scale.



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ABOUT HEMMINGWAY ...

Almost like they're aware of what I post, the algorithms have started scattering nasal relief and nostril spa treaments in my social media and news feed. They really, really want me to shove liquids and gels up my nose. Somewhere out there marketing types think that doing so will solve all my problems and lead to a greater sense of peace and harmony in my universe. Surely congestion is affecting my love life? Don't I passionately wish to inhale the rich aroma of olive oil roasted garlic in it's karmic fullness? My life is incomplete without the deep, deep clarity that sterile lightly medicated sprays will be bring!

At the moment it smells like pipe tobacco and freshly brewed coffee in here. When an adult wakes up, that is really all he needs to smell. A mature and civilized spectrum of fragrances.

[The tobacco is Rattray's Marlin Flake, which is very similar to McConnell's Folded Flake, and might actually be the same product. Medium, somewhat on the mild side. A good solid product. Minor inclusions of Kentucky and Perique as condimentals. It's what Hemmingway would have smoked if he hadn't been such a macho poseur.]


Wet grass, wood polish, a bowl of lemons, tannins from a distant bog, roofing tar, the salt fish perfume of a Chinese grocery, overripe fruit in the neighbor's orchard, grilled fatty pork with a touch of lemon grass ....


The best smell in the city during summer is the complete absence of people on the street outside the apartment building. The oldsters that cluster at the bus stop shortly after seven have all headed across the hill to Chinatown for breakfast, the bums sleeping in two or three doorways have woken up, scratched themselves, and gone in search of cigarettes and a bag of cheetos, and the joggers and dog walkers have done their necessary defecatory acts, bagged it all up, and are at work. Peace.

You smell that, son? It smells like freedom. We have no tourists on this part of the hill, not a single stinking one. We don't need any napalm.


À propos of nothing at all ...

Sadly, there are no iguanas either. I like iguanas, but hell will freeze over before I ever go to Florida, even for that. Life is too short to put up with elderly racists and dirty A-shirt wearing slovenly Turmp voters doing stupid stuff. That's ninety percent of the people there, yes?

That more or less describes the entire Red State area. Bucket loads.
Hundreds and hundreds of miles of dunder heads.
A vast expanse of Placerville.



Ernest Hemmingway had a pet iguana named Abdul. Who would have much preferred it if the old bastard had smoked Marlin Flake instead of those rancid Cubans. Heck, any one of the fine VaPers by Ratrays. Brown Clunee, Hal O' The Wynd, Marlin Flake, Old Gowrie.
Iguanas hate the smell of stogies. This is well-known.



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HEATED DISAPPROVAL

Per the weather report it's going to be warm today. Like it was yesterday. When everyone I encountered during the afterenoon said, conversationally, that it was a hot day. I naturally disagreed, as the persons stating that were all from Canton or Hong Kong, where the average temperature at this time of year is mid eighties. And it's also humid.

We're neither hot nor humid. Some of us may be damp in certain places, but let us not go there. In HK it's damp. And often there is rain.


Here, we're kind of like the Netherlands. With a little less chance of rain.


One of the reasons for my disagreeing with them, because they should know better and be more realistic, is that I personally do not like this weather. While I can't really feel the alleged heat, it does make my walking around the city more painful than it should be. Circulatory issues in the legs. It's odd. I don't feel the heat. My legs do.

Yesterday had me grumpy by the time I caught the bus back.

And there were a number of people about inperfectly dressed. Too much bareness showing. And too many tattoos. I realized for the first time that one of the local street people has a tattoo. There is just something about tattoos that makes my skin crawl a bit.

Same with piercings.
The human body is not supposed to have that many holes.


The deep meaning of your tattoos and piercings kan me echt gestolen worden. It's onzinnig and jejeune, silly person. And I do not want to see your pale flabbity.

No one does.

There isn't a time and place for that.



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THE INTERIOR OF YOUR NOSE

While at the bakery for tea time I had a sneezing fit (pollen) which may have been spurred by taking the amlodipine besylate fifteen minutes earlier (relaxation and expansion of bloodvessels, consequently greater nasal sensitivity). That's just a theory.

A few days ago I had a discussion with an adherent of natural healing crap, who disparaged the benefits of medicines like amlodipine (a calcium channel blocker) which gives far better stroke prevention than, let us say, many other hypertensives, and buckets more than apple cider vinegar and/or manuka honey. Also, it knocks healing crystals out of the water, quite.

But there are certain side effects, that not everyone will experience equally.
In my case upper back pain and bitchiness.
Which you might not notice.


GRANULOMATOUS AMOEBIC ENCEPHALITIS

Naturally the sneezing fit called brain-eating amoebas to mind. Balamuthia mandrillaris being one such. An infection (skin lesions) does not inveriably end in death unless it migrates to the brain. Early intervention by dosing with flucytosine, pentamidine, fluconazole, sulfadiazine, a macrolide antibiotic, and trifluoperazine (per Wikipedia) seems to have cured patients.
There are other promising medications.

The amoeba is found in both soil and water, and occurs largely in the temperate regions. Flushing the nose caused one infection (International Journal Of Infectious Diseases -- Brain Infection, Improper Nasal Lavage article December 2018, and sounds rather nasty besides.
Do NOT rinse the inside of your nose with tap water to get rid of pollen.


In point of fact, I had never even heard of nasal rinsing before.
It sounds like a very Protestant thing to do.


"Unclean noses lead to masturbation and weak impulse control. Fortunately Wesson's Patented Nasal Douche, now with barium, prevents that. Use daily to prevent lax morals!"


Available at natural healing stores everywhere.



By the way: Ivermectin and hydroxychloroquine are almost certainly useless.
Just like prayer and the laying on of hands by preachers.
But go ahead, whatever twizzles your gasket.



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HAEMORRHAGIC FEVER

Yesterday's final illustration of icky things was a haemorrhagic fever virus. Several hours after doing the pink slime mold aethelium, and the typhoid fever bacteria.


Haemorrhagic fevers are mostly tropical, and occur on all continents. Very few are 'temperate' zone ailments.


Tropical zones have exceedingly much to recommend them. Exciting locales, interesting native populations, fascinating local cultures, and some mighty interesting cuisines. Plus wrenching poverty, high crime rates, frequent bloody civil wars, and mind-bendingly nasty assaults on your very physical survival from humans, animals, plants, and diseases.

Life can be cheap and brutal there.
But the food is often stellar.
Well worth a visit.
Great photos!

Just think of your friends' reactions when you tell them you spent several weeks in the hospital and almost died there! They'll be so jealous! Such an adventure!


"No, I can't remember a darn thing about the food, I was deathly ill and had visions while in the ICU. The hospital staff had given up on me, but then the local witchdoctor treated me with apple cider vinegar and manuka honey, and I recovered. I have found the meaning of life."


You stopped eating meat while there, and are now much more spiritual.
It was like a whole body cleanse. People pay for that.
Sometimes you still sing deliriously.
Flashbacks.



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MISSING THAT EGG

The evening was good. Only about three street people, half a dozen crazies, and a small well-behaved flock of tourists having a night-time walking tour of Chinatown alleys. Plus the proprietess of the karaoke bar had turned the sound down a bit. There may have been a noise-complaint, or she got tired of white people living at the top of their little white lungs. Evenso, we gave the place a miss. Some horrid pretentious singing.

It had not been audible while smoking my pipe a block away.

Vivien at the other place is looking more like a watermelon ready to burst than ever. There's a delivery date pool. Winner gets a bottle of Jameson's Whiskey. Seeing as I never win at these things I picked halloween. That way the kid is safe.


Because I delayed too long over fun diseases on the internet -- both the Mayo clinic and Wikipedia, amongst others -- the cook had already left by the time I got down to my usual Tuesday place. There was nothing to eat there. Went somewhere else, and had food that only merited slight enthusiasm. What I wanted was 牛肉免治飯 ('ngau yiuk min ji faan').
With an extra fried egg on top. And a cup of milk tea.
Oh well. Next week.

The place to which I went instead seems to be popular among the low-lifes, and attracts the tourists. And everybody spoke English, despite the waiter and other staff there being very well able to speak Chinese.

I've drawn three icky things in the past twenty-four hours. The typhoid fever bacteria, a pink slime mold aethelium, and a haemorrhagic fever virus. So it's been a pretty good day.
Both after dinner and before heading over to Vivien's for tea I smoked a pipe.

On the way to the bus stop afterwards a gentleman losing his trousers AND nether garment was pinkly visible in the next block. We kept a decent distance, and he headed further south as we turned right, and, we believe, kept on stumbling. Excelsior!

It's not that hard to master the art of wearing pants.
Many people have done it, and lived.
It's commendable.


I shall NOT be illustrating that. I do not wish to draw it.
And you do not want to see it.



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IT MIGHT BE HUMAN

A posting on Facebook got me all excited about pink slime mold. Which is a myxogastrid amoeba that occurs worldwide. It is not a fungus. The aethalia (singular: aethelium) develop on wet rotten wood from June to November. Orangeish pink through pale pastel purples, to brownish golden blobs. I like blobs. They can exude a pinkish slime before fully ripe.

Pinks, lavenders, rusty reds, and diverse rubicund hues.
A lovely blobbity blobness.

Before maturity, single celled specimens locomote as masses of reddish protoplasmic amoeba-like particles that swallow bacteria, fungal spores, and organic nutrients.
Then form fruiting bodies of a warty bobbled appearance, soft and spongy.
The microscopic spores are ashen-grey.


Though not in any way similar to me personally, despite what you might think, or may have heard from misguided individuals, I can see myself in that. It speaks to me.
The feurige drang nach lebenslust.

Round red rude thing.

There you are, a small happy insect with an elegant hard shell, wandering around your native environment filled with fragrant rotting wood and good things to eat, when you encounter this large spherical thing. You extend a foreleg tentatively. Can it be moved?
Is it edible? Is it alive?

It is indeed edible. But it ruptures offensively at you.

And, oh horrors, there are more of them clustered in the softest soggiest part of the log, where the best food particles are. What utter evil! It's a whole mob of them!

You need a drink and a smoke after this, to calm you down.
You thoughtfully fill your Comoy Lovat with flake.
Possibly Recency or JackKnife Plug.
Nature is abhorrent.
Mmmmm!



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POSSIBLE COMPLICATIONS

My morning reading today was about typhoid, one of the most exciting diseases with great historical resonance. One must automatically think of Burma and prison camps during the war. As well as horrible tropic conditions. By the time the disease has progressed, severe and possibly fatal complications may result: respiratory infections that make full use of the weakened patient, intestinal haemorrhage, delirium, metastatic abcesses, inflammation of the gall bladder, plus of course spleen and liver enlargement and sensitivity.
Acute and chronic dehydration is a constantly recurring problem.

Pensively I take another sip of my coffee. Second cup this morning. This man is not likely to dehydrate anytime soon, as I swill caffeinated beverages throughout the day, and often need to get up and micturate even into wee hours.

In areas where the drinking water is not sterilized, such as prison camps in tropical swamps, contamination by faeces is not uncommon. Fortunately coffee and tea require boiling the water. Conclusion: caffeinated beverages lead to good health and increased life span.
Republican fascist influencers should kindly take note.

Treatment for abcesses can be problematic. I'm not at all sure that our ICE goons in Florida are trained in drainage OR antibiotic dosages, and in any case pennicilin allergies are not part of their knowledge sets.

Besides, all their experience is on the brutality end of prison camps. The therapeutic side is not their concern, and the Republican Party is anxious that that not be in the programme.


If you did not bring the water for your coffee or tea to a full roiling boil you may find yourself dying of a completely avoidable disease in Burma or Florida. Before travelling in the Deep South, whether voluntarily or otherwise, read up on fluoroquinolones, cephalosporins, azithromycin, and carbapenems. Chloramphenicol, ampicillin, cotrimoxazole.

If you get sick, drink lots of liquids.
Don't share food with natives.
And avoid the alligators.
Plus Republicans,



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BREAKFAST PERFECTION

Before my dumplings arrived I noticed a family looking at the menus posted on the window. All tables were occupied, which they saw. But I was by myself at a fourseater, so I made up their mind for them by popping my head outside and telling them I'd move over to the back counter if they wished to come in. My meal tasted exceptionally good after that. Good deed bla bla bla, selfless bla bla bla, and also good for the dumpling place.
Tourists who otherwise might not have dumplings for years.


Shan't mention this to anyone. Don't want people to think I'm soft.
But it's dumplings. And everyone loves dumplings.


There are four foods that encapsulate and exemplify Chinese comfort food without which a city might as well be a hellhole in the Red States: Dumplings, noodle soup, roast duck, and congee. Plus claypot rice, so that's actually five. Oh, and rice sheet noodles (腸粉 'cheung fan'), so six. Fortunately we have all that generously in this city.
A multiplicity of all of them.

And, as you naturally understand, those are all perfect breakfast foods, even though I often have them for lunch or dinner. Which frequently actually is breakfast, as I've spent several hours doom scrolling or reading Wikipedia articles before I eat.

In fact, the only reason I snarf down a pastry at work in the first hour that I'm there and it's quiet is so that I don't rip anyone's head off later. Even offensive old rightwing smelly sponges don't deserve that. And there might be witnesses.


What I had this morning as "breakfast" was a strong cup of coffee.
Followed by a stroll in the gloom smoking my pipe.
I did not rip anyone's head off.



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THE EMERGENCY DATING SITE

Years ago I was very briefly subscribed to a dating site. Nothing happened. As, having read some of my posts on this blog you would expect. It was probably the fact that I wasn't vegan and had neither a dog nor tattoos. Everybody LOVES dog-owning vegans.
Well, also the other people didn't appeal to me.

And perhaps it was my picture.

I don't do selfies well.


Also, I don't text, drive a car, abstain from tobacco, or carry my cell-phone everywhere.

Given that most of the calls I get are from someone calling himself 'Michael' or 'Brian', or their feminine equivalents, anxious to tell me all about the exciting changes this enrollment period, burial plots, and air ducts, and asking very many personal questions like my age (timeless) and how many children I have (zero) it seems stupid. The cellphone always stays exactly where the landline phone used to be. Which is precisely right.


If, dogforbid, I ever join another dating site, I've got just the right profile picture.

ME EATING DUMPLINGS

Eating dumplings is not only far more likely than getting a tattoo, avoiding tobacco, or having an emergency ("help, I've fallen and I can't get up") by the side of the motorway in El Dorado County (someone suggested 'emergencies' as a good reason to carry the device with me at all times). In fact, this afternoon I will probably have dumplings. In Chinatown.
Instead of driving to El Dorado County to have an emergency.

Timeless. No actual pets. I like dumplings.

And there are no airducts.

Unfallen.



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ELLIPSIS AND GÉOMÉTRIE

A visitor from Germany wished to take back some gifties for a pipe smoker of an older generation. Something uniquely American. So naturally I suggested tobaccos from Greg Pease, as several of them are unavailable in Germany. And Greg Pease is a Californian. Of course his products are highly regarded (yes, by me) and reflect the local zeitgeist and weltanschauung perfectly. Trust me on this. I am representative of the majority.

Well, given how few pipe smokers have survived till the present, that's not many people. Two people of English ancestry, one German, and three Dutch Americans, two of whom possess Dutch surnames, and a South African gentleman. Not enough biologically speaking to form a viable breeding population. Besides, none of us can run fast enough to overtake females of the species. Anyway, running isn't dignified.

[There are also several smokers of aromatic products like BCA, RLP 6, and 1Q floating around. They don't count.
They're probably sterile. A vicious miasma surrounds them, and they may be rogues or diseased.]

Years ago it was different. We thundered in vast herds across the prairie.

So I recommended two recent examples from G. L. Pease.

Ellipsis and Géométrie.

Both are Virginia based, with additional tobaccos added condimentally.

Ellipsis consists of Virginias with a little Turkish and Perique. Flake. It is contemplative, medium strength. Géométrie is also a Virginia-based product, with more Turkish added for zest. Plug. Slightly spicy. Milder than Ellipsis because Turkish is lower in Nicotine, but a richer flavour. Both products excite me. Breeding frenzy level.

[Ellipsis besteht aus Virginias mit ein bisschen Türkisches tabakblatt und Perique. Flake (gepresste scheiben). Es ist sehr besinnlich, und mittelstark. Géométrie ist ebenfalls ein Virginia-basiertes produkt, dem noch mehr Türkisch für mehr würze zugesetzt wurde. Ein plug (bloktabak). Leicht blumig. Milder als Ellipsis, da Türkische blätter weniger nikotin enthälten, aber ein reicheres aroma. Beide produkte begeistern mich, fast bis zum brutrausch.]

[Ellipsis bestaat uit Virginia tabakken met een beetje Turks en perique. Een flake (geperste plakjes). Het is zeer contemplatief en heeft een gemiddelde sterkte. Géométrie is ook een product van Virginia blad, met nog meer Turkse tabak voor ietwat meer pittigheid. Een plug (bloktabak). Licht bloemig. Milder dan Ellipsis, omdat Turks tabaksblad minder nicotine bevat, maar het heeft een rijkere aroma. Beide producten bekoren me zeer, bijna tot euforie.

Both are good with a cup of tea while pissing-off cigar smokers.
Which is also something I recommend.
Very highly.

TOBACCO INDEX


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