LISTEN TO THE TALKING HEADS

Now that it's light earlier I no longer have to stumble over frozen corpses in the dark when having the first pipe smoke of the day. I can step around them like a civilized person. Or, if necessary, walk down the centre of the street avoiding the living dead flaked out along the sidewalk with needles in their arms, who in summer will be photogenic for tourists from the fly-overs. Who are prepared to be appalled.

This early in the day and the year there aren't very many middle-of-the-country tourists avidly snapping pictures to show the folks back in Honkpatoma what horrors they witnessed in San Francisco among the drug-addicted liberals from Venezuela.


But this week we have more people in town. I've already seen the first few pods of very broad sportsfans visiting for the Superbowl waddling down streets gawking.
And I've had to cross the street to get around them.

Welcome, strangers. There's a Mickey Dees on Market Street. It might have what you're looking for. Which is what exactly? Water rodent gumbo? Lutefisk and grits?

There are also a few places with watery coffee if you want that.
Ignore the immigrant commies selling drugs.

Seeing as the New York Post and Fox News have over the last decade painted San Francisco as something out of Dante's Inferno, and we now have travellers from the rest of America fully prepped to see the depths of subhuman misery on the streets here and be deliciously shocked and horrified -- there are no foreign radicals with vials of fentanyl or kidnapping white teenagers where they came from -- we might as well embrace that. Let them know that alien sin, politics, and drugs are rife here. The coffee is too strong, there's no bacon on anything, and I swear there's idolatry and devil worship going on in every other alleyway. The streets are paved with garbage. Sourdough and soymilk everywhere!
Oh, the horror the horror!

Thank you for visiting.

Now go home.



First pipe of the day was very nice. Aged red Virginia and a little Turkish in a Peterson stamped "made in London". Their London establishment closed down in 1969, so it was manufactured over half a century ago. Obviously before I was a smoker.
I found it new, at a very good price, and promptly jumped on it. I have to wonder about the man or woman who went on a trip, bought a pipe as a memento, and never got around to smoking it. It's a classic piece, straight billiard military mount, smooth finish.
It's quite a groovy smoker.

Sadly, there were no fozen corpses with needles in their arms.
Maybe the idiots at Fox weren't telling the truth.
But please keep on watching.



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