THE DUMMIES IN THE BACK

Cold, grim, and rainy. For which I blame the weather, not the Democrats. But just wait until Musk is sworn in. When damned well everything will "still" be the fault of the Democrats. Because that side of the aisle is too stupid to think anything else. Yes, I am going to be a sheer joy to be around for the next four years, and it won't take long before one phrase comes out of my mouth which I shall relish and which may cause acid-indigestion:
"you voted for this!"

Schadenfreude is one way to survive government by the chuckleheads.
Along with fault finding, sneering, sarcasm, and ridicule.
Because, after all, y'all voted for this.


Praise cheeses.

On the other hand, Kash Patel, Tom Homan, Vivek Ramaswamy, and Marjorie Taylor Green have someone who understands them, speaks their language, and comforts their innermost fears. They'll have a several months long group-gasm while things head south.

It's like watching Springtime For Hitler. But done with no sense of irony, as a school play by very special students without one iota of talent or ability.

Plus RFK Jr. The class idiot.



By the way: Y'all do realize that there is absolutely nothing that could be more red-blooded and all-American than a pissed-off Texan in a pick-up truck, don't you? Absolutely nothing.
Shamsud-Din Jabbar represents the common man. Totally.
Why aren't y'all applauding?



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THE NEXT GREAT AMERICAN DISH

Seeing as groceries will shoot up in price over the next several months as the labour force involved in food production gets shoved into camps and tarifs on imports will be imposed, changes in the American diet must be inevitable. And also note that with food safety recalls showing no end in sight, and eggs now notorious for carrying diseases, some things will have to become a fond memory. For a while, at least. Fortunately, there's still canned stuff.


Yeah, okay, there's also that monumental stockpile of cheese. American cheese.
The stuff that we couldn't give away even to poor people.
Because it tasted like spackle.

Okay. With vegetables becoming a luxury, fresh meat heading towards Chipotle level food poisoning risks, avocado toast entirely unaffordable (because guess what we need to import), and eggs being scarce and nowhere to be found, we may have to rely on comestibles we thought were a thing of the past.

AMERICAN FRIED RICE

Fortunately, hell will freeze over before America's pork producers relinquish the slaves whose suffering and horrifically unsafe and covid-rife working conditions, even during the dark days of the Biden presidency, fueled (in part) almost unprecedented prosperity. Iowa will continue to prosper. Armed guards will keep them from escaping. Thank you, Iowa.

And middle class people all over the country will finally learn to enjoy ketchup and luncheon meat fried rice. Perhaps with a side of canned beans, à l'anglaise.

Soften some chopped onions in the skillet, add a big bowl of leftover rice plus two or three tablespoons of regular ketchup and a dash of Worcestershire sauce, as well as some chunky chopped tinned luncheon meat, and stir till the rice is well-coloured. Dried parsely from a great American food supply company can be added to garnish.
Do not add peas. Peas are nasty.

Serve with a side of freshly opened canned beans.
No need to heat them, they're fine as is.



By the way: normally I maintain a Sriracha and chilipaste stockpile sufficient for at least six months. Either of these make even American cooking edible. Perhaps I should now triple or quadruple that. Worcestershire Sauce keeps nearly forever, and fortunately soy sauce is manufactured locally if the imported brands become unaffordable.



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FROZEN UNDERWEAR

Not, as you probably think, the garments that Elsa wears in that movie, but what an Eskimo or other mythical polar creature might wear in the Yukon when it gets to let's say forty eight degrees Fahrenheit or below, and partly cloudy with a slight breeze, such as in San Francisco right now. I can hear things tinkling when I move.

Please imagine something with fangs grumbling.
A disconsolate and cold Dutchman.
Who was outside smoking.

There are times when I can really understand the bears. Who store up fat in Autumn then spend all of winter getting up late or not at all. Probably thoroughly enjoying their bed with the down comforter, woolen blanket, cotton knit blanket, synthetic blend blanket, pillows, and small creatures perched on top of the long pile of reference books on the left side.
Don't wake me up till it's at least six weeks later.
And light longer outside.

Not all bears smoke pipes, have lunch in Chinatown, and sip hot Hong Kong milk tea. And all in all it's been a busy day, in which I got a lot accomplished. Even though I totally forgot that the hospital and pharmacy would not be open for regular business because it's a holiday. Picked up my refills after having lunch, upgraded my old geezer discount travel card over on Stockton Street, purchased veggies for the elderly Indonesian Chinese woman downstairs, plus fried crab flavoured potato chips for my apartment mate and green stuff for both of us as well as some Japanese white peach pudding buns (which if they taste weird I'll happily take to work), dried fish, and another cup of Hong Kong milk tea with a pastry. Spoke Cantonese mostly, used Mandarin once, and English once.

Swore under my breath several times in multiple languages. Chinatown was chock-full of outsiders gawking, ogling, and probably poking the locals to see if they'd squawk. At one point while I was having my tea the bakery had over twenty non-Chinese at the counter saying "what's that" and asking what was in it. The tables were nearly empty, probably because regulars didn't wish to wade through a horde of Huns sacking Rome.

The lunch place, being a chachanteng on a side street, and the grocery store where the interesting snackies were purchased, were not crowded at all. I'm hoping that the place where I intend to go tomorrow will be relatively free of the Vikings raiding Lindisfarne.
I don't want to deal with dead monks and burning libraries while having dumplings.



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RABBIT RABBIT FOR JANUARY 2025

Rabbit rabbit. If you're reading this you didn't die in a fiery freeway crash caused by drunken teenagers somewhere in Trailerparkistan. Nor did the elevator cables snap from too many overweight intoxicated people playing telephone booth twenty floors up. Congratulations.
And a happy new year.

This blogger will lay off his usual cynical depressive crap for a brief moment and be little miss sunshine. Because we all need a little sunshine in our lives. It's below fifty degrees right now and I'm freezing my gand off, good lord I need some sunshine.


You will kindly note that I do not particularly like Winter temperatures.
This has nothing to do with an urge for naked dancing.
Even in Spring I do not participate.

Naked dancing is rather like an equivalent of terpsichorean karaoke. When everyone around me is gaily flinging their clothes to the side and twirling, twirling, twirling in their glorious flesh, I will probably be at the bar ordering another drink with a pair of sunglasses. Far enough away that no droplets of sweat may reach.

There is no point in doing your laundry if you're not going to wear it.
Today I shall do my laundry. Clean clothes are essential.
They're the first part of me that you see.
Possibly the only part.


Rabbit rabbit.



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