My apartment mate picked it up in Chinatown after visiting the doctor. She is a Cantonese woman, and consequently, no matter how sick she is, matters gustatory are important.
Such as an excellent chicken.
My friend rabbi Bxxxxx is stuck in three feet of snow in some ghastly place back east where paak chit kai may probably not be obtained, another friend has two feet of snow on her lawn furniture (it's underneath there somewhere), and a third is thinking about exquisite Chinese teas (obtained by mail order) and exotic foods (not to be found in his state without hours of driving through snow drifts) while stuck indoors.
Here, it's shirtsleeve weather. C'town is barely six blocks away. The weather was supposed to be mildly inclement, but we wait upon the arrival of rain.
Mid sixties. Good food. Condimentals. Mmm.
Truly we are blessed in one of the few civilized parts of this country.
Hard to believe that many others are our fellow citizens.
In some parts of this nation superstition and stupidity reign supreme, and howling savages, outcastes, and reddish necked fellows hold sway, governing as if by the dameonic right of kings. Libraries and universities suffer under their misrule, and Christian Nationalists force everyone to worship their Mammon. The country has become Springfield and Quahog.
We have met the enemy and he is us.
We must count upon greasy junkfood, 32 ounce carbonated beverages, horrible weather, bad beer, and congenital, persistent idiocy to defeat them. Hail diabetes and obesity!
My heavens that chicken was tasty.
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