tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-177040962024-03-28T14:43:28.147-07:00At the back of the hill<b>Warning:</b> May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here <br>strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. <br>
And that you might like cheese-doodles.<br>
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.comBlogger9637125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-2773167567561043922024-03-28T13:00:00.000-07:002024-03-28T13:33:35.549-07:00SAN FRANCISCO IS TOO DANGEROUS!A few years ago, my regular care physician and I had an informative talk about kangkong (ipomoea aquatica), sidetracking from my tobacco use and other horrible habits which I may have and lets not go there. What with him being Chinese from Indonesia, and myself a Dutch American with very Indo tastes, the overlap was outrageous. Chili paste, shrimp sauce, and peanuts. Let's not talk about my smoking, and all I need to further add is that the discussion with the nutritionist that same year was also extremely enjoyable: roast duck, bakeries, chachantengs, and dim sum, within a block or two in every direction.<br />
That is to say, I enjoyed the conversation.<br />
It was just before lunch time.<br />
She may not have.<br />
<br />
The hospital where both of them work is in Chinatown. Most of their clientele is not Caucasian with a keen interest in food.<br />
<br />
Once you leave, after your appointment, you head down Trenton Alley till you are a discrete distance away, then you fill and light your pipe, and start thinking about where and what to eat. Which will probably cause them despair. Both things. Despair.<br />
<br />
You just won't tell them. Leave them under the impression that you are a severe Calvinist like your ancestors, with reserved abstemiousness coming out of every pore. Damned-near a vegetarian, and always seeking to reform your decadent ways.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilj_Yt6OMvzqQ9NlPyWQdoyxzLETkRrM9PArUrprFeoUfRxRHd1jgiD8mrkvFfoZyHNwWCH2rEs0T2_9-GecGLGAB43kK2g79N2dbUup50bGpLmHtpCgewGSL6ma5u6LfREqHXjnML25L9lcc7jR5VUp__9y8sIz5nvc0Kx_8n91sMUXxvBPcS/s4264/Trenton%20Alley%2010042023.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4264" data-original-width="3624" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilj_Yt6OMvzqQ9NlPyWQdoyxzLETkRrM9PArUrprFeoUfRxRHd1jgiD8mrkvFfoZyHNwWCH2rEs0T2_9-GecGLGAB43kK2g79N2dbUup50bGpLmHtpCgewGSL6ma5u6LfREqHXjnML25L9lcc7jR5VUp__9y8sIz5nvc0Kx_8n91sMUXxvBPcS/s400/Trenton%20Alley%2010042023.jpg" /></a></div><b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;">TRENTON ALLEY</span></b></div></b><br />
Yeah, okay, I don't think they were fooled. They are both Chinese, in their fields they have to be realists, and they're very well aware that ninety plus percent of the people they see in their professional life are probably lying throught their teeth about some of the things they do. What with being Chinese. Some of those old fossils probably reek of fatty pork, roast duck, and salt fish. Still licking their chops as they say "<i>why no, doctor, I never touch pastries or salty snacks!</i>" Then adding, for good measure "<i>and I still walk a lot each day!</i>"<br />
<br />
What they don't say is that manoeuvering a cumbersome stroller while simultaneously trying to light up and carry the plastic bags of leftovers from the duck restaurant where they sought fortification for their medical appointment was a royal pain in the gand. And why AREN'T strollers or wheelchairs fitted out with a cup holder and an ashtray, dammit!<br />
<br /><br />
Back in their day ...<br />
<br />
<br />
Yesterday I bought another bottle of Lee Kum Kee Peanut Sauce (李錦記涼拌醬 '<i>lei gam gei leung pun jeung</i>') just around the corner from the hospital. Peanut Sauce (花生醬 '<i>faa sang jeung</i>') is a necessary component of my cooking. Very Dutch. They also had salt fish (鹹魚 '<i>haam yü</i>', but I remembered that the best salt fish I bought recently was at a shop less than one block away. Mmmm, fatty pork with salt fish!<br />
<br />
<br />
Anyhow, the point of this essay is that, per a recent news article, the tourists trade here is suffering because San Francisco is considered too dangerous nowadays. Visitors don't come anymore because they are afraid of muggings and high crime. They might be inconvenienced, strong armed, or feel threatened.<br />
<br />
Their trepidation is justified. Why, I know hundreds of people who have been mugged and shot and are now walking around dead with drugs coursing through their veins! Every single person here is bleeding! The hotels are infested with crack addicts, there are fresh puddles of fentanyl on the streets, and methamphetamine sellers lurk in corners of every city park and shopping mall. Our statuary is infested with rats. Bible salesmen flee in terror. <br />
Rabid orphans roam the streets, ready to bite people. <br />
<br />
Our coffee is too strong, every one smokes, and our food will kill you!<br />
Please stay away! For the love of everything holy, stay away!<br />
There are dangerous snacks everywhere!<br />
<br />
Zombies! Leprosy!<br /><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-49036566659693729372024-03-27T19:28:00.000-07:002024-03-27T19:28:02.887-07:00THE ROUTE ACROSS THE HILLSIt irritates me to see very large white people in Chinatown. This is probably because I am bigoted against humongous Midwestern heffalumps. Every one I know eats like rational beings -- one minor exception: a woman in the East Bay who sometimes goes through pints of icecream late at night, to assuage her despair at the bone-headedness of people in that part of the world -- so seeing folks with eating habits that take sweet 'n sour pork out the hands of starving babies in Africa is painful. <br />
<br />
All over equatorial Africa there are little children wailing "<i>oh, I wish I could eat some sweet 'n sour pork, but the Midwestern women took it all!</i>" And then they weep themselves to sleep. It's very sad.<br />
<br />
On the other hand, I can understand why their SF resident college grad kids became vegan.<br />
Massive guilt over their mom and aunties horrible eating habits.<br />
And the sweet 'n sour pork hunger in Africa.<br />
Those poor porkless orphans!<br />
<br />
<br />
You know, sweet 'n sour bean mulch is NOT in any way Chinese.<br />
Probably entirely a white folks invention.<br />
But Spam™ and instanoodles?<br />
Very Hong Kong!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBFCJ4WfwmSTMMvye6L_r9QqXzzAHqjQiyYTlELcMOXqTRFbAInk4wiPUr-qcx0gTN3i1yuG-gTqc_YN6qRbvj7QVONjFQV6T5lbc_4D-kmijcCCybJtz2mo-aM0Oo96jh376ceg79ObeBTooKpMKUPXsAYWfSRIbVtwsT7SvoxSxpQE9lmoy/s2504/Route%20Twisk%2003272024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="1487" data-original-width="2504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBFCJ4WfwmSTMMvye6L_r9QqXzzAHqjQiyYTlELcMOXqTRFbAInk4wiPUr-qcx0gTN3i1yuG-gTqc_YN6qRbvj7QVONjFQV6T5lbc_4D-kmijcCCybJtz2mo-aM0Oo96jh376ceg79ObeBTooKpMKUPXsAYWfSRIbVtwsT7SvoxSxpQE9lmoy/s400/Route%20Twisk%2003272024.jpg"/></a></div>
Lunch was at a chachanteng in Chinatown, and it wasn't sweet 'n sour pork. I don't know if that place even does sweet 'n sour. Anything. They probably do, because if a Midwesterner wanders in they want to feed the poor elephant. "<i>One big bucker of sweet 'n sour and one bucket of fried rice coming up! And a diet coke.</i>"<br />
<br />
The kitchen is a bloody disaster zone afterwards, but Miss Iowa is happy. <br />
Her guts thunder their approval.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The illustration above is the New Territories in Hong Kong.<br />
No rattlesnakes or poison ivy anywhere.<br />
Very few Midwesterners.<br />
Ever.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
As a white person, I need to clarify that neither I nor anyone I am related to have ever eaten a poor starving orphan in Africa out of the sweet 'n sour pork to which they were so looking forward and which they richly deserved. The last time any of us were in the Midwest was over a century ago. Before sweet 'n sour pork was a concept.<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-22941738124868816922024-03-26T23:45:00.000-07:002024-03-26T23:46:04.195-07:00DON'T LET ANYONE HEAR YOU!Far be it from me to speak ill of the tone-dead. Nevertheless, that singing was indescribably bad. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Four songs. We left before they were even half-way through Lady Gaga and her horrid love life. Which, for some reason, I have to think she thoroughly deserved. I wish ill upon her.<br />
<br />
Karaoke should be forbidden to fresh young things just out of college. It illuminates their worst sides. Makes people despise them and their intemperate behaviours. <br />
They should limit themselves to facesucking in public.<br />
Perhaps while humming.<br />
<br />
This blogger has never been a fan of Lady Gaga.<br />
I've probably heard everything she did.<br />
All of it is regrettable.<br />
<br />
<br />
The evening started well enough. Bus over the hill, a very pleasing bowl of tobacco in a fine briar, not very many people on the street, almost none of them tourists. And while the burger joint was densely crowded, refreshments were got very nearby.<br />
Including Mexican Coca Cola. Real cane sugar.<br />
<br />
The beer place was too crowded, we gave it a miss.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSNwKgqhmNR7-n4iRzjU7YyZSNBqY6ZeJ2Kb8iXcjZSZLHR_1ipj0P9jL7V97EhMxdG9vcKcUCalM4vISR0gvBJGrpIICs0eWAl3tEOiP2aoHNIn9EYKL3wtQZEwMDdZRpkB722u2hxjJo6N8uH76ueHYTK_1qxG4fdxonxYX6jTY8fmnIsgV_/s2744/Bridge%20in%20Holland%2003262024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="1628" data-original-width="2744" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSNwKgqhmNR7-n4iRzjU7YyZSNBqY6ZeJ2Kb8iXcjZSZLHR_1ipj0P9jL7V97EhMxdG9vcKcUCalM4vISR0gvBJGrpIICs0eWAl3tEOiP2aoHNIn9EYKL3wtQZEwMDdZRpkB722u2hxjJo6N8uH76ueHYTK_1qxG4fdxonxYX6jTY8fmnIsgV_/s400/Bridge%20in%20Holland%2003262024.jpg"/></a></div>
One of the Dutch cities for which I have a soft spot -- my brother lived there for several years, and a favourite antiquarian book seller is located there -- is Utrecht. In which, on good nights, drunken students may fall into the canals, which probably has a deleterious effect on their efforts to sing karaoke. Pneumonia kind of hampers an ability to offend by excesses for a while. As does the turbid water into which the university person plunged. <br />
San Francisco does not have that advantage. <br />
<br />
There are no tree-shaded canals here. No coble-stoned bridges over cold black water. Nor any steep embankments down which an inebriated songbird might flailingly roll, ending up soaked by freezing effluent and requiring medical attention. It is very sad.<br />
<br />
It's something about which I do not think often.<br />
Evenso, it's a profound source of regret.<br />
Utrecht. It is quite a lovely city.<br />
Charming, civilized.<br />
<br />
<br />
Never before has karaoke been so painful.<br />
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<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-52099243374234785282024-03-26T11:55:00.000-07:002024-03-26T11:55:04.928-07:00AUSTRALIAN ACHIEVEMENTSRecently a commenter asked "<i>do those bally Australians ever wash themselves or stop drinking till they're stinko? Except for those times they hunt down sheep to bugger?</i>" This was under an essay titled <a href="https://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2010/01/sea-shepherd-terrorists-attack-japanese.html">SEA SHEPHERD TERRORISTS ATTACK JAPANESE VESSEL</a>, where I took Aussies, New Zealanders, and a Dutchman to task for being sanctimonious dumb twats. As so many of them are. It was written fourteen years ago.<br />
Many of them still are dumb and sanctimonious.<br />
<br />
I'm glad to see that something so meanspirited I wrote long in the past still has avid readers. That's immortality, folks. Another essay from that period which should be read in tandem was <a href="https://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2010/11/are-australians-dumber-than-kangaroos.html">ARE AUSTRALIANS DUMBER THAN KANGAROOS?</a>. It's commentary on commentary.<br />
<br />
My opinion of most of the rest of the world is very low. I've said perfectly horrid things about the English, the Irish, the French and Germans, all the Scandinavians, India, Pakistan, the Malay world, the entire Middle East, and many others. My thoughts about my own particular group -- Dutch and Dutch Americans -- are not flattering in the least, and I despise much of California (I'm in San Francisco) and the people who live there.<br />
<br />
The less said about the Scots, the better.<br />
Cat-strangling barbarians.<br />
<br />
Still, is there ANYTHING positive at all one can say about people whose sole culinary landmarks are spaghetti sandwiches and a horrible yeast extract eaten at all hours?<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDEHgxzS6BbCpOEJ9y13H9t9P2qgIh77sVmOhpTLndcSgAsKWHMGdsYN_IqEw4vNm9Ydx_2ABVl6VvklxnIRgonX8Z4t-UbSJi5Yk5hukBtVA7bTIu3edS8NFmtfVKROJ_ghGTIfit54_93_uC30OC69da6hI3R9cbZGgp-M96NucdEdAVlKLl/s2842/Spaghetti%20sandwich%2003262024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="1656" data-original-width="2842" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDEHgxzS6BbCpOEJ9y13H9t9P2qgIh77sVmOhpTLndcSgAsKWHMGdsYN_IqEw4vNm9Ydx_2ABVl6VvklxnIRgonX8Z4t-UbSJi5Yk5hukBtVA7bTIu3edS8NFmtfVKROJ_ghGTIfit54_93_uC30OC69da6hI3R9cbZGgp-M96NucdEdAVlKLl/s400/Spaghetti%20sandwich%2003262024.jpg"/></a></div>
The spaghett-O-wich. On par with Iowa food. Truly a remarkable testament to the ability of Anglo-Saxons to survive atrocious conditions and a ghastly cultural environment.<br />
<br />
It might be nicer if it were breaded and deepfried.<br />
Though that is doubtful.<br />
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<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-7023457639247018112024-03-25T20:55:00.000-07:002024-03-26T10:25:25.670-07:00A VERY HONG KONG TASTEThey were shortstaffed and consequently their well-oiled clockwork hiccoughed a bit. But I was aware of that; instead of the four waitresses normally on the floor plus a hostess, there were only two fully experienced ones plus a trainee. And somebody's father helping out as seater and host. Plus when I entered, they were crowded.<br />
<br />
What I initially intended to get was dumplings. I love dumplings. But my eye fell upon salt fish and chicken bits with tofu claypot 鹹魚雞雞粒豆腐煲仔 '<i>haam yü gai naap dau fu pou jai</i>'), and I decided to have that. With rice (白飯 '<i>paak faan</i>') and milk tea (奶茶 '<i>naai chaa</i>').<br />
<br />
The rice came fifteen minutes after the clay pot. <br />
<br />
<br />
The waitress (Eva) apologized several times. Which she need not have done so much, because I could see that they were understaffed to a fare-thee-well. The milk tea wasn't on my bill, and it turned out she had comped it. I tipped what I had intende to tip (which would be around forty percent of the bill), factoring in the absent milk tea, so it was actually slightly more than fifty percent. I want people at the restaurants I like to remember me favourably, and I don't hold unintended mishaps against people when these aren't their fault. <br />
Besides, I have worked in restaurants.<br />
<br />
And I rather suspect that this isn't the best day they've had. By a long shot.<br />
I hope both waitresses are still there when I go again.<br />
The food was delicious, btw.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbV3rQpYFuC3pxIveY7kF-kq14xet9an-9DOccI_mQDcnrw9HPd0MaFAgomnsxsYxsjqaNwR7hOkty0a4A7In3bgvfUJ6Co9do0TmuEeg7wFFBUCArbxZEYaxb3DzDR1nKcCiMasEWovGRUA9_vXUTyFzS8l6-yNVWKK8oqN3Bp62230P0lNPB/s3908/Comoy%20Apple%2003252024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2189" data-original-width="3908" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbV3rQpYFuC3pxIveY7kF-kq14xet9an-9DOccI_mQDcnrw9HPd0MaFAgomnsxsYxsjqaNwR7hOkty0a4A7In3bgvfUJ6Co9do0TmuEeg7wFFBUCArbxZEYaxb3DzDR1nKcCiMasEWovGRUA9_vXUTyFzS8l6-yNVWKK8oqN3Bp62230P0lNPB/s400/Comoy%20Apple%2003252024.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
One of the pipes in my coat pocket was something Neil gave me two weeks ago, saying that he couldn't give it all the attention it deserved, and he knows I like Comoys. Older Comoys. A London Pride apple. It's a very nice smoker. Might be older than I am (and let's not get into details), which sits nicely between the teeth. Perfect for Virginia flakes.<br />
<br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">
[The other pipe was a Dunhill shell briar.]</span><br /><br />
Some fully rubbed Dunhill Flake (blue and white tin) was a perfect cap to my meal. My face was glowing happily by the time I got home, and that wasn't just the biting chill wind.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-41172827977836381622024-03-26T09:52:00.000-07:002024-03-26T10:24:01.660-07:00DIVERSITY MATTERS!It is beneficial to have representation from a broad range of cultural origins and etnnic backgrounds in curricula, museums, and professions. In the hospital where my primary care physician works there are men and women of all possible backgrounds in almost every kind of position, for instance. Cantonese, Hakka, Hunanese, and Mandarin speakers. There was also a subcontinental -- she may still be there -- and I've even heard rumours of a Shanghainese surgeon there too. So the care there is excellent!<br />
<br />
Same goes for the people on the streets in that neighborhood: I've noticed Italian, German, French, Dutch, and Haitian Creole being spoken alongside the common tongue (Cantonese), as well as several dialects (Mandarin, Shanghainese, Hailam, Hakka, Hokkien). And also something third-worldish that sounded like 'wugga wugga', plus Slavic, and Hipster.<br />
<br />
We all benefit from this incredible spectrum.<br />
<br />
<br />
Of course, most of the tourists get in the way and ask stupid questions (it takes up to seven folks from Alabama and Iowa to buy ONE can of soda), but if people don't ask questions, how on earth are they supposed to learn?<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lbAeu0veMXKXyryvPlHDlYPLJfKe7pg5NLDCXa9Q3OOYlWNkqUXw0_yBO1pDJN-TAfiX5lri5b7YfEwdbtPpBDiZzJWYMEcwQ_ymJybgIIbr3VerAJws62d2wg1R9kE7dHfIHrxcFvIYjVEbyrjBH1AdfYctz4oIPuHe_oj3mxFt1NKqLmfJ/s448/Snufkin.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lbAeu0veMXKXyryvPlHDlYPLJfKe7pg5NLDCXa9Q3OOYlWNkqUXw0_yBO1pDJN-TAfiX5lri5b7YfEwdbtPpBDiZzJWYMEcwQ_ymJybgIIbr3VerAJws62d2wg1R9kE7dHfIHrxcFvIYjVEbyrjBH1AdfYctz4oIPuHe_oj3mxFt1NKqLmfJ/s400/Snufkin.jpg"/></a></div>
Besides, everything comes with a fried egg if you just ask.<br />
<br />
As an older white male (the same gender and race as Shakespeare), I welcome inclusion! Admittedly my bookshelves are filled with the writings of my kind of people, but I feel it's just a matter of time before there is far greater representation there by literateurs from Africa, South America, Australia, and Wugga Wugga than at present. Even Alabama and Iowa.<br />
<br />
Still, there are times when I feel that the best thing would be to build a long barrier along the frontiers to keep the Turks, Mongols, Dzungarian Tatars, Tibetans, and folks from Alabama, Iowa, and Wugga Wugga out. And personally I don't really care that seven of you must pool your hard-earned Rubles to purchase one single can of an overly sugared soft drink, or are scared that a sweet biscuit you can't identify might poison every generation of your visiting family including morbidly obese Aunt Ellie who only speaks in a Tennessee brogue.<br />
<br />
There are already too many people like her.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
What we absolutely do not need are any more vegans, gluten-phobes, or whiny terrorist sympathisers from Berkeley or Britain. Or people with piercings or tattoos.<br />
There are limits, and we do have standards.<br />
<br />
<br />
Absolutely no Walloons.<br />
Ever.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-22070006025626546092024-03-20T00:24:00.000-07:002024-03-25T14:41:45.877-07:00FAR AWAY FROM REYKJAVIK!While smoking a pipe in Chinatown a few hours ago it was impressed upon me that many more people are insecurely moored in reality, most of them white. I ascribe this to both the pandemic and the wide availability of pot in the great state of California. The first cause mentioned knocked many people out of their tried and true world of predictability.<br />
The second shifted their focus, specifically this evening.<br />
<br />
<br />
There were three nuts in Spofford Alley. Caucasians.<br />
This did not impact the mahjong players.<br />
But disturbed the rats.<br />
<br />
It just seems that more of my fellow white folk are bats than there used to be. And that's beside the great number of folks in the red states who haven't been sane since the Bush Presidency. You know, the ones who were convinced that a socialist Kenyan Muslim was going to take away their guns.<br />
<br />
For many of those people, any sense of reality is just a pipe dream.<br />
What, you thought Mike Lindell and Kari Lake were sane?<br />
If so, you must be smoking something.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhew5-lz-iZRPiIWMpDQNkRb_SQwLsTpZsWieegYJodoTlbmXL8sAf_X1hUXmFiuuqUSzlwLOuZA1yPQqJJBw68LgwP4dZsBax9spyVYuQjU7w0fFErVvESd4POaNaIh2rZ2yrxyafnaNcmBXXgsymb37bY5rWYsIhFmenxvFeeD5DHB2jJ9nlu/s808/Rat%20with%20pipe%2003192024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="808" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhew5-lz-iZRPiIWMpDQNkRb_SQwLsTpZsWieegYJodoTlbmXL8sAf_X1hUXmFiuuqUSzlwLOuZA1yPQqJJBw68LgwP4dZsBax9spyVYuQjU7w0fFErVvESd4POaNaIh2rZ2yrxyafnaNcmBXXgsymb37bY5rWYsIhFmenxvFeeD5DHB2jJ9nlu/s400/Rat%20with%20pipe%2003192024.jpg"/></a></div>
What I had in my briar was Cornell & Diehl's Anthology, the 2022 release. It was totally divine, and made putting up with crazy passers-by quite do-able. Even the man who loudly screamed some unintelligible stuff every few feet or so as he walked down the centre of the street. His cries faded into the distance, and rather than quiet returning, a babbling idiot appeared. As well as half a dozen loud white tourists. <br />
<br />
There were other ambulatatory oddities. <br />
<br /><br />
The bookseller enjoyed his vacation. One of his hosts, a mutual friend, suffered a bad bout of food poisoning while he was there, and he got rained on several times, but it was even so very relaxing, and he's glad the weather here has shifted into early spring mode. As well as, though he didn't say so, that he missed Saint Patrick's Day entirely. I know his thoughts on that score very well.<br />
<br />
The beer place was too crowded. The karaoke joint was bearable.<br />
There was a cold breeze on the way to the bus stop.<br />
No drunks or loonies waiting there.<br />
A pleasant change.<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
One thing we discussed was Icelandic Bee Honey.<br />
It's crikey cold in Reykjavik.<br />
Strewth.<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-21581566307088020622024-03-25T09:20:00.000-07:002024-03-25T11:36:26.671-07:00IT'S A SOCIAL FLAWIn the years after I returned to the United States, the phone became a greater part of my life than before. We didn't have a phone in Valkenswaard -- it was sort of necessary for some of the businesses there -- and communication was usually face-to-face or written word matched by the same in response. But in the States it had already become the chosen platform for a conversations. Which did not work for me. Donald at Drucquers tried to get me up to speed in that regard, but it didn't quite work. Which may have been more my rudimentary social skills than anything else. <br />
<br />
He enjoyed a good chat on the phone. I can still imagine him re-lighting his cigar several times while talking. I believe he was ambidextrous when on the phone; switching the machine from hand to hand when using a lighter or reaching for a soda.<br />
<br />
That's something I am not quite able to do.<br />
<br />
My left ear is my phone side. And I use it mostly at work, when I have to answer the damned thing. And by the way, I prefer voicemail. It allows me to consider things and compose my thoughts before actually dealing with the pressing matter that surely was the reason for the call. "<i>Mr. Martin, you have a doctors appointment tomorrow on the fifth at nine AM, we regret to inform you that there is a flood warning in your area, the knee socks you ordered are out of stock, Uncle Joe is flying in from Manila on the tenth, and the nukes are headed your way, take cover immediately.</i>" <br /><br />
A fortified basement if the last would be good.<br />
Sadly, I do not have such a thing.<br />
<br />
Rose Street, Oxford Street, Monte Vista Avenue, and Ivy Street in San Francisco. Alhambra and Monterrey Park. That apartment in Oakland. All places where I had a phone, but did not use it often. When I lived in North Beach I only used pay phones and a beeper if not at work. During the time at Jasmine Techologies I didn't have a home phone, but I think I may have already gotten one again when I was at FWB. Not sure.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWNLJrJo9kRQQogqQb7pDjWQeTUHxSRaH69_ljDI2vEp3VB9FDnx4tkUiFkUyH6xWNtcUA0QDQQKotboU8Ja5bYg3tPO2xwD1JziIMtF_zqUegWY6qJCEX6rc6kayHsvLPFAAv7HNcydA7D2sVS9oFkiZ5MJ0Ni51lI2vDX4GLCXwZLsQy6Yk2/s2786/Telephone%2003252024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="1911" data-original-width="2786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWNLJrJo9kRQQogqQb7pDjWQeTUHxSRaH69_ljDI2vEp3VB9FDnx4tkUiFkUyH6xWNtcUA0QDQQKotboU8Ja5bYg3tPO2xwD1JziIMtF_zqUegWY6qJCEX6rc6kayHsvLPFAAv7HNcydA7D2sVS9oFkiZ5MJ0Ni51lI2vDX4GLCXwZLsQy6Yk2/s400/Telephone%2003252024.jpg"/></a></div>
Now I do have a telephone. Three years ago I had to switch from a landline to a cellular device, because the lines had too much static. And I hate the damned thing. It woke me up this morning. Probably a scammer from India being medical or solar and trying to get my personal details. I did not bother answering, and I haven't listened to my voicemail this morning yet, or in several days. People who know me mostly talk by computer.<br />
<br />
Remarkably, I'm fairly good at leaving messages. "<i>Hi, this is Bernd Umber from Swensen's Kosher on Broadway, phone number digit digit digit, digit digit digit digit, area code digit digit digit, the hundred pounds of Nova Scotia salmon you ordered will be here on Tuesday, and we've charged your Visa for the forty percent deposit as per your instructions last Monday the tenth of March. If you have any questions, please call me back, B. Umber from Swensen's Mortuary at digit digit digit, digit digit digit digit. Thank you.</i>"<br />
<br />
Actually, very few of my friends or social circle know my number.<br />
I hardly ever use the telephone socially.<br />
There is no romance.<br />
<br />
<br />
Don't call.<br />
Write.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-33479461924557679032024-03-24T20:28:00.000-07:002024-03-25T00:37:49.915-07:00SPEAKING ACADEMICALLYAs I understand it, what happened in Moscow Friday Night was a peaceful act of resistance to oppression, a courageous strike against the Crusader Zionist imperialists, and the happy natives are now free to express themselves. This is what liberation looks like. People in Dublin, Glasgow, and London, will hold mass demonstrations in support.<br />
Om, shanti shanti shanti.<br />
<br />
South Africa is already preparing a case against Russia at the International Court of Justice. Naledi Pandor, the Minister of International Relations and Cooperation of the South African government, has promised that every Russian who fights against Khorasan will be brought to justice. "Khorasanis are tearing down the walls of colonialism & apartheid, they are a beacon for us all", she tweeted, before spontaneously breaking into a happy dance. <br />
<br />
<br />
University profs all across America expressed quivering joy at these events.<br />
The air at several Ivy leagues schools is dense with pheromones.<br />
At Harvard and Princeton it reeks of mating behaviour.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1nkf5GwBshI9Cx_45aJ8louqx5waf_d8mV6rMmF_k6s7NBQU0xkNJGIiIzL7tlGQveDyaCQ39oFk2SIQ7-K5YbqhdhxDGhWECbgq6aMHc7cS0EK6Of8h7ph4Y35nChwdE_UC7PGhK13ES5rdCcP-46kzQ6fLAMO6UGYYUM4IaugHIjD28m-Sm/s2076/Milk%20tea%2003242023.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1460" data-original-width="2076" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1nkf5GwBshI9Cx_45aJ8louqx5waf_d8mV6rMmF_k6s7NBQU0xkNJGIiIzL7tlGQveDyaCQ39oFk2SIQ7-K5YbqhdhxDGhWECbgq6aMHc7cS0EK6Of8h7ph4Y35nChwdE_UC7PGhK13ES5rdCcP-46kzQ6fLAMO6UGYYUM4IaugHIjD28m-Sm/s320/Milk%20tea%2003242023.jpg"/></a></div>
Being, as you know, not only an old white male but a frightful neocolonialist to boot, I spent the day sipping tea, smoking a pipe, and sneering at places like South Africa, Dublin, Glasgow, and London.<br />
<br />
As well as many hours hunched over the buffing wheel, dealing with several Larsens, Preben Holms, Bjarnes, and Stanwells, and others. Which now look splendid, by jove. Beautiful. And I enjoyed a sumptuous neocolonialist lunch of left-over pizza, invented by the spiritual natives of college towns but culturally appropriated without credit ages ago.<br />
And globs of Sriracha. Also culturally appropriated.<br />
<br />
The fine tobacco I enjoyed put me in touch with the auras of the American Indians my people helped slaughter and taught scalping. It was a profoundly mystical experience.<br />
<br />
Naledi Pandor Is preparing another legal case.<br />
Which you'll hear about here first.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-10410111034588900872024-03-23T19:55:00.000-07:002024-03-23T19:55:17.899-07:00A GARDEN OF ROSESIt doesn't take much. Someone made casual mention of J's outburst about anal sex last week, mere minutes after his arrival, and for the next half hour the screaming conversation in the back room was about anal sex, bowel incontinence, and vomitting. All three of those are linked in their minds, and there had been a regular who exploded in the bathroom a few times, but with a bit of luck we'll never hear from him again.<br />
<br />
One of them is now worried about lung cancer. What with his cigar habit. Cheap stogies. So he asked the neurosurgeon about cancer tests, hoping for a simple and clear answer, and got a short but comprehensive lecture about various types of cancer because of different cells. And what are the early signs of cancer? Sometimes entirely unnoticeable. That's why lung cancer is such a killer. The victim might not be diagnosed until too late.<br />
<br />
The concept of many different types of cell, millions of cells in the body, and no clear warning signs early on, will keep him up all night. And seeing as he does not read very well (jumps to conclusions), doing his own research is distinctly not a good idea.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKQJZdTQb9vWlE2e3jYf_nvrKBYPtZPcEmHg8VKOYAmp-x9AyMfyF_GCKkoDIOiM4ECiZSluEsRl7ZooK4CNswEIsx6meTGlONa5HmxNltZahFWH70FFaXeWvf6ZX4NBrmlzYgOWwhbeotzMZLENL3wNUb8-FIfA2uoULjzPqZCrGlqSNOa3Kv/s1284/Cell%2003232024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="1284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKQJZdTQb9vWlE2e3jYf_nvrKBYPtZPcEmHg8VKOYAmp-x9AyMfyF_GCKkoDIOiM4ECiZSluEsRl7ZooK4CNswEIsx6meTGlONa5HmxNltZahFWH70FFaXeWvf6ZX4NBrmlzYgOWwhbeotzMZLENL3wNUb8-FIfA2uoULjzPqZCrGlqSNOa3Kv/s400/Cell%2003232024.jpg"/></a></div>
Anything can go wrong, Roger. Anything. And there are millions of cells in your body. Millions.<br />
<br />
This illustration is an over-simplification, no those aren't the real colours, shapes, or relative sizes, and those terms are names we gave these parts because they are in fact different, although to the unassisted eye it would all look like a miniscule blob of liver pâté.<br />
<br />
Please don't do your own research, Roger. You'll end up with a recipe for chicken liver pâté, and you'll get that wrong too. I've heard you talk about food. It was painful.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For crap's sakes, Roger, stop examining your stool.<br />
There's a time and a place for that. <br />
It looks like !!!, okay?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-51085515180507421762024-03-22T05:43:00.000-07:002024-03-22T05:43:00.255-07:00WHY YOU NEED TOFU AND TEMPEHAmong the nature which we have and you don't (if you are not an American) is the fabulous turkey vulture. Appearance-wise a close cousin to both Benjamin Franklin's favourite bird, as well as the thing we settled on because it was big and majestic and ate fish. They circle over the wilds of Marin County, they roost on some lady's back deck in the Santa Cruz mountains, and they visit my friend John in Georgia on a weekly basis. And they go to Berkeley.<br />
<br />
Except mine. He's snoring right now and cuddled up against a teddy bear.<br />
Because he's rather a wuss and citified.<br />
<br />
Fierce and majestic, he soars over the waste lands.<br />
Not.<br />
<br />
<br />
I've actually never seen a wild turkey vulture up close. The nearest I have been was when a specimen swooped within fifteen feet of me at the bus stop along the freeway, probably one with bad eye sight who presumed me to be dead and edible.<br />
Both of which I am very much not.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8EqWKo9GzLIXPoFkWGL01OIPscCArQ3zVSLob_-br5mnWfUyKhHwxGnYtC5crXl1-LU5AOODi9Z04emAgUOGaTjYHxNBKw9njKH8BBYvi2yGIn_b01YMTHZSf_hGD8OenfyGlUEHB6DorN1_jlrX5n1yW5eeRFeYBIt22q-C0Oh_nHXQ37e2U/s4263/Turkey%20Vulture%2003222024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="4263" data-original-width="2771" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8EqWKo9GzLIXPoFkWGL01OIPscCArQ3zVSLob_-br5mnWfUyKhHwxGnYtC5crXl1-LU5AOODi9Z04emAgUOGaTjYHxNBKw9njKH8BBYvi2yGIn_b01YMTHZSf_hGD8OenfyGlUEHB6DorN1_jlrX5n1yW5eeRFeYBIt22q-C0Oh_nHXQ37e2U/s400/Turkey%20Vulture%2003222024.jpg"/></a></div>
Naturally I let out a squawk, and flapped my "wings".<br />
Go away, little fella, shoo shoo.<br />
No food here!<br />
<br />
<br />
See, I am a smoker. And that means that animals, like Berkeleyites and Vegans, would die if they ate me. My flesh is loaded with toxins, and glows in the dark if you leave bits of it out on the mudbanks for the wildlife to eat. Trust me on this.<br />
<br />
<br />
Anyway, they like fatty inner thighs.<br />
I don't have those.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-441058355146157722024-03-21T17:00:00.000-07:002024-03-21T17:05:52.686-07:00IGNORE THE SOUND OF FRENZIED FEEDING!When I came home it was to discover that my friend John in Georgia was entertaining the turkey vultures again. Another animal has croaked at the edge of his property. For turkey vultures, he's a godsend. His mere presence attracts dead things, they flock from all over. Zombie wild animals have chosen him as their messiah. <br />
And the buzzards may feast!<br />
<br />
Nothing is better than the warm friendship of happy turkey vultures.<br />
He is profoundly blessed.<br />
Truly.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, the turkey vulture sulking in my bedroom is wondering when some of the old cigar-huffing codgers I tend to every week are finally going to shuffle off. <br />
He's hungry, dammit!<br />
<br />
Isn't there a ledge I can shove them over?<br />
He prays for their demise more than I do.<br />
I can hear him grumbling from where I sit.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1OSDph5pOIea8gpQbhhH2nJ_x0mXIEvmDSxGotM_zC36wFKR5Td2D2MvRfD3o6iYuVyTqetIVWxTsscZ3P1HAVNP5FAKLtmZU9Mj8bXInyH7mUhY4PP_-sISevCpVbyI-yoVe3K9pnOdF5WARUnXjHhW3590EIgVcuEPh1RzB6wREFytqtF0a/s1458/Sydney%20Fylbert%20and%20old%20geeze%20040220223%20-%2003212024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="1458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1OSDph5pOIea8gpQbhhH2nJ_x0mXIEvmDSxGotM_zC36wFKR5Td2D2MvRfD3o6iYuVyTqetIVWxTsscZ3P1HAVNP5FAKLtmZU9Mj8bXInyH7mUhY4PP_-sISevCpVbyI-yoVe3K9pnOdF5WARUnXjHhW3590EIgVcuEPh1RzB6wREFytqtF0a/s400/Sydney%20Fylbert%20and%20old%20geeze%20040220223%20-%2003212024.jpg"/></a></div>
There aren't nearly enough turkey vultures in this city. According to a doom and gloom article today in the SF Chronicle, there are so many people expiring from overdoses of recreational substances here that it's practically a zombie apocalypse downtown. And yes, now that you mention it, I have seen the coroners van TWICE in the last twelve months. One of those times may have been for a recreational druggie on Van Ness. I didn't ask.<br />
<br />
I have not mentioned this to Sydney Fylbert (the resident turkey vulture).<br />
<br />
He'd demand to know why I had not carved off choice collops of fatty inner thigh for him. <br />
And he scoffs at any mention that harvesting cuts of meat from human corpses might be against the law and get me in Dutch with the police.<br />
<br />
No, I shan't explain to them that I am a Netherlander and that doing so is part of my colourful native folk religion. Which he avers it is, surely I know that, and I shall insist isn't, despite what you may have heard.<br />
<br />
Any rumours you've heard of Americans disappearing in Amsterdam is purely hearsay.<br />
They are just dawdling on the way back to the trainstation.<br />
Drunk, or stoned.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Okay, so a few of them may have drowned in the canals while blotzed.<br />
That's normal. They would have died when they got back anyway.<br />
And they were probably from Pittsburg, so no great loss.<br />
<br />
<br />
There are no turkey vultures in the Netherlands.<br />
We have other way of disposing of corpses.<br />
And coincidences are perfectly normal.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-73331831815981248992024-03-21T08:49:00.000-07:002024-03-21T08:53:45.395-07:00A MEATBALL OF THE MINDWoke up with two things floating through my mind: brands of butter, and my brilliant cousin's kid the Hollywood guy. And also the question whether elephants (as are sometimes used in movies) are lactose intolerant, or actually like butter. Not too many Chinese like butter. Unlike melted cheesy goodness, which features on top of some chachanteng dishes which would horrify your doctor, and which I've seen little old couples dig into with great relish, butter does not, to the best of my recollection, show up in anything served in Chinatown. Not even in their version of chicken à la King (雞皇汁 '<i>gai wong jap</i>') over rice. <br />
Which, properly made, starts of with a bechamel.<br />
<br />
My landlady, who lives on the groundfloor, obsesses about it.<br />
She's Chinese American. Loves rich buttery goodness.<br />
Yummy French pastries, ooh!<br />
<br />
Another thing that floated into my head was 'why peas?' It sometimes seems that some restaurants have seized upon peas as the great splash of vibrant colour to make a dish more visually appealing. A bright textural element that unifies the world. From stewed porkchops on a bed of spaghetti covered in melted yellow cheese to ma po tofu and fish fragrance eggplant, what ties them together is a generous spoonful of cooked peas. <br />
It seems very English of them. I don't understand it.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLCV05dECuG95RaSHFLZJwD2b9RmZ_aS0KHPee-iuJchlui5tGlg0gAc5wqY7umAoETIwk0rfMbYJZGUFkvaDxgpCycrA9DW6x1Z35pxUymckjqIp61yqWvpBtZVWCPjwnLLYnazD6gF4J2ebMjbL5cQUyU-ST1AphjJI3DIyIsS8AywrdJNLh/s624/Butter%2003212024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="553" data-original-width="624" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLCV05dECuG95RaSHFLZJwD2b9RmZ_aS0KHPee-iuJchlui5tGlg0gAc5wqY7umAoETIwk0rfMbYJZGUFkvaDxgpCycrA9DW6x1Z35pxUymckjqIp61yqWvpBtZVWCPjwnLLYnazD6gF4J2ebMjbL5cQUyU-ST1AphjJI3DIyIsS8AywrdJNLh/s400/Butter%2003212024.jpg"/></a></div>
Something that also struck me is that you don't often see meatballs at a chachanteng. Odd. You'd think that like the Dutch, Pakistanis, and Italians, they would swoon over something so delightfully round and delicious. And potentially cheese-covered (not my style, but okay).<br />
<br />
Meatballs in a mustard-sherry sauce, over rice. Mmm.<br />
<br />
Yeah, don't tell your doctor about that either.<br />
<br />
Unless she's invited for dinner.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefsw_x6izCBJ3dOdoeYZtwxpQbYIUs7ulGGM2N61wYUcsh6bwP_ibYC6XmkuAmEOFhu_YRfc155VrWX5a3B1DABFXXxnt8iThhtACrLywl7Wus5l5sI1AX4RgEi_vXtcR-4TCq2BIw925Kf3o34QYTYylPA3osUBcxs-zc-CgcGjRRI22-wCL/s1724/Peterson%20Special%20150%20Bulldog%2003212024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="976" data-original-width="1724" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefsw_x6izCBJ3dOdoeYZtwxpQbYIUs7ulGGM2N61wYUcsh6bwP_ibYC6XmkuAmEOFhu_YRfc155VrWX5a3B1DABFXXxnt8iThhtACrLywl7Wus5l5sI1AX4RgEi_vXtcR-4TCq2BIw925Kf3o34QYTYylPA3osUBcxs-zc-CgcGjRRI22-wCL/s400/Peterson%20Special%20150%20Bulldog%2003212024.jpg"/></a></div>
Left for a walk after the first cup of coffee, with my oldest Peterson Bulldog in my beak, and meatballs in my head. Looks like it is going to be a gorgeous Spring day. Gotta get a few things done before my workweek, but otherwise not a smudge in the sky.<br />
<br />
<br />
Need to buy dimsum items later. Some for my landlady, some for the Indonesian Chinese lady in the front apartment, and some for my apartment mate. But that's after lunch.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-83801146381747326412024-03-20T23:55:00.000-07:002024-03-21T00:09:19.788-07:00BUT THE PERPS!There are reasons to believe that San Francisco authorities suppress actions or prosecutions when it is expedient to do so. Especially as regards crimes against Asian Americans.<br />
<br /><br />
In 2021, Daniel Cauich stabbed Anh “Peng” Taylor (94 years old) multiple times in an unprovoked attack outside the building where she lived. Judge Kay Tsenin sentenced the perpetrator recently to five years probation and a behavioral and mental health program. <br />He was traumatized due to substance abuse and events in his past.<br /><br />
<br />
In 2023 Yanfang Wu (63 years old) was shoved to the ground in the Bayview District by Thea Hopkins and died in the hospital from her injuries. Police decided that it had been accidental. Thea Hopkins was arrested in early March of this year for savagely attacking another Chinese American woman. Ms. Hopkins, resident of Bayview, and clearly from a disadvantaged background, has had bail set at a paltry fifteen K.<br />
<br /><br />
James Lee Ramsey (a parolee with a multiple arrest history) kicked an 88 year old Chinese American woman to the ground in 2021. Mr. Ramsey had previous attacked an Oakland Chinatown resident from behind and briefly done time for it. The 88 year old woman suffered severe injuries and intenal bleeding. As of this writing I am having the damnedest time finding any record of a sentencing. He wasn't formally charged until two years after the attack.<br />
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Q0Iqz7lATPgVynkwBl5MPAi2ASKuA0sZiGZD1m3PS5nzQn_LUt2E_dcUjIEL89dWi__SmQG8yOFTQyp-DkVr7dSPh7zg4pZw_vY6HjmwzLgv_JVtVsdWcrhpdtzS-MN-td-e8Njv8rIBAxcWCBgf9GAU-jRrJ0NPPIEIHn45OTJyv2hYXE9S/s1172/SF%20City%20and%20County%20Seal%2003202024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="1172" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Q0Iqz7lATPgVynkwBl5MPAi2ASKuA0sZiGZD1m3PS5nzQn_LUt2E_dcUjIEL89dWi__SmQG8yOFTQyp-DkVr7dSPh7zg4pZw_vY6HjmwzLgv_JVtVsdWcrhpdtzS-MN-td-e8Njv8rIBAxcWCBgf9GAU-jRrJ0NPPIEIHn45OTJyv2hYXE9S/w200-h146/SF%20City%20and%20County%20Seal%2003202024.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Finding examples of anti-Asian crimes is easy. Finding examples of sentencing for those crimes is hard. Asian Americans might seriously question why that is so.<br />
<br /><br />
A pattern is evident. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-63619564812272315252024-03-20T11:44:00.000-07:002024-03-20T12:02:00.201-07:00FAT OFF THE MEAT OF THE TRUE NATIVESAccording to several influential people, as a white man I am sitting at the apex of power, and am responsible for climate change, oppression, the despoilation of natural resources in the third world, slavery and racism, as well as ready at the drop of a hat to invade other countries. Plus I caused plastics and the psycho-war vaccines.<br />
<br />
Okay.<br />
<br />
I shall direct my minions to whip you all. Quite fiercely.<br />
Smack the bloody bejazus out of you.<br />
<br /><br /><b><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">
All your base are belong to us!</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
It probably doesn't help that the highschool to which I went prepared me perfectly for a long career in the colonial civil service, which at that point had not existed for over thirty years. That may be why I flunked Latin. It would have proven quite useless since we no longer controlled the fertile uplands where prized coffee beans were grown. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb34Z7H0-0Bsj0yBjsuLkA-V9VRGlkG4unNb66e27PDW3fAUJDXHCzmdC8VOrNEs1dkc_6uJL9gow4mLteaFUiTOC-T9wpURCgVXdo0-2zg-UA0kicqSDzJE3SeOt0kHrbff9yHcgN5irfvyaBTDkkHVHDPgzhJHISuesMW6lQaOawmIvJV0Rg/s3674/Vietnamese%20drip%20coffee%2003202024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="3674" data-original-width="2546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb34Z7H0-0Bsj0yBjsuLkA-V9VRGlkG4unNb66e27PDW3fAUJDXHCzmdC8VOrNEs1dkc_6uJL9gow4mLteaFUiTOC-T9wpURCgVXdo0-2zg-UA0kicqSDzJE3SeOt0kHrbff9yHcgN5irfvyaBTDkkHVHDPgzhJHISuesMW6lQaOawmIvJV0Rg/s400/Vietnamese%20drip%20coffee%2003202024.jpg"/></a></div>
That may be why I avoid Berkeley. Too many little brown lesbian vegans running around anxious to intifada me and make bad coffee. I'm still obsessed and hurt by the loss of those fertile uplands. And the slave labour which made them run like a Christian country.<br />
<br />
See, if it weren't for people like me (white man, not young, not 'awakened'), they could all run around getting meaningful tattoos, wearing their colourful handloomed clothing, singing happy songs, and being spiritually supportive.<br />
<br />
I am a despicable and cruel master.<br />
<br />
I enjoy that. Very much.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Those fertile coffee bean uplands continue to be a sore spot. I am traumatized by their loss. And desire nothing more than that you all suffer because of them. I want you to weep in the ruins of your ancient cultures and bleed precious petrochemicals and salt. <br />
All hail Bilderburg.<br />
<br />
Tyranny is better with bacon.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-41463646941878369092024-03-19T17:38:00.000-07:002024-03-19T17:38:43.007-07:00BERRY BERRY PINKLeft early today to get a haircut, visit my bank, and have lunch. All in Chinatown. Two pipes in my pocket: a Dunhill redbark Lovat and a Charatan Supreme between a Dublin and a Zulu in shape. Plus a pouch of tobacco. After my haircut, on the way to my bank, I dodged sundry skeevie jeebies while smoking the Lovat. Then I headed over to a welcome place where they know me, to enjoy 韭菜湯餃 ('<i>gau choi tong gaau</i>'; chive and pork dumplings in soup). Their soup broth is excellent. There's a hint of toasted or fried dried flounder which gives it the necessary savoury echo. Very nice.<br />
<br />
One thing I like about that place is that your rarely see any other Caucasians inside, and the specials written on the white board are all in Chinese. That tends to mean that requests for sweet 'n sour pork, General Jor's chicken, and kung pao beef are infrequent, those dishes are not their specialty. And catering to goofy Midwestern food preferences is not something they need to do. Mercifully, there is no cottage cheese on the premises.<br />
<br />
There is chilipaste. It's a good substitute for cottage cheese.<br />
And much much better with your dumplings.<br />
Trust me.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_NJRJUfKwivG_e3NujfZ0QeudHy9aENI7M65vm8ciE9AMO_LkImq8XzTYjmg0YWNsKe9-ZcWRTnUZ3y5wYYnEv0nCWByh5SJV4qP04AXChyphenhyphenBBKf5AjogPMOeb2JaBWzdHR4mWrQ6aBx3CRE97ylzFj-_M1vqjgD5WTu1SV6BIRxkf0kGi7DX/s1064/JOHN%27S%20XL%20--%20Made%20by%20Comoy.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="858" data-original-width="1064" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_NJRJUfKwivG_e3NujfZ0QeudHy9aENI7M65vm8ciE9AMO_LkImq8XzTYjmg0YWNsKe9-ZcWRTnUZ3y5wYYnEv0nCWByh5SJV4qP04AXChyphenhyphenBBKf5AjogPMOeb2JaBWzdHR4mWrQ6aBx3CRE97ylzFj-_M1vqjgD5WTu1SV6BIRxkf0kGi7DX/s320/JOHN%27S%20XL%20--%20Made%20by%20Comoy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The first pipe of the day would have been splendid with some Vietnamese drip-coffee, but sadly there is no secluded courtyard with a corrugated roof over one side of it where one might sit for an hour smoking while enjoying one's beverage on Nob Hill. Or anywhere near to it that I know. It's a severe cultural failing of this city. All over this neck of the woods there are Dutchmen who wish to enjoy the springlike weather in a shelted locale with strong coffee and a pipe. They cannot. They are bereft. They blame the modern era and all the tattooed vegan greeners who have taken over. Oh woe! Is nothing sacred?<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Anonymous said...</b><br />
<i>Regrettably, the hippies of old are now waving Pally flags and their grandchildren are monsters who demand intifada for the world. Tomorrow (Tuesday, March 19th) I head out towards SF’s C’Town for a haircut at a place on Jackson. I am looking forward to HK milk tea and snacks at New Hollywood afterwards.</i>
<br />
<b>9:14 PM</b></span><br />
<br />
A very remarkable coincidence. I had also planned a haircut for today, and I am quite fond of the New Hollywood.<br />
<br />
<br />
The Dunhill redbark finish (a sandblast with deep crimson staining) is not one of which I am particularly fond. It's a bit bold and vulgar. Unless it's that new dye formulation, which fades to a washed-out sandy pink, and looks remarkably silly.<br />
The finish does not affect the smoke.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
One Dutchman. At least one. And maybe only one.<br />
It's an important demographic never-the-less.<br />
My complaint reaches up to heaven.<br />
There must be justice.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-83357060208038079612024-03-19T08:40:00.000-07:002024-03-19T11:08:45.008-07:00I WANT SOME OF THAT!One cannot spend all day in bed. One must get up and do things! International man of action! Well, strictly a local man of action. Plus one must start the day with coffee and ambulation. "Oh doctor, I'm getting more exercise, I'm walking much more." When I told him that, his face lit up. "With my pipe, because I cannot smoke inside." His face fell. Oh disappointed medical man, my heart bleeds for you. <br />
<br />
There were strange dreams just before waking. A train station, industrial fumes, a motorbike near Stratum in Eindhoven where people drank till the wee hours, because students at the Technical University have appetites and, like many Dutch, function best when blotto.<br />
<br />
When I came back from my dawn stroll con une belle bruyère, avec feuilles de tabac rouge de Virginie, during which I saw a fellow walking yin and yang dogs (exactly the same build contrasting fur colours), there was a turkey vulture on the edge of my bed smacking his beak; he had heard and smelled my apartment mate fixing herself breakfast and wanted some. He had slept on my side of the apartment because he's been behaving badly and the roomies in her room needed a break. He kicked all night.<br />
<br />
Ah, that second cup of coffee in the morning, it smells like victory. Industrial!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCfOnskZZ7nKYx8uhvHD-dt4luBX3-fLFXYj1T_xyqgKGp4IY9q_-JPBi5AztRN7iiIFUai-4aLxUYpLdq3HIOX350irSJTTjTA8WqhM-yxVCimcxTr_biivcZRMnF8h-SjPlKWprf1ul7kQ6XMCEcDU6Sh6CZhPiS40O5QA_xrmWG2ianyt2/s3088/Coffee%20mug%2008312022.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="2488" data-original-width="3088" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCfOnskZZ7nKYx8uhvHD-dt4luBX3-fLFXYj1T_xyqgKGp4IY9q_-JPBi5AztRN7iiIFUai-4aLxUYpLdq3HIOX350irSJTTjTA8WqhM-yxVCimcxTr_biivcZRMnF8h-SjPlKWprf1ul7kQ6XMCEcDU6Sh6CZhPiS40O5QA_xrmWG2ianyt2/s400/Coffee%20mug%2008312022.jpg"/></a></div>
Yesterday, John who lives in Georgia wrote: "<i>I just took Hazel outside, a huge Radice in my mouth. As I got into the yard I was hit by a nasty stench. A few more steps and at least 8 buzzards lifted, just outside of my fence. Damn those are huge birds! They found a dead deer to eat. I’m unsure of what happened to the deer but it could have been hit by a car and struggled from the road to the perimeter of my yard. I’m sorry for the deer but thankful for the visit with the buzzards - who are still happily munching away.</i>" Which certainly caught someone's attention! The turkey vulture perked up considerably.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQhp6NDG__ISRkAJChPefDE-xwqK-L7-qwQxq9P01-gkW3cLCS8C7NiowmT4_c6mC8UhfdoMjDaM1JO34YMRKs7oDQScSFeN_Zm12Ej2L-PosnUl__Cs4i374bhll6h_VpVCH3W5fpAaNUgQPMBwDZAWzBpwaZzKhDmThUi-67_QjgnWypWRR/s3629/Sydney%20Fylbert%20-%20the%20majestic%20turkey%20vulture%20-%2006192023.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="3610" data-original-width="3629" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQhp6NDG__ISRkAJChPefDE-xwqK-L7-qwQxq9P01-gkW3cLCS8C7NiowmT4_c6mC8UhfdoMjDaM1JO34YMRKs7oDQScSFeN_Zm12Ej2L-PosnUl__Cs4i374bhll6h_VpVCH3W5fpAaNUgQPMBwDZAWzBpwaZzKhDmThUi-67_QjgnWypWRR/s320/Sydney%20Fylbert%20-%20the%20majestic%20turkey%20vulture%20-%2006192023.jpg"/></a></div>
He wants to hear more. It all sounds so lovely!<br />
Is there any left? Can he come over?<br />
The idea of food is so nice!<br />
<br />
<br />
It's a darn good thing we feed him regularly. The local pet population might suffer otherwise. "Come here, nasty little teacup poodle, come closer!" The claw holding the cleaver twitches imperceptibly. "Come to Uncle Sydney little fellow".<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
No one wants turkey vultures feeding off teacup poodle corpses at the perimeter of their yard. What would the neighbors think?<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-45867944110862740132024-03-19T10:43:00.000-07:002024-03-19T10:57:25.380-07:00EVERYTHING GETS ANSWERED WITH "WAAI?"The algorithms have my age group targeted. I'm starting to see prostate stuff on my social media, and I don't like it. I did not sign up to Facebook for news about my prostate. <br />
Please ignore my prostate, bitches, it's fine, now piss off.<br />
<br />
Of course my phone calls are all about medicare companies (India), solar panel deals (India), home security services (India), and burial programmes (India). All delivered by chipper young call-centre drooges named 'Kevin', 'Matthew', 'Jason', or 'Christopher'.<br />
<br />
My medical stuff, solar stuff, home security stuff, and funeral stuff are also fine. <br />
Same instructions as the prostate stuff: Piss off. Bitches.<br />
<br />
For the past few weeks I have answered every phone call in Cantonese.<br />
Confident that Sunil, Rajiv, and Manesh don't speak that.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2H5fr9kr00GUOXPjbfK_ANp30mZKdP03I28lUMiaHzc7ZHbMunB8LPbm0HcYDCN21rlwYFCE2wkUTmIQjRNG0hMtO_64fMmwxv7mnvUAZ47UXCsyUeySHqkn3PtUqsTRKlMZ08AHMIc_o6jyQq6mSudjC4HA204nC4GFAScBMDQ5pqvud8FHP/s924/Prostate%20schematic%2003192024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="924" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2H5fr9kr00GUOXPjbfK_ANp30mZKdP03I28lUMiaHzc7ZHbMunB8LPbm0HcYDCN21rlwYFCE2wkUTmIQjRNG0hMtO_64fMmwxv7mnvUAZ47UXCsyUeySHqkn3PtUqsTRKlMZ08AHMIc_o6jyQq6mSudjC4HA204nC4GFAScBMDQ5pqvud8FHP/s400/Prostate%20schematic%2003192024.jpg"/></a></div><b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: georgia;">前列腺 ('CHIN LIT SIN') or 攝護腺 ('SIP WU SIN')</span></b></div></b>
<br />
Of course they don't know what the prostate is either ('paurush granthi' or 'prostetam'), and though I could send them a helpful illustration, it will be ages before they need to worry.<br />
<br />
Waai, nei hai pin go yan? Nei ge chin lit sin yau me mantai?<br />
Ngo hou dung sam, ah, gou sou ngo do di, m koi!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-90857393731606935212024-03-18T20:00:00.000-07:002024-03-19T02:06:35.665-07:00THEY'RE GROOVY AND SENTIENT!In many ways I am a severely disapproving sort. I dislike tattoos, piercings, patchouli, raggedy tee-shirts, potsmoking, public misbehaviour, inappropriate nakedness, and alcoholism, and displays of religion. Plus mascara. Today I witnessed all of that. <br />
People leave a lot to be desired.<br />
<br />
San Francisco is a hotbed of hippies. I had hoped that we had hunted them to extinction. <br />
Sadly, I was mistaken. It's a profoundly diappointing thing to realize.<br />
<br />
When I got home I found junkmail from a church inviting me to Easter Services. My attending would be a frightful idea. You can probably imagine many reasons why. <br />
Where did you hide those eggs? Poke poke poke.<br />
<br />
<br />
Were y'all on drugs when you came up with this cockamammie narrative?<br />
I'm thinking ergot poisoning. Frequent, and recurring.<br />
An egg-laying bunny rabbit.<br />
Y'all nuts.<br />
<br />
<br />
In other news, late lunch was excellent. A cup of milk tea, and Hong Kong style ma-po tofu. Which is by no means vegetarian, and requires a bottle of Sriracha hot sauce on the table.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPJ3YEkHGn1wcmUCHzBxJMIlWDvIgix1F0mZi_ipZLqP5G2MjqrDwqQ5Gp2D0wUHburbr_hlyOJFQILTtuqO9D4SWT58rn3lYY_iJ4Yr0sWQ6LbK6-GeXzAt4CNqNnVjMhvsDtV3npdbMnXsp0Yx-mLBsFOWnMvlE2sAB4lfWSnZ2D9QZcvka9/s804/Beast%20in%20lair%2003182024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="804" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPJ3YEkHGn1wcmUCHzBxJMIlWDvIgix1F0mZi_ipZLqP5G2MjqrDwqQ5Gp2D0wUHburbr_hlyOJFQILTtuqO9D4SWT58rn3lYY_iJ4Yr0sWQ6LbK6-GeXzAt4CNqNnVjMhvsDtV3npdbMnXsp0Yx-mLBsFOWnMvlE2sAB4lfWSnZ2D9QZcvka9/s400/Beast%20in%20lair%2003182024.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
After that I hid out on a quiet street with my pipe for a while.<br />
<br />
All in all there are too many highly individualistic people in this city. And I am certain they are all unique, creative, and caring intelligent people. Their tee-shirts express their philosophies and exquisite taste in punk music or commercial enterprise. You can tell that they are brilliant by their interesting tattoos, all of which mean something. It's 'deep', man.<br />
<br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">
Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue. Beautiful plumage!</span><br />
<br />
I get exposed to too many humans during working days. <br />
How on earth did we ever get to the moon?<br />
We're hardly clever enough.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-29043348674273505252024-03-15T06:28:00.000-07:002024-03-18T12:01:57.712-07:00CAN I HAVE SOME MORE KETCHUP?The grimness of a return to dark mornings weighs heavy. While I like Daylight Savings Time, this darkness when getting up in the morning so shortly after we had finally gotten over that is rather depressing. But it does not feel cold outside. It is tolerable. Zwoel, even. Not warm, but zwoelig. Sixty degrees Fahrenheit.<br />
<br />
Keep the down comforter on the bed for a few more weeks, then take it for cleaning and put it away till summer when it will be cold again and everyone quotes that stupid line about the coldest winter being a summer in San Francisco.<br />
<br />
There are happy sounds from the monkey house at the zoo.<br />
The election season is gearing up.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9D4GKX0UrWuNUxm9axCn3fAhq9A1rwbnoZTLQJhYfTWBxe4XN58y_-GRw5XQWdif5mHHvRlD5jwrljAp2Go5mm8Kz1aP_LAl7n8U2dWTk4JaFb7hluedI-umgk9t6fVV0KgW8qwI45mtKm8M4TOJxXhtSSSt-p0dL2qgL0KwDQ5DsyL9HCtn/s3328/Coffee%20cup%2010172023.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="2646" data-original-width="3328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9D4GKX0UrWuNUxm9axCn3fAhq9A1rwbnoZTLQJhYfTWBxe4XN58y_-GRw5XQWdif5mHHvRlD5jwrljAp2Go5mm8Kz1aP_LAl7n8U2dWTk4JaFb7hluedI-umgk9t6fVV0KgW8qwI45mtKm8M4TOJxXhtSSSt-p0dL2qgL0KwDQ5DsyL9HCtn/s400/Coffee%20cup%2010172023.jpg"/></a></div>
For some reason I remembered the movies that my parents took me to see at the theatre on the Leenderweg in Valkenswaard in those first years after we moved there. Stagecoach, King Kong. Those were good. The Sound Of Music and Oliver. SOM was overdone poofle, rather sappy, and Oliver, well, what can one say?<br />
<br />
There was also a horror flick which was frightfully bad. Not scary, just garbage.<br />
<br />
<br />
Also flitting across the mind's desk were memories of the Philippines, especially Binondo and Quezon City, and the computer company that used to be on Pacific Avenue before it moved down to Palo Alto and my commute became much longer.<br />
Plus a coworkers "condiment ghetto". <br />
Sleep was fitful.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-73854642484327435342024-03-18T10:04:00.000-07:002024-03-18T11:55:04.084-07:00CULTURALLY INCLUSIVE, BROADLY APPEALINGIn hindsight, the insufficient amount of sleep I got due to my legs, plus lots of caffeine, sugar, plenty of briar pipes, buffing wheel, reamers, and the usual nasty vituperative arguments of the regulars in the backroom only much more so -- and why did 'J' scream angrily about anal sex before even lighting his cigar? -- may have (and this is just speculation) made me quite insane most of the weekend.<br />
<br />
So I'm glad the holiday week is behind us.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
[<b>March 14:</b> Pie Day. <b>March 15</b>: Caesar Salad Day. <b>March 16</b> and <b>17</b>: Fratboys and their fellow travelers drinking themselves loudly into oblivion.]</span><br />
<br />
<br />
Thank goodness that's over till Easter, when it's the Catholics' turn.<br />
A mass orgiastic celebration of the end of Lent.<br />
The feast of hard boiled eggs.<br />
<br />
<br />
What this country desperately needs is a holiday when we appreciate petite female college graduates in San Francisco avidly reading mystery novels while enjoying their pipes, somewhere on Nob or Telegraph Hill, in a quiet backyard or patio with shady trees, butterflies, and dandelions. Aged Virginia leaf, a Comoy, and a beverage.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepaqBtWl9G58DQM5bJ_zJcuUC9Owi79zn2Hwuk1aF2J_2A5wp-oQhextHgcwIm3DG1VZxZJm26k3qCNhShBg00QS_0HBy0rkm9p8hPyMaZE385ZPXqL3pE_C0tr-NeC9jJwEWObVQ1r5KDr2MW6AFy4KegFhbAi5c7ham5vKFE4jSjcW8f1nB/s4620/Brown%20Clunee.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="4620" data-original-width="3565" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepaqBtWl9G58DQM5bJ_zJcuUC9Owi79zn2Hwuk1aF2J_2A5wp-oQhextHgcwIm3DG1VZxZJm26k3qCNhShBg00QS_0HBy0rkm9p8hPyMaZE385ZPXqL3pE_C0tr-NeC9jJwEWObVQ1r5KDr2MW6AFy4KegFhbAi5c7ham5vKFE4jSjcW8f1nB/s320/Brown%20Clunee.jpg"/></a></div><br />
Sweetness, light, fine woodgrain, and a peaceful hour or so by oneself.<br />
<br />
<br />
Elegant buzzards wheeling over the salt marshes to the north.<br />
<br />
<br />
My friend Jonathan advises me that I should move to the West Bank for a different and far less cannibalistic set of cultural paradigms. Apparently where I live, which is San Francisco, is addictive and turns people into vampires. He knows a guy who knows a guy who can help me despite my non-Jewishness. I hesitate to even consider the offer, because the prospect of guitars, tanned hitchhikers, too much sunlight, and hyraxes everywhere, kind of scares me. And my internet search did not show me any decent tobacconists within reasonable driving distance anywhere there. They might not even import ANY good flakes!<br />
<br />
<br />
Nothing but Captain Black and fruity shisha all the way to Istanbul!<br />
No wonder the Middle East is homicidal.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Living in a desert turns people into psychopaths. Just look at Palm Springs and Vegas.<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-81591660243624500062024-03-17T21:51:00.000-07:002024-03-17T22:32:48.993-07:00MISERABLE POTTY SAVAGESUpon returning home from the saltmines the first thing to do is fix oneself a strong cup of coffee. Before wasting time futsing about with briars. Which one did all day anyhow. Mentally one ponces around the quad with a jaunty sandblast sticking out of one's jaw as if taking a deserved break from tutoring nice young things of whichever gender in Latin and algebra. Time for tea, Algernon, and perhaps some sherry!<br />
<br />
<br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: large;">
"Pro amore dei culos meus cruor est!"</span><br /><b>
------Don Hertzfeldt, possibly a Canadian.</b></span><br />
<br />
<br />
One of the things that stood out today was the retired member of the judiciary, mere minutes after arriving, screaming about anal sex. No, I don't know what medication he's on. It's doing something to him. He's imagining things. Possibly there are ghosts in that backroom, or his marriage to the Vietnamese American fascist butterfly is stressing him out. <br />
<br />
In his case, maybe it's continued intoxication from celebrating Saint Paddy's like a frat boy.<br />
Which is a three-day weekend for some people. Especially retired old crocks.<br />
And he was wearing green. It harmonized with his complexion.<br />
<br />
Throughout the day I heard sqauwks of vituperation.<br />
<br />
<br />
I shall henceforth think of him as 'Anal Sex Jeff'.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXefR7MpBwlI2sgtkvUAEceF9nDGEdLGlR0ktt6nMf_LrsTy9cJDYKfgQ9XtHbCqVkQZ6PSCfO4eRe0jCDBIAOePZe5yz1UtUiIPrd4B3Sc8H_fP_X4HH3Ig0zVale1Zfnm2II4Z22cwMlh72Yc8mKe8oiqPr1BVdVaeUlED80hn2FI7AxQG-5/s4706/Sherry.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4706" data-original-width="2574" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXefR7MpBwlI2sgtkvUAEceF9nDGEdLGlR0ktt6nMf_LrsTy9cJDYKfgQ9XtHbCqVkQZ6PSCfO4eRe0jCDBIAOePZe5yz1UtUiIPrd4B3Sc8H_fP_X4HH3Ig0zVale1Zfnm2II4Z22cwMlh72Yc8mKe8oiqPr1BVdVaeUlED80hn2FI7AxQG-5/s400/Sherry.jpg" /></a></div>
I myself would drink nothing stronger that sherry, but those boys infesting the back are all adults and have rotted many of their braincells with strong liquor and Fox News, so it's hard to have a conversation with any of them even when they're not plotzed out of their gourds. More so since the end of the football season which can only remind them that they have shallow empty lives and their children actively dislike them, if they didn't drown out their mediocrity with cheap Scotch and Bourbon.<br />
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilrz1NTgAmgGeEq-zgb_3cC5LAeRUysyxWgddwbYdXMkfXICAN3x6rFSgdNxf8PnslJggXUHKoz9wy2yhZCy-DKMP4bcLVWdbrk3Mw6hFBcKfPkIZWKmGVgGuqrPo1BjWtcsdMVi4yPKwSmlRG7F5j5cNHFdChtmpvy-wIpmq_ChupuM44wYFG/s2024/Bertrand%20Russell%20has%20a%20pipe!.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2024" data-original-width="1520" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilrz1NTgAmgGeEq-zgb_3cC5LAeRUysyxWgddwbYdXMkfXICAN3x6rFSgdNxf8PnslJggXUHKoz9wy2yhZCy-DKMP4bcLVWdbrk3Mw6hFBcKfPkIZWKmGVgGuqrPo1BjWtcsdMVi4yPKwSmlRG7F5j5cNHFdChtmpvy-wIpmq_ChupuM44wYFG/w150-h200/Bertrand%20Russell%20has%20a%20pipe!.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
They are cigar smokers. I am civilized. However. <br />
<br />
<br />
The day ended with a lovely discussion about Rattray's Hal O'The Wynd (a very fine red Virginia broken flake) and Old Gowrie (somewhat fuller, equally good), as well as Gordon Pym (a rough cut mixture with depth and a pleasing Latakia edge). By that time the various constipated fossils in the back had stumbled home, where their nearest and dearest would change their Depends™ for them and feed them prunes for dinner.<br />
Before sending them out to play in traffic till nightfall.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Several of the usual defectives were missing today. Possibly they were hunting bottles of Jameson's hidden in the yard so their grandkids and the local bums don't find them during the Easter egg hunt a fortnight from now, or maybe their kinfolk kept them chained up lest they hurt themselves during idiot drunken orgies.
One can but speculate. And hope.<br />
<br />
<br />
I heard the phrase "Erin go bra-less" several times today.<br />
And I shall not repeat it. It's stupid.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-14550358345994993222024-03-16T21:12:00.000-07:002024-03-17T21:51:03.308-07:00MATCHING THE NASTYOne of the pipes I smoked today was a W.Ø. Larsen. Of which brand I own two. I am not much into Scandinavian excess, so very few of my pipes qualify as eccentric. These two are not too eye-catchingly shaped, though very nice, and hence do not advertise any personal insufficiencies. But W.Ø. Larsen as such no longer exists. The brand is virtually extinct. I was swilling cup after cup of oolong tea all morning, so a certain extroversion, nay manifested pecularity, was almost required with so much caffeine coursing through my veins.<br />
You should rejoice that I have no perverted tendencies.<br />
That would have come out.<br />
<br />
<br />
I've long felt that Danish freehands should be smoked by weirdoes with piercings or tattoos wearing ethnic fabrics from the tropics, who favour mango peach raspberry hazelnut cavendishes that leave a sticky residue. No, that's not what was in my pipe. <br />
Instead, a conservative Virginia Periqe concoction.<br />
<br />
One thing I may smoke this weekend, seeing as Saint Patrick's Day almost begs for repulsive behaviour and vulgarity, is a suitable tobacco blend.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8tPmnkDmIZZGiGeeu9wTxrMSELT7-DVduWKZ_ATJt9k8KBS8VWyvF5YvpLwrOJDdn4q_miYk2N3tPLEem3TiJtw_K7Wjgyhew5qnBBCBXM98659BENKDhUcZ_xWRVTIjINaD1o4nRxIbtAAREy9y56P8rKKCOZ-hBMCDBFYHRPIAcDpX3d4x/s1374/Slane%2003152024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="660" data-original-width="1374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8tPmnkDmIZZGiGeeu9wTxrMSELT7-DVduWKZ_ATJt9k8KBS8VWyvF5YvpLwrOJDdn4q_miYk2N3tPLEem3TiJtw_K7Wjgyhew5qnBBCBXM98659BENKDhUcZ_xWRVTIjINaD1o4nRxIbtAAREy9y56P8rKKCOZ-hBMCDBFYHRPIAcDpX3d4x/s400/Slane%2003152024.jpg"/></a></div>
Either Sutliff's 'Slane' or Erinmore Flake. Don't know which yet.<br />
All depends on how much of sicko I feel like being.<br />
<br />
It will, quite likely, be in a Dunhill Pipe.<br />
Alfred Dunhill was a frightful bigot.<br />
So it would be appropriate.<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
<br />Actually, both Hill Of Slane (Sutliff) and Erinmore Flake (formerly Murray Sons & Co.Ltd, now Scandinavian) are fairly nice tobaccos. Weird top dressings, but if smoked properly (meaning very slowly) they will not ghost the pipe or make you lose your lunch.<br />
That's a fulsome recommendation.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-20085329985569589722024-03-14T12:45:00.000-07:002024-03-14T13:20:58.189-07:00IT MIGHT JUST BE INDIGESTIONThanks to a fortuitous internet post about spring rolls, I now know what a laminectomy is in Chinese: 候椎板切除 ('<i>hau cheui paan chit cheui</i>'). Not, of course, that this will be of any use. The operation may be done to take pressure off back nerves. <br />
<br />
It's happened a number of times now. I'll be quite happily enjoying my post-prandial pipe in Chinatown, when I see a medical emergency in which I am of no help whatsoever, due to both my lack of training and my inability to ask intelligent questions in Cantonese relevant to the situation. An old guy slides to the pavement, concerned bystanders call an ambulance, the aged fellow is loaded up and carted off. What happened?<br />
<br />
Yeah, um, very sorry. Can't help.<br />
Mijn Cantoneesch strekt niet.<br />
A failure to communicate.<br />
<br />
That said, given the haphazard medical vocabulary I possess in Cantonese (please don't ask about Dutch or Flemish, because I am actually quite ignorant about many ailments in those languages), we could have an interesting conversation while waiting for the emergency services and the wee-oo wagon to arrive.<br />
<br />
<br /><span><span style="font-size: large;">
敏性反應</span><span> ('<i>man sing faan ying</i>'): allergic reaction.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
關節炎</span> ('<i>gwaan jit yim</i>'): arthritis.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
香港腳</span> ('<i>heung kong keuk</i>'): athlete's foot.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
驗血</span> ('<i>yim huet</i>'): blood tests.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
心血管疾病</span> ('<i>sam huet kun jat peng</i>'): cardiovascular disease.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
循環系統疾病</span> ('<i>cheun waan hai tung jat peng</i>'): circulatory disease.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
感冒</span> ('<i>gam mou</i>'): common cold.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
驚厥</span> ('<i>geng kuet</i>'): convulsion.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
囊腫</span> ('<i>nong jung</i>'): cyst.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
妄想症</span> ('<i>mong seung jing</i>'): delusions.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
癲</span> ('<i>din</i>'): derangement; mentally ill.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
糖尿病</span> ('<i>tong niu peng</i>'): diabetes.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
暈</span> ('<i>waan</i>'): dizziness.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
消化不良</span> ('<i>siu faa pat leung</i>'): dyspepsia.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
癲癇</span> ('<i>din haan</i>'): epilepsy.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
羊癲瘋</span> ('<i>yeung din fung</i>'): epileptic fits.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
存在焦慮</span> ('<i>chuen joi jiu lo</i>i'): existential angst.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
昏倒</span> ('<i>fan dou</i>'): faint. 發昏 ('faat fan'): to faint.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
發燒</span> ('<i>faat siu</i>'): fever.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
屁</span> ('<i>pei</i>'): flatulence.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
痛風病</span> ('<i>tung fung peng</i>'): gout.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
心臟病發作</span> ('<i>sam jong peng faat jok</i>'): heart attack.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
腹部衝擊</span> ('<i>fuk pou jung gik</i>'): Heimlich manoeuvre.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
低血糖</span> ('<i>dai huet tong</i>'): hypoglycæmia, low blood sugar.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
流感</span> ('<i>lau gam</i>'): influenza.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
麻風病</span> ('<i>maa fung beng</i>'): leprosy.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
瘧疾</span> ('<i>yuek jat</i>'): malaria.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
孟乔森综合征</span> ('<i>maang kiu sam jung hap jing</i>'): Munchausen syndrome.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
卵巢</span> ('<i>leun chaau</i>'): ovary.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
骨盆檢查</span> ('<i>gwat pun kim chaa</i>'): pelvic exam.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
血小板</span> ('<i>huet siu paan</i>'): platelets.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
芝士肉汁薯條</span> ('<i>ji si yiuk jap syu tiu</i>'): poutine.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
精神病</span> ('<i>jing san peng</i>'): psychosis.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
放射病</span> ('<i>fong yik peng</i>'): radiation sickness.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
雷诺氏综合征 </span>('<i>leui nok si jung hap jing</i>'): Rainaud's phenomenon.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
病突發</span> ('<i>peng tat faat</i>'): seizure.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
喉嚨痛</span> ('<i>hou lung tung</i>'): sore throat.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
殫悶</span> ('<i>daan mun</i>'): swoon, pass out.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
氣管痙攣</span> ('<i>hei kun king luen</i>'): tracheospasm.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
腫瘤</span> ('<i>jung lau</i>'): tumour.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">
上呼吸道感染</span> ('<i>seung fu gap dau gam yim</i>'): upper respiratory tract infection.<br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlAJjnvncoSInTXBuwgvHZYEHfqQebe_OiGbAoxNjYk3adFz3A8wWa2QhrBcPRHFBo6V2wzXUCdZ4FK059yfUY_cxGT1Z_C_HyQFs2ET4jhaNcEWI9lLhPDs_zL3rPu6h7lO6f4uB63VdGgWzbWK-0BviBOEtdY5JfvG9TPuoqTIWzkYs16nhK/s3056/Comoy%20made%20excellent%20no%20name%20bulldog%20variant%2003142024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1432" data-original-width="3056" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlAJjnvncoSInTXBuwgvHZYEHfqQebe_OiGbAoxNjYk3adFz3A8wWa2QhrBcPRHFBo6V2wzXUCdZ4FK059yfUY_cxGT1Z_C_HyQFs2ET4jhaNcEWI9lLhPDs_zL3rPu6h7lO6f4uB63VdGgWzbWK-0BviBOEtdY5JfvG9TPuoqTIWzkYs16nhK/s400/Comoy%20made%20excellent%20no%20name%20bulldog%20variant%2003142024.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
In my most trustworthy voice, I will diagnose (診治 '<i> 'chan jing'</i>) the patient (病人 '<i>peng yan</i>') with Canadian junkfood and explain that this caused profound psychosis.<br />
<br />
<br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">
"<i>Venerable sir, you ate poutine! That is why your athlete's foot attacked!</i>"</span><br />
<br />
<br />
It is a well-known fact that such things cause existential angst. Why, look at Alberta!<br />
They haven't been the same since they discovered beef gravy.<br />
Permanent existential dread is what.<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
When this happened a few years ago I was smoking the pipe pictured above. It is probably my most medical-expert looking briar, but very likely I think that because I associate it with that event. Perhaps I need a lab coat. For additional gravitas.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true" style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span></span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17704096.post-79811840883429505482024-03-14T08:06:00.000-07:002024-03-14T08:47:42.710-07:00LOOK EAST, YOUNG MAN!Several years ago south of Market my apartment mate asked me if I could identify the bus five or six blocks away. With supreme confidence I informed her that it was the bus going to Blitzpah. It was cold, you understand, and that influences the eye's ability to focus and see clearly. Blitzpah. Actually the 15 Third. Even today I can unerringly identify buses in the distance heading toward Blitzpah.<br />
<br />
It isn't until about three blocks away that their real destination becomes apparent.<br />
<br />
Everything beyond the immediate boundaries of the world is Blitzpah.<br />
<br />
To a tourist, all of San Francisco is Blitzpah.<br />
<br />
<br />
Which probably explains why that woman yesterday dithered so incredibly at the corner of Grant and Clay, finally coming to a standstill righ in front of me, despite my having tried to avoid her wavering presence. She was from out of town, and quite unaware of traffic. <br />
Her head and heart were still in Blitzpah.<br />
<br />
From a vantage point on top of Nob Hill looking east, Oakland is Blitzpah.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlAIRtXaqQbWV2SagdqgYQ0CS3fN2m8wOKEej4ApYmhUye-gWqP97hh3fiiUewM1Niv6B4LHvCTjW-oYc-UntMkw8gtrBvwbxbnx6sPCV52oIkyO2lI9_Ys8xSBZvC0CR5VNwi-Zb4fo_pYiMRY9mRtnYlLewKHl19DSGof5MfklW5n1PAXNhH/s1992/HK%20tugboat%2003142024.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="1404" data-original-width="1992" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlAIRtXaqQbWV2SagdqgYQ0CS3fN2m8wOKEej4ApYmhUye-gWqP97hh3fiiUewM1Niv6B4LHvCTjW-oYc-UntMkw8gtrBvwbxbnx6sPCV52oIkyO2lI9_Ys8xSBZvC0CR5VNwi-Zb4fo_pYiMRY9mRtnYlLewKHl19DSGof5MfklW5n1PAXNhH/s400/HK%20tugboat%2003142024.jpg"/></a></div>
That is to say, the real Blitzpah. Can't get more Blitzpah than that.<br />
<br />
<br />
If wherever you are is filled with strange things and terms you do not know, it's all Blitzpah. For almost all Midwesterners and people from The South, all the world is Blitzpah, with the exception of Fishermans' Wharf, where there are businesses that cater to them, and chain restaurants serving kibble which is cooked precisely to their tastes, which they know by heart because they've seen commercials on Fox for precisely the same eateries in Tonkers harbor and Point Boudin, or whatever big city is closest to their town. The bus to the nearest mall goes right by five or six of those places. And it's all so delicious!<br />
Why would you want to eat anywhere else?<br />
<br />
There used to be a movie theatre there where they went with their aunt on weekends. Afterwards they'd have burgers, fries, and a shake at the fountain on Main Street.<br />
Before window shopping at Woolworths and Walgreens.<br />
<br />
We San Franciscans can only imagine.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
First pipe of the day lit up after taking the bus to the top of the hill with all the office workers. It's easier than walking with these legs. Looked at the Bay Bridge, wandered around a bit, then headed downhill again toward my apartment building. Tapped the ashes out a block from my front door. It's time for another cup of coffee.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">========================================================================== </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><strong>NOTE: </strong>Readers may contact me directly: </span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=5476343882879727858&page=1&token=1288572377437_AIe9_BHRmnmLyGkbCUVgpGGpUvrByZi3oAwDjl5kiHoEac9NvRXGfG7dALZOmKdmvXQP5fxIjkdLcFzhnlm_SGTcmL2R6YnnwrqVPL2jiE5rqfBsx2kNVsINjF7R9lUCTXHk3vRTlcD2QArm-tDsNLn1qhehVRlfMywlurxzzN9254xGe4J7hKlk4uq9wrjqgVjJusLSSLUl6jD5_TWnUzO6LcGz50HP14ZQJO6y1EgcZuYDf5vLlmnmulhEnLEGS7aQHgjrvNH4J_k2S3GXxxpWbdss4TTlqi3AG2FJLbQFf3iJdBBhQk5uB3hCwRA9ctCl5Kdsf3fR6EBjAxe5Zi0D_On5ERO-aedi_OCHaiY8N71COdCGjPway1sq-xG1Krn1jF5lZX0PJOBpkCEi8fvni0CgC8_Is3WihP1hpZzLxUjLJo8xVAfKO5SBR6jYwoRBNbKb1qEkFdC_gsPrrMibbIcLHLBNF9Ci56zGKJjg_VpFaMUitDABAvmwLTilnjG_W8MMiROhiX_tCQV7GWnPLn5Ky1ghzHfBZt9SV5hK8QqwLcifQL3b4oZgqRlf7VnBLZfqBDreyQDIisZ1qrSfkhE34WMN14XEy6vzCV3gqhC1JM53ZYxJQiy_U10xaFH7teqO2s8QK_otLkBpUXCPOEgEVruP-wU_zZ_L5FfV1j58zXr4edsgA2bArKknqqNK-8Z3AMfsO8TMlsMTWrEMO64U4qBxySi69WTjLQuUfr3AKhsrvDTHjkIT5Fz3sL4pysvf8pgMny8pK-0dOhHWwpcIffFOEt1EtAH1CTtqSG0AT-u_qXk&isPopup=true"><strong><span style="font-size: 78%;">LETTER BOX</span></strong></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">All correspondence will be kept in confidence. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;">==========================================================================</span>The back of the hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564245223453467132noreply@blogger.com0