Quote: "According to Cunningham, readers are more intelligent, due to their increased vocabulary and memory skills, along with their ability to spot patterns. They have higher cognitive functions than the average non-reader and can communicate more thoroughly and effectively."
Reaction: well sh*t yeah.
Okay, that wasn't the most literate response possible to that lovely passage, but it was heartfelt.
The next quote comes across as a little saccharine, or is it pablumish?
"You should only fall in love with someone who can see your soul. It should be someone who has reached inside you and holds those innermost parts of you no one could find before. It should be someone who doesn’t just know you, but wholly and completely understands you."
See my soul? Not so sure about that. What if they're wearing blinkers? Or aiming a gun? Anyway, my soul is probably a dark little snake-pit, with venomous creepy-crawlies scurrying about, making skittery sounds as scales rasp the ichor-stained cement underfoot.
Or under belly. Snakes don't have legs.
Besides, complete understanding of anybody is a dangerous thing; it leads to manipulation, and boredom. There should always be surprises, things that make you sit up startled, realizing that there's stuff you just never knew about the other person.
"She used to be an assassin for the Mossad? No wonder she has such depths of sensitivity! AND it explains her being so neurotically detail oriented! How wonderful!"
[Note: those examples are hypothetical.]
Love (or lust) should be reality-based.
But that's just my opinion.
I found these statements in an article that advises people to date literate folk. Which, I flatter myself, means me.
You should only date me.
Yes. Me.
Why Readers, Scientifically, Are The Best People To Fall In Love With
After reading that very brief essay -- which regrettably didn't provide pie-charts, statistics, or cite research data to back up its wonderful claims,
I feel all warm and fuzzy. Holy crap I'm lovable!
Another totally self-serving quote:
"Falling in love with a reader will enhance not just the conversation, but the level of it."
Let us, therefore, not talk about me, as I am rather shallow, and so inevitably the conversation would be short, unless it were boring and repetitive. There's not much there to thrill.
Let us talk about you.
Everybody I have ever loved had books coming out of their ears.
That includes friends, relatives, and "huggable people".
Especially objects of affection.
Warm, and fuzzy.
Books.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, February 08, 2015
A COMPLETE WASTE OF TIME
Since the internet started dominating our lives, we humans have become more adept at frittering away the precious moments of existence than ever. Primarily by watching infantile video clips that do not add to our understanding, bring no lasting improvement, and all in all make us ashamed that we have eyes.
No, I'm not talking about Japanese girlie pop groups.
Or pantie-obsessed anime series late at night.
Not even buckets of nekkid filth.
KITTEN VIDEOS!
We've all been roped in to watch five to ten minutess of lovable furballs just being cute as the dickens. Feh! Some of us -- the little old ladies particularly -- have creamed in our gaily striped boxers shorts after clicking a link. Our lives are truly shallow, we cannot express ourselves, and we haven't bathed in days.
TEN MINUTES YOU WILL NEVER HAVE AGAIN!
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LI7-Cu-9wWM.]
I advise you not to click 'play'. It's pointless. Completely without any redeeming merits whatsoever, nay, a monumental waste of nine minutes and twenty three seconds that you will regret for hours, even days.
That was stupid.
If you are an idiot, you want more.
Very well.
IT'S NOT A WEASEL!
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dHwa9Wh8EZc.]
There. Don't you feel embarrassed?
You could scream.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
No, I'm not talking about Japanese girlie pop groups.
Or pantie-obsessed anime series late at night.
Not even buckets of nekkid filth.
KITTEN VIDEOS!
We've all been roped in to watch five to ten minutess of lovable furballs just being cute as the dickens. Feh! Some of us -- the little old ladies particularly -- have creamed in our gaily striped boxers shorts after clicking a link. Our lives are truly shallow, we cannot express ourselves, and we haven't bathed in days.
TEN MINUTES YOU WILL NEVER HAVE AGAIN!
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LI7-Cu-9wWM.]
I advise you not to click 'play'. It's pointless. Completely without any redeeming merits whatsoever, nay, a monumental waste of nine minutes and twenty three seconds that you will regret for hours, even days.
That was stupid.
If you are an idiot, you want more.
Very well.
IT'S NOT A WEASEL!
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dHwa9Wh8EZc.]
There. Don't you feel embarrassed?
You could scream.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, February 07, 2015
VISIT BIRMINGHAM!
In a spat reported by the BBC, Times writer & food critic Giles Coren said "if I'm going out of London to eat it's more productive to leave the country." This in sneering reference to the food in Birmingham, which seems to have won praise elsewhere. It turns out that there are FOUR restaurants in Birmingham that have received kudos from the Michelin guide.
London has 62 Michelin-starred restaurants.
There are five in Dublin, three in Bath, and three in Bristol.
What's almighty flabberghasting is that there are any at all.
In the British Isles.
Yes, I know. That's an undeserved sneer; Britain has come a long way since the darkness of the twentieth century, and they've learned how to cook. It IS a miracle.
Credit for that development goes to the increased availability of quality ingredients and the British penchant for travelling to warm places in the Mediterranean when on holiday. Exposure and being able to purchase a variety of excellent products inevitably inspires.
This is not your grandmother's England.
Rationing ended quite a while ago.
And the Victorians are dead.
Along with their tastes.
The BBC article referenced above is Food fight: Is there culinary life outside London?, published on the 5th of February.
It makes for some interesting reading.
"Sorry, I've eaten in its posh ones and they're not my sort of thing at all -- just a bit rubbish."
I'm sure that's quite unfair. After all, Giles Coren is British, a Londoner, and a food critic, and therefore beyond a shadow of doubt a repulsive and stuck-up twit. A frightful snob.
Every time I've been to London, I have ended up with both acid indigestion and constipation that tormented me for several days. This was entirely due to the food, because no matter how irritating the natives of a place are, they seldom affect my bowels. Londoners, while almost universally loathsome, are no more remarkable in that regard than the people of Oakland or Marin County. The next time I visit Blighty, I am resolved to travel north to Birmingham.
BIRMINGHAM, MUSLIM, FOX
Per well-publicised reports, there are an inordinate number of Pakistanis or some such in the city, to such great extent that delicate Americans fear to go there lest they be forced to eat curry. Given that our diet is largely based on ketchup and potatoes, perhaps that fear is well-founded.
Nothing, I imagine, could be worse for the standard-issue white Anglo-Saxon Protestant than a healthy diet full of flavour.
That, of course, explains our school lunch programme. After a steady routine of blah canteen food for several years, damned well everyone has acquired very white tastes.
More than our ideals and the 'Great American Dream', this holds us together, and unifies us against a world we fear and do not know.
It is the most English aspect of American civilization.
Having grown up without the blessings of either Londonian snobbism or Yankee culinary paranoia, Birmingham sounds like a fine place.
If nothing else, the Desi khanna ought to be excellent.
Nice roti-shoti: chawal, dal, aur parotha.
Obviously achar is available.
Nimbu and aam.
Laziz!
伯明翰 — 唐人街
A further curiosity, the Wing Yip grocery market chain (榮業行 'wing yip hong') was founded in Birmingham by Woon Wing Yip (葉煥榮 'Yap wun wing') in 1969. It sells edible food. For people.
There is a Chinatown there, with Cantonese restaurants and dim sum, so there must be a Chinese bakery also, as well as a chachanteng or similar place where one can get Hong Kong style milk-tea.
These are important considerata.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
There are five in Dublin, three in Bath, and three in Bristol.
What's almighty flabberghasting is that there are any at all.
In the British Isles.
Yes, I know. That's an undeserved sneer; Britain has come a long way since the darkness of the twentieth century, and they've learned how to cook. It IS a miracle.
Credit for that development goes to the increased availability of quality ingredients and the British penchant for travelling to warm places in the Mediterranean when on holiday. Exposure and being able to purchase a variety of excellent products inevitably inspires.
This is not your grandmother's England.
Rationing ended quite a while ago.
And the Victorians are dead.
Along with their tastes.
The BBC article referenced above is Food fight: Is there culinary life outside London?, published on the 5th of February.
It makes for some interesting reading.
"Sorry, I've eaten in its posh ones and they're not my sort of thing at all -- just a bit rubbish."
I'm sure that's quite unfair. After all, Giles Coren is British, a Londoner, and a food critic, and therefore beyond a shadow of doubt a repulsive and stuck-up twit. A frightful snob.
Every time I've been to London, I have ended up with both acid indigestion and constipation that tormented me for several days. This was entirely due to the food, because no matter how irritating the natives of a place are, they seldom affect my bowels. Londoners, while almost universally loathsome, are no more remarkable in that regard than the people of Oakland or Marin County. The next time I visit Blighty, I am resolved to travel north to Birmingham.
BIRMINGHAM, MUSLIM, FOX
Per well-publicised reports, there are an inordinate number of Pakistanis or some such in the city, to such great extent that delicate Americans fear to go there lest they be forced to eat curry. Given that our diet is largely based on ketchup and potatoes, perhaps that fear is well-founded.
Nothing, I imagine, could be worse for the standard-issue white Anglo-Saxon Protestant than a healthy diet full of flavour.
That, of course, explains our school lunch programme. After a steady routine of blah canteen food for several years, damned well everyone has acquired very white tastes.
More than our ideals and the 'Great American Dream', this holds us together, and unifies us against a world we fear and do not know.
It is the most English aspect of American civilization.
Having grown up without the blessings of either Londonian snobbism or Yankee culinary paranoia, Birmingham sounds like a fine place.
If nothing else, the Desi khanna ought to be excellent.
Nice roti-shoti: chawal, dal, aur parotha.
Obviously achar is available.
Nimbu and aam.
Laziz!
伯明翰 — 唐人街
A further curiosity, the Wing Yip grocery market chain (榮業行 'wing yip hong') was founded in Birmingham by Woon Wing Yip (葉煥榮 'Yap wun wing') in 1969. It sells edible food. For people.
There is a Chinatown there, with Cantonese restaurants and dim sum, so there must be a Chinese bakery also, as well as a chachanteng or similar place where one can get Hong Kong style milk-tea.
These are important considerata.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Friday, February 06, 2015
ALL KINDS OF GOOD. APPARENTLY.
As you may have noticed, food is one of my interests. Over the last few years I have mentioned it occasionally, as well as provided a recipe or two (most of which you can find here: 'Cooking with a Lizard').
A lot of the food I have talked about is Chinese food; either cooked by actual Chinese people, or Chinese inspired and Chinese-named.
Consequently, it is with some trepidation that I viewed a list of Chinese yummies compiled by white people. That is to say, white people who are not me. What the heck do white people (who are not me) know from Chinese?
FIFTEEN CHINESE THINGS TO EAT IN SF
If you click that link, it will take you directly to the list, which also has lovely food-porn pictures. Yes, go there. Drool.
In short: little Shanghai soup dumplings, noodles, egg tarts, more soup dumplings, chicken wings, pork buns, shrimp dumplings, crab, squid, hot pot, noodles, chili pepper overload, saucy chicken and stinky tofu, noodles, and mushrooms.
You will note that much of it is NOT in Chinatown. That is because Chinatown is mostly Toishanese and City Cantonese, with only a light dusting of Shanghainese, and a few other freaks.
Mostly regular working class folks.
If the list was limited strictly to what is available in San Francisco Chinatown, it would be quite different.
In no particular order: Little steamed pork dumplings, egg tarts, steamed chicken bun, wonton, small steamed chive and pork dumplings, crab, fatty pork and snow vegetable, congee, chicken wings, and noodles noodles noodles noodles noodles.
Especially noodles.
I have no issue with that list compiled by The Infatuation; it is excellent, and I respect the dedicated research from which it sprang.
I am grateful to Nick Floulis of Chubby Noodle for bringing that site to my attention, by the way. Chubby Noodle on Lombard Street is one of those places that you should go to for some really dynamite food. Every time I've eaten their stuff, I've been happy as a clam.
Please don't ask him if he's got gluten-free.
I'm sure you know what noodles are.
They're kinda glutenish.
The Infatuation has also done a list of good things in North Beach. Coffee, beer, and gluten.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
A lot of the food I have talked about is Chinese food; either cooked by actual Chinese people, or Chinese inspired and Chinese-named.
Consequently, it is with some trepidation that I viewed a list of Chinese yummies compiled by white people. That is to say, white people who are not me. What the heck do white people (who are not me) know from Chinese?
FIFTEEN CHINESE THINGS TO EAT IN SF
If you click that link, it will take you directly to the list, which also has lovely food-porn pictures. Yes, go there. Drool.
In short: little Shanghai soup dumplings, noodles, egg tarts, more soup dumplings, chicken wings, pork buns, shrimp dumplings, crab, squid, hot pot, noodles, chili pepper overload, saucy chicken and stinky tofu, noodles, and mushrooms.
You will note that much of it is NOT in Chinatown. That is because Chinatown is mostly Toishanese and City Cantonese, with only a light dusting of Shanghainese, and a few other freaks.
Mostly regular working class folks.
If the list was limited strictly to what is available in San Francisco Chinatown, it would be quite different.
In no particular order: Little steamed pork dumplings, egg tarts, steamed chicken bun, wonton, small steamed chive and pork dumplings, crab, fatty pork and snow vegetable, congee, chicken wings, and noodles noodles noodles noodles noodles.
Especially noodles.
I have no issue with that list compiled by The Infatuation; it is excellent, and I respect the dedicated research from which it sprang.
I am grateful to Nick Floulis of Chubby Noodle for bringing that site to my attention, by the way. Chubby Noodle on Lombard Street is one of those places that you should go to for some really dynamite food. Every time I've eaten their stuff, I've been happy as a clam.
Please don't ask him if he's got gluten-free.
I'm sure you know what noodles are.
They're kinda glutenish.
The Infatuation has also done a list of good things in North Beach. Coffee, beer, and gluten.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, February 05, 2015
GETTING AN EDUCATION
Today's college kids deserve full praise for going where no man should go, and doing things which are more than slightly ill-advised. Like going on drug-binges, jacking emergency vehicles, committing lewd acts of an auto-erotic nature in the police station, and snarfing wheat thins.
Many wrong things involve wheat thins. I myself have on occasion used wheat thins injudiciously, often in conjunction with processed meat of a questionable nature, or substances reputed to contain dairy products, though that material is often very far down on the list of ingredients.
Right after several chemicals I can't pronounce.
Never snarf wheat thins while whacked.
Doing so opens doors for Cthulhu.
Mustn't go there, girlfriend.
THIS A VERY DISTURBED YOUNG MAN:
Stefan Sortland, who should be sorry he did stuff.
Photo credit: Larimer County Sherriff's Office.
[Source: Ambulance theft suspect Stefan Sortland's day allegedly included drugs, lewd acts and crackers.]
Quote: "The Colorado State University student (who is) accused of stealing an ambulance and attacking deputies at the Larimer County jail says he went to a Halloween concert where he took "molly" and cocaine, according to the extensive police reports obtained by 7NEWS."
[Copyright etcetera: 7NEWS Denver, Scripps Media.]
Molly, according to Wikipedia, is "a psychoactive drug of the substituted methylenedioxyphenethylamine and substituted amphetamine classes of drugs that is consumed primarily for its euphoric and empathogenic effects. Pharmacologically, MDMA acts as a serotonin-norepinephrine-dopamine releasing agent and reuptake inhibitor", though it can also refer to "the related drugs methylone, MDPV, mephedrone or any other of the pharmacological group of compounds commonly known as bath salts".
MDMA makes you do things, odd things. One of the effects is to excite your various orificial zones, as well as relaxing inhibitions you might have. Do not pooh pooh inhibitions; they are a potent defensive mechanism.
Quote: "The ambulance had a GPS system and was tracked to the town of Loveland, 15 miles away, where officers found it in the middle of a road with heavy damage. It appeared Sortland had taken the vehicle before crashing into a sign, driving it the wrong way and bringing it to a halt after crossing a barrier."
[Source: Student solo sex act (mirror.co.uk).]
Anyhow, when the police found the vehicle that the young gentleman had "borrowed" and wrecked, he was kind of out of it and didn't cooperate. So they shot him with a stun gun, then took him back to the Loveland Police Department, where he "stood on a bench, kicked the wall, and masturbated," according to the police report.
Later he assaulted two deputies at lunch time.
He seems to have had a very active day.
No doubt it was "educational".
He's a college student.
Time to learn.
Things.
I would suggest that readers not mix 'Molly' and cocaine.
Especially not when driving an ambulance.
This is NOT university learning.
Just common sense.
And stay away from snack crackers.
They might be dangerous.
Thin thin wheat.
Cthulhu.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Many wrong things involve wheat thins. I myself have on occasion used wheat thins injudiciously, often in conjunction with processed meat of a questionable nature, or substances reputed to contain dairy products, though that material is often very far down on the list of ingredients.
Right after several chemicals I can't pronounce.
Never snarf wheat thins while whacked.
Doing so opens doors for Cthulhu.
Mustn't go there, girlfriend.
THIS A VERY DISTURBED YOUNG MAN:
Stefan Sortland, who should be sorry he did stuff.
Photo credit: Larimer County Sherriff's Office.
[Source: Ambulance theft suspect Stefan Sortland's day allegedly included drugs, lewd acts and crackers.]
Quote: "The Colorado State University student (who is) accused of stealing an ambulance and attacking deputies at the Larimer County jail says he went to a Halloween concert where he took "molly" and cocaine, according to the extensive police reports obtained by 7NEWS."
[Copyright etcetera: 7NEWS Denver, Scripps Media.]
Molly, according to Wikipedia, is "a psychoactive drug of the substituted methylenedioxyphenethylamine and substituted amphetamine classes of drugs that is consumed primarily for its euphoric and empathogenic effects. Pharmacologically, MDMA acts as a serotonin-norepinephrine-dopamine releasing agent and reuptake inhibitor", though it can also refer to "the related drugs methylone, MDPV, mephedrone or any other of the pharmacological group of compounds commonly known as bath salts".
MDMA makes you do things, odd things. One of the effects is to excite your various orificial zones, as well as relaxing inhibitions you might have. Do not pooh pooh inhibitions; they are a potent defensive mechanism.
Quote: "The ambulance had a GPS system and was tracked to the town of Loveland, 15 miles away, where officers found it in the middle of a road with heavy damage. It appeared Sortland had taken the vehicle before crashing into a sign, driving it the wrong way and bringing it to a halt after crossing a barrier."
[Source: Student solo sex act (mirror.co.uk).]
Anyhow, when the police found the vehicle that the young gentleman had "borrowed" and wrecked, he was kind of out of it and didn't cooperate. So they shot him with a stun gun, then took him back to the Loveland Police Department, where he "stood on a bench, kicked the wall, and masturbated," according to the police report.
Later he assaulted two deputies at lunch time.
He seems to have had a very active day.
No doubt it was "educational".
He's a college student.
Time to learn.
Things.
I would suggest that readers not mix 'Molly' and cocaine.
Especially not when driving an ambulance.
This is NOT university learning.
Just common sense.
And stay away from snack crackers.
They might be dangerous.
Thin thin wheat.
Cthulhu.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
REVOLTING: IT'S WHAT WE DO
It's very good to speak Cantonese. Better, in fact, than being the king, no matter what Mel Brooks says (reference to a line from a famous movie right here).
On a whim I went into the restaurant. Their menu was geared toward both large parties sharing multiple dishes and wayward tourists having ONE large dish, plus rice, and soup or an appetizer.
I am a single man. Specifically, a single diner.
"Waaall, ya know, all of this ain't suitable for just one person. Can I just get roast duck over rice?"
Apparently, of course I can. Because I'm home-town. Cost me less than what was on the menu. And it was a wonderful meal. Truly darn good.
I left a happy camper, and they want me to return.
Which I will; I want to return too.
Roast duck. Rice. Hot sauce.
Baby bokchoi.
Tea.
燒鴨飯
Earlier I had enjoyed an hour in the company of the ex-mercenary. Apparently they eat beans and rice in Brazilian prisons. Or rice and beans. And cat; if you can afford it.
It's anyway far better than being executed in Ghana.
Screw Brazil. It's a pox-ridden hell-hole.
Argentina is not one iota better.
Corruption and clap.
Stench.
Lunch and midnight snack: Genovan salami and Oxford marmalade on sourdough. I had run out of mayonnaise.
I've still got some dried duck.
Just saying.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
On a whim I went into the restaurant. Their menu was geared toward both large parties sharing multiple dishes and wayward tourists having ONE large dish, plus rice, and soup or an appetizer.
I am a single man. Specifically, a single diner.
"Waaall, ya know, all of this ain't suitable for just one person. Can I just get roast duck over rice?"
Apparently, of course I can. Because I'm home-town. Cost me less than what was on the menu. And it was a wonderful meal. Truly darn good.
I left a happy camper, and they want me to return.
Which I will; I want to return too.
Roast duck. Rice. Hot sauce.
Baby bokchoi.
Tea.
燒鴨飯
Earlier I had enjoyed an hour in the company of the ex-mercenary. Apparently they eat beans and rice in Brazilian prisons. Or rice and beans. And cat; if you can afford it.
It's anyway far better than being executed in Ghana.
Screw Brazil. It's a pox-ridden hell-hole.
Argentina is not one iota better.
Corruption and clap.
Stench.
Lunch and midnight snack: Genovan salami and Oxford marmalade on sourdough. I had run out of mayonnaise.
I've still got some dried duck.
Just saying.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, February 04, 2015
BRIEF PUBLIC NUDITY
In what is scheduled to become a recurring yearly event, four diehard exhibitionists protested in the nude against San Francisco's ordinance prohibiting public nakedness, and three of them got arrested, this past Sunday.
There are times when I'm glad I work in Marin.
I do not approve of middle-aged nudity unless it's me.
Even less of being so in public.
Yes, I'll gladly admit that prancing in the buff is refreshing -- especially given the summer-like weather we've been having this year -- but the last thing anyone else needs to see is middle-aged nakedness.
Again, the exception, in my mind, is me.
MILWAUKEE, WITH BETTER WEATHER
It's the second anniversary of the ban on public nudity. Something which only fanatics about exhibiting their naked flab would remember, seeing as almost everyone else, including me, has a healthy sense of modesty.
Not so the three determined obscenitists.
One of whom is also a recidivist.
Quote:
"George Davis, a veteran public nudity protester, decried what he described as the changing San Francisco culture and blamed on “too many new people coming into San Francisco all at once.”"
End quote.
I have absolutely NO objection to accidental nudity if it is by a person whom I would wish to see naked, oh boy. But the plain fact of the matter is that this excludes most people, who are unknown, and therefore uninteresting.
Without a personal connection, it's just embarrassing.
The right of choice rests on the viewer.
Not on the egotripper without a stitch.
I am, consequently, pleased to report that in dealing with the unwanted and unwantable exposure, tarpaulins and rubber gloves were employed. Precautionarily.
Personally, I would have thought electric cattle prods would also have been appropriate, but it is rather doubtful that the SFPD could have made a valid argument for that. Naked middle-aged people are not particularly dangerous and threatening, no matter how unappetising they may be.
Possibly excepting myself.
According to George Davis, the habitual offender mentioned above, "this city is turning into Milwaukee with better weather."
Kindly f*ck off, George. You're a loony.
No one wants your opinion.
AFTERWORD
Please note that this post was written while clothed. No nudity by this author was involved, or implied. I'm wearing a pair of trousers, freshly clean from laundering, a plaid shirt, spectacles, and shoes.
With appropriate socks and undergarments.
I am not wearing a watch.
Please do not imagine anything else.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I do not approve of middle-aged nudity unless it's me.
Even less of being so in public.
Yes, I'll gladly admit that prancing in the buff is refreshing -- especially given the summer-like weather we've been having this year -- but the last thing anyone else needs to see is middle-aged nakedness.
Again, the exception, in my mind, is me.
MILWAUKEE, WITH BETTER WEATHER
It's the second anniversary of the ban on public nudity. Something which only fanatics about exhibiting their naked flab would remember, seeing as almost everyone else, including me, has a healthy sense of modesty.
Not so the three determined obscenitists.
One of whom is also a recidivist.
Quote:
"George Davis, a veteran public nudity protester, decried what he described as the changing San Francisco culture and blamed on “too many new people coming into San Francisco all at once.”"
End quote.
I have absolutely NO objection to accidental nudity if it is by a person whom I would wish to see naked, oh boy. But the plain fact of the matter is that this excludes most people, who are unknown, and therefore uninteresting.
Without a personal connection, it's just embarrassing.
The right of choice rests on the viewer.
Not on the egotripper without a stitch.
I am, consequently, pleased to report that in dealing with the unwanted and unwantable exposure, tarpaulins and rubber gloves were employed. Precautionarily.
Personally, I would have thought electric cattle prods would also have been appropriate, but it is rather doubtful that the SFPD could have made a valid argument for that. Naked middle-aged people are not particularly dangerous and threatening, no matter how unappetising they may be.
Possibly excepting myself.
According to George Davis, the habitual offender mentioned above, "this city is turning into Milwaukee with better weather."
Kindly f*ck off, George. You're a loony.
No one wants your opinion.
AFTERWORD
Please note that this post was written while clothed. No nudity by this author was involved, or implied. I'm wearing a pair of trousers, freshly clean from laundering, a plaid shirt, spectacles, and shoes.
With appropriate socks and undergarments.
I am not wearing a watch.
Please do not imagine anything else.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
NO BAD HABITS TO SPEAK OF
My ex is depressed and obsessed. She broke up with old whatsisbucket (again) around Christmas, and misses the dumbass.
Yet she admits that the relationship was queer as hell.
Wisely, I am keeping my mouth shut.
The bloke is "likable".
Sort of.
And, seeing as my role, as I see it, is to provide calmness and stability in the operatic life of a woman who is still my apartment mate, whom I appreciate as a good close friend of many years standing, it probably behooves me to not get too involved in her emotional turmoil.
Probably best for me too.
Aside from which, there is the entertainment value to consider. She expresses herself well -- eloquently and with vigour -- although at times by voicing the personalities of the stuffed creatures in both our rooms.
It's a way of reflecting the extremes.
I am, if anything, an opportunist.
She doesn't understand that my peculiarities are, in fact, not acceptable in the modern world.
The other evening she asked me what I was doing with an old dead fish (鹹魚 'haahm yü'; a dried croaker). And, she inquired with great curiosity, would the result be food?
Why indeed yes. This is a fermented dried fish, which when softened and cut, then steamed with chunked fatty pork (which was first seethed in oil for colour and flavour), ginger, garlic, sherry, a pinch of sugar, and a thin-sliced green chili, will be absolutely scrumptious!
And great with rice!
A woman who finds this both understandable and fascinating is rare indeed. Many of the people I know would be repulsed, and vocalize insultingly about meat, dried fish, strong flavours, allergies, and my politically incorrect dining habits.
Then they would harangue me, on a near-daily basis, about cultural appropriation, the marvelous benefits of marijuana or soy-free tofu, sustainable farming, third-world spirituality, broccoli, and yoga.
Besides bitching and belly-aching about most of my genuine bad habits: tobacco, grumbling, snarling at young idiots on the bus, acrylics and woodworking in the kitchen or the teevee room, book acquisition disorder, stinking up the house by cooking.....
And finish by sneering at the Dutch.
Or other "other" cultures.
One further factor deserves full mention: she has an attention to both detail and her responsibilities to the other people in her life which is extraordinary.
Not many people in this world have that.
She just doesn't have a boyfriend.
Which is stressing her out.
Not me, though.
I'm fine.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Yet she admits that the relationship was queer as hell.
Wisely, I am keeping my mouth shut.
The bloke is "likable".
Sort of.
And, seeing as my role, as I see it, is to provide calmness and stability in the operatic life of a woman who is still my apartment mate, whom I appreciate as a good close friend of many years standing, it probably behooves me to not get too involved in her emotional turmoil.
Probably best for me too.
Aside from which, there is the entertainment value to consider. She expresses herself well -- eloquently and with vigour -- although at times by voicing the personalities of the stuffed creatures in both our rooms.
It's a way of reflecting the extremes.
I am, if anything, an opportunist.
She doesn't understand that my peculiarities are, in fact, not acceptable in the modern world.
The other evening she asked me what I was doing with an old dead fish (鹹魚 'haahm yü'; a dried croaker). And, she inquired with great curiosity, would the result be food?
Why indeed yes. This is a fermented dried fish, which when softened and cut, then steamed with chunked fatty pork (which was first seethed in oil for colour and flavour), ginger, garlic, sherry, a pinch of sugar, and a thin-sliced green chili, will be absolutely scrumptious!
And great with rice!
A woman who finds this both understandable and fascinating is rare indeed. Many of the people I know would be repulsed, and vocalize insultingly about meat, dried fish, strong flavours, allergies, and my politically incorrect dining habits.
Then they would harangue me, on a near-daily basis, about cultural appropriation, the marvelous benefits of marijuana or soy-free tofu, sustainable farming, third-world spirituality, broccoli, and yoga.
Besides bitching and belly-aching about most of my genuine bad habits: tobacco, grumbling, snarling at young idiots on the bus, acrylics and woodworking in the kitchen or the teevee room, book acquisition disorder, stinking up the house by cooking.....
And finish by sneering at the Dutch.
Or other "other" cultures.
One further factor deserves full mention: she has an attention to both detail and her responsibilities to the other people in her life which is extraordinary.
Not many people in this world have that.
She just doesn't have a boyfriend.
Which is stressing her out.
Not me, though.
I'm fine.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tuesday, February 03, 2015
MOAZ AL KASASBEH
Today the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria killed a captured Jordanian pilot in a brutal and horrific fashion.
Aside from their own personal culpability in this despicable act, blame must also be cast at others.
Pakistanis, Saudi princes, Kuwaiti and Qatari sheikhs, and Palestine-sympathisant radicals in Berkeley, Europe, and the Middle East also bear a large degree of responsibility, as well as several American citizens, most especially including a certain United States Senator, whose vocal, partisan, and severely misguided encouragement and support for the rebels fighting Syria's Bashar Al Assad helped create a climate in which the usual funders and enablers of terrorism among the Arabs and Pakistanis saw both approval and opportunity.
[Note that the ISIS terrorists are largely foreign to both Syria and Iraq, coming from Europe, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Libya, Turkey, Central Asia, Chechnya, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and elsewhere. Mostly they represent the psychopathic layer, who in their home countries would express themselves by misogyny, violent crime, and thuggery. This does not absolve their families and supporters; it merely explains who and what they are.]
Turkey, of course, deserves especial opprobrium.
ISIS is the illegitimate bastard of the AK.
I would also suggest that Jordan would do well to brutally root out all extremists, both among their own population as well as the refugees (whether long resident or recent arrival).
There are a number of people in Jordan who, in a just universe, should see the business end of a gun as their last sight on earth.
King Abdullah deserves our moral support.
Pray for a 'Black February'.
Executing Sajida al-Rishawi and Ziyad Karboli is a good start.
But it is only a first step.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Pakistanis, Saudi princes, Kuwaiti and Qatari sheikhs, and Palestine-sympathisant radicals in Berkeley, Europe, and the Middle East also bear a large degree of responsibility, as well as several American citizens, most especially including a certain United States Senator, whose vocal, partisan, and severely misguided encouragement and support for the rebels fighting Syria's Bashar Al Assad helped create a climate in which the usual funders and enablers of terrorism among the Arabs and Pakistanis saw both approval and opportunity.
[Note that the ISIS terrorists are largely foreign to both Syria and Iraq, coming from Europe, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Libya, Turkey, Central Asia, Chechnya, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and elsewhere. Mostly they represent the psychopathic layer, who in their home countries would express themselves by misogyny, violent crime, and thuggery. This does not absolve their families and supporters; it merely explains who and what they are.]
Turkey, of course, deserves especial opprobrium.
ISIS is the illegitimate bastard of the AK.
I would also suggest that Jordan would do well to brutally root out all extremists, both among their own population as well as the refugees (whether long resident or recent arrival).
There are a number of people in Jordan who, in a just universe, should see the business end of a gun as their last sight on earth.
King Abdullah deserves our moral support.
Pray for a 'Black February'.
Executing Sajida al-Rishawi and Ziyad Karboli is a good start.
But it is only a first step.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
SMOKE AT BOTH ENDS
Here it is, Tuesday morning, a work day, and I woke up regretting my intemperate behaviour last night. No, it has nothing to do with booze. Though being a pipe smoker, right now would be the only time I could truly appreciate a fine single malt, seeing as by evening my tastebuds have usually had a work out.
I don't drink until night-fall, in case you were wondering.
But the first pipe is before lunch time.
Almost always.
After a hot cuppa milk-tea at a bakery in Chinatown late yesterday afternoon, I wandered around smoking a bowlful of spuncut.
Thoughts:
"My heavens, that little girl sure is cute!"
[Especially by contrast with her haggard old grandfather.]
"Two old ladies should NOT be screaming over a card game."
[Younger people also use this park; what kind of horrid example are you two setting?]
"He looks like a loony; avoid eye-contact."
[Many white people in Chinatown are off-kilter, and possible psycho.]
Ended up at City Lights Bookstore, and browsed.
Thoughts:
"Good lord what pretentious garbage!"
[Beat poets, Bukowski, and the entire gender studies section.]
"Sh*t, nothing but the usual sh*tty translations by artistic sh*theads!"
[Chinese poetry shape-shifted into English, without the original texts for comparison; heck, they could put down anything and claim "it's Chinese Poetry, dude!", and who the hell would know any better?]
"Bollocks!"
[General reaction to a lot of very intellectual stuff.]
After not buying anything at the bookstore, I went to a new dumpling place that recently opened. This man seriously loves dumplings. Sometimes there's nothing finer than little dough pockets filled with a juicy mixture of meat and vegetables, all hot and beguiling from the kitchen.
Hand me my chopsticks, I need to eat.
Thoughts:
"The name says North, what the two waitresses are speaking says South."
[The Cantonese language.]
"These dumplings are darn good!"
[Chive and pork dumplings.]
"Well crap! The skewered lamb is just wunnerful too!"
[Hot greasy goodness, with cumin.]
"Wow."
[Gau choi chu yiuk gaau ji, kou yeung yiuk chuen, dou leung go hou mei hou sik ge woh!]
韭菜豬肉餃子、烤羊肉串、都兩個好味好食嘅喎！
Now here's the problem: I like my dumplings with chili sauce.
Same with skewered tender lamb.
I probably overdid it.
Just a bit.
My insides may be in disagreement with my head today.
In fact, I think that is inevitable.
Probably shouldn't have snacked on the Italian cured meat products (two kinds) when I got home either.
After another pipe-full.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I don't drink until night-fall, in case you were wondering.
But the first pipe is before lunch time.
Almost always.
After a hot cuppa milk-tea at a bakery in Chinatown late yesterday afternoon, I wandered around smoking a bowlful of spuncut.
Thoughts:
"My heavens, that little girl sure is cute!"
[Especially by contrast with her haggard old grandfather.]
"Two old ladies should NOT be screaming over a card game."
[Younger people also use this park; what kind of horrid example are you two setting?]
"He looks like a loony; avoid eye-contact."
[Many white people in Chinatown are off-kilter, and possible psycho.]
Ended up at City Lights Bookstore, and browsed.
Thoughts:
"Good lord what pretentious garbage!"
[Beat poets, Bukowski, and the entire gender studies section.]
"Sh*t, nothing but the usual sh*tty translations by artistic sh*theads!"
[Chinese poetry shape-shifted into English, without the original texts for comparison; heck, they could put down anything and claim "it's Chinese Poetry, dude!", and who the hell would know any better?]
"Bollocks!"
[General reaction to a lot of very intellectual stuff.]
After not buying anything at the bookstore, I went to a new dumpling place that recently opened. This man seriously loves dumplings. Sometimes there's nothing finer than little dough pockets filled with a juicy mixture of meat and vegetables, all hot and beguiling from the kitchen.
Hand me my chopsticks, I need to eat.
Thoughts:
"The name says North, what the two waitresses are speaking says South."
[The Cantonese language.]
"These dumplings are darn good!"
[Chive and pork dumplings.]
"Well crap! The skewered lamb is just wunnerful too!"
[Hot greasy goodness, with cumin.]
"Wow."
[Gau choi chu yiuk gaau ji, kou yeung yiuk chuen, dou leung go hou mei hou sik ge woh!]
韭菜豬肉餃子、烤羊肉串、都兩個好味好食嘅喎！
Now here's the problem: I like my dumplings with chili sauce.
Same with skewered tender lamb.
I probably overdid it.
Just a bit.
My insides may be in disagreement with my head today.
In fact, I think that is inevitable.
Probably shouldn't have snacked on the Italian cured meat products (two kinds) when I got home either.
After another pipe-full.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, February 02, 2015
MEN WHO LIVE IN BASEMENTS
Over on the East-Coast, a gentleman who probably lives in his mother's basement, and equally probably will deservedly remain a bachelor all his life, posted a youtube video which shows that schizophrenics, despite everything else, are NOT loveable little fubsy orphans whom you would wish to coddle and nurture. At least, not ALL of them.
Some of them are slightly problematic.
In a very minor sort of way.
Yes, no doubt a few of them loyally join the local police force and club unruly citizens with open mouths, which is so adorable oh my gosh.
That is probably worth it for the municipalities that hired them, if only for the strict public order and entertainment it provides...
Some municipalities are easily entertained; one suspects a high level of unemployability there.
Or they become firemen, and get distracted by visions of the Virgin Mary after smoke-inhalation.
But a number of them live in their mothers' basements, and will remain bachelors all their days.
Have pity on the mothers.
Warning: Ancient Anglo-Saxon terms ("words of POWER") are used in the video below, which neither your coworkers (nor your mom) would like to hear blasting at top volume from your cubicle (or basement, or jail cell). Please be forewarned.
THIS IS MY "BLESSED" CAR!
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYPC-YMdJFI.]
It's actually his mom's car.
A full account of this gentleman's recent misfortune is presented on Jezebel, in this article: 'Bizzare'.
As Jezebel explains: "There's a cruel and mocking entry on the "parody" site Encyclopedia Dramatica about Connors, detailing his long history of strange claims and his fondness for appearing in his YouTube videos brandishing a knife featuring the Marines' "Semper Fi" motto and, occasionally, an Airsoft (replica) gun styled to look like a Desert Eagle pistol."
NOTE: Be hesitant about clicking on the embedded link in that quote, as the Encyclopedia Dramatica page might be infected.
The gentleman, who probably lives in his mom's basement (or garage, the one with the automatic door, on which there is an ultra-macho mural), and will no-doubt stay single forever ("devotion to the cause") himself explains: "I cant (stet) discuss my location due to the extreme level of threat right now. Brianna's agents have proven to be extremely dangerous and crafty, predicting my moves ahead of time EVEN when I did not tell anyone, such as the Armed assailants that Tampered with my vehicle or perhaps SNIPED OUT MY TIRES From a water tower or similar vantage point, Such as similarly "All Ghillied Up" the Mission in COD4 Where you scope out Zakhaev."
He says that in response to a comment underneath his public service announcement on youtube. Which, btw, is a website created by our lizard alien overlords to sap our manly juices.
He's a street-racing god.
I myself am an innocent in the world of the internet, which I recently became aware of thanks to the kind intervention of people far older and wiser. I have only been exposed to informational articles for maybe one or two years now, but I am pleasantly surprised by all the valuable things to know that are presented there. Shocking stuff. Especially the dark hole over the sun, the alien shape-shifters guarding the President, the Glenn Beck coverup of the Bilderberg plot to take over the world, the plan by patriotic Americans to put assault rifles into everyone's home, which the traitors in congress and a Kenyan plant wish to abort, and all the other dangers that the authorities hide from us.
We have abundant reason to be fearful.
The internet tells us how.
That last youtube video is a real doozie, by the way.
Alex Jones was vaccinated as a child.
It made him insane.
A plot!
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Some of them are slightly problematic.
In a very minor sort of way.
Yes, no doubt a few of them loyally join the local police force and club unruly citizens with open mouths, which is so adorable oh my gosh.
That is probably worth it for the municipalities that hired them, if only for the strict public order and entertainment it provides...
Some municipalities are easily entertained; one suspects a high level of unemployability there.
Or they become firemen, and get distracted by visions of the Virgin Mary after smoke-inhalation.
But a number of them live in their mothers' basements, and will remain bachelors all their days.
Have pity on the mothers.
Warning: Ancient Anglo-Saxon terms ("words of POWER") are used in the video below, which neither your coworkers (nor your mom) would like to hear blasting at top volume from your cubicle (or basement, or jail cell). Please be forewarned.
THIS IS MY "BLESSED" CAR!
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYPC-YMdJFI.]
It's actually his mom's car.
A full account of this gentleman's recent misfortune is presented on Jezebel, in this article: 'Bizzare'.
As Jezebel explains: "There's a cruel and mocking entry on the "parody" site Encyclopedia Dramatica about Connors, detailing his long history of strange claims and his fondness for appearing in his YouTube videos brandishing a knife featuring the Marines' "Semper Fi" motto and, occasionally, an Airsoft (replica) gun styled to look like a Desert Eagle pistol."
NOTE: Be hesitant about clicking on the embedded link in that quote, as the Encyclopedia Dramatica page might be infected.
The gentleman, who probably lives in his mom's basement (or garage, the one with the automatic door, on which there is an ultra-macho mural), and will no-doubt stay single forever ("devotion to the cause") himself explains: "I cant (stet) discuss my location due to the extreme level of threat right now. Brianna's agents have proven to be extremely dangerous and crafty, predicting my moves ahead of time EVEN when I did not tell anyone, such as the Armed assailants that Tampered with my vehicle or perhaps SNIPED OUT MY TIRES From a water tower or similar vantage point, Such as similarly "All Ghillied Up" the Mission in COD4 Where you scope out Zakhaev."
He says that in response to a comment underneath his public service announcement on youtube. Which, btw, is a website created by our lizard alien overlords to sap our manly juices.
He's a street-racing god.
I myself am an innocent in the world of the internet, which I recently became aware of thanks to the kind intervention of people far older and wiser. I have only been exposed to informational articles for maybe one or two years now, but I am pleasantly surprised by all the valuable things to know that are presented there. Shocking stuff. Especially the dark hole over the sun, the alien shape-shifters guarding the President, the Glenn Beck coverup of the Bilderberg plot to take over the world, the plan by patriotic Americans to put assault rifles into everyone's home, which the traitors in congress and a Kenyan plant wish to abort, and all the other dangers that the authorities hide from us.
We have abundant reason to be fearful.
The internet tells us how.
That last youtube video is a real doozie, by the way.
Alex Jones was vaccinated as a child.
It made him insane.
A plot!
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I AM BLESSED!
Thanks to someone on Facebook, I now know of a religious persuasion even more off the wall disconnected than the Westboro Baptist Church. It's a website devoted to Christian sportswear, opposition to the goddess of victory, and calling Kevin Durant evil.
Who the heck is Kevin Durant? Apparently he's the star athlete of the OKC Thunder. Which, like him, I had never heard of before.
As a sample of the joys on that website, I present the following:
[Begin cite]
HOW EVIL IS NIKE?
In addition to breaking the first commandment of God and being named in honor of the pagan goddess Nike (the swoosh represents the wing of that goddess/demon)...
1. NIKE is one of the most vocal corporate advocates for abortion in America.
2. NIKE fully embraces the homosexual, bisexual and transgender political and social agenda in the workplace and beyond, and advocates for same-sex marriage - creating a PAC fund to donate $280,000 to the current effort in Oregon to redefine the institution away from the biblical male-female relationship.
3. NIKE does not use the word “Christmas” in its seasonal promotions.
[SOURCE: http://townofloveokc.publishpath.com/.]
That all sounds pretty damned good to me. I too am a vocal advocate for corporate abortion, believing that much that is walking around in public today would have better been not born. And while fully embracing the homosexual, bisexual, and transgender political and social lifestyle is NOT something I do, preferring instead to merely accept them as my brothers, sisters, and confused entitities in Christ OR not in Christ, whatever their personal preference -- or Moses, or Mohammed, or Pan and Dionysus -- supporting a fair portion of equality in this world is on the whole a rather decent thing. Just do it.
As regards the word "Christmas", that too is something I seldom use during seasonal promotions. Instead I employ it far more often for snark or barf texts.
By the way, If Jesus never existed, as is almost certainly the case, the nutzoid fringe would have to invent him.
Anyhow, I thoroughly encourage you to browse around that site. It has all the characteristics which in years past you would expect on vans owned by obsessed people, including texts that cannot be understood, typefaces and sizes selected at random, illustrations with superimposed markings, and wild-assertions.
Years ago, when you saw one of those on the streets of San Francisco, you were at least assured that the owner was too far out and berserk to have rigged the inside as a torture dungeon.
It was, somehow, reassuring.
A wild-eyed freak.
Not a sadist.
Praise the load.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Who the heck is Kevin Durant? Apparently he's the star athlete of the OKC Thunder. Which, like him, I had never heard of before.
As a sample of the joys on that website, I present the following:
[Begin cite]
HOW EVIL IS NIKE?
In addition to breaking the first commandment of God and being named in honor of the pagan goddess Nike (the swoosh represents the wing of that goddess/demon)...
1. NIKE is one of the most vocal corporate advocates for abortion in America.
2. NIKE fully embraces the homosexual, bisexual and transgender political and social agenda in the workplace and beyond, and advocates for same-sex marriage - creating a PAC fund to donate $280,000 to the current effort in Oregon to redefine the institution away from the biblical male-female relationship.
3. NIKE does not use the word “Christmas” in its seasonal promotions.
[SOURCE: http://townofloveokc.publishpath.com/.]
That all sounds pretty damned good to me. I too am a vocal advocate for corporate abortion, believing that much that is walking around in public today would have better been not born. And while fully embracing the homosexual, bisexual, and transgender political and social lifestyle is NOT something I do, preferring instead to merely accept them as my brothers, sisters, and confused entitities in Christ OR not in Christ, whatever their personal preference -- or Moses, or Mohammed, or Pan and Dionysus -- supporting a fair portion of equality in this world is on the whole a rather decent thing. Just do it.
As regards the word "Christmas", that too is something I seldom use during seasonal promotions. Instead I employ it far more often for snark or barf texts.
By the way, If Jesus never existed, as is almost certainly the case, the nutzoid fringe would have to invent him.
Anyhow, I thoroughly encourage you to browse around that site. It has all the characteristics which in years past you would expect on vans owned by obsessed people, including texts that cannot be understood, typefaces and sizes selected at random, illustrations with superimposed markings, and wild-assertions.
Years ago, when you saw one of those on the streets of San Francisco, you were at least assured that the owner was too far out and berserk to have rigged the inside as a torture dungeon.
It was, somehow, reassuring.
A wild-eyed freak.
Not a sadist.
Praise the load.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, February 01, 2015
DEMOCALYPSE NOW
This blogger doesn't often offer political content, because some of my readers are Republicans, who are sensitive (justifiable so), and might desert me in outrage.
Or something. I do not wish to offend, I'm all about harmony.
And normally I don't draw attention to John Stewart, because as everybody knows he's a rabid anti-Israeli activist worse than the New York Times, who hates America and agendizes for the great Zionist conspiracy to seize control of the United States Government.
Wait, what?!?!?!?
Anyhow, here are some details: Iowa Freedom Summit.
SAUSAGES ARE DAMNED GOOD!
[SOURCE: http://thedailyshow.cc.com/videos/k42ti0/democalypse-2016---fox-news-correspondent-auditions.]
Bow down and worship, Republicans.
These are your new masters.
THE STATUS QUO
Just for funsies, I typed some search criteria and hit search.
Here are the results.
Obama not christian: About 187,000,000 results (0.43 seconds)
Obama Muslim: About 117,000,000 results (0.44 seconds)
Obama new world order: About 95,200,000 results (0.46 seconds)
Obama United Nations Control: About 27,000,000 results (0.46 seconds)
Obama anti-israel: About 19,700,000 results (0.45 seconds)
Obama illuminati: About 12,600,000 results (0.32 seconds)
Obama Satan: About 12,300,000 results (0.34 seconds)
Obama anti-christian: About 11,400,000 results (0.50 seconds)
Obama secret agenda: About 9,280,000 results (0.49 seconds)
Obama martial law: About 3,640,000 results (0.41 seconds)
Dang, some of you ;Republica..., Retar..., Christia..., Southerne..., folks in Iowa, Alaska..., "Teapots" are stupid.
Shallow end of the gene puddle, huh?
Step away from your cousin.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Or something. I do not wish to offend, I'm all about harmony.
And normally I don't draw attention to John Stewart, because as everybody knows he's a rabid anti-Israeli activist worse than the New York Times, who hates America and agendizes for the great Zionist conspiracy to seize control of the United States Government.
Wait, what?!?!?!?
Anyhow, here are some details: Iowa Freedom Summit.
SAUSAGES ARE DAMNED GOOD!
[SOURCE: http://thedailyshow.cc.com/videos/k42ti0/democalypse-2016---fox-news-correspondent-auditions.]
Bow down and worship, Republicans.
These are your new masters.
THE STATUS QUO
Just for funsies, I typed some search criteria and hit search.
Here are the results.
Obama not christian: About 187,000,000 results (0.43 seconds)
Obama Muslim: About 117,000,000 results (0.44 seconds)
Obama new world order: About 95,200,000 results (0.46 seconds)
Obama United Nations Control: About 27,000,000 results (0.46 seconds)
Obama anti-israel: About 19,700,000 results (0.45 seconds)
Obama illuminati: About 12,600,000 results (0.32 seconds)
Obama Satan: About 12,300,000 results (0.34 seconds)
Obama anti-christian: About 11,400,000 results (0.50 seconds)
Obama secret agenda: About 9,280,000 results (0.49 seconds)
Obama martial law: About 3,640,000 results (0.41 seconds)
Dang, some of you ;
Shallow end of the gene puddle, huh?
Step away from your cousin.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, January 31, 2015
HELL, WITH A SIDE OF WON TON
Yesterday evening I was happily putzing around in the kitchen at the time my apartment mate came home. It had been a long day babysitting adults in Marin, and I was looking forward to a nice evening, good food, bit of music, ending with meditation or a cigar out on the front steps.
It's warm enough now in SF that I can do that.
She happily unpacked a new book that had come in the mail, and retired to her room, to read about sharks. When she's sad or depressed, nothing cheers her up so much as predators or violent women.
Kitchen and teevee room all to myself.
And some home-made wontons.
Got in C'town on Thursday.
I made a strong broth by first frying some dried flounder (大地魚 'daideiyu') in a smidge of clarified bacon fat, then seething it with thin stock, letting it boil for a while, and straining out the fish.
Chopped some gaichoi, set it aside. Heated up a vat of water, and while waiting for it to boil, sliced three lovely chili peppers. Put the chili roundels into a small saucer, added a squeeze of lime juice and a pinch of salt to bring out the flavour.
When the water was boiling, dumped in a dozen dumplings.
Reheated the flounder broth, dumped in the gaichoi.
Added a few slices of smoked pork to the broth.
Scooped the wonton out of the pot of boiling water, slid the rice stick noodles in. Didn't want to use the traditional wheat and egg noodles, because I prefer the thick sloopety quality of rice stick.
Won ton into a bowl, broth with gaichoi and pork on top, finish with drained rice stick noodles.
Then left the kitchen for a brief moment.
Now, I should point out that whenever I use the kitchen for cooking, water will be used. Rinsing vegetables, rinsing noodles and won ton to stop the cooking process, washing all utensils the moment I'm done using them. Washing hands whenever handling raw ingredients, or anything that I will be sticking into my mouth. Lots of water.
Cleanliness becomes automatic.
And perhaps I should also explain that the sound of running or splashing water excites the bladder.
If you are a women, you may not understand what happens next. You see, unlike most women, men have a few extra inches to their urethra, encased in a flexible appendage, which means that a certain posture is our preferred method of micturating.
I had been handling chilipeppers.
Halfway through my delicious bowl of wonton with gaichoi in a lovely broth, with sliced chilies on the side, I grew discomfitted. There are no tastebuds in a certain area, but the skin is thinner, and more densely packed with nerves. It was an intense experience. I believe my face turned red, and I trembled.
Once your hands have touched chilipeppers, it takes a while for the capsaicin resin and oils to fade, even washing hands several times.
It does something. You cannot sit still. Distracting motion is required, and forcrapssakes keep those hands from touching any part of your body, most particularly eyes or "sensitive parts".
Here's a helpful visual:
AWESOME!
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyQ54PzmyD8.]
The wontons were delicious, the gaichoi was at the perfect stage of toothsome tenderness, and the chilies seemed like velvet on the tongue because of the thin-slicing. There was a fragrance to the broth which added so much more than a plain chicken stock could have done.
My forehead was beaded with sweat.
And I was positively quivering.
Watch that video again.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
It's warm enough now in SF that I can do that.
She happily unpacked a new book that had come in the mail, and retired to her room, to read about sharks. When she's sad or depressed, nothing cheers her up so much as predators or violent women.
Kitchen and teevee room all to myself.
And some home-made wontons.
Got in C'town on Thursday.
I made a strong broth by first frying some dried flounder (大地魚 'daideiyu') in a smidge of clarified bacon fat, then seething it with thin stock, letting it boil for a while, and straining out the fish.
Chopped some gaichoi, set it aside. Heated up a vat of water, and while waiting for it to boil, sliced three lovely chili peppers. Put the chili roundels into a small saucer, added a squeeze of lime juice and a pinch of salt to bring out the flavour.
When the water was boiling, dumped in a dozen dumplings.
Reheated the flounder broth, dumped in the gaichoi.
Added a few slices of smoked pork to the broth.
Scooped the wonton out of the pot of boiling water, slid the rice stick noodles in. Didn't want to use the traditional wheat and egg noodles, because I prefer the thick sloopety quality of rice stick.
Won ton into a bowl, broth with gaichoi and pork on top, finish with drained rice stick noodles.
Then left the kitchen for a brief moment.
Now, I should point out that whenever I use the kitchen for cooking, water will be used. Rinsing vegetables, rinsing noodles and won ton to stop the cooking process, washing all utensils the moment I'm done using them. Washing hands whenever handling raw ingredients, or anything that I will be sticking into my mouth. Lots of water.
Cleanliness becomes automatic.
And perhaps I should also explain that the sound of running or splashing water excites the bladder.
If you are a women, you may not understand what happens next. You see, unlike most women, men have a few extra inches to their urethra, encased in a flexible appendage, which means that a certain posture is our preferred method of micturating.
I had been handling chilipeppers.
Halfway through my delicious bowl of wonton with gaichoi in a lovely broth, with sliced chilies on the side, I grew discomfitted. There are no tastebuds in a certain area, but the skin is thinner, and more densely packed with nerves. It was an intense experience. I believe my face turned red, and I trembled.
Once your hands have touched chilipeppers, it takes a while for the capsaicin resin and oils to fade, even washing hands several times.
It does something. You cannot sit still. Distracting motion is required, and forcrapssakes keep those hands from touching any part of your body, most particularly eyes or "sensitive parts".
Here's a helpful visual:
AWESOME!
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyQ54PzmyD8.]
The wontons were delicious, the gaichoi was at the perfect stage of toothsome tenderness, and the chilies seemed like velvet on the tongue because of the thin-slicing. There was a fragrance to the broth which added so much more than a plain chicken stock could have done.
My forehead was beaded with sweat.
And I was positively quivering.
Watch that video again.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Friday, January 30, 2015
A SECOND SPRING BELONGS TO US
Years before I started watching Cantonese movies, I saw Mandarin-language films. There was something magical about the actors and actresses then, other-worldly.
Many of the movies showed a time and place long gone, entirely unrecoverable.
Yet seeing them on screen brought them briefly back to life.
Among the many talented performers, several names stand out.
One of them being Dong Pei-pei (董佩佩).
Think of a voice like melting honey.
好花不常開
Born in 1928 on the mainland, fled to Hong Kong in 1949. She became famous for songs such as 玫瑰良緣 ('the perfect match for the rose') and 第二春 ('second-time spring'). By the time of her death in 1976 or 1978 her star had faded, and her cause of death is not known.
She also sang in Suzhou dialect.
Not available on youtube.
Here's a song I had not heard before.
兩個世界－董佩佩，楊光
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GipAuJBbNIk.]
The next song is definitely typical of a different time and place; a simple romantic duet, with visuals which make clear that neither person is familiar with twerking or modern Hollywood style.
上山坡－董佩佩，楊光
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMw97oWrMmU.]
All of this came back because yesterday evening, while riding the bus home from Chinatown with fresh home-made wontons and a bag of yauchoi, I had the misfortune of sitting behind some young office-wallah with headphones. Remarkably cheap headphones. Many of the other passengers got to "enjoy" his musical taste, which, primarily, consisted of rap in which the 'F' word prominently featured.
F this, F that, effing F and F to the F.
Uncouth, and illiterate.
I'm sure that the popular songs of the forties and fifties also expressed the keenly felt frustrations of their audience. But those may have been much more civil frustrations.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Many of the movies showed a time and place long gone, entirely unrecoverable.
Yet seeing them on screen brought them briefly back to life.
Among the many talented performers, several names stand out.
One of them being Dong Pei-pei (董佩佩).
Think of a voice like melting honey.
好花不常開
Born in 1928 on the mainland, fled to Hong Kong in 1949. She became famous for songs such as 玫瑰良緣 ('the perfect match for the rose') and 第二春 ('second-time spring'). By the time of her death in 1976 or 1978 her star had faded, and her cause of death is not known.
She also sang in Suzhou dialect.
Not available on youtube.
Here's a song I had not heard before.
兩個世界－董佩佩，楊光
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GipAuJBbNIk.]
The next song is definitely typical of a different time and place; a simple romantic duet, with visuals which make clear that neither person is familiar with twerking or modern Hollywood style.
上山坡－董佩佩，楊光
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMw97oWrMmU.]
All of this came back because yesterday evening, while riding the bus home from Chinatown with fresh home-made wontons and a bag of yauchoi, I had the misfortune of sitting behind some young office-wallah with headphones. Remarkably cheap headphones. Many of the other passengers got to "enjoy" his musical taste, which, primarily, consisted of rap in which the 'F' word prominently featured.
F this, F that, effing F and F to the F.
Uncouth, and illiterate.
I'm sure that the popular songs of the forties and fifties also expressed the keenly felt frustrations of their audience. But those may have been much more civil frustrations.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, January 29, 2015
WELCOME TO THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA
Yesterday San Francisco police found a suitcase with body parts in the Mission District. Naturally the reactions have been over-the-top funny, and in dreadful taste.
I'm rather a fan of dreadful taste.
It explains most people.
IS THIS YOUR SUITCASE?
I actually heard about the missing parts last night, but didn't bother reading about it till this morning. It is always better to process your morning coffee while reading someone else's luggage humour. Gets the juices flowing.
I can think of any number of perfectly valid reasons why someone would end up being stuffed into a suitcase. But that must have been an awful load to shlep around.
You see suitcases occasionally on the street in San Francisco.
We have a lot of absent-minded people.
And lots of baggage.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I'm rather a fan of dreadful taste.
It explains most people.
IS THIS YOUR SUITCASE?
I actually heard about the missing parts last night, but didn't bother reading about it till this morning. It is always better to process your morning coffee while reading someone else's luggage humour. Gets the juices flowing.
I can think of any number of perfectly valid reasons why someone would end up being stuffed into a suitcase. But that must have been an awful load to shlep around.
You see suitcases occasionally on the street in San Francisco.
We have a lot of absent-minded people.
And lots of baggage.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
EAT MY SHORTS!
So, how's that cold weather you're having on the East Coast working out for you? Bit chilly? Snowed in? Wondering what you'll do for dinner in front of the telly while the pizza place can't deliver because of drifts?
All out of chocolate-mint power bars?
Having power issues?
Shivering?
You ran out of rendered bear grease for rubbing on your chilblains and insulating your skin from the fierce biting cold and blinding snow?
Water heater froze solid, developed cracks, and would flood your apartment except that it's a block of ice?
I can just imagine. You are suffering. I sympathize.
Bitter cold and freezing conditions: it's horrid.
Please know I'm swanning around in my boxer shorts right now.
All windows open to the warm California sunshine.
It's my day off. And I'm in California.
I know. Lucky, huh?
They're very uber-cool looking boxers. I wish you could see them. Happy colours, snazzy pattern. No, that isn't a pizza stain, we don't have "real" pizza here. That's strictly a New York thing. We're too laid back.
I accidentally dripped some of my tofu-raspberry snowcone.
Just kidding. Every one knows you don't have tofu-raspberry snowcones for breakfast. Even in California. It's not a well-rounded meal (unlike pizza), and the low fat version tastes blah.
Boxer shorts.
Styling.
I've been reading in a state of déshabillé all morning.
Enjoying the nice spring-like temperatures.
Might go surfing later.
Ah, fresh air, mountain meadows, and neighbors wandering around in mumus and grass skirts. The sweet smell of medical grade marijuana and happy dolphins on the gentle zephyrs wafting in from the bay.
Wholesome gluten-free meals to keep us trim.
As we gambol in the California sun.
Lithe and bronzed.
And warm.
Boxer shorts.
I strike a pose before the hallway mirror. Hot dawg I look svelte!
Of course, there are tummy hairs. And navel lint.
If you were here, you'd know.
I have an 'inny'.
Because of the way the tummy hairs all curve towards the centre -- imagine that it's a chakra trail down my front -- the fibres from the wife-beater and sleep pants all moved toward the 'inny', forming a feathery little pillow. Which I will remove with a toothpick. Because, being in just my boxer shorts, it can be plainly seen. Unlike all you poor people in New York and Philadelphia, who are wearing thermal underwear, legwarmers under your heavy woolen pants, plaid lumberjack shirts, sweaters, multiple mufflers, overcoats, hats, gloves, and heavy lined boots.
Oh, the chafing, the chafing!
Again, that's boxer shorts.
Nice and baggy.
Cotton.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
All out of chocolate-mint power bars?
Having power issues?
Shivering?
You ran out of rendered bear grease for rubbing on your chilblains and insulating your skin from the fierce biting cold and blinding snow?
Water heater froze solid, developed cracks, and would flood your apartment except that it's a block of ice?
I can just imagine. You are suffering. I sympathize.
Bitter cold and freezing conditions: it's horrid.
Please know I'm swanning around in my boxer shorts right now.
All windows open to the warm California sunshine.
It's my day off. And I'm in California.
I know. Lucky, huh?
They're very uber-cool looking boxers. I wish you could see them. Happy colours, snazzy pattern. No, that isn't a pizza stain, we don't have "real" pizza here. That's strictly a New York thing. We're too laid back.
I accidentally dripped some of my tofu-raspberry snowcone.
Just kidding. Every one knows you don't have tofu-raspberry snowcones for breakfast. Even in California. It's not a well-rounded meal (unlike pizza), and the low fat version tastes blah.
Boxer shorts.
Styling.
I've been reading in a state of déshabillé all morning.
Enjoying the nice spring-like temperatures.
Might go surfing later.
Ah, fresh air, mountain meadows, and neighbors wandering around in mumus and grass skirts. The sweet smell of medical grade marijuana and happy dolphins on the gentle zephyrs wafting in from the bay.
Wholesome gluten-free meals to keep us trim.
As we gambol in the California sun.
Lithe and bronzed.
And warm.
Boxer shorts.
I strike a pose before the hallway mirror. Hot dawg I look svelte!
Of course, there are tummy hairs. And navel lint.
If you were here, you'd know.
I have an 'inny'.
Because of the way the tummy hairs all curve towards the centre -- imagine that it's a chakra trail down my front -- the fibres from the wife-beater and sleep pants all moved toward the 'inny', forming a feathery little pillow. Which I will remove with a toothpick. Because, being in just my boxer shorts, it can be plainly seen. Unlike all you poor people in New York and Philadelphia, who are wearing thermal underwear, legwarmers under your heavy woolen pants, plaid lumberjack shirts, sweaters, multiple mufflers, overcoats, hats, gloves, and heavy lined boots.
Oh, the chafing, the chafing!
Again, that's boxer shorts.
Nice and baggy.
Cotton.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
ATTENTION WHORES
While checking the comment-spam folder, I noticed that some braindead dingbat advises me to be more rigorous in deleting or editing-out entries by "readers" in my 'Letterbox'. To refresh you memory, my 'Letterbox' is NOT the normal comments field, but rather somewhere that readers may write a private message, ask questions that they do not want everyone else to read, or make obscene propositions (the regular comments field is also operative; feedback other than clearly inapprorpriate stuff WILL be shown).
Nothing placed in the 'Letterbox' will be published.
Almost everything gets a response.
Sent to an e-mail address.
It's that simple.
Stricter with comments?
Okay.
ZAP!
Private message versus public statement; two options for you to express what you think.
Use either or both.
And feel free to use the word "fastidious" in an appropriate way.
I am a very strict man. Please believe me when I say that even at this very moment, I am strutting around my apartment wearing a military uniform and wielding a riding crop. There's a veritable reign of terror among the stuffed animals, who often quail before my stern authority.
I will be obeyed! Do not trifle with my dictats!
Oooh, this pair of jodhpurs chafes.
It is constricting, and zesty.
Tight where it counts.
Very very hot.
Anyhow, DO please feel free to make use of that 'Letterbox' for odd queries, embarrassing confessions, or romantic invitations.
It's all cool.
Please DO NOT place spammatic linkage of any sort there (or in the normal comments section). No commercial content, no opportunistic mention of fabulous gaming or hack websites, no invitations to check it out fabulous weblog, or suggesting guest posts because your get-rich-quick scheme has SO MUCH in common with my subject matter.
[It does not. Even my smut is not the same as your smut. Mine is in good taste and rather nice, yours is over-the-top filthy, and I think you're a perv. And, other than praising certain tobacco blends or food purveyors in Chinatown, there is nothing even remotely commercial here. Nothing is sold, no credit cards are taken, products and services are not offered, and advertisements will not be placed. Look all you want, there is no picture of a naked sexual organ anywhere.]
If you are a reasonable human being, you already know and understand this. If you are a salesman or a machine, it may be entirely beyond your comprehension, and this gentle note of chastisement will be utterly incomprehensible. Which fills me with melancholy, because sometime soon someone will probably attack you with a baseball bat.
Which is very very sad.
I like comments (see the link below), and also correspondence.
Both of these confirm the presence of intelligent life in the universe.
That is something on which I require re-assurance.
I should particularly like it to be cute.
And good company for dinner.
Express yourself.
Thank you.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Nothing placed in the 'Letterbox' will be published.
Almost everything gets a response.
Sent to an e-mail address.
It's that simple.
Stricter with comments?
Okay.
ZAP!
Private message versus public statement; two options for you to express what you think.
Use either or both.
And feel free to use the word "fastidious" in an appropriate way.
I am a very strict man. Please believe me when I say that even at this very moment, I am strutting around my apartment wearing a military uniform and wielding a riding crop. There's a veritable reign of terror among the stuffed animals, who often quail before my stern authority.
I will be obeyed! Do not trifle with my dictats!
Oooh, this pair of jodhpurs chafes.
It is constricting, and zesty.
Tight where it counts.
Very very hot.
Anyhow, DO please feel free to make use of that 'Letterbox' for odd queries, embarrassing confessions, or romantic invitations.
It's all cool.
Please DO NOT place spammatic linkage of any sort there (or in the normal comments section). No commercial content, no opportunistic mention of fabulous gaming or hack websites, no invitations to check it out fabulous weblog, or suggesting guest posts because your get-rich-quick scheme has SO MUCH in common with my subject matter.
[It does not. Even my smut is not the same as your smut. Mine is in good taste and rather nice, yours is over-the-top filthy, and I think you're a perv. And, other than praising certain tobacco blends or food purveyors in Chinatown, there is nothing even remotely commercial here. Nothing is sold, no credit cards are taken, products and services are not offered, and advertisements will not be placed. Look all you want, there is no picture of a naked sexual organ anywhere.]
If you are a reasonable human being, you already know and understand this. If you are a salesman or a machine, it may be entirely beyond your comprehension, and this gentle note of chastisement will be utterly incomprehensible. Which fills me with melancholy, because sometime soon someone will probably attack you with a baseball bat.
Which is very very sad.
I like comments (see the link below), and also correspondence.
Both of these confirm the presence of intelligent life in the universe.
That is something on which I require re-assurance.
I should particularly like it to be cute.
And good company for dinner.
Express yourself.
Thank you.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
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THE CAT DISAPPROVES
Somehow I feel that the cat disapproves of the entire cock-up humanity has made of things. And please note: the cat is figmantary, he doesn...
