DO NOT REPLACE

There is just something about old smoking pipes in perfect condition that speaks to the soul. A well-maintained touchy-feely object that has not been maltreated by idiots smoking pot or morons with aromatic mixtures -- good tobacco only, smoked slow -- after a dietarily unwise lunch in Chinatown (high salt, fat, and capsaicin) is better for a Dutch American's peace of mind, by far, than arguing with any number of Netanyahu and Trump supporters on the internet, or putting up with senile rightwingers at work in Marin County.


While obviously the Netanyahu and Trump supporters infest the internet at all hours, even at the crack of dawn, the foul-mouthed senile Marinite rightwingers are not lurking around the upper reaches of Nob Hill at six thirty in the morning.

Which is good. My bowl of Fribourg & Treyer Special Brown Flake in the Comoy Tradition from the nineteen fifties would in no way benefit from their vicinity. I was thinking of having some strong tea after returning, milk and sugar, but instead went for a second cup of coffee. Now I'm waiting patiently for my apartment mate to head off to work so that I can use the bathroom. After that maybe some tea.

Netanyahu and Trump are both criminals and assholes. Their supporters are mostly just the latter, plus they dress funny and smell bad. In addition to eating too much.

The world will probably be a much better place when most people of my generation have died and been plowed under. Along with everyone younger who ever voted for Trump, Netanyahu, or Christians and bigots. The sooner that is effected, the better.


Not me of course. I should live forever.
So that I can piss on their graves.


Which is where coffee and tea come in. Both are diuretic, though the first mentioned much more than the second. Needing to pee within two hours of coffee is fairly normal, but while at work, I can go for several hours without needing to leak even after multiple cups of tea.
The bladder just seems more capacious at that time.

Probably because when I was at the Indian restaurant if I bathroom-broke during the evening my coworkers would make mistakes with money and the bills while I had stepped away, and figuring out what they had in their Indian brilliance done wrong would take longer. Never trust rushed waiters with making change. They just want to free up that table.
And what with being Indian, they. Are. Always. Right.


Anyway, if a rightwing bastard is buried, have some coffee at the funeral. That way you won't have to visit the grave much later in the day unless you reallly want to. Like after tea.



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