One reader has chastised me for frequently being negative about veganism, and noted that I seem to have a bad attitude about both Sea Shepherd (the notorious eco-terrorists of the South Pacific) and various other good causes. She or he writes: "you probably have NO sympathy for the Green Peace activists currently being held under APPALLING conditions in Russia either, do you?"
Well, the dingbat who wrote that is right.
No frikkin' sympathy whatsoever.
Gulag their green asses.
However, not wanting to lose anymore readers, no matter how drippy and wussily fruitcake they may be -- they are all infinitely precious to me, especially in this age of decreasing literacy and logic -- it might behoove me to cater to their sensitivities.
"YOU PROBABLY HAVE NO SYMPATHY FOR THE GREEN PEACE ACTIVISTS BEING HELD UNDER APPALLING CONDITIONS"
Oh, the poor babies. At least they're eating well. Russian food, though heavy at times, is on the whole a wonderful and educational gustatory experience. Not only caviar, smetana, and blinis, but Chicken Kiev, many smoked fishes (including whale), refined cabbage dishes, fried appetizers, and sundry savoury meat stews: elk, bear, reindeer, otter, mink, wild boar, and commissar.
[They no longer do serf and turf, by the way.]
And the good news is that all of these can be adapted to tofu.
I'm sure the Kremlin's jailers are considerately providing a wholesome all-vegetarian diet to the imprisoned ecomaniacs. Why, they're probably in better condition than they've ever been! All lean muscle.
Plus plenty of heart-healthy aerobic exercise.
And language classes!
As for Vegan Food, it isn't that I in principle disapprove. It's just that the combination of a sanctimonious holier than thou attitude with appallingly miserable and apathetic cooking usually leaves me infuriated.
Capsule reviews of Vegan and Vegetarian restaurants:
VENUS RESTAURANT
Shattuck Avenue, Berkeley.
Not all Vegan, not all edible. Sometimes bland and disappointing.
On the whole, a typical Berkeley experience that left the diner feeling vaguely insulted, like not having been up to the high standards of a West Oakland streetwalker. Will not go a third time.
HERBIVORE
Divisadero Street, San Francisco.
An excess of garlic does not make up for a lack of taste. Bland white people should not do anything Latino or Asian. I hate Honky burritos.
ANANDA FUARA
Market Street, San Francisco.
Stringy white chicks in saris. Over-priced yoghurt and dal. Attitude.
Having worked for many years in an Indian restaurant, my patience with the artistic and meaningful element is at an all-time low.
LOVING HUT
Stockton Street at Vallejo, San Francisco.
Best fake charsiu ever. Unbelievable! Service is quite good too. The only drawback is that one of the people at the table will have a view of happy happy joy joy cult videos at all times on the big screen teevee, unless their sneeringly dispassionate cult leader is giving an endless lecture in Mandarin.
I do NOT need to see documentaries about sick-in-the-head Eurotrash at some ashram or Buddhist retreat in Amsterdam being all spiritual while I'm eating fabulous fake meat.
Loved the place, but sunglasses are required.
Or blinkers; whatever works.
No MSG.
JUDAHLICIOUS
Judah Street, San Francisco.
Oh frick, be real. Precious, hip, and insufferable. Apathetic service, and more vicious white folks burritos. Too much juice gives you gas.
THE PLANT CAFÉ ORGANIC
Steiner Street, San Francisco.
Overpriced, unimaginative, and slow. And there's that damned saintly hip attitude again. Perhaps I look too much like a decent middle-aged white guy to be treated nicely.
I'm beginning to hate veggie burgers and juice.
GREENS RESTAURANT
Fort Mason, Building A, San Francisco.
Best location and best service of the lot. The food is excellent, and, remarkably for a place that does vegetarian stuff, it has soul. A bit expensive, indeed, but this is the place to take your rancher uncle and his ghastly wife Mabel when they visit; they'll waddle out happy as clams, and with a different opinion of San Francisco than they had.
Probably also a splendid place for a date.
But only if she likes food.
ARIZMENDI BAKERY
Mission Street, San Francisco.
Great pastries, great breads, and dynamite pizza! Even their muffins are excellent, and I hate muffins. Arizmendi Bakery is a class act, and a city treasure.
Worth hiking over to Mission for.
FINAL NOTE: All of the places I listed, except Greens Restaurant and Arizmendi Bakery, would benefit from the serious inclusion of bacon in everything, and the wan drips who work there would be happier too.
Greens and Arizmendi are doing something right.
Good places. Great food.
Wonderful.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Showing posts with label Canadian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Canadian. Show all posts
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Monday, May 20, 2013
INSPIRED BY GLASWEGIAN MORES
In absolute rejection of the point of view of a nanky Scots git with whom I had an argument, I propose that the liquid gold which is the blasted boggy homeland of smelly bandy-legged skirt-wearing men's only claim to fame be henceforth written 'viski'.
If doggerel-meister Robert Burns can bugger-up the English language to prove a point, so can we.
Is it 'whisk-y' or whisk-ey'? On this side of the Atlantic we usually write the word with 'ey', which the British (and Canadians) regard as an eccentricity betraying primitivism and illiteracy.
As well as our regrettable Irish tendencies.
It's just wrong.
Stupid Yanks.
VISKI
Kindly imagine my surprise when accosted at a bar recently by someone whose speech was well-nigh unintelligible, over our "American English".
It was the bastardized language of ignorant peasants and sodomites, he averred, fit only for corruption, disease, and drunkenness.
Proper English adhered to British spelling.
A draughtsman, not a draftsman.
Centre, instead of center.
Colour, never color.
Neighbours.
And 'whisky'.
Bourbon wasn't whisky.
Merely a pale imitation, with an 'e'.
Americans didn't know beans about booze.
Judging by his state of inebriation, he might be right.
But at least we speak intelligible English.
And write better than Bobby Burns.
A constant state of intoxication might explain Scottish spellings and speech. Which is understandable. The place is filled with ugly men in skirts who tend toward spontaneous violence and acts of wanton destruction, particularly when bagpipes sound or the sheep stampede. Being Scottish is a curse for which there is no cure. They are infamously bad-tempered, and very likely that can be blamed on their food & drink. Copious draughts of whiskεy are needed to deaden the pain of living there.
Skotz viski is in many ways a very fine product, and boruch Hashem one doesn't have to vizit Skotland to zample the product. That would be absolewt torture, as the place is filled with beer-sodden heathens who haven't had a dezent bath far longer than even the French or Spanish, pozzibli even in centuries. Their manners are foul, their morals are low, and their kvizeen is a blight upon the planet.
Black pudding and neeps, good lord.
Anybody who feasts on haggis and deep-fried snickers bars should in all fairness hesitate to speak of food and drink at all, though I am lead to believe that "Scottish Cuisine" is experiencing a renaissance.
That's a horrid concept; it's worse than English food.
Boiling fat and burning starch.
But I digress.
There are two places in San Francisco where one can explore the vast world of Skotz Viski: the Edinburgh Castle, which is a famous old-time Scottish expat bar on Geary Street, and The Occidental Cigar Club, a public house with an extraordinary selection of Caledonian potations on Pine Street near Belden Alley and several fine dining establishments.
I recommend the latter; English is spoken there.
And the clientele washes regularly.
For the dangerously and incorrigibly curious, here's a short video clip from a nature documentary about the Scots.
BIG SKIRTY MEN!
[Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvEdcQROeTc.]
Don't watch this too often; it's bad for the nerves.
Causes uncontrollable muscle spasms.
Have a calming drink.
Viski.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Is it 'whisk-y' or whisk-ey'? On this side of the Atlantic we usually write the word with 'ey', which the British (and Canadians) regard as an eccentricity betraying primitivism and illiteracy.
As well as our regrettable Irish tendencies.
It's just wrong.
Stupid Yanks.
VISKI
Kindly imagine my surprise when accosted at a bar recently by someone whose speech was well-nigh unintelligible, over our "American English".
It was the bastardized language of ignorant peasants and sodomites, he averred, fit only for corruption, disease, and drunkenness.
Proper English adhered to British spelling.
A draughtsman, not a draftsman.
Centre, instead of center.
Colour, never color.
Neighbours.
And 'whisky'.
Bourbon wasn't whisky.
Merely a pale imitation, with an 'e'.
Americans didn't know beans about booze.
Judging by his state of inebriation, he might be right.
But at least we speak intelligible English.
And write better than Bobby Burns.
A constant state of intoxication might explain Scottish spellings and speech. Which is understandable. The place is filled with ugly men in skirts who tend toward spontaneous violence and acts of wanton destruction, particularly when bagpipes sound or the sheep stampede. Being Scottish is a curse for which there is no cure. They are infamously bad-tempered, and very likely that can be blamed on their food & drink. Copious draughts of whiskεy are needed to deaden the pain of living there.
Skotz viski is in many ways a very fine product, and boruch Hashem one doesn't have to vizit Skotland to zample the product. That would be absolewt torture, as the place is filled with beer-sodden heathens who haven't had a dezent bath far longer than even the French or Spanish, pozzibli even in centuries. Their manners are foul, their morals are low, and their kvizeen is a blight upon the planet.
Black pudding and neeps, good lord.
Anybody who feasts on haggis and deep-fried snickers bars should in all fairness hesitate to speak of food and drink at all, though I am lead to believe that "Scottish Cuisine" is experiencing a renaissance.
That's a horrid concept; it's worse than English food.
Boiling fat and burning starch.
But I digress.
There are two places in San Francisco where one can explore the vast world of Skotz Viski: the Edinburgh Castle, which is a famous old-time Scottish expat bar on Geary Street, and The Occidental Cigar Club, a public house with an extraordinary selection of Caledonian potations on Pine Street near Belden Alley and several fine dining establishments.
I recommend the latter; English is spoken there.
And the clientele washes regularly.
For the dangerously and incorrigibly curious, here's a short video clip from a nature documentary about the Scots.
BIG SKIRTY MEN!
[Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvEdcQROeTc.]
Don't watch this too often; it's bad for the nerves.
Causes uncontrollable muscle spasms.
Have a calming drink.
Viski.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, March 17, 2013
CANADIAN BACON
A friend proudly boasted that he had ten strips of bacon on his half-pound burger. Which, naturally, he made at home. This struck me as somewhat excessive. No, not because of the massive quantity of greasy goodness, but because of the inclusion of beef. Cow is not very digestible even at the best of times. Frying it up in a skillet, as he must have done, would have made what was an innocuous ground beef patty into a chewy monstrosity that no amount of ketchup and pepto could improve.
What a truly horrendous waste of bacon!
Bacon, as everyone knows, is the perfect food.
The only two things that can detract from the pure richness of bacon are ground beef and tofu. And chocolate. Three things.
NOT ALL BACON IS BACON
Canadian Bacon isn't; and the Canadians deflect any guilt by calling it Irish Bacon, while elsewhere it might be called Back Bacon. Only the English persist in referring to that cut as bacon.
Canadian Bacon is, like much in Anglo cuisine, vastly improved by adding bacon.
Real bacon is Streaky Bacon. But if you already have that, why even bother with Canadian Bacon? It seems rather a waste of good bacon to serve it on the same plate as that eccentric British meat.
American bacon (i.e., real bacon) is cut from the fatty under-belly of the beast, whereas that other stuff includes back and loin, and often is not smoked but merely brined, and sometimes not even that.
What distinguishes genuine American bacon is the rich addictive spectrum of glutamates and nucleotides, which are present at lower concentrates in all those other things called bacon, and entirely absent in supermarket ground beef. Most of what is sold in the United States as "Canadian Bacon" is also significantly lacking in this regard, as the flavour isn't really that bad, but sure isn't anything to write home about. Rather pallid and watery.
A FRIGHTFUL RAKABDAR
The taste-balance of glutamates and nucleotides is key to most flavour enhancements like monosodium glutamate et talis substantiae quae sunt perterrentes, which chef Suleiman used when preparing his curries.
He swore up and down that he NEVER used MSG, good heavens, a righteous Muslim cook from Awadh had no need for such cheap tricks!
And it was horribly Christian of me to even accuse him of it!
One day while he was out between lunch and dinner I went to investigate the kitchen, determined to locate the offending substance even if I had to tear the entire place apart. Naturally I found the box within less than thirty seconds; it was at his work station.
A very big box.
I've avoided his cooking ever since. That was many years ago. But if there is even a suspicion that Suleiman or an equally dishonest subcontinental Muslim chef is connected to a restaurant, I will not go in.
Really, they should use bacon instead of MSG.
It's cleaner, and far better.
"Hallo Ji, we would like the kathal ke kabab ('exquisite lentil and green jackfruit patties'), the kanta gali machli ('artfully stuffed and patiently simmered river fish'), kakori kabab ('mouth-meltingly tender and delicious mince kabab prepared with a masala that is the veritable epitome of refinement'), sarson ka saag ('divine mustard greens puree once served to kings and emperors'), karahi gosht kalia ('fine cuts of tender lamb seethed in a rich golden gravy'), some arvi ka salan ('delicate colocasia tubers braised in ghee, then simmered to utter perfection with mutton'), plus titar korma or murghi badam pasanda for the non-meat eaters, and a huge side of crispy bacon!
Oh, and we are also wanting safed murgh ka pullao and lamb biriani. Plus bacon.
Now bring us some bakarkhani ('bread made with nuts and clarified animal fat'), sheermal ('a luxurious tandoor bread richly flavoured with cream and saffron'), warqi paratha, and taftan ('milk & ghee brushed tear-drop bread with nigella seeds and curd').
Sevian ka muzafar, and halwa sohan.
And more bacon!"
Additional taste expanders with this fabulous feast can be nimboo achar, raita, and crunchy raw green chilies.
The more I think about it, the more likely it is that Suleiman's use of MSG was entirely the fault of the British. They colonized India, and imparted elements of their culture during the two centuries that they were there. Including culinary ideas, some of which were not entirely predictable.
Such as lamb vindaloo, and murgh makhni made with canned soup.
Cabbage, peas, cauliflower, carrots.
Tea and kaju biscuit.
Rissoles.
And, without a shadow of a doubt, Canadian Bacon.
Which is exactly like tofu, but from a pig.
No wonder MSG beckoned!
If they had access to real bacon, surely the esteemed rakabdars of Awadh would have used that instead of monosodium glutamate.
For Americans, our mission to the world is clear.
Bacon on everything.
AFTERTHOUGHT
I tend to instinctively distrust most Pakistani restaurateurs, as their attitude toward meat dishes is completely different from honest Hindus and Sikhs.
And, given that subcontinental Muslims venomously despise the food scruples of all other communities, this is probably justified. Note, for instance, that the "lamb" served in many Pakistani or Sylheti-run establishments in Great Britain is actually cheap beef.
Quote: "The results from the survey confirm that a significant proportion of lamb-based curries offered for sale in Indian, and similar style, restaurants and takeaways were falsely described as they contained either no lamb, or a mixture of lamb and other meat."
[Source: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-21733514. ]
According to many sniffy English tourists, the best Indian food can ONLY be found in Great Britain, and everything else is both inferior and suspect.
Especially the muck palmed off on stupid Americans.
I've eaten Indian food over there....... never has horsemeat and inferior cow masquerading as lamb tasted so mediocre. But it probably suits the locals.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
What a truly horrendous waste of bacon!
Bacon, as everyone knows, is the perfect food.
The only two things that can detract from the pure richness of bacon are ground beef and tofu. And chocolate. Three things.
NOT ALL BACON IS BACON
Canadian Bacon isn't; and the Canadians deflect any guilt by calling it Irish Bacon, while elsewhere it might be called Back Bacon. Only the English persist in referring to that cut as bacon.
Canadian Bacon is, like much in Anglo cuisine, vastly improved by adding bacon.
Real bacon is Streaky Bacon. But if you already have that, why even bother with Canadian Bacon? It seems rather a waste of good bacon to serve it on the same plate as that eccentric British meat.
American bacon (i.e., real bacon) is cut from the fatty under-belly of the beast, whereas that other stuff includes back and loin, and often is not smoked but merely brined, and sometimes not even that.
What distinguishes genuine American bacon is the rich addictive spectrum of glutamates and nucleotides, which are present at lower concentrates in all those other things called bacon, and entirely absent in supermarket ground beef. Most of what is sold in the United States as "Canadian Bacon" is also significantly lacking in this regard, as the flavour isn't really that bad, but sure isn't anything to write home about. Rather pallid and watery.
A FRIGHTFUL RAKABDAR
The taste-balance of glutamates and nucleotides is key to most flavour enhancements like monosodium glutamate et talis substantiae quae sunt perterrentes, which chef Suleiman used when preparing his curries.
He swore up and down that he NEVER used MSG, good heavens, a righteous Muslim cook from Awadh had no need for such cheap tricks!
And it was horribly Christian of me to even accuse him of it!
One day while he was out between lunch and dinner I went to investigate the kitchen, determined to locate the offending substance even if I had to tear the entire place apart. Naturally I found the box within less than thirty seconds; it was at his work station.
A very big box.
I've avoided his cooking ever since. That was many years ago. But if there is even a suspicion that Suleiman or an equally dishonest subcontinental Muslim chef is connected to a restaurant, I will not go in.
Really, they should use bacon instead of MSG.
It's cleaner, and far better.
"Hallo Ji, we would like the kathal ke kabab ('exquisite lentil and green jackfruit patties'), the kanta gali machli ('artfully stuffed and patiently simmered river fish'), kakori kabab ('mouth-meltingly tender and delicious mince kabab prepared with a masala that is the veritable epitome of refinement'), sarson ka saag ('divine mustard greens puree once served to kings and emperors'), karahi gosht kalia ('fine cuts of tender lamb seethed in a rich golden gravy'), some arvi ka salan ('delicate colocasia tubers braised in ghee, then simmered to utter perfection with mutton'), plus titar korma or murghi badam pasanda for the non-meat eaters, and a huge side of crispy bacon!
Oh, and we are also wanting safed murgh ka pullao and lamb biriani. Plus bacon.
Now bring us some bakarkhani ('bread made with nuts and clarified animal fat'), sheermal ('a luxurious tandoor bread richly flavoured with cream and saffron'), warqi paratha, and taftan ('milk & ghee brushed tear-drop bread with nigella seeds and curd').
Sevian ka muzafar, and halwa sohan.
And more bacon!"
Additional taste expanders with this fabulous feast can be nimboo achar, raita, and crunchy raw green chilies.
The more I think about it, the more likely it is that Suleiman's use of MSG was entirely the fault of the British. They colonized India, and imparted elements of their culture during the two centuries that they were there. Including culinary ideas, some of which were not entirely predictable.
Such as lamb vindaloo, and murgh makhni made with canned soup.
Cabbage, peas, cauliflower, carrots.
Tea and kaju biscuit.
Rissoles.
And, without a shadow of a doubt, Canadian Bacon.
Which is exactly like tofu, but from a pig.
No wonder MSG beckoned!
If they had access to real bacon, surely the esteemed rakabdars of Awadh would have used that instead of monosodium glutamate.
For Americans, our mission to the world is clear.
Bacon on everything.
AFTERTHOUGHT
I tend to instinctively distrust most Pakistani restaurateurs, as their attitude toward meat dishes is completely different from honest Hindus and Sikhs.
And, given that subcontinental Muslims venomously despise the food scruples of all other communities, this is probably justified. Note, for instance, that the "lamb" served in many Pakistani or Sylheti-run establishments in Great Britain is actually cheap beef.
Quote: "The results from the survey confirm that a significant proportion of lamb-based curries offered for sale in Indian, and similar style, restaurants and takeaways were falsely described as they contained either no lamb, or a mixture of lamb and other meat."
[Source: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-21733514. ]
According to many sniffy English tourists, the best Indian food can ONLY be found in Great Britain, and everything else is both inferior and suspect.
Especially the muck palmed off on stupid Americans.
I've eaten Indian food over there....... never has horsemeat and inferior cow masquerading as lamb tasted so mediocre. But it probably suits the locals.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, November 22, 2012
TWILIGHT OF THE GODS
We held the wake for the company one day early. The sale to the Canadian piranhas was not, in the end, finalized till Wednesday afternoon around tea time.
On Tuesday evening, about fifty current and former employees retired to the Tunnel Top on Bush Street to lament the demise of a fine enterprise.
Well, some of us lamented. Those of us still involved in the company couldn't wait to see that puppy die. Yes, for years it had been a wonderful place to work, where creative juices flowed as if from inexhaustible springs, through fields of inspiration, yadda yadda yadda.
But in truth, the last three years had seen diminishing returns. For over a year it had been a hellish hostel between Sheol and the river Styx.
Heck, for the last four or five months, a madhouse.
Since mid-October, insanity squared.
But it's all over now.
Boruch Hashem.
I started working there in Spring of 2001. My immediate predecessor had spent three weeks begging his agency to put him elsewhere, good lord the place gave him nightmares! The person he had replaced left for lunch one day and never returned, after making such a mess of the Credit and Collections side that heads or tails could not be found. There were corpses in the filing cabinets that were not discovered for months afterwards.
By 2003 there were three of us staffing credit and collections: my boss, who dealt with the medium-sized chains and the internationals, a brilliant ex-seminarian who handled the big boxes and their ridiculous nickle-and-diming deductions and penalty fees that ate away at every single invoice, and myself.
My portfolio consisted of over fifteen hundred small retailers across the entire country, plus the franchises.
I also did research on the internationals and big distributors, as well as due diligence regarding banks and payment methodologies.
Over a year ago the big box man's accounts were split between me and my boss.
At the end of March I got all of them, plus her accounts.
By May I was having kittens.
The company had started spiralling down a few years ago. I shall not blame anyone for the decisions that made the demise increasingly inevitable over the past forty months, as it is both hard and pointless to assign blame.
The fracturing of the American economy is as responsible as anything.
And, and this is crucial, hindsight tars everyone unfairly.
I like the people I've worked with over the years, and admired quite a number of them for their qualities and their intelligence. There are very few whom I consider not up to snuff - shan't mention any names, nor enumerate what, how many, or how.
We had a habit of hiring good people.
More than in the law offices or computer companies where I've worked, my coworkers were characters, and people of strong character.
The sale was slated for end of October. Then the final date was postponed to the second of November, postponed again to the fifth, the eighth, the fifteenth.......
It was finally inked on the twenty first.
The buyers, who hail from a more innocent and silly part of the world, probably have no clue what they bought. It was evident from the get-go that they did not understand our supply chain, freight and import structures, manufacturing methods, or even the creative insanity which kept an impossible company orbiting the earth for nearly two decades.
I'm glad it's finally over. The others who stayed on to the last day are no doubt equally chipper.
We saw it through, and can finally close the book on it.
Time to start a new chapter.
I wish all of them well. They deserve it.
Guys, we very nearly did the impossible.
But what we did do was pretty damned good, and all in all well worth doing.
* * * * * *
What am I going to do now?
I'm going to catch up on my sleep. For far too long I've been getting up before five A.M., spending over ten hours a day in Hayward, then getting to bad no earlier than eleven thirty.
I'm also going to catch up on my reading. There are a few foreign-language dictionaries I need to revisit, as well as the Aṣṭādhyāyī of Panini, translated by Sumitra M. Katre, and published by the University of Texas Press. Eight chapters on Vedic grammar written nearly two and a half millennia ago.
Eight very long chapters.
Densely textured.
Plus smut, of course. All good libraries should have a fine selection of smut, and all well-rounded readers should be familiar with it.
Starting, quite naturally, with the classic Song of Songs.
Which is about an innocent lusty maiden.
And her loving swain.
Vineyards. Pillars of Lebanon. Little foxes. Mounds of golden wheat. Winecups. Gazelles. Fragrances. Apples (actually probably apricots, but there has been a shift of meaning in some words since then). Honey. Dripping nectars. Cloth textures.
And suntans.
All of that should keep me occupied for a few months.
I also intend to lunch in C'town more often.
And to become normal again.
Whole.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Well, some of us lamented. Those of us still involved in the company couldn't wait to see that puppy die. Yes, for years it had been a wonderful place to work, where creative juices flowed as if from inexhaustible springs, through fields of inspiration, yadda yadda yadda.
But in truth, the last three years had seen diminishing returns. For over a year it had been a hellish hostel between Sheol and the river Styx.
Heck, for the last four or five months, a madhouse.
Since mid-October, insanity squared.
But it's all over now.
Boruch Hashem.
I started working there in Spring of 2001. My immediate predecessor had spent three weeks begging his agency to put him elsewhere, good lord the place gave him nightmares! The person he had replaced left for lunch one day and never returned, after making such a mess of the Credit and Collections side that heads or tails could not be found. There were corpses in the filing cabinets that were not discovered for months afterwards.
By 2003 there were three of us staffing credit and collections: my boss, who dealt with the medium-sized chains and the internationals, a brilliant ex-seminarian who handled the big boxes and their ridiculous nickle-and-diming deductions and penalty fees that ate away at every single invoice, and myself.
My portfolio consisted of over fifteen hundred small retailers across the entire country, plus the franchises.
I also did research on the internationals and big distributors, as well as due diligence regarding banks and payment methodologies.
Over a year ago the big box man's accounts were split between me and my boss.
At the end of March I got all of them, plus her accounts.
By May I was having kittens.
The company had started spiralling down a few years ago. I shall not blame anyone for the decisions that made the demise increasingly inevitable over the past forty months, as it is both hard and pointless to assign blame.
The fracturing of the American economy is as responsible as anything.
And, and this is crucial, hindsight tars everyone unfairly.
I like the people I've worked with over the years, and admired quite a number of them for their qualities and their intelligence. There are very few whom I consider not up to snuff - shan't mention any names, nor enumerate what, how many, or how.
We had a habit of hiring good people.
More than in the law offices or computer companies where I've worked, my coworkers were characters, and people of strong character.
The sale was slated for end of October. Then the final date was postponed to the second of November, postponed again to the fifth, the eighth, the fifteenth.......
It was finally inked on the twenty first.
The buyers, who hail from a more innocent and silly part of the world, probably have no clue what they bought. It was evident from the get-go that they did not understand our supply chain, freight and import structures, manufacturing methods, or even the creative insanity which kept an impossible company orbiting the earth for nearly two decades.
I'm glad it's finally over. The others who stayed on to the last day are no doubt equally chipper.
We saw it through, and can finally close the book on it.
Time to start a new chapter.
I wish all of them well. They deserve it.
Guys, we very nearly did the impossible.
But what we did do was pretty damned good, and all in all well worth doing.
* * * * * *
What am I going to do now?
I'm going to catch up on my sleep. For far too long I've been getting up before five A.M., spending over ten hours a day in Hayward, then getting to bad no earlier than eleven thirty.
I'm also going to catch up on my reading. There are a few foreign-language dictionaries I need to revisit, as well as the Aṣṭādhyāyī of Panini, translated by Sumitra M. Katre, and published by the University of Texas Press. Eight chapters on Vedic grammar written nearly two and a half millennia ago.
Eight very long chapters.
Densely textured.
Plus smut, of course. All good libraries should have a fine selection of smut, and all well-rounded readers should be familiar with it.
Starting, quite naturally, with the classic Song of Songs.
Which is about an innocent lusty maiden.
And her loving swain.
Vineyards. Pillars of Lebanon. Little foxes. Mounds of golden wheat. Winecups. Gazelles. Fragrances. Apples (actually probably apricots, but there has been a shift of meaning in some words since then). Honey. Dripping nectars. Cloth textures.
And suntans.
All of that should keep me occupied for a few months.
I also intend to lunch in C'town more often.
And to become normal again.
Whole.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, July 04, 2012
HAPPY JULY FOURTH
In honour of our national holiday, here are two songs suitable for the occasion. Please enjoy.
NATIONAL ANTHEM!
[Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tOM-TmZBzZo.]
VIVA IMPERIALISMO!
[Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3G84iG3Ny3o.]
Now, go on out there and celebrate.
I think that flaming jello shots are appropriate.
Nothing says America quite as well as burning and booze.
Happy Fourth.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
NATIONAL ANTHEM!
[Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tOM-TmZBzZo.]
VIVA IMPERIALISMO!
[Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3G84iG3Ny3o.]
Now, go on out there and celebrate.
I think that flaming jello shots are appropriate.
Nothing says America quite as well as burning and booze.
Happy Fourth.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, July 01, 2012
SUPPORT YOUR TEAM!
As you read this, the Spanish and Portuguese Italians are fighting it out over tuna salad El Copa Mundial the Eurotrash Euro Cup.
So, to laud that momentous event, which will be decided in favour of the winner, I’m honouring Canada, which isn’t in this match.
Or any match. Canada and soccer aren’t really sympatico.
Real men play hockey. Soccer is for benders.
Sorry, I mean European "heroes".
Whatever.
HELLO SAILORS!
[Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvopEMKAnCM&feature=related.]
I don't know. It's just a cool song. Better than those chest-thumping hymns the Euries have been singing while they fight in the stands. Plus it's in English, so people can understand what they're singing about. To me, all those European anthems sound like Kraut war songs. Crap about shining helmets, proud farmers, and butterflies.
The Hindenburg, the Hohnfriedberger, and Infants of the Patriarchy.
Followed by unintelligible monkey sounds.
Europe is a ruddy jungle, eh.
Wolf Island.
Please note: No Europeans were harmed in the making of this post. We tried, but the bastards were all watching wanky men poncing around a lawn kicking a tiny little ball.
Oh well. May the best man win. Best men.
Hairy gits in short pants.
Enough said.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
So, to laud that momentous event, which will be decided in favour of the winner, I’m honouring Canada, which isn’t in this match.
Or any match. Canada and soccer aren’t really sympatico.
Real men play hockey. Soccer is for benders.
Sorry, I mean European "heroes".
Whatever.
HELLO SAILORS!
[Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvopEMKAnCM&feature=related.]
I don't know. It's just a cool song. Better than those chest-thumping hymns the Euries have been singing while they fight in the stands. Plus it's in English, so people can understand what they're singing about. To me, all those European anthems sound like Kraut war songs. Crap about shining helmets, proud farmers, and butterflies.
The Hindenburg, the Hohnfriedberger, and Infants of the Patriarchy.
Followed by unintelligible monkey sounds.
Europe is a ruddy jungle, eh.
Wolf Island.
Please note: No Europeans were harmed in the making of this post. We tried, but the bastards were all watching wanky men poncing around a lawn kicking a tiny little ball.
Oh well. May the best man win. Best men.
Hairy gits in short pants.
Enough said.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, January 22, 2012
SEE THIS NOW: CANTONESE GIRLS IN SAN FRANCISCO, WOMBATS IN THONGS, PALE FAT FISH, AND OTHER THINGS
If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you may be wondering what kind of person writes this garbage.
Who is ‘At The Back of the Hill’ (ATBOTH), and what goes on in his mind?
Is he really both sanity-challenged AND the club bore?
Yes.
Affirmative to all of the above.
AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL DETAILS
The short version is that I was born in Hawthorne General Hospital via a Caesarian in 1959, spent slightly over two years in El Secundo (Southern California), and then we all moved to the Netherlands. My father, who was a WWII Royal Canadian Air Force bomber pilot and an aeronautical engineer; my mother, a former radioman in the Waves (women serving in the US Navy during WWII) and a language scholar; my brother, a bright young man who was four years old at the time; and myself, a loud two-and-a-half year old whose most memorable accomplishment up till then had been pissing in my father's eye when he changed my diapers.
[I heard about the eye-pissing incident several times, every year. So much that I have taken it and made it my own. Boastfully so. Yes. It was me. I did it. With great force and determination. Oh gallant bladder! Nu.]
After a few years in Bussum and Naarden, we moved to Valkenswaard, a lively village with cigar factories and a surfeit of drinking establishments near the Belgian border. There were other expats there, mostly Indo-Dutch exiles.
Other than a vibrant night life it was a culturally rather empty place. Despite my general distaste for much that is Dutch, because of Netherlandish attitudes towards Americans, I nevertheless think back fondly to the town. Some of the people there were marvelously insightful, human, and twisted.
When I was eighteen I returned to the United States, nominally to get an education. Dropped out of college in the eighties, worked first at a tobacconist, later as a draughtsman. For a while I was employed as a cashier and bookkeeper at an Indian restaurant. Have been doing credit and collections since the early nineties.
In the eighties and nineties I travelled a bit. South-East Asia mostly.
I've also visited Canada a couple of times and I've been back to the Netherlands.
I currently live within walking distance of Grace Cathedral, San Francisco Chinatown, and North Beach. Also Polk Street and the Tenderloin.
I often eat alone, though NOT by choice.
I am not as happy as I was a few years ago, but I am not bitter.
If anything at all, I am forward-looking.
Pipesmoker. Early fifties. Not overweight.
Somewhat multi-lingual, but let's not exaggerate it.
Animals I most identify with: Badgers, Toads, Raccoons, Crows, and Penguins. In exactly that order.
Favourite authors: Vladimir Nabokov. Somerset Maugham. Joyce Cary. Evelyn Waugh.
As well as J. P. Dunleavy, John Irving, Anthony Trollope, Jane Austen, and Wyndham Lewis. Plus Kipling and Simenon.
Are there any questions? Please note that there will NOT be a test.
Now, you may have seen various subjects on this blog that made you wonder: wombats, nudity, fish, tobacco, and food.
WOMBATS
Strictly a metaphor. Or an intellectual conceit of sorts.
Back in 2008, after a slew of comments by various people that prominently mentioned wombats, I wrote a post entitled now more wombat than ever, in which I presented what little I knew of the bad tempered marsupial. It was not enough. Later I wrote baggy boxers, where I cited one of my readers, who postulated that "The petite Asian schoolgirl blushed prettily when she realized the wombat had made off with her panties... what would she do, with an elderly rabbi about to arrive for Torah study (which, under no circumstances, would involve Jeebus)."
The mental image thus created is enchanting. Surely you too can imagine a rambunctious wombat gleefully stealing silken garments?
Throw in an aged Torah-scholar, a sweetly blushing young miss, and a lovely crisp autumn evening, and you have something very good indeed.
"The petite Asian schoolgirl blushed prettily when she realized the wombat had made off with her panties... what would she do, with an elderly rabbi about to arrive for Torah study (which, under no circumstances, would involve Jeebus)."
Jeebus, step away from the panties!
Pervert!
Wombats have cropped up here occasionally since then.
Most recently in 'a silken camisole'.
I still have not eaten one.
NUDITY
The bathing post, naked middle-aged white man, turned out to be a magnet. Since then, any number of people looking for naked middle-aged white men, naked middle-aged women, naked weightlifters, naked fat gangsters, and similar subjects, have happily pounced upon my blog, only to drift away disconsolately after realizing that there were no photos.
No, I will not put up a picture of anything in any way relating to these subjects. If you want to see a naked middle-aged white man, you shall have to be in my apartment when I take a bath. We can talk while I soak.
[I feel safe making this offer, as the vast majority of searches for 'Naked Middle-Aged White Men' originate in Australia, with the Gulf States a distant second, and Germany making up the remainder. Wombats and their kin are experiencing a drought of naked middle-aged white males - or it may be that the concept appeals to them on a multitude of esthetic levels - but no one else has quite the same burning itch.]
Other than that, nudity is sometimes mentioned, occasionally dwelt upon, but an unimportant theme overall.
I like nudity, and would like it to happen fairly frequently.
But there really isn't much to say about it.
Feel free to prove me wrong.
FISH
Actually, not fish so much as degenerates finding my blog by means of eccentric search criteria.
One of which shows them a seafood post.
Years ago I wrote in-depth about herring. Anyone who grew up in the Netherlands probably loves this fish.
The favoured version in the Netherlands is groene haring ('green herring'), which is nearly raw by American standards.
Curing is by removal of the gills, throat, and internal organs, with the exception of the alvlees klier ('pancreas'), whose enzymes will help tenderize the fish. Following that it is lightly salted and packed in a cold place to ripen.
The more salt is used, the longer it can be ripened.
The method used by the Dutch and Flemish for herring was discovered by Willem Beukelszoon Van Biervliet in 1380.
It is often served with chopped onions, or itself coarse chopped and incorporated in a salad (“gehakte haring”, “haring sla”), although fish-mongers also sell it breaded for pan-frying. Bread and herring is delicious.
If at a buffet, good rye bread, pickles, onions, and ice-cold Genever (Dutch-style gin) might be served alongside.
[ADDENDUM: The Japanese use herring and similar fish in sushi, most notably mackerel. Like herring, mackerel is fine and fatty, but while the meat of herring is rather buttery, that of mackerel is oily. There is, consequently, a profound difference in mouth-feel, especially when raw. Because of this, and differences in texture and density, the fish can spoil quickly; it must be eaten soon after capture.
For sushi, a very mild cure for the mackerel (to prolong edibility) is common. Taste-wise, it strongly echoes Dutch-style herring, which is also lightly cured. There is even a similarity of appearance, though the flesh looks softer and less glistensome, and has a yellower hue. It is close enough, and hence very nice.]
The 'tempting' post in question, fat green virgins, proved to be electric.
Just imagine what kind of customer was attracted by that name.
Since then other titles have ensnared their own fan clubs.
You can see the entire slew of fetishes here: PERVERT TAUNTING.
'Pervert taunting' is the label for a series of articles in which I entertain myself at the expense of unfortunate internet hogs.
I've enjoyed it. Maybe they have too.
If they have a sense of humour.
TOBACCO, AND FOOD
Both of these subjects have their own rubrics. Tobacco is best represented by TOBACCO INDEX, which contains a complete list of all tobacco-related posts, briefly described, with links to each article.
And food crops up all over the place.
Useful food labels are: FOOD, 真好食 (chan ho sik: good to eat), Chinese Food, My food, 菜譜 (choi pou: recipes), 雲吞 (wantan: won ton), 腸粉 (cheung fan: ricesheet noodle), and Indo food.
Many of the recipes are also posted on COOKING WITH A LIZARD, but not yet all. My intent is to eventually have all recipes posted there for useful reference, with links to the original article.
CANADA
A recurring theme, which I cannot explain. Don't live there, don't want to live there. They have ghastly beer, and I'm not a beer drinker anyway.
They also have tea.
We have that too.
Why Canada?
AFTER WORD
As far as what other subjects interest me, if they aren't anywhere on the blog itself, they're represented by the blogroll to the right. These are links to the sites of people who write well, and whose blogs I enjoy reading. Many of them are exceptionally knowledgeable.
Exceptions being of course the newspapers.
I'm always curious about my readers. Other than the regulars who have by their feedback given me a good idea what kind of people they are and what interests them (and thank you guys for your company and frequent wit and insight), I don't really know much about you.
Please leave comments, or contact me via my letterbox (below) to introduce yourselves.
Also feel free to ask me about other things you've seen here, or, if you wish to bring them to the attention of someone else, for a link to a post.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Who is ‘At The Back of the Hill’ (ATBOTH), and what goes on in his mind?
Is he really both sanity-challenged AND the club bore?
Yes.
Affirmative to all of the above.
AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL DETAILS
The short version is that I was born in Hawthorne General Hospital via a Caesarian in 1959, spent slightly over two years in El Secundo (Southern California), and then we all moved to the Netherlands. My father, who was a WWII Royal Canadian Air Force bomber pilot and an aeronautical engineer; my mother, a former radioman in the Waves (women serving in the US Navy during WWII) and a language scholar; my brother, a bright young man who was four years old at the time; and myself, a loud two-and-a-half year old whose most memorable accomplishment up till then had been pissing in my father's eye when he changed my diapers.
[I heard about the eye-pissing incident several times, every year. So much that I have taken it and made it my own. Boastfully so. Yes. It was me. I did it. With great force and determination. Oh gallant bladder! Nu.]
After a few years in Bussum and Naarden, we moved to Valkenswaard, a lively village with cigar factories and a surfeit of drinking establishments near the Belgian border. There were other expats there, mostly Indo-Dutch exiles.
Other than a vibrant night life it was a culturally rather empty place. Despite my general distaste for much that is Dutch, because of Netherlandish attitudes towards Americans, I nevertheless think back fondly to the town. Some of the people there were marvelously insightful, human, and twisted.
When I was eighteen I returned to the United States, nominally to get an education. Dropped out of college in the eighties, worked first at a tobacconist, later as a draughtsman. For a while I was employed as a cashier and bookkeeper at an Indian restaurant. Have been doing credit and collections since the early nineties.
In the eighties and nineties I travelled a bit. South-East Asia mostly.
I've also visited Canada a couple of times and I've been back to the Netherlands.
I currently live within walking distance of Grace Cathedral, San Francisco Chinatown, and North Beach. Also Polk Street and the Tenderloin.
I often eat alone, though NOT by choice.
I am not as happy as I was a few years ago, but I am not bitter.
If anything at all, I am forward-looking.
Pipesmoker. Early fifties. Not overweight.
Somewhat multi-lingual, but let's not exaggerate it.
Animals I most identify with: Badgers, Toads, Raccoons, Crows, and Penguins. In exactly that order.
Favourite authors: Vladimir Nabokov. Somerset Maugham. Joyce Cary. Evelyn Waugh.
As well as J. P. Dunleavy, John Irving, Anthony Trollope, Jane Austen, and Wyndham Lewis. Plus Kipling and Simenon.
Are there any questions? Please note that there will NOT be a test.
Now, you may have seen various subjects on this blog that made you wonder: wombats, nudity, fish, tobacco, and food.
WOMBATS
Strictly a metaphor. Or an intellectual conceit of sorts.
Back in 2008, after a slew of comments by various people that prominently mentioned wombats, I wrote a post entitled now more wombat than ever, in which I presented what little I knew of the bad tempered marsupial. It was not enough. Later I wrote baggy boxers, where I cited one of my readers, who postulated that "The petite Asian schoolgirl blushed prettily when she realized the wombat had made off with her panties... what would she do, with an elderly rabbi about to arrive for Torah study (which, under no circumstances, would involve Jeebus)."
The mental image thus created is enchanting. Surely you too can imagine a rambunctious wombat gleefully stealing silken garments?
Throw in an aged Torah-scholar, a sweetly blushing young miss, and a lovely crisp autumn evening, and you have something very good indeed.
"The petite Asian schoolgirl blushed prettily when she realized the wombat had made off with her panties... what would she do, with an elderly rabbi about to arrive for Torah study (which, under no circumstances, would involve Jeebus)."
Jeebus, step away from the panties!
Pervert!
Wombats have cropped up here occasionally since then.
Most recently in 'a silken camisole'.
I still have not eaten one.
NUDITY
The bathing post, naked middle-aged white man, turned out to be a magnet. Since then, any number of people looking for naked middle-aged white men, naked middle-aged women, naked weightlifters, naked fat gangsters, and similar subjects, have happily pounced upon my blog, only to drift away disconsolately after realizing that there were no photos.
No, I will not put up a picture of anything in any way relating to these subjects. If you want to see a naked middle-aged white man, you shall have to be in my apartment when I take a bath. We can talk while I soak.
[I feel safe making this offer, as the vast majority of searches for 'Naked Middle-Aged White Men' originate in Australia, with the Gulf States a distant second, and Germany making up the remainder. Wombats and their kin are experiencing a drought of naked middle-aged white males - or it may be that the concept appeals to them on a multitude of esthetic levels - but no one else has quite the same burning itch.]
Other than that, nudity is sometimes mentioned, occasionally dwelt upon, but an unimportant theme overall.
I like nudity, and would like it to happen fairly frequently.
But there really isn't much to say about it.
Feel free to prove me wrong.
FISH
Actually, not fish so much as degenerates finding my blog by means of eccentric search criteria.
One of which shows them a seafood post.
Years ago I wrote in-depth about herring. Anyone who grew up in the Netherlands probably loves this fish.
The favoured version in the Netherlands is groene haring ('green herring'), which is nearly raw by American standards.
Curing is by removal of the gills, throat, and internal organs, with the exception of the alvlees klier ('pancreas'), whose enzymes will help tenderize the fish. Following that it is lightly salted and packed in a cold place to ripen.
The more salt is used, the longer it can be ripened.
The method used by the Dutch and Flemish for herring was discovered by Willem Beukelszoon Van Biervliet in 1380.
It is often served with chopped onions, or itself coarse chopped and incorporated in a salad (“gehakte haring”, “haring sla”), although fish-mongers also sell it breaded for pan-frying. Bread and herring is delicious.
If at a buffet, good rye bread, pickles, onions, and ice-cold Genever (Dutch-style gin) might be served alongside.
[ADDENDUM: The Japanese use herring and similar fish in sushi, most notably mackerel. Like herring, mackerel is fine and fatty, but while the meat of herring is rather buttery, that of mackerel is oily. There is, consequently, a profound difference in mouth-feel, especially when raw. Because of this, and differences in texture and density, the fish can spoil quickly; it must be eaten soon after capture.
For sushi, a very mild cure for the mackerel (to prolong edibility) is common. Taste-wise, it strongly echoes Dutch-style herring, which is also lightly cured. There is even a similarity of appearance, though the flesh looks softer and less glistensome, and has a yellower hue. It is close enough, and hence very nice.]
The 'tempting' post in question, fat green virgins, proved to be electric.
Just imagine what kind of customer was attracted by that name.
Since then other titles have ensnared their own fan clubs.
You can see the entire slew of fetishes here: PERVERT TAUNTING.
'Pervert taunting' is the label for a series of articles in which I entertain myself at the expense of unfortunate internet hogs.
I've enjoyed it. Maybe they have too.
If they have a sense of humour.
TOBACCO, AND FOOD
Both of these subjects have their own rubrics. Tobacco is best represented by TOBACCO INDEX, which contains a complete list of all tobacco-related posts, briefly described, with links to each article.
And food crops up all over the place.
Useful food labels are: FOOD, 真好食 (chan ho sik: good to eat), Chinese Food, My food, 菜譜 (choi pou: recipes), 雲吞 (wantan: won ton), 腸粉 (cheung fan: ricesheet noodle), and Indo food.
Many of the recipes are also posted on COOKING WITH A LIZARD, but not yet all. My intent is to eventually have all recipes posted there for useful reference, with links to the original article.
CANADA
A recurring theme, which I cannot explain. Don't live there, don't want to live there. They have ghastly beer, and I'm not a beer drinker anyway.
They also have tea.
We have that too.
Why Canada?
AFTER WORD
As far as what other subjects interest me, if they aren't anywhere on the blog itself, they're represented by the blogroll to the right. These are links to the sites of people who write well, and whose blogs I enjoy reading. Many of them are exceptionally knowledgeable.
Exceptions being of course the newspapers.
I'm always curious about my readers. Other than the regulars who have by their feedback given me a good idea what kind of people they are and what interests them (and thank you guys for your company and frequent wit and insight), I don't really know much about you.
Please leave comments, or contact me via my letterbox (below) to introduce yourselves.
Also feel free to ask me about other things you've seen here, or, if you wish to bring them to the attention of someone else, for a link to a post.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, March 08, 2010
CANADIAN SEA-DOG EATERS
What, you are asking, is a sea-dog? Especially in this context?
No, it isn't another PETA-approved circumlocution for fish ("sea-kitten"), but the Dutch word for seal.
The Canadians plan to put sea-dog on the menu in the dining hall of the parliament, prepared with bacon and a port-wine reduction.
The Dutch, as exemplars of all that is good and fluffy in Europe, are outraged, nauseated, horrified, and appalled.
Per commentary underneath the articles in Dutch newspapers.
THEY EAT SEA-DOG! DISGUSTING!
In the eyes of many writers, Canadians are utterly barbaric, why, they're positively Yankee!
And consequently (because of that Yankee-like barbarism), it is right and proper to boycott Canada, write angry letters to their diplomats, scream at Canadians......
Well gosh-darn it, the Canadians are repulsive retrograde inbred morons, vile, filthy, despicable, and white.
Many Dutch people swear that they will never EVER buy anything Canadian again. Nor visit that poxy armpit of a country. EVER.
Because the Canadians eat seal.
Cooked with bacon in a port-wine reduction.
THE FOOD OF THE GODS
What is amusing is that this vituperation is coming from a people that eats smoked horsemeat ('paarden rook vlees'), finely ground cow udders and pig-testicles ('frikandel', as manufactured by the average village butchershop), mystery-meat sludge ('kroket' - usually less than thirty percent animal-derived protein in a grey starchy goo, enrobed with a crispy crunchy outer surface), spoiled lamb meat (ie "shawarma" - often actually pork, which is why the fine gentlemen selling it often won't eat it themselves - the Algemeen Dagblad in several articles over the years has established that whatever meat it is, it is usually not fit for consumption in any case), and several other food products that surely must convince the visitor that the Dutch have an 'interesting and idiosyncratic cuisine' that is entirely their own.
Plus questionable taste.
But nope.
"Canadians are nasty pigs! Savage daemonic pigs! Horrible frightful stone-age pigs! Unfeeling and unwashed brutal pigs! Uncivilized! Un-European!"
It seems rather graceless and ungrateful that the Cheesypoofs ('kaaskoppen') should vociferate so.
The Dutch always insist that it was the Canadians who freed them from the Germans, the Yanks did nothing, those Yanks only joined the war effort when it was immensely profitable to do so, after others had done all the work.......
Yep, the Canadians. The filthy rotten Yanks had NOTHING to do with the liberation of Holland, and probably conspired with the Germans before the war. ONLY the Canadians.
Horrid, horrid Canadians. Bah!
A nice seal chop with bacon and a port-wine reduction sounds absolutely delicious.
Probably goes very well with a crisp cold Heineken.
I really envy the Canadian parliamentarians.
No, it isn't another PETA-approved circumlocution for fish ("sea-kitten"), but the Dutch word for seal.
The Canadians plan to put sea-dog on the menu in the dining hall of the parliament, prepared with bacon and a port-wine reduction.
The Dutch, as exemplars of all that is good and fluffy in Europe, are outraged, nauseated, horrified, and appalled.
Per commentary underneath the articles in Dutch newspapers.
THEY EAT SEA-DOG! DISGUSTING!
In the eyes of many writers, Canadians are utterly barbaric, why, they're positively Yankee!
And consequently (because of that Yankee-like barbarism), it is right and proper to boycott Canada, write angry letters to their diplomats, scream at Canadians......
Well gosh-darn it, the Canadians are repulsive retrograde inbred morons, vile, filthy, despicable, and white.
Many Dutch people swear that they will never EVER buy anything Canadian again. Nor visit that poxy armpit of a country. EVER.
Because the Canadians eat seal.
Cooked with bacon in a port-wine reduction.
THE FOOD OF THE GODS
What is amusing is that this vituperation is coming from a people that eats smoked horsemeat ('paarden rook vlees'), finely ground cow udders and pig-testicles ('frikandel', as manufactured by the average village butchershop), mystery-meat sludge ('kroket' - usually less than thirty percent animal-derived protein in a grey starchy goo, enrobed with a crispy crunchy outer surface), spoiled lamb meat (ie "shawarma" - often actually pork, which is why the fine gentlemen selling it often won't eat it themselves - the Algemeen Dagblad in several articles over the years has established that whatever meat it is, it is usually not fit for consumption in any case), and several other food products that surely must convince the visitor that the Dutch have an 'interesting and idiosyncratic cuisine' that is entirely their own.
Plus questionable taste.
But nope.
"Canadians are nasty pigs! Savage daemonic pigs! Horrible frightful stone-age pigs! Unfeeling and unwashed brutal pigs! Uncivilized! Un-European!"
It seems rather graceless and ungrateful that the Cheesypoofs ('kaaskoppen') should vociferate so.
The Dutch always insist that it was the Canadians who freed them from the Germans, the Yanks did nothing, those Yanks only joined the war effort when it was immensely profitable to do so, after others had done all the work.......
Yep, the Canadians. The filthy rotten Yanks had NOTHING to do with the liberation of Holland, and probably conspired with the Germans before the war. ONLY the Canadians.
Horrid, horrid Canadians. Bah!
A nice seal chop with bacon and a port-wine reduction sounds absolutely delicious.
Probably goes very well with a crisp cold Heineken.
I really envy the Canadian parliamentarians.
Friday, March 20, 2009
INFANDOUS!
Something described as infandous is "too odious to be expressed or mentioned." The word was recently used by mr. Alykhan Velshi to describe British Member of Parliament George Galloway.
Quote:
The Canadian immigration office has confirmed that Galloway's entry was deemed inadmissible on national security grounds and he would not be allowed into the country.
Alykhan Velshi, spokesman for the immigration minister, described the MP for Bethnal Green and Bow as an "infandous street-corner Cromwell".
He later told Channel 4 News that the MP for Bethnal Green and Bow "is on the record bragging about providing financial support to Hamas, an organisation which is a banned terrorist organisation in Canada."
"He has expressed sympathy for the Taliban murderers who are trying to kill Canadian and British soldiers in Afghanistan."
"This is not someone who we believe we should be giving special treatment in terms of allowing them access to our country. Mr Galloway has said he wants to come to Canada to raise money for these groups that are out there killing Canadians."
"It is actually quite odious and I think it is entirely appropriate for our security agencies to say that if they have advance notice that Mr Galloway is going to come to Canada to pee on our carpet, that we should deny him entry to the home."
Source:http://www.channel4.com/news/articles/politics/infandous+galloway+faces+canada+ban/3039702
Velshi said the decision was taken in accordance with section 34(1) of the country's immigration act.
The act states: "A permanent resident or a foreign national is inadmissible on security grounds for:
(a) engaging in an act of espionage or an act of subversion against a democratic government, institution or process as they are understood in Canada;
(b) engaging in or instigating the subversion by force of any government;
(c) engaging in terrorism;
(d) being a danger to the security of Canada;
(e) engaging in acts of violence that would or might endanger the lives or safety of persons in Canada; or
(f) being a member of an organisation that there are reasonable grounds to believe engages, has engaged or will engage in acts referred to in paragraph (a), (b) or (c)."
FREEDOM OF SPEECH
Much as I am filled with glee over this utterly delightful turn of events, and even though George Galloway is such an odious piece of pustulant subhuman garbage that his name may induce fits of vomitting by people of delicate sensibilities, I do not support banning his entry.
INFANDY
Let the man speak. Let his repulsive thoughts be vented. Above all, counter-argue him and his brain-rotted fanclub. Prove him wrong, and prove his ideology depraved.
Then arrest him and his fiendish supporters for engaging in an act of espionage or an act of subversion against a democratic government, institution or process as they are understood in Canada; engaging in or instigating the subversion by force of any government; engaging in terrorism; being a danger to the security of Canada; engaging in acts of violence that would or might endanger the lives or safety of persons in Canada; and being a member of an organisation that there are reasonable grounds to believe engages, has engaged or will engage in acts referred to in paragraph a, b or c.
And if he does pee on the carpet, fine him for vandalism and displaying his wangle in public.
It won't be the first time.
Quote:
The Canadian immigration office has confirmed that Galloway's entry was deemed inadmissible on national security grounds and he would not be allowed into the country.
Alykhan Velshi, spokesman for the immigration minister, described the MP for Bethnal Green and Bow as an "infandous street-corner Cromwell".
He later told Channel 4 News that the MP for Bethnal Green and Bow "is on the record bragging about providing financial support to Hamas, an organisation which is a banned terrorist organisation in Canada."
"He has expressed sympathy for the Taliban murderers who are trying to kill Canadian and British soldiers in Afghanistan."
"This is not someone who we believe we should be giving special treatment in terms of allowing them access to our country. Mr Galloway has said he wants to come to Canada to raise money for these groups that are out there killing Canadians."
"It is actually quite odious and I think it is entirely appropriate for our security agencies to say that if they have advance notice that Mr Galloway is going to come to Canada to pee on our carpet, that we should deny him entry to the home."
Source:http://www.channel4.com/news/articles/politics/infandous+galloway+faces+canada+ban/3039702
Velshi said the decision was taken in accordance with section 34(1) of the country's immigration act.
The act states: "A permanent resident or a foreign national is inadmissible on security grounds for:
(a) engaging in an act of espionage or an act of subversion against a democratic government, institution or process as they are understood in Canada;
(b) engaging in or instigating the subversion by force of any government;
(c) engaging in terrorism;
(d) being a danger to the security of Canada;
(e) engaging in acts of violence that would or might endanger the lives or safety of persons in Canada; or
(f) being a member of an organisation that there are reasonable grounds to believe engages, has engaged or will engage in acts referred to in paragraph (a), (b) or (c)."
FREEDOM OF SPEECH
Much as I am filled with glee over this utterly delightful turn of events, and even though George Galloway is such an odious piece of pustulant subhuman garbage that his name may induce fits of vomitting by people of delicate sensibilities, I do not support banning his entry.
INFANDY
Let the man speak. Let his repulsive thoughts be vented. Above all, counter-argue him and his brain-rotted fanclub. Prove him wrong, and prove his ideology depraved.
Then arrest him and his fiendish supporters for engaging in an act of espionage or an act of subversion against a democratic government, institution or process as they are understood in Canada; engaging in or instigating the subversion by force of any government; engaging in terrorism; being a danger to the security of Canada; engaging in acts of violence that would or might endanger the lives or safety of persons in Canada; and being a member of an organisation that there are reasonable grounds to believe engages, has engaged or will engage in acts referred to in paragraph a, b or c.
And if he does pee on the carpet, fine him for vandalism and displaying his wangle in public.
It won't be the first time.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
DURBAN
Back in 2001, when I criticized the Durban Conference (the world conference on racism sponsored by the UN), I was castigated by a number of right-thinking Dutch weasels and their fellow-travelers, one of whom called me a Jew, a member of Kahane Chai, a possible/probable killer of children, and an advocate of ethnic cleansing.
It is therefore with relish that I reproduce the following text, lifted from the Arutz Sheva website, regarding the follow-up conference scheduled for next year.
[Begin quote]
Canada: Next Durban Conference Will Be No Better
Canadian Foreign Minister Maxime Bernier and the Secretary of State for Multiculturalism and Canadian Identity, Jason Kenney, issued a statement on January 23 in which they announced that their country would not be taking part in the UN's 2009 World Conference Against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance in Durban, South Africa. The reason for their decision, they said, was the prospect that the conference would again degenerate into a festival of anti-Semitism, as occurred in 2001.
"Canada has a long and proud history of fighting racism, discrimination and intolerance in all its forms," said Minister Bernier. "It was for this reason, and its promise of concerted global action against racism, that we participated in the 2001 in Durban, South Africa. Unfortunately, that conference degenerated into open and divisive expressions of intolerance and anti-Semitism that undermined the principles of the United Nations and the very goals the conference sought to achieve.
"Secretary of State Kenney and I had hoped that the preparatory process for the 2009 Durban Review Conference would remedy the mistakes of the past," Bernier explained. "We have concluded that, despite our efforts, it will not. Canada will therefore not participate in the 2009 conference."
"Canada will continue to focus its efforts on genuine anti-racism initiatives that make a difference," added Kenney. "Our government’s decision to seek full membership on the Task Force for International Cooperation on Holocaust Education, Remembrance, and Research demonstrates that we remain committed to the fight against racism and to the promotion of freedom, democracy, human rights and the rule of law at home and around the world."
[End quote]
=============================================
For perspective, I also reproduce an e-mail I sent on September 7, 2001.
The recipient was the Suriname Mailing List.
[Begin e-mail]
From:
Sent: Friday, September 07, 2001 2:44 PM
To:
Subject: Durban
Odd that there has been no comment on the list regarding that travesty in Durban.
Surely my fellow list members have opinions?
The results of the Durban conference sofar:
The Jews (eternal victims of bigotry) have been slammed by the Arabs (slave traders for millennia, who still discriminate against those who are neither Arab nor Muslim, and still surreptitiously support slavery). Odd that those who pretty much invented the slave trade are being allowed to dominate the proceedings... third world solidarity in action?
The African nations, who profited from selling their war-captives and minorities to Europeans and Arabs, now want to be paid again. No mention of reparations for the actual descendants of the merchandise, who of course do not live in Africa anymore.
It is proposed that tax-money paid in part by the descendants of slaves should be given to those who are in part descended from the sellers of those same slaves. And oddly, no one is demanding that the Arabs pay any reparations at all... third world solidarity in action?
India, whose treatment of its oppressed classes is uncivilized and a scandal, gets off Scot-free by collaborating with Africa and the Arabs to slam Israel and the west.... third world solidarity in action?
No mention of discrimination against the Roma by the Slavs? Odd, I didn't know that Eastern Europe was part of the third world....
Shouldn't more time have been spent on actually discussing racism in the world today (such as the dismal record of my own country as regards minorities and the US justice system) and less time devoted to the consideration of a markedly anti-western agenda by a bunch of third world failures with abominable human rights records?
Might it not have been more productive to look at how America and the European countries are dealing with minority issues?
These are, after all, reasonably successful nations who have actually attempted to deal with racism and discrimination.... quite unlike the repressive dictatorships which litter the Middle East, Africa, Asia, and South America.
The usual chorus of resentful tin-pot tyrants and greedy third-world beggar nations has been allowed to dominate the discussion, giving a shrill chorus of anti-western rhetoric, and sweeping their own rather glaring faults under the rug. One would almost think that hunger for an easy buck drove the proceedings... quite understandable, given that those who steal from their own people often see no reason why they shouldn't steal from everybody else.
Comments? A different opinion? Speak up, I am keen to hear your point of view.[End e-mail]
Today's readers will note that I have not changed very much in ten years, and neither has the world.
Attentive readers will undoubtedly also realize that there is a strong quotient of neener neener neener to this post. Along with a little bitterness.
It is therefore with relish that I reproduce the following text, lifted from the Arutz Sheva website, regarding the follow-up conference scheduled for next year.
[Begin quote]
Canada: Next Durban Conference Will Be No Better
Canadian Foreign Minister Maxime Bernier and the Secretary of State for Multiculturalism and Canadian Identity, Jason Kenney, issued a statement on January 23 in which they announced that their country would not be taking part in the UN's 2009 World Conference Against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance in Durban, South Africa. The reason for their decision, they said, was the prospect that the conference would again degenerate into a festival of anti-Semitism, as occurred in 2001.
"Canada has a long and proud history of fighting racism, discrimination and intolerance in all its forms," said Minister Bernier. "It was for this reason, and its promise of concerted global action against racism, that we participated in the 2001 in Durban, South Africa. Unfortunately, that conference degenerated into open and divisive expressions of intolerance and anti-Semitism that undermined the principles of the United Nations and the very goals the conference sought to achieve.
"Secretary of State Kenney and I had hoped that the preparatory process for the 2009 Durban Review Conference would remedy the mistakes of the past," Bernier explained. "We have concluded that, despite our efforts, it will not. Canada will therefore not participate in the 2009 conference."
"Canada will continue to focus its efforts on genuine anti-racism initiatives that make a difference," added Kenney. "Our government’s decision to seek full membership on the Task Force for International Cooperation on Holocaust Education, Remembrance, and Research demonstrates that we remain committed to the fight against racism and to the promotion of freedom, democracy, human rights and the rule of law at home and around the world."
[End quote]
=============================================
For perspective, I also reproduce an e-mail I sent on September 7, 2001.
The recipient was the Suriname Mailing List.
[Begin e-mail]
From:
Sent: Friday, September 07, 2001 2:44 PM
To:
Subject: Durban
Odd that there has been no comment on the list regarding that travesty in Durban.
Surely my fellow list members have opinions?
The results of the Durban conference sofar:
The Jews (eternal victims of bigotry) have been slammed by the Arabs (slave traders for millennia, who still discriminate against those who are neither Arab nor Muslim, and still surreptitiously support slavery). Odd that those who pretty much invented the slave trade are being allowed to dominate the proceedings... third world solidarity in action?
The African nations, who profited from selling their war-captives and minorities to Europeans and Arabs, now want to be paid again. No mention of reparations for the actual descendants of the merchandise, who of course do not live in Africa anymore.
It is proposed that tax-money paid in part by the descendants of slaves should be given to those who are in part descended from the sellers of those same slaves. And oddly, no one is demanding that the Arabs pay any reparations at all... third world solidarity in action?
India, whose treatment of its oppressed classes is uncivilized and a scandal, gets off Scot-free by collaborating with Africa and the Arabs to slam Israel and the west.... third world solidarity in action?
No mention of discrimination against the Roma by the Slavs? Odd, I didn't know that Eastern Europe was part of the third world....
Shouldn't more time have been spent on actually discussing racism in the world today (such as the dismal record of my own country as regards minorities and the US justice system) and less time devoted to the consideration of a markedly anti-western agenda by a bunch of third world failures with abominable human rights records?
Might it not have been more productive to look at how America and the European countries are dealing with minority issues?
These are, after all, reasonably successful nations who have actually attempted to deal with racism and discrimination.... quite unlike the repressive dictatorships which litter the Middle East, Africa, Asia, and South America.
The usual chorus of resentful tin-pot tyrants and greedy third-world beggar nations has been allowed to dominate the discussion, giving a shrill chorus of anti-western rhetoric, and sweeping their own rather glaring faults under the rug. One would almost think that hunger for an easy buck drove the proceedings... quite understandable, given that those who steal from their own people often see no reason why they shouldn't steal from everybody else.
Comments? A different opinion? Speak up, I am keen to hear your point of view.[End e-mail]
Today's readers will note that I have not changed very much in ten years, and neither has the world.
Attentive readers will undoubtedly also realize that there is a strong quotient of neener neener neener to this post. Along with a little bitterness.
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Oh dang, according to the news we're starting another heat event today with an indefinite end. This will please all the sweaty nudists. ...
