Warning: May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.
You might not find this as lyrical as I do: "ribbon-like structures, probably functioning as gills, covered its back. Two appendages near its mouth were specialized for filter-feeding, with a series of spines lined with bristle-like structures to sweep up small animals and particles."
It's part of a description of an ancient animal in a Reuters article.
AEGIROCASSIS BENMOULAE
The reconstruction of a filter-feeding Aegirocassis benmoulae from the Ordovician Period feeding on a plankton cloud is shown in this artist rendering released to Reuters on March 10, 2015.
CREDIT: REUTERS/MARIANNE COLLINS, ARTOFFACT/HANDOUT VIA REUTERS
One imagines that, with slow steady thrusts, this oversize marine vacuum cleaner propelled itself through a peaceful sea, leaving clear water in its wake as it sucked up little microscopic buggy bits.
The Reuters article does not describe its social life or reproductive habits.
It definitely had both, but these remain mysterious.
The individual Aegirocassis Benmoulid probably did not co-ordinate oceanic scrubbing activities with others of its kind.
Cite:
The creature, called Aegirocassis benmoulae, was at least 7 feet (2.1 meters) long. It is the last known member of a group called anomalocaridids that included some of the first top predators near the dawn of animal life.
Almost all the group's members were active predators, grabbing prey with appendages sprouting from their heads. Aegirocassis adopted another feeding strategy. Its appendages acted as a sieve, capturing oodles of plankton.
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Long discussion with several people including Mordechai L. on FB today. From whence these nuggets: "scream "UNDEAD" and run", and "If you are a grown adult, and someone lets you know the conversation is over, and you ask "but why" over and over, you're not actually an adult".
Plus 'unclean things" and 'witchcraft'.
And, pursuant thereto, I have a new-found respect for the Wu Tang Clan and My Little Pony.
Mordechai L. avers that no well-run household should be without all, or nearly all, of Bloom County that was ever written.
I agree, but I assert that IN ADDITION THERETO, one should also have Calvin & Hobbes, Sherman's Lagoon, and Frumpy the Clown.
Plus Chibi Vampire. ALL of Chibi Vampire.
Chibi Vampire is the heartwarming tale of a defective bloodsucker who in her teenage years gets a mega-crush on the odd guy in her high school with the scary eyes.
You will laugh, you will cry, you will eat garlic.
These are all good things, little lobster.
Please rub butter all over.
[Apropos of nothing, my upstairs neighbor just thumped the floor and howled like a wolf. Glad to know I'm not the only one in the building.]
None of these resemble My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic.
Good lord, I can't even read the Wikipedia article.
I wanna scream "does not compute".
And bury my head.
On the other hand, the fantasy that members of the Wu Tang Clan are actually Bronies at heart is really rather charming. Big bad rapstars with foul vocabularies privately dressing as little blue and pink horsey-worseys and nurturing their softer side, oh boy fellas, I'm so there!
I've got a Hello Kitty backpack. It's just the right size for a Glock 17 plus a box of extra bullets. Blazer 9mm, but WWB 115gr target ammo (100 rounds) is better. I mention this ONLY to show that I too am in touch with my gentler self. I actually keep six briars, two pipe tobaccos, tampers and matches, and a bundle of bristly cleaners in it.
Honestly, I never listened much to rapp until I discovered the Wu Tang and ML Ponies genre. Nope, not going to detail the link between Mordechai L.'s insistence on Bloom County as the palliative and bromine for all ailments of the spirit and 'Ponies'.
It makes sense to me. And speaks to my soul.
I have a softer feminine side.
Penguin-like.
I concede that this essay makes no sense whatsoever. Much of it was influenced by an inflammation in my right leg that I've had since that cold spell last December, as well as the migraine that started yesterday afternoon and just kept on ticking all the through till bedtime.
I've had a rough night, and I hate the f***ing Eagles, man.
Beware of penguin sex-gargoyles.
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It should go without saying that I love my friends, even the twisted dysfunctional trolls who support Bibi Netanyahu. This wouldn't even come up, save for the fact that over on Facebook, I seem to have gotten into trouble with some of them because I rightly considered Bibi's speechy-weechy last week nothing more than self-serving egomania by a psychopath desperate for re-election, fortuitously combined with the seditious tendencies of a bunch of newly-elected weasels representing the Know Nothing Party.
As over-the-top bonkers as that statement is, it fades into insignificance compared to the comment string underneath the article on Middle East Monitor that quotes the respected dysfunctionary, who more-or-less heads Israel Beiteinu.
Israel as a subject attracts shit-flies.
From within as well as without.
Justifiably so.
“Generally, it is very typical for Israel Beiteinu to radicalize their statements in a bid to gain votes; the educated voter knows that these kind of things are a transparent attempt to garner popular support.”
---Ron Gilran, vice-president of The Levantine Group (a consultancy in Tel Aviv)
If you thought our Republicans were batshit, try the Israeli rightwing.
More stark raving mad is hard to find.
MICHA BEN ARI
A few years ago, MOK (Member of Knesset) Michael Ben Ari proudly had himself photographed ripping up the New Testament and throwing the shreds in the garbage. Ben Ari, representing the National Union Party (Ha Ihud Ha Leumim), is a follower of Meir Kahane.
In Ben Ari's defense, it wasn't an election year (in Israel), and consequently there was no need to keep American rightwing Christian sentiments in mind. Not that he would anyhow. The insane underbelly of Israel's strongest ally is only important to the Republican Party, and can be counted on to have no memory and no mind in any case.
No need to pander.
I mention all this to point out that one can be pro-Israel without admiring everything about the country, her people, and the gorillas that represent them. Not all the poo that comes out of this baby's arse is golden, some of it is dross.
The statement that we have to support Israel because it's the only democracy in the Middle East is complete nonsense, however. It is the only democracy in that neck of the woods whose voters, on the whole, are reasonably well educated, literate, and multi-facetted in their opinions. [Excepting, as always, the Hareidim.]
It is also the only country in that neck of the woods to have reasonable people and a diversity of all the things that define civilization. That is to say, a place where there is a great likelihood that those may be found. [Excepting, as always, the Hareidim.]
And, perhaps crucially, it is the only country in the Mediterranean region where one can travel safely. Not even Greece and Italy can claim that.
There's a lively free press there.
And strident "differences".
That's important.
There are a multitude of other reasons to be pro-Israel, too many to mention here, but if there is one thing to remember, it is that being pro-Israel is rational and reasonable, despite being critical of flaws and blots on the Israeli escutcheon like Netanyahu, Lieberman, and Ben Ari.
I probably shan't mention that on Facebook, though.
Too many damned Republicans there.
Tea-weasels.
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Dinner last night: Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Chunk and Almond Cookies. Probably about forty percent of the container, so that's nearly half a pound. I'm blaming womankind.
See, in the old days, when I still had somebody who didn't mind jumping my dessicated bones now and then, I was a social eater. Which implied yummy things, chopsticks, side dishes, and condiments.
Having been a born-again bachelor for these past nearly five years, communal eating isn't part of the programme.
By myself, I tend to scarf crap down without thinking.
Social eater: "how about another bit of roast duck, dearheart, and these vegetables are just scrumptious!"
Single man: "I'm eating cookies!"
Rounding out the balanced diet: Old Amsterdam cheese, and un-cured Genoa Salami.
The average married man is fat and complacent, whereas the un-attached male tends toward the lean and hungry look. We must maintain our cat-like reflexes, and lithe wiry trim.
I think I have done so.
Admirably.
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Due to the unseasonble weather this year, parts of Scotland downriver have flooded. Consequently people are displaced, and many of them are outraged. This should have been prevented.
They are eloquent in their distress.
Predictably, I cannot understand what the mad Celtic git is saying.
I often have that problem when they try to speak, and, given what the Scots are like, they might do well to stop that.
Trying to speak, that is.
Yah, man.
His throat has been scarred from all that all-purpose seasoning, browning, hot pepper sauce, and curry. Every ting. 'Clot.
"Sheet" water and "golly" water.
Never have been seen it.
All tru de ouse.
Ev'ry door.
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An article on the BBC website makes for worthwhile reading, especially if, like many folks in the civilized world, you travel on the San Francisco public transit system. The other day when I was on the bus a group of youngsters in the back was cussing up a storm -- it is amazing how many teenagers who probably can't spell, and don't read, acquire such a well-developed vocabulary, by the way -- and, as usual, youngish office types up front were perfectly happy to sit in the balls-lifted position while right in front of them frail elderly people with shopping bags stood, hanging on for dear life.
If you just realized that this is going to a marginally insane pissy rant, you are quite correct.
Read further, or turn away in revulsion; your choice.
Some key quotes from that article stand out.
Herewith:
"The duty of French parents to bring up their children to be model citizens." "If you don't teach your child limits, they could do much worse things in the future." "The permissive, child-centred model of parenting has gone too far"
Many children and young adults in San Francisco are selfish brutes with an overweening attitude of entitlement, and very much the same can be said about all the twenty-something internet-yuppies who have flocked here from elsewhere in the United States. A more uncivil and obnoxious bunch of cretinous skunks would be hard to imagine.
Riding a crowded Muni bus is an exercise in restraining yourself from smacking pasty-faced white and South-Asian retards, whether with pants drooping down or wearing programmer garb.
Model citizens? Perish the nation that considers them exemplary!
Limits? The only limitation, seemingly, is how snooty and self-impressed the little shits can be, and how outraged their mommies if you said anything about that.
Permissive and child-centred? What that means is that America's precious little brats have no incentive to grow up and act like decent human beings.
I mentioned pasty-faced whites and South-Asians above. Let me just add that African American kiddiewinkies also span the gamut from nice people you would like to see more of all the way to utter garbage.
Like the whites and South-Asians, mostly the latter. [No, shan't even discuss most other Western Europeans, as the behaviour of their nasty kiddiewinkies is well known. Soccer hooligans, druggies, and arrogant ignorant know-it-alls. Middle-Easterners? Feh.]
There are two ethnic groups who strongly tend to have well-behaved offspring: Latinos (Mexican and Central-American) and East-Asians (Chinese et autres). Not all of them, unfortunately -- once they become thoroughly Americanized ("middle-class"), the rot sets in -- but if anyone offers their seat to some creaky old dame, it more than likely will be a Chinese American or a Mexican American. Especially younger ones.
Often also a Russian American from out in the avenues.
Sometimes Jamaicans; there aren't many here.
Very few others.
They were probably raised to be proper citizens, and to acknowledge a measure of limitation. And even if their parents were rather permissive, they weren't the centre of anything while growing up but just one member of a family, and by no means the most important one.
Children can be very nice. But far too often they become teenagers and adults who are NOT special.
Most of the French people I have met in recent years have been quite delightful, albeit often verging on unintelligible. One wishes there were far more of them. I can do without the English and Scandinavian tourists, and lord knows I'm sick and tired of Eastcoasters, Midwesterners, and Southern Californians, as well as snooty internet yuppies, lawyers, and assorted business and marketing types, but French people are all right.
It's almost guaranteed that they don't whore around loud and drunk on Polk Street at three o'clock in the morning, and if they have disgusting sexual affairs they tend not to demonstrate that in public so very much.
Their behaviour is calm, courteous, and socially adept.
We need more French people.
And spanking.
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The other evening I emptied my snailmailbox. As you might expect, there is scant need to do so more than once a week, because almost anybody who needs to communicate with me already has my e-mail address, or is on facebook, or simply leaves a comment underneath a blogpost.
Several people whom I know primarily via the internet have my e-mail address. Some initiated contact by clicking on my Letter Box and leaving a query with their own contact data, from which communication blossomed.
Sorry, George, that also includes you. I apologize for not having responded yet -- it's been a busy few weeks -- but sometime soon you should expect an epistle. No, I have NO idea what happened to the cigar-store Indian that was in the backroom at Drucquers -- that thing gave me nightmares, or at least played a prominent role in them; Bourbon may have also been involved -- and by the way I am still enjoying that Canadian I got from you. Burley leaves a marvelous carbon layer. Have you tried Cornell & Diehl's Haunted Bookshop, or Old Joe Kranz? Excellent Burley blends! I highly recommend them.
Coworkers from the past, old friends, relatives in the wilds of Canada or Santa Barbara, and people I went to school with, are all welcome to make contact with intelligent life on this planet by clicking on that link.
Strange linguistics? Obscene propositions? Feedback on how your life sucks? Technical queries about pipe-smoking? How to make milk-tea? Why your little sister deserves a spanking?
All can! Truly.
I really like people. So I appreciate feedback, conversation, and caffeinated beverages anywhere in the North-Eastern quadrant of the city.
One of the original intentions of the Letter Box was to tempt some sweet young internet-cruising damsel into risking contact with a dangerous middle-aged rogue, such as I fancy myself to be.
You have to admit; it could work.
Unfortunately most college grads are FAR too savvy.
Spambots not so.
Spambots see the very first comment-style clicky-wicket and plunge right on in, more or less gibberantly disquisitioning on the piece underneath which that Letter Box was strategically placed. An article deliberately posted back in time, which simply mentions that it exists to anchor a Letter Box, by means of which people who do not have my e-mail and aren't on Facebook can contact me.
I'm still hoping for that bright young graduate student.
Something about a new strategic vision in someone's community, and the perfection of the article stating that the post in question existed purely as a place holder for the Letter Box, which was precisely what they needed.
Praise for my incredible skillz. Two kinds.
Some gibberish about media being the fount of all knowledge.
One person does not know who I am or how he ended up here. Sincere suggestion: therapy.
I am cultural and surpass all definition. If you are female and utterly charming, thank you.
Somebody spent FOUR HOURS surfing the internet before finding me. Better luck next time.
Genuine happiness about reading, and updates for his ignorant little brother; material for a dissertation.
Several variations of incredibility involving medications for my penis and clashing clans; I fail to see the connection to my Letter Box.
Clashing clans. Viagra. More clans. More viagra. Variations on viagra, and cogent clan-based clashing. Do clans clash because of viagra? Who knows! Purple candy crush.
And, last but by no means least: The misspelled yet forthrightly expressed desire that I should write further, and in greater detail, much more outstanding ponderings about the enchanting subject of my Letter Box.
Thank you. As you can see I have done that last one, as per your suggestion.
For your information, spam is hardly a substitute for the first shy feeler from a charming young lady who is keenly interested in a weirdo.
I am still vibrant and full of sparkle.
Don't need spam.
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This blogger finally admits that he is NOT au courant. In fact, the entire Arab world has advanced far, far faster than I have. It wasn't until recently that I finally discovered zenga zenga. And that only because of the kind response of e-kvetcher to a recent posting here.
It is music to wake yourself up by.
Profound, and inspiring.
Good morning.
Gaddafi, you will recall, was the enlightened leader who conquered the Gauls, then assumed power, and instituted a programme of social and governmental reforms, including the creation of the calendar.
"Inch by inch, house by house, home by home, alleyway by alleyway!"
Good friend of George Galloway, if that prompts your memory.
As well as an extremely talented singer.
And a snazzy dresser.
Style icon.
The video above is over four years old.
I never heard it till this week.
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The other day I bought a pound of chicken wings in Chinatown. When I got home I cooked them. They are in the refrigerator, and make a perfect midnight snack.
瑞士雞翼 ['Seui-si kai yik']
Swiss Wings are soaked then simmered in a soy sauce base, flavoured with sugar, ginger, chopped scallion, and rice wine. They are a Hong Kong thing, with no conceivable connection to Switzerland.
You can either make the liquid at home, or simply buy a bottle of it pre-made in Chinatown. It can also be used for larger parts of the bird, or as a marinade for any number of meats.
General rule of thumb: add as much water as sauce, to ensure even coverage and cooking. When the meat is done, remove to a plate, and reduce the sauce down to a suitable glazy thickness, OR reduce only slightly and serve splashed over the birdie bits.
Probably best with a pile of rice, but never-the-less superlative feasted upon over the sink at two in the morning with nothing else to accompany it. If you want "balance" in you diet, add a few eggs to the pot to hard-boil while cooking the wings.
If you add a splash of vinegar, it keeps longer in the fridge, and passes more than credibly for adobo. Which, when Filipinos come visit, is probably a good thing indeed. You never know when Filipinos will surprise you. Sometimes it is years between visitations, sometimes they magically appear when garlic and vinegar are used together.
It is a profound mystery.
Garlic can be added.
Very Filipino.
I tend to employ a squeeze of lime juice and a little saucer of chilipaste with nearly everything, but Swiss Wings do not need it.
Yes, fine with. But equally fine without.
Go by taste. Always go by taste.
Do not eat wings in bed.
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Being from San Francisco, I revel in the time of year when the East-Coast is nasty, and crustaceans run rampant in the city. So naturally you will understand what came to my mind immediately upon seeing the video below.
No, it doesn't show what my social life is like.
Nor recent Facebook discussions.
A friend of a friend, who is a Jew from Azerbajian or Tashkent, did not know that crustaceans were treif. Consequently his first few passovers in the free world were "memorable".
I mention this in passing, because normally only a shaigetz serves such things at a seder.
Lobster, crayfish, crabs. mussels, clams.....
All good with ginger and scallion.
It's good for you.
CLASSIC CANTONESE CRAB 薑葱蟹
['Geung Chung Haai']
Two large live Dungeness crabs
Four TBS cooking oil
Four or five scallion, segment-chopped
Four or five slices of ginger
Quarter cup sherry or 黄酒
A dash of soy sauce
Two TBS cornstarch
Salt and pepper
Pinch sugar
Put the crabs in the fridge for ten minutes to slow the little buggers down. Then place them on their backs and whack them straight across with a cleaver, opening them stem to stern; this kills them.
Clean out the unmentionable parts, then put the crabs in a plastic or brown paper bag to smash and crack appropriately. This renders pieces with accesible meat, especially in the claws -- required for both the cooking as well as the subsequent eating -- and the bag prevents goo from splattering your kitchen.
You should have several large crabby sections now.
Mix the cornstarch, salt, & pepper.
Dredge the crab parts. [The pieces should be dusted, not totally covered. A scant coating, in other words.]
Superheat the oil in the wok, add the ginger and fry till slightly gilded, then throw in the scallion. Twirl everything around the inside of the wok to infuse the oil with flavour, then before the scallion burns or colours, scoop out the vegetable matter with a slotted spoon, and while the pan is hot, dump in the crab. Stir around to make sure all parts get seared in oil, as the dredgement should be cooked. Re-add the ginger and scallion, stir, and pour in the sherry and soy sauce, add the pinch of sugar. Toss around to let the cooking finish with steam; about three minutes or so.
To serve, dump on a platter.
Cilantro is optional.
A dipping saucer with chilipaste, fish sauce, and lime juice on the side is an excellent idea. Yes, if you bashed the beast properly you can eat it with chopsticks, but you're still going to end up using your hands.
Don't forget the finger bowls.
NOTE: a more timid approach is to sort of deep fry the crab parts first, then decant and pour out a lot of the oil before finishing with scallion and ginger. And many cooks would keep the backs of the shells in one piece for presentation.
You could also just go over to Chinatown.
R&G LOUNGE
[嶺南小館 'LING-NAAM SIU-GWUN']
631 Kearny Street, Corner of Commercial Alley
San Francisco, CA 94108
They are famous for the salt and pepper crab.
Which is also great to eat.
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For the benefit of random searchers questing for tea, a brief discussion of 'chai' versus 'Hong Kong milk tea'. There are important distinctions, and if you purchase a beverage from a chain in the United States, you should know that what you are getting is crap.
Trust me. Total crap.
It ain't chai.
INDIA: THE CHAI WALLAH
Chai is also called masala chai, meaning spice tea. It is made by adding green cardamom and fennel seeds to a pot of water, heating it to a boil, then dumping loose leaf black tea into it. Reboil a few times, add milk, simmer briefly or reboil once, then strain it and add very little sugar to taste. Yes, it is supposed to be milky, but no, it is NOT a sweet hot dairy beverage.
It is tea; it should taste like tea.
Everything else is an afterthought.
Good judgement is inherent.
I do not know how Starbucks and Oregon make chai.
They probably milk rabid weasels.
Damned hippies.
Weasels!
Some people also add ginger, and Kathiawadis as well as some other Gujarati types throw in black pepper. It's probably good with a dish of undhiu, but no civilized person will ever find out.
Or papad, of you are Sindhi.
Cinnamon and nutmeg are NOT part of the programme.
See previous remarks about Starbucks and Oregon.
Damned hippies.
FRAGRANT HARBOUR: THE WAKE-ME-UPPER
Hong Kong milk tea starts with a blend of black tea leaves and either lychee black or pu-erh, or both. Put it into a long cloth strainer and suspend it in a tall tin pot on the burner. Simmer a while, then lower heat to keep it perky throughout the day. To serve, liberally dollop some sweetened condensed milk into the bottom of a cup or tall glass, then pour the steaming dark tea over it and stir.
It should be hot, bitter, and sweet.
Which is very refreshing.
RELEVANT TERMS
Naai cha (奶茶): milk tea. Gong sik naai cha (港式奶茶): Harbour style milk tea; harbour refers to Hong Kong. Si mat naai cha (絲襪奶茶): silk-stocking milk tea; called thus because the long cloth strainer bag usually ends up looking bedraggled and droopy, like your grandma's well-worn garments from the days when she stilled danced with sailors at that place in Yau Tsim Mong. She's had a shocking life, believe it or not. It was just after the war. Si mat (絲襪): panty hose. Lin naai (煉奶): condensed milk. Tam naai (淡奶): indifferent milk, meaning the evaporated milk sometimes used in lieu of sweetened condensed milk. Seung hei pai (雙喜牌): double happiness brand; a popular condensed milk from Malaysia. Sau sing gung lin naai (壽星公煉奶): god of longevity condensed milk, formerly made by a Dutch company in South Vietnam (local name: "Sữa Ông Thọ"), since then manufactured in North America for the Asian overseas community. Cha chanteng (茶餐廳): tea restaurant; the type of canteen or cheap food place serving spaghetti and spam where milk-tea was invented. Yuen yeung (鴛鴦): mandarin ducks, that being the term for coffee and milk-tea mixed, a favourite beverage of students. Tung naai cha (凍奶茶): milk tea over ice. Bo baa naai cha(波霸奶茶): horrid Taiwanese crap with tapioca globs. Jan jyu naai cha (珍珠奶茶): another name for horrid Taiwanese crap.
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It is flabberghasting that there is no Chinese Wikipedia entry that corresponds with the English and Winaray articles about badgers.
Especially as there are indeed badgers in the Far East.
The Asian Badger, among many others.
Whole lot of badgers.
獾，又稱狗獾、歐亞獾、或亞洲獾。 也有豬獾。
A friend asked why there was no year of the badger. I gently explained to him that badgers do not have overblown egos, and therefore never need to have their own very special year.
It is ALWAYS a badger year.
Hound badger versus hog badger.
While researching 獾 on the internet, I came across this sentence: 但猪獾肉比狗獾肉鲜美 ('daan chyu-fun yiuk pei gau-fun yiuk sin-mei'). Literally, "but pig-badger meat compared to dog-badger meat (is) DELICIOUS!"
猪獾 ('chyu fun') is Arctonyx collaris, a mustelid which is smaller than the European badger, that lives in Central Asia and points further south.
狗獾 ('gau fun') is the standard issue civilised badger, widespread throughout the Eurasian continent.
I am appalled that anyone would consider either animal food.
This is just not cricket.
The two places in China with barbaric food habits are, of course, Dongguan (東莞 'tung gun'; "Eastern Clubrushes") and Shenzhen (深圳 'sam jan'; "Deep Ditches"). One of them is the pimp and sex-industry capitol of the country, the other is well-known for corruption, disease, and the brutal exploitation of migrant workers, as well as unimaginable decadence.
Capitalism and car-dealerships run rampant.
I have no doubt that those two places eat more badger than all the rest of Asia combined. Their fellow countrymen justifiably look askance at either locale, no doubt wondering what horrendous upbringing resulted in such depravity.
Real people eat pork, fish, and crustaceans.
And sometimes lamb.
Or beef.
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She looked utterly adorable as she toddled off with her freshly lit cigar. Face glowing, small fingers clutching a very nice Toro with a maduro wrapper from an estimable Nicaraguan Firma, fragrant smoke trailing.
Even without the cigar, she's the bees knees.
Alas, she's taken.
I had asked why she hadn't been by in such a long while. It turns out her boyfriend has been on her case about the cigar habit. He disapproves. So she humoured him.
However she had seen a recent cellphone photo that showed him cheating on her with cigars of his own, with his buddies, and she felt betrayed.
Infuriated, actually. The nerve! If it weren't for her, the shmo wouldn't even know about good cigars, he'd still be huffing those flavoured mango and watermelon stogies!
But, apparently, cigars are "unfeminine".
She's exceptionally feminine.
Very much a lady.
I congratulated her on her return, and sympathized. Many of us give up, or hide, habits that our more temperamental halves wish us to stop. I haven't seen one of my associates in ages because his husband thinks that pipe-smoking is an odious habit.
Being in love with the boy, he plays along.
It's only temporary, though.
He loves a pipe.
Eventually cigars and pipes must win. The reason being that so soothing a habit prolongs life by alleviating stress, and improves life by making us more human.
Yes, I can understand the complaints if cigar and pipe smokers pong up the family dwelling, and I'll also cross the road to avoid little children under the supervision of school staff, because they're duty-bound to voice objections. Fragile little monsters and all that. Bad examples.
We'll tone down, and step aside.
Temperance in all things.
Along with tolerance.
Balance above all.
But let's face it; if today's young near-adults don't get a chance to experiment with so gentle a habit -- one that conduces thoughtfulness and discernment -- how on earth are we ever going to end up with happy old-folks, three or four decades from now?
There will be no one to push our wheelchairs out to the designated smoking spot six blocks away from the nearest parks, grammar schools, and old folks home.
Instead there will be grim hatched faced nurse Ratchet types, bolting doors when they see us approach with our smoking equipment, screaming that they're only doing it for our own good, we're gonna live to a hundred even if it makes us miserable, smoking is nasty!
Get the little farts into tobacco now, before they turn into opinionated ignorant college kids. It will stand them in good stead while they study, and irritate the prudes and puritans trying to brainwash them.
They'll grow up wise and open-minded.
And ready to join us for a puff.
Even if it is raining outside.
I do not smoke in the house after the middle of the afternoon on my days off, because my apartment mate is a non-smoker, who would undoubtedly be upset if the place smelled like a men's club when she returned. That's only natural. And I can understand that she would not want her stuffed animals to pong of pipe fumes.
But she's not a strident missionary type, and, as we aren't physically involved, she has no problem with my smoking and smelling ab initio. She once told me that she did not want me to die young, but by now that's no longer a worry.
She's a good friend, and I tone down my more robust habits when I am around her. Not many people will get so much regard, as I tend to avoid sneering snooty types. Non-smokers are okay. Anti-smokers have a bug up their ass -- often several bugs -- and not only screech about second and third hand smoke killing them by aggravating their asthma and allergies, but they will also often proselytize for weird dietary modifications -- no meat ever, and fish ONLY on alternate Tuesdays, IF there's a full moon -- no perfumes, no Monsanto, all-natural and sharing profits with the home for vegetarian orphans, gluten-free and energy-efficient. Usually they also refuse to even consider that colourful native cultures might be murderous and consumerite.
Sustainable farming! No vaccination! Green gas!
Don't throw it out, mulch it for compost! You must separate your garbage into categories: decomposable, recyclable, re-purposable, chemical waste, plus cotton, brights, and non-imperialist!
Smoking is a dead white male habit.
Terminally unhip.
In another few minutes I shall be heading downtown, to enjoy a dinner cooked by colourful elsewhere natives that utilizes meat, in an environment where pretentious allergies are not indulged. At times the owner will be outside taking a break with a puff or two. The counter staff find my pipe a rather delightful eccentricity, and no one who works there has EVER told me that I smell bad. Maybe they might think so, but they're not out to change the world, and men are supposed to be a bit funky.
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Having sworn not to listen to the prime-minister's speech but to read it, at leisure, instead, I did note from several newsreports (i.e.; Facebook postings) that his excellency monumentally inspired our elected representatives. Never before have they heard words of such conviction.
In all their lives, there has not been a moment so important.
We must all unite for the cause.
And a new world awaits us all if we do.
There will be enormous positive reverberations.
It is heartening that for once our congress people are all on one page, unanimous in their approval of a course of action, a call to arms, a statement of import, and a message of resolve.
My correspondents have, helpfully, sent messages that, in the end, convinced me of the rightness.
Along with video clips of the enthusiasm with which congress welcomed Bibi Netanyahu.
After it was all over, pundits and commentators agreed that never before had there been such a forthright speech, or such an inspiring political message. There was great clarity, and truth had been exposed.
This, in the final analysis, settled the question.
The Gordian Knot had been clearly cut.
A veritable Rubicon, sir!
For nearly two decades, Bibi Netanyahu has striven to inform us of the enormous positive reverberations, and finally we are ready to hear him.
Bibi Netanyahu speaks for us. All of us. Even those who disagree.
The reward for such singleminded determination is manifest.
Only one thing still remains to be done now.
Vote for Bibi in the next election.
Anything else is treason.
========================================================================== NOTE: Readers may contact me directly: LETTER BOX. All correspondence will be kept in confidence. ==========================================================================
What's good about today, Tuesday March 3, 2015, is that sometime after eight I shall head across the Golden Gate to Marin, and will therefore have neither the opportunity nor the temptation to listen Netanyahu gabwaffle before a room filled with fundamentalist Christians from Inbredistan.
Errm, I mean, the prime-minister of Israel -- who represents ALL the Jews, both the living and the dead, and all those who ever will be, much like the crowd that stood before Sinai when Moshe Rabbeinu had a temper tantrum on the way to the Holy Land -- speaking to the Republicans at Congress.
Orgasms all around for the fans.
But be that as it may.
Marin County is where the real America starts. The America of very bad food. Alleviated, sometimes, by items that actually taste good and don't have a wonderbread texture.
I recently acquired a bottle Sriracha hotsauce to keep in the refrigerator at work. It feels almighty lonely in there, surrounded by ketchup and ancient mayonnaise.
I wonder what the local Mexicans eat; there are tons of them, doing the useful stuff that Marinites can't do themselves. They must be starving.
Perhaps they have a hidden neighborhood filled with taquerias.
"Welcome to mi pueblo, don't tell the Gringos about this place."
"They think this is where leaf-blowers come to die."
"And would be horrified at our food."
"Which is not Vegan."
"Nor hip."
The four nearest vendors of arguably edible substances are, in order of proximity: Seven Eleven. MacDonalds. The fridge at the Valero gas station. In-n-out Burgers.
This is where the real America starts.
Flavourless. Potsmoking. Vegan, or gluten-phobic. Auras, karma, tofu. Anti-vax. Soft and spongy. Special. Full-breasted. Lawns. Skin creme. Cell-phones. Koch Brothers Pipe-line. Sweet mixed drinks. Chicken chains. Dollar dances. Tires. Budweiser. Jello shots. Syphilis. Chewing gum. Jagermeister. Vodka. Chevrolet. Walmart. Leftover pizza.
A profound fear of yoghurt, rice, and curry.
A selection of fatty snacks instead. Ms. Andrea Shea King.
Choleria & bile.
Jesus.
========================================================================== NOTE: Readers may contact me directly: LETTER BOX. All correspondence will be kept in confidence. ==========================================================================
You've just bought a nice double-tall cup of mocha-hazelnut latte, when you see the bus arriving. Dang, and it's SO gooood! You run, stumbling, spilling steaming Starbucks genius everywhere, to get to the bus door. You're about to board when the busdriver reminds you "no beverages allowed".
Life is unfair. So you throw a fit.
The big black momma driving the Municipal Railways conveyance relents, and lets you in, but only if you stand "in the middle of that cluster of internet yuppies blocking the backdoor, 'cause I don't want REAL people hurt when that shit spills".
And, if you're a fiscally conservative Republican, you obey.
Because dammit, you paid for it, bitches. All of it!
And you refuse to spend another penny.
Once you get to the office you will entertain everyone with an hour-long disquisition about what is wrong with this city, public services, the welfare state, our leaders, taxes, a society that feels entitled, and why on earth are all those wellfare mothers are on the bus at quarter past nine.
Good thing there's another Starbucks on the ground floor.
Like any god-fearing fanboy of pudgy-faced opinionators from Fox, I also resent paying taxes, and vote the solid tea-party conservative line. Dammit, if our ancestors built something, I reasonably expect that it should last beyond MY lifetime, because I don't want to spend a penny on it!
We demand that the preceding generations do their job!
They were supposed to make our lives better. I'll just sit here, sipping my venti in a huff, until they obey.
The alternative would be big government controlling our lives, and enabling the undeserving poor, by "job creation". Which is precisely what I expect private enterprise to do, so that it will be done in a fiscally responsible manner, with all of the profit going to America's corporations.
By way of trickle-down, that will surely benefit all of us.
When the government does it, it's 'socialism'.
AFTERWORD
In the manner of all right-thinking Americans, I do not live downstream from any dams or next to the freeway. There are no bridges (neither unsafe nor dangerous) in my neck of the woods. And no cement anywhere.
My brand-new S.U.V. has pimped-up shock-absorbers.
I have a strong attachment to my coffee cup.
I voted for the party of Jesus.
Boehner.
NO ACTION, NOW!
Quote: "The Administration has not put forward, and does not plan to put forward, ah, a proposal to increase the gas tax. This Administration has put forward an idea, uh, by essentially y'know closing the loophole that allows corporations to benefit by stashing, ah, some of their profits overseas."
The solution, as always, is Boehner.
Two years, and nothing.
Giant lizards.
AFTERWORD, AFTER THE AFTERWORD
I few days ago I mentioned to some friends over cigars that foresight almost always guaranteed that there would be little need for future corrective measures. To illustrate, I pulled the condom which is always in one of my pockets out, and said "carrying this around damned well GUARANTEES that I will not be jumped by a sex-starved trollop the moment I leave this bar, whereas without it, I dare not leave the house after dark".
And you know that that is completely true.
Condoms prevent disaster.
Boehner.
========================================================================== NOTE: Readers may contact me directly: LETTER BOX. All correspondence will be kept in confidence. ==========================================================================
A measure to be voted on by Republican whackjobs 'politicos' in Idaho's Kootenai County proposes that Idaho be officially declared a Christian state. Possibly they wish to stem the huge flood of Muslims and Hindus who would undermine the very bedrock of the greatest state in the Union. A veritable tide of vile heathens against which the good people of Idaho have no other defense than the one true religion they all so loyally espouse.
From Reuters: The proposal seeks that Idaho be "formally and specifically declared a Christian state," guided by a Judeo-Christian faith reflected in the U.S. Declaration of Independence where all authority and power is attributed to God, the resolution reads. The measure argues that the Christian faith is under "strident attack" in the United States, and cites as evidence the absence of Christian traditions and symbols in public institutions such as schools. The issue has sparked debate within the Republican stronghold of northern Idaho, once known for harboring leaders of the so-called Christian identity or white supremacist movement such as the late Aryan Nations founder Richard Butler. Supporters say the measure echoes the Christian principles espoused by early U.S. presidents such as Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, and that it has added significance at a time when Christians are subject to persecution in countries such as Syria where it is not the dominant religion. "We're a Christian community in a Christian state and the Republican Party is a Christian Party," said Jeff Tyler, a member of the committee and backer of the draft resolution. "It's important that Christians stand up and be unashamed to say they're Christians." End quote.
[Photo of shameless 'courageous' Christian Republican from the Great Unreconstructed All-American Christian Heartland presumably standing, that is, presumably standing UP, provided by the Kootenai GOP.]
It is worthwhile noting that the onslaught of savage Wiccans, Muslims, and Buddhists, ALREADY amounts to somewhat less than one percent of the total population of Idaho, per Wikipedia, thus conclusively proving that the 98%+ of true believers are in grave danger.
[Note that the 98%+ figure includes Mormons (23%), Evangelical Protestants (22%), Jehovah's Witnesses (1%), and sundry other heretics. If those are excluded (as they should be, along with 18% who are Catholic), the number of Christians in Idaho is far less.
Why they aren't terrified of the crazies is baffling.]
There are half-a-dozen mosques in Idaho.
Veritable magnets of un-Christianity!
I am proud that Idaho knows from Syria.
Until today I had assumed that they did not know of any countries beyond the borders of the continental United States. Especially not those fine Republicans, for whom our fiftieth state is a suburb of Nairobi.
When our founding fathers included ideas about freedom of religion in the constitution, it was so that adherents of depraved crap like the Baptists, Methodists, and Lutherans would have no legal pressure to convert.
Ever hopeful, they probably assumed that those people would come to their senses in the fullness of time, after reflecting on their sins.
In Idaho, they already have.
At least in Kootenai.
Oh Jesus.
========================================================================== NOTE: Readers may contact me directly: LETTER BOX. All correspondence will be kept in confidence. ==========================================================================
Never having been a breakfast person, I cannot get my head around what Chinese people eat first thing in the day. Fortunately, much of that is also available for several hours after.
Dim sum is of course the primary example everyone thinks of. But it's not limited to that. There are places in Hong Kong where you can also get a good steak at the crack of dawn. As well as all the bakeries and coffee shops or cha chanteng that open early.
Many Chinese also start the day with jook (粥), and some like nothing more than a warm fresh bowl of tofu milk.
Suppose, for instance, that you had a mid-morning appointment with the plastics factory that makes all the cheap doodads that your company sells to crazy Americans during the Christmas Holiday.
You know that the locals have been up for hours -- one of the people in our Tsimshatsui office read all of her e-mails before it was even daylight, nota bene -- but you are still a wee bit groggy from that long flight that landed just before nine last night. The hotel breakfast did NOT appeal to you, even though they tried (kudos for the stalwart attempt). The very idea of three fried eggs, bacon, hash browns, and very British limp room temperature toast, accompanied by a very American cup of coffee, nauseated you at that early hour.
[Very American coffee: Undrinkable bilge-water. Yes, good coffee is available in Hong Kong, but they know most Americans cannot tolerate it. Alas, they have overlooked the fact that some people are from San Francisco and having been getting morning beverages from Peet's or the Caffe Trieste for decades.]
You've grabbed a cab, and headed over to the other side of Kowloon Bay, facing where Kai Tak Airport (啟德機場) used to be.
Hunghom. Tokwa Wan. Finally, 'Overlooking the Pools'.
Your bloodsugar level is zilch.
Rock buggery bottom.
觀塘之裕民坊 KWUN TONG'S YUE MAN SQUARE
You have to down something before going in to see mister Wong. Especially if that fearsome secretary (his elderly auntie) is guarding the inner sanctum. She took a scunner to you the last time because you smoked inside the building, you certainly do NOT want to make involuntary stomach gurgles in her direction. [Trust me. It doesn't matter that she's pushing seventy years old, she can still wallop you. And if she were a bright young twenty-four year old it would be no different. You are still better off not making borborigmic disturbances at her. I know about stomach noises. The other day, being lazy, I made myself some dried oyster fried rice. I used chopped ginger as the vegetable, because I like ginger. Stomach noises for several hours. Maybe not the smartest snack I ever made.]
Yue Man Square is the centre of town. It's where all the banks are, as well as many shops and restaurants. Charsiu, siu yiuk, bubble tea. Thai food. Satay. Hot pot. McDonalds, Seven Eleven. Chicken buns also.
There's a tofu milk shop nearby. Go there. Get nourished.
It will help you face the fearsome miss Wong.
[永興豆漿王: 'wing hing dau jeung wong'; "forever flourishing bean milk king".]
It's a small narrow interior place that does a booming business.
Either get yourself a nice bowl of fresh velvety tofu in clear syrup (一碗凍豆花 'yat wun tong dau faa) with brown sugar (黄糖 'wong tong') on top, or warm soy milk (熱豆漿 'yit dau jeung') and an extra long oil stick (油條 'yau tiu').
The first named choice truly is 香香滑滑 ('heung heung gwat gwat'; sweetly fragrant and smoothy-slick), the second is infinitely comforting, and might even be the breakfast of champions.
Both fresh tofu (豆腐花 'dau fu faa') and soy milk (豆漿 'dau jeung') are inexpensive.
Adjectives: creamy, comforting, beany.
香濃熱荳漿
Thus fortified, you can face any number of ferocious old ladies. Even if they remained single by choice, distrusting all men, and considering randomly transitory kwailo even more suspicious than most.
========================================================================== NOTE: Readers may contact me directly: LETTER BOX. All correspondence will be kept in confidence. ==========================================================================
