THE CONDENSED MILK

For some bizarre reason I got up at seven o'clock, despite having gone to bed at around two and consequently having had only about five hours of sleep. My brain was filled with Sữa Ông Thọ. This pursuant an open can of condensed milk deep in the back of the refrigerator. My apartment mate uses condensed milk, but the can was not Sữa Ông Thọ, as that is not her preferred brand.
I was also remembering the Chinese Vietnamese restaurant on Geary Street that closed a few years ago. Exceptionally good food.


Okay, the bizarre reason was my bladder. I've emptied it several times this week already. Just before going to bed I did so again. Damned thing demanded an encore.
Probably a delayed result of last night's hot beverage.


It strikes me that the main reason why you never see burning Tesla cybertrucks in The South is that no African Americans drive them there. Yeah, parking your cybertruck at Waffle House, AND being black? In Alabama and Mississippi, that's just asking for trouble.
What the living heck were you thinking?

Driving a cybertruck in some states would be like driving something foreign.
It's like stirring up a hornets nest.

Besides, everybody knows that the only people to drive cybertrucks are just sexual deviants who live in the suburbs and deny god. Who habitually breakfast on foie gras ('fwah-grah") and drink wine. Why heck, they probably vote for communists ("kah-moon-iz")!

A number of my friends live in the Deep South ("dip-sath"). They are not miserable, in fact they're having a blast because they're so much smarter than almost everyone who lives close-by, and they can make those dummies twirl.

One of them habitually smokes Royal Yacht ("roll-yaht") in his pipes.
Which is kind of like driving a foreign vehicle.
And voting for communists.



No, I shall not ask her about the old can of condensed milk next to the hot chilipaste I never finished using. That would only open the gate to counter-questions about some of my antique condiments. She's calibrated the refrigerator temperature very precisely so that things freeze semisolid before they mold, and consequently stuff rarely goes bad. Probably because five years ago I got food-poisoning from my own leftovers, lordy we don't want that again.



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