RANDOMLY SLAGGING TENNESSEE

For a long time I thought some selfish bastard had let his dog do there. But a closer look indicated that someone had dropped their fried food. I still don't know exactly what it was, though. Probably something American, and as I am not a tourist visiting from Iowa I did not recognize it at all. What I'm fairly certain of is that it did not come from any of the six or seven nearby restaurants. Which all serve Hong Kong Chinese food. It could have been an attempt at the typical Dutch unidentifiable fried object -- no discernible bones -- but it looked way too oily for that. So I'm baffled. Who brings fried food into Chinatown? There's better stuff than frito-muck widely available. There's even popcorn chicken for the Anglo teenagers, for heaven's sake.


And I know the nearby restaurants. I've eaten at all of them. One of them even today, and another one is my regular Wednesday luncheon place. Both of them do fun porkchops, by the way. Both of them are day-time restaurants, so chops for dinner are, sadly, out of the question. But breakfast, can do.

I'll blame the owners of the four door from Tennessee parked in that block.
They could be capable of anything. I've heard about Tennessee.
The only source of genetic diversity there is mutation.
Or half-human cryptids. And congressmen.
Sometimes lost Midwesterners.
Get them drunk first.

Yeah, okay, I've never been to Tennessee. I've deliberately avoided all the interior states. I'd probably starve there. It's basically grits and greasy fried possum from Sparks, Nevada, all the way to Boston, right? Washed down with ice tea and a menthol cigarette.

And just like whenever I visited England I would have to bring my own sambal. In all fairness, if I ever visit France again I might have to do that too, and in Scotland and Ireland that might be the only thing edible in any case. Turnips and sheep offal.

According to commentators on a food site I visited recently, they don't have decent bacon, maple syrup, or diabetes anywhere in the British Isles. Those are all American problems. Which they thoroughly despise. Apparently they only eat at McDonalds because they're forced to. Really, they'd rather eat fish and chips. That's real food, and healthy!


Ummmmmm.


I had returned to Chinatown a few hours after lunch (something a British expat in HK might eat) to smoke my pipe while waiting for my friend. Some of the homeless people who had appeared after dark were real iffy types. The kind of hoboes who refuse all help, and have substantially lost whatever minds they once had. One of them had built himself a fort out of carboard boxes, another one had constructed a teepee. Which is all understandable, because it gets cold at night.

A tourist family gingerly stepped around things, while people reading their text messages stepped right into them. Unspeakable things.

The karaoke joint was filled with lost souls in torment.
Miss Vivien's was empty when we walked in.
Guiness, Jameson's, and tea.

The same two goth white chicks who had passed me earlier got on the bus at the stop after ours. They had spent hours haunting Chinatown.

I hope they had a good time.



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