This blogger has become what you hold up as an example to the younger generation. Which this blogger never expected. Apparently all my horrid habits and disreputable praedilections mean nothing, because I can write Chinese. "See, this Lofan writes it! You barely even speak it!" And Sunny Jim looked properly chastened, while taking another deep drag from his marijuana cigarette.
He was probably too zonked to comprehend.
Or even care.
一個強的櫻桃木棍
This was, more or less, the inevitable result of trying to tell Toisan Uncle three or four weeks ago that the stick I carry late at night to bash people's heads (打人 嘅頭 'taa yan ge tau') was cherry wood. The word I wrote was 櫻 ('ying'), as in 櫻花 ('ying faa'; cherry blossom). Which is 木 ('muk'; tree, wood), in combination with 嬰 ('ying'; infant, little child) as a phonetic element. The tree in question is 甜櫻桃 ('tim ying tou'; "sweet cherry peach"), or 'wild cherry' in English, which is part of the 蔷薇科 ('cheung mei fo'; rosaceae family), native to the temperate zones.
It was problematic, and I could have saved myself the trouble.
Cherry is 車厘子 ('che lei ji'; "cart mile thingy").
Cantonese tend to borrow words.
一個車厘木柯。
樹枝也。
Sometimes Cantonese locutions can be as baffling to Mandarin speakers as they are to Anglo monolinguals.
正如我所看到的
Now I should point out that 嬰 is actually a lovely illustration. It shows a little girl with two cowries -- standing in for bows or clips -- in her hair.
Female, woman, girl, daughter: 女 ('neui').
Money, cowrie: 貝 ('bui').
Note: do not confuse 貝 with 具 ('geui'; tool, implement; to write) or 見 ('kin'; see or observe). The word 具 can be understood as shelves on a stand or a stack of inboxes, whereas 見 shows an eyeball (目 'muk') on legs, possibly running away, or in any case actively doing something.
As in 視 ('si'): to view or observe.
眼 ('ngaan'): the eye.
睇 ('tai'): look.
AFTER THOUGHT
I should mention that a written character I looked up recently (謙 'him') is a word I have never used, and to the best of my knowledge shows up on only one shop sign in Chinatown. But I've seen in hundreds of times.
The meaning is "modest", "humble".
The shop is 寶謙昌 ('bou him cheung'), the Superior Trading Company, at 835 Washington Street, between Waverly and Stockton. Sellers of 花旗參 ('faa kei sam'; "flower flag roots"), as well as ginseng from China, Korea, and Japan. They've been in business since 1959.
Flourishing modest treasure.
Nice.
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Wednesday, August 09, 2017
PROD, PROD, PROD
A friend of mine got a call yesterday telling him he was overdue for a Pap smear, and he should make an appointment. Which I encourage him to do, as I am always open to new educational experiences for him.
I told him to beware the cold speculum.
As far as I can recall, none of my other friends have ever mentioned their Pap smears. I'm sure that is an oversight. But I am fine with that streak continuing.
Pelvic exams are a private affair.
My ex never discussed Pap smears with me, and though I see her frequently, she still doesn't. It would disconcert me if she did.
I have never mentioned what goes on at the urologists.
Sometimes the male specimens in the cigar lounge talk about such things. But they are dubious individuals in any case, and extravagant mistakes during their fraternity days probably still affect their lower parts.
Particularly the two bald degenerates and the coke fiend.
In the case of my friend, though, I want to hear all about it.
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I told him to beware the cold speculum.
As far as I can recall, none of my other friends have ever mentioned their Pap smears. I'm sure that is an oversight. But I am fine with that streak continuing.
Pelvic exams are a private affair.
My ex never discussed Pap smears with me, and though I see her frequently, she still doesn't. It would disconcert me if she did.
I have never mentioned what goes on at the urologists.
Sometimes the male specimens in the cigar lounge talk about such things. But they are dubious individuals in any case, and extravagant mistakes during their fraternity days probably still affect their lower parts.
Particularly the two bald degenerates and the coke fiend.
In the case of my friend, though, I want to hear all about it.
==========================================================================
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Tuesday, August 08, 2017
CHINATOWN NEIGHBORHOOD IMPROVEMENT
Rereading a food related rant from three years ago, it struck me that it's still as valid as it ever was. And that maybe today or tomorrow I should have some congee with a fried dough stick.
WHITE PEOPLE, KINDLY STAY OUT OF CHINATOWN!
MONDAY, MAY 12, 2014
I myself am so white that I glow in the dark -- heck, you can read a book in the pallid glow of my pastiness -- but I'm talking about other people.
BY THE WAY: the city is trying hard to make Chinatown better for the tourists. That's why one alleyway has been torn up for months and they will eventually install rectangular concrete planters and seats. Bamboo and sharp corners, instead of the round concrete planters and seats.
Which were ugly. Or something.
Other alleys are also slated for improvement.
The finest design minds are at work.
If they really wanted old people to sit down for a while looking picturesque and photogenic, the seats would have back rest capability.
Like alleys in the financial district.
Real benches.
Trash services, better pavement, and more adult classes.
Yes, that would cost more than concrete obstacles.
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WHITE PEOPLE, KINDLY STAY OUT OF CHINATOWN!
MONDAY, MAY 12, 2014
I myself am so white that I glow in the dark -- heck, you can read a book in the pallid glow of my pastiness -- but I'm talking about other people.
BY THE WAY: the city is trying hard to make Chinatown better for the tourists. That's why one alleyway has been torn up for months and they will eventually install rectangular concrete planters and seats. Bamboo and sharp corners, instead of the round concrete planters and seats.
Which were ugly. Or something.
Other alleys are also slated for improvement.
The finest design minds are at work.
If they really wanted old people to sit down for a while looking picturesque and photogenic, the seats would have back rest capability.
Like alleys in the financial district.
Real benches.
Trash services, better pavement, and more adult classes.
Yes, that would cost more than concrete obstacles.
==========================================================================
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WHAT'S UP, MY HONKY?
Quote from a conversation: "Why is it that only black people can use the 'N' word, but everybody can say 'Honky'? That's so unfair!"
Well, yeah. So?
"Hey Honky, nice station wagon!"
The reason is the history of the 'N' word. Which as an educated person you should already know. Honky just doesn't have the bite. But if you really have major problems with 'Honky', feel free to take back that word.
Use it. Make it your own. Enjoy the righteous feeling, dude.
In a different conversation someone said that only Dutch people can use the word 'kaaskop', no one else!
Which is because most people don't know it.
And can't pronounce it correctly.
I personally find the term 'randy old goat' extremely rude and hurtful, and will no longer tolerate anybody else using it.
I am a "hormonally vibrant American".
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Well, yeah. So?
"Hey Honky, nice station wagon!"
The reason is the history of the 'N' word. Which as an educated person you should already know. Honky just doesn't have the bite. But if you really have major problems with 'Honky', feel free to take back that word.
Use it. Make it your own. Enjoy the righteous feeling, dude.
In a different conversation someone said that only Dutch people can use the word 'kaaskop', no one else!
Which is because most people don't know it.
And can't pronounce it correctly.
I personally find the term 'randy old goat' extremely rude and hurtful, and will no longer tolerate anybody else using it.
I am a "hormonally vibrant American".
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Monday, August 07, 2017
OH DELICIOUS STREET IN PRESIDIO TERRACE!
A couple from the South Bay now own 120 lovely parking spaces in San Francisco, much to the dismay of residents. Tina Lam and Michael Cheng bought Presidio Terrace two years ago. Just the street and sidewalks.
Not the extremely expensive homes lining it.
Which apparently surprised the people who own mansions there no end.
They are upset, and outraged.
Woe!
From the San Francisco Chronicle:
"Tina Lam and Michael Cheng snatched up Presidio Terrace — the block-long, private oval street lined by 35 megamillion-dollar mansions — for $90,000 and change in a city-run auction stemming from an unpaid tax bill."
[cut]
"Past homeowners have included Sen. Dianne Feinstein and her financier husband, Richard Blum; House Democratic leader Nancy Pelosi; and the late Mayor Joseph Alioto. A guard is stationed round the clock at the stone-gate entrance to the street to keep the curious away."
Source: Rich SF residents get a shock: Someone bought their street
This is what America is all about: two Chinese immigrants bought a street that until racial covenants in real estate were banned (in 1949) they would not be allowed to live on, and that the guard at that gate would have kept them away from before they acquired it.
Further quoting from that article:
"The couple’s purchase appears to be the culmination of a comedy of errors involving a $14-a-year property tax bill that the homeowners association failed to pay for three decades. It’s something that the owners of all 181 private streets in San Francisco are obliged to do."
[cut]
"Two years ago, the city’s tax office put the property up for sale in an online auction, seeking to recover $994 in unpaid back taxes, penalties and interest. Cheng and Lam, trawling for real estate opportunities in the city, pounced on the offer — snatching up the parcel with a $90,100 bid, sight unseen. Since the purchase in April 2015, the couple have been quietly sitting on the property, talking to a number of land-use attorneys to explore their options."
[cut]
"He and his wife see plenty of financial opportunity — especially from the 120 parking spaces on the street."
[cut]
"They didn’t learn that their street and sidewalks had been sold until they were contacted May 30 by a title search company working on behalf of Cheng and Lam, said Emblidge. The title search outfit wanted to know if the residents had any interest in buying back the property from the couple, the lawyer said.
“I was shocked to learn this could happen, and am deeply troubled that anyone would choose to take advantage of the situation and buy our street and sidewalks,” said one homeowner, who asked not to be named because of pending litigation."
[Oh boo hoo!]
"Last month, the homeowners petitioned the Board of Supervisors for a hearing to rescind the tax sale. The board has scheduled a hearing for October."
[cut]
"Fried said that as far as she knows, the Board of Supervisors “has never done a hearing of rescission” — and that because it’s been more than two years since Cheng and Lam bought the property, it could be tough to overturn the sale now.
As for the threat to charge them for parking, the residents suspect it’s part of a pressure campaign by the couple to force the homeowners association to shell out big bucks to buy back the street.
The couple, however, say they’re in no hurry to sell".
[End cite]
[Matier & Ross, SF Chronicle, August 7, 2017]
I suspect almost no one in this city has any sympathy for the homeowners, and is instead warmly supportive of Tina Lam (originally from Hong Kong) and Michael Cheng (from Taiwan), who look extremely cute together.
Far more than the residents of Presidio Terrace, they represent us.
And all of us are probably more than a bit jealous.
We would've like to have done that.
If it were me, I would charge at least one thousand dollars per month for each of those 120 parking spaces. Which is below market, btw.
Pay up, or my fleet of disreputable used vehicles will be in front of your house every day.
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LETTER BOX.
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Not the extremely expensive homes lining it.
Which apparently surprised the people who own mansions there no end.
They are upset, and outraged.
Woe!
From the San Francisco Chronicle:
"Tina Lam and Michael Cheng snatched up Presidio Terrace — the block-long, private oval street lined by 35 megamillion-dollar mansions — for $90,000 and change in a city-run auction stemming from an unpaid tax bill."
[cut]
"Past homeowners have included Sen. Dianne Feinstein and her financier husband, Richard Blum; House Democratic leader Nancy Pelosi; and the late Mayor Joseph Alioto. A guard is stationed round the clock at the stone-gate entrance to the street to keep the curious away."
Source: Rich SF residents get a shock: Someone bought their street
This is what America is all about: two Chinese immigrants bought a street that until racial covenants in real estate were banned (in 1949) they would not be allowed to live on, and that the guard at that gate would have kept them away from before they acquired it.
Further quoting from that article:
"The couple’s purchase appears to be the culmination of a comedy of errors involving a $14-a-year property tax bill that the homeowners association failed to pay for three decades. It’s something that the owners of all 181 private streets in San Francisco are obliged to do."
[cut]
"Two years ago, the city’s tax office put the property up for sale in an online auction, seeking to recover $994 in unpaid back taxes, penalties and interest. Cheng and Lam, trawling for real estate opportunities in the city, pounced on the offer — snatching up the parcel with a $90,100 bid, sight unseen. Since the purchase in April 2015, the couple have been quietly sitting on the property, talking to a number of land-use attorneys to explore their options."
[cut]
"He and his wife see plenty of financial opportunity — especially from the 120 parking spaces on the street."
[cut]
"They didn’t learn that their street and sidewalks had been sold until they were contacted May 30 by a title search company working on behalf of Cheng and Lam, said Emblidge. The title search outfit wanted to know if the residents had any interest in buying back the property from the couple, the lawyer said.
“I was shocked to learn this could happen, and am deeply troubled that anyone would choose to take advantage of the situation and buy our street and sidewalks,” said one homeowner, who asked not to be named because of pending litigation."
[Oh boo hoo!]
"Last month, the homeowners petitioned the Board of Supervisors for a hearing to rescind the tax sale. The board has scheduled a hearing for October."
[cut]
"Fried said that as far as she knows, the Board of Supervisors “has never done a hearing of rescission” — and that because it’s been more than two years since Cheng and Lam bought the property, it could be tough to overturn the sale now.
As for the threat to charge them for parking, the residents suspect it’s part of a pressure campaign by the couple to force the homeowners association to shell out big bucks to buy back the street.
The couple, however, say they’re in no hurry to sell".
[End cite]
[Matier & Ross, SF Chronicle, August 7, 2017]
I suspect almost no one in this city has any sympathy for the homeowners, and is instead warmly supportive of Tina Lam (originally from Hong Kong) and Michael Cheng (from Taiwan), who look extremely cute together.
Far more than the residents of Presidio Terrace, they represent us.
And all of us are probably more than a bit jealous.
We would've like to have done that.
If it were me, I would charge at least one thousand dollars per month for each of those 120 parking spaces. Which is below market, btw.
Pay up, or my fleet of disreputable used vehicles will be in front of your house every day.
==========================================================================
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LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
SPIRITUALLY BENEFICIAL SPAGHETTI
Every Saturday in my parents' house was Spaghetti Night. I think it was my mother's way of reminding us that though we were living in Europe then, we were Americans. Tomato and meat sauce over boiled noodles, plus garlic bread, and grated cheese. The uplifting food of a hallowed tradition.
My eating habits now are not so predictable.
And neither is my spaghetti.
番茄肉醬意麵
Chopped fatty pork fried to render some grease, vegetables -- last night it was fuzzy melon (節瓜 'jit gwaa'), which slightly resembles zucchini, but it could have been anything -- added to the pan, plus chopped green chilies, and curry paste. Over Chinese wheat noodles.
With a grind of fresh pepper.
I prefer the flat noodles that look like fettuccine.
The Chinese types cook much faster.
What makes this queer concoction virtually and karmically the same as the all-American 'Spaghetti Bolognese' that my mother cooked?
Simple; it also contains tomato paste and a bay leaf.
The bay leaf makes all the difference.
That is the tradition.
Literally, this is "tomato meat sauce Italian noodle", 番茄肉醬意麵 'faan-ke yiuk-jeung yi min'. And it's quite safe for modern wussy White people, because despite the presence of meat, gluten, and flavour, it is mysteriously Asian, and contains ginger and turmeric, which they firmly believe cure everything besides nurturing your chakras.
You wouldn't criticize something that natives have eaten for thousands of years, would you? And chilies; a shout-out to the people who were here first, whom Donald wants to keep out! Solidarity!
You could use tofu. But what's the point?
A while back I heard a customer at the nearby taqueria asking if they could make his burrito with a gluten-free flour tortilla.
Yes of course he was White.
==========================================================================
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LETTER BOX.
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My eating habits now are not so predictable.
And neither is my spaghetti.
番茄肉醬意麵
Chopped fatty pork fried to render some grease, vegetables -- last night it was fuzzy melon (節瓜 'jit gwaa'), which slightly resembles zucchini, but it could have been anything -- added to the pan, plus chopped green chilies, and curry paste. Over Chinese wheat noodles.
With a grind of fresh pepper.
I prefer the flat noodles that look like fettuccine.
The Chinese types cook much faster.
What makes this queer concoction virtually and karmically the same as the all-American 'Spaghetti Bolognese' that my mother cooked?
Simple; it also contains tomato paste and a bay leaf.
The bay leaf makes all the difference.
That is the tradition.
Literally, this is "tomato meat sauce Italian noodle", 番茄肉醬意麵 'faan-ke yiuk-jeung yi min'. And it's quite safe for modern wussy White people, because despite the presence of meat, gluten, and flavour, it is mysteriously Asian, and contains ginger and turmeric, which they firmly believe cure everything besides nurturing your chakras.
You wouldn't criticize something that natives have eaten for thousands of years, would you? And chilies; a shout-out to the people who were here first, whom Donald wants to keep out! Solidarity!
You could use tofu. But what's the point?
A while back I heard a customer at the nearby taqueria asking if they could make his burrito with a gluten-free flour tortilla.
Yes of course he was White.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, August 06, 2017
BYE BYE, DARJEELING, HAVE A GOOD TIME
The political situation in the tea-growing region of Darjeeling (West Bengal) is looking grim, with strikes and violent protests seriously interfering with production of what appears to be the only crop worth harvesting.
Which, personally, affects me little.
The tea I drink is predominantly from China, and even among black teas there are a large number of splendid ones which come from there.
Plus there's Ceylon, and several areas of Java and Vietnam.
Kenya, Tanzania, and Thailand.
Really, I'm okay with chauvinistic Ghorka agitators pissing on their own shoes, economically speaking. Sure, for the Germans and the Japanese it may be a disaster, and the British will also dread the prospect of Darjeeling running out sometime later this year and remaining unavailable for a few years more, but in all honesty my piles don't bleed for them.
Or the separatist Gorkha Janmukti Morcha.
From China the following are well worth drinking: Keemun (祁門 'kei mun'), Yunnan Black Tea (雲南紅茶 'wan naam hung chaa') Lu An Red (六安紅茶 'lok on hung chaa'), Dian Hong (滇紅 'din hung'), Yingde Black Tea (英德紅茶 'ying dak hung chaa').
Darjeeling is sometimes called the 'champagne of teas'.
None of the tea I drink comes from Darjeeling.
So whatever, little bandy-legged dudes.
Riot all you want.
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Which, personally, affects me little.
The tea I drink is predominantly from China, and even among black teas there are a large number of splendid ones which come from there.
Plus there's Ceylon, and several areas of Java and Vietnam.
Kenya, Tanzania, and Thailand.
Really, I'm okay with chauvinistic Ghorka agitators pissing on their own shoes, economically speaking. Sure, for the Germans and the Japanese it may be a disaster, and the British will also dread the prospect of Darjeeling running out sometime later this year and remaining unavailable for a few years more, but in all honesty my piles don't bleed for them.
Or the separatist Gorkha Janmukti Morcha.
From China the following are well worth drinking: Keemun (祁門 'kei mun'), Yunnan Black Tea (雲南紅茶 'wan naam hung chaa') Lu An Red (六安紅茶 'lok on hung chaa'), Dian Hong (滇紅 'din hung'), Yingde Black Tea (英德紅茶 'ying dak hung chaa').
Darjeeling is sometimes called the 'champagne of teas'.
None of the tea I drink comes from Darjeeling.
So whatever, little bandy-legged dudes.
Riot all you want.
==========================================================================
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LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
THE WARM EMBRACE OF ... SOUP
After a long day of dealing with the poopy-heads in Marin County, a man might want some comfort. Which meat and vegetable noodle soup most definitely is. It's better than cocktails, but not quite as good as a steamy romance, so all things considered it's pretty darn swell.
青菜肉絲麵
Last night's dinner. Bellpepper shreds and coarsely separated great green vegetable, (大青菜 'daai ching choi'), a smaller amount of slivered pork, soup stock. Sliced green onion, slivered ginger. And chili peppers.
Precook the noodles as per the package directions, drain and rinse.
Sliver the pork, marinate in a little sherry, cornstarch, sugar, and soy, for fifteen minutes. Heat some grease in a pan, briefly cook the green onion and ginger, then add the pork and bell pepper and a drizzle of the marinade and stirfry. At the right moment add stock and water, bring to a boil, dump the great green vegetable into the pan to blanch, then add the noodles for a brief reheat followed by decanting everything into a suitable bowl.
Garnish with chilipeppers as desired.
Do please note that the chilipeppers can also be added at any time during the cooking, and that most Chinese would not add the bellpepper.
But I also had bellpepper, and I like the crunch.
It adds a niceness to the dish.
All quantities are based on common sense.
In both written and spoken Chinese, unless particularly specified, all meat (肉 'yiuk') is pork, all vegetables (菜 'choi') are cabbage, and all noodles (麵 'min') are made of wheat.
椒
Per the dictionary, the bellpepper is 柿子椒 ('chi-ji chiu'; "persimmon pepper"), but at Cantonese markets it will usually be called 甜椒 ('tim chiu'; "sweet pepper"), or 青椒 ('ching chiu'; "green pepper"), sometimes 燈籠椒 ('dang lung chiu'; "lantern-basket pepper"). Hot peppers (chilies) are 辣椒 ('laat jiu'; "pungent pepper") or 尖椒 ('jim jiu'; "pointy pepper", Jalapeño), black pepper is 黑椒 ('hak chiu'; black pepper) or 胡椒 ('wu chiu'; "Turkish spice"). Anciently 胡 ('wu') meant the Turks and other savage heathens from the wastelands, but nowadays it is usually used for recklessness, stupidity, and things that are not quite done.
On Friday I didn't think to eat until after teatime, and ended up having two little pastries at a bakery in Chinatown. I do not do well on low bloodsugar, it may have affected my sanity yesterday.
I also don't do breakfast. Except for coffee.
==========================================================================
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LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
青菜肉絲麵
Last night's dinner. Bellpepper shreds and coarsely separated great green vegetable, (大青菜 'daai ching choi'), a smaller amount of slivered pork, soup stock. Sliced green onion, slivered ginger. And chili peppers.
Precook the noodles as per the package directions, drain and rinse.
Sliver the pork, marinate in a little sherry, cornstarch, sugar, and soy, for fifteen minutes. Heat some grease in a pan, briefly cook the green onion and ginger, then add the pork and bell pepper and a drizzle of the marinade and stirfry. At the right moment add stock and water, bring to a boil, dump the great green vegetable into the pan to blanch, then add the noodles for a brief reheat followed by decanting everything into a suitable bowl.
Garnish with chilipeppers as desired.
Do please note that the chilipeppers can also be added at any time during the cooking, and that most Chinese would not add the bellpepper.
But I also had bellpepper, and I like the crunch.
It adds a niceness to the dish.
All quantities are based on common sense.
Photo: Wikipedia (大青菜), and Bok choy.
.jpg){kind=link}
In both written and spoken Chinese, unless particularly specified, all meat (肉 'yiuk') is pork, all vegetables (菜 'choi') are cabbage, and all noodles (麵 'min') are made of wheat.
椒
Per the dictionary, the bellpepper is 柿子椒 ('chi-ji chiu'; "persimmon pepper"), but at Cantonese markets it will usually be called 甜椒 ('tim chiu'; "sweet pepper"), or 青椒 ('ching chiu'; "green pepper"), sometimes 燈籠椒 ('dang lung chiu'; "lantern-basket pepper"). Hot peppers (chilies) are 辣椒 ('laat jiu'; "pungent pepper") or 尖椒 ('jim jiu'; "pointy pepper", Jalapeño), black pepper is 黑椒 ('hak chiu'; black pepper) or 胡椒 ('wu chiu'; "Turkish spice"). Anciently 胡 ('wu') meant the Turks and other savage heathens from the wastelands, but nowadays it is usually used for recklessness, stupidity, and things that are not quite done.
On Friday I didn't think to eat until after teatime, and ended up having two little pastries at a bakery in Chinatown. I do not do well on low bloodsugar, it may have affected my sanity yesterday.
I also don't do breakfast. Except for coffee.
==========================================================================
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LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, August 05, 2017
THERE IS MORE THAN ENOUGH ROPE
Until today I had no clue who Lena Dunham is. But a friend is outraged that Lena Dunham is trying to get two American Airlines employees fired over anti-transgender remarks in a private conversation that Lena overheard.
Frankly, I don't give a damn. Some self important twat tweeting stupid things doesn't cut my gristle. I do not understand why Lena Dunham is famous, I have never watched her shows or movies, and it's of no import whatsoever that she has all the charm of earth-moving equipment.
She should go piss up a rope.
And devil-worshipping transgenders overwhelmingly(!) supported Trump, so they can go piss up a rope too. As indeed can all those neurotic New York noodges of whom Lena Dunham is the archetype, and for whom Lena Dunham is the one whose coming was foretold.
Today someone assured me that we were all under the control of Admiralty. He also can go piss up a rope.
One person today inquired about "the most organic tobacco".
"I'm sorry, it's all vaccinated AND gmo."
Go piss up a rope.
Caitlin Jenner, Jenny McCarthy, Vani Hari, Gwynneth 'Goop' Paltrow, Ingrid Newkirk and Alex Pacheco, Vladimir Putin, Michael Farage, Geert Wilders, Texas, Benjamin Netanyahu, Caroline Festering Bio-hazard Glick, Narendra Modi, the Bharata Janata Party and their gau rakshak goondas, Fox News, New York, Hollywood, and Bernie Sanders can all go piss up a rope.
Milo Yanniopoulos can go piss up a rope.
So can Alex Jones.
Trump can't, but that's only because his brain and bladder are old, decrepit, and dribble a lot, plus he's full of something else.
Ooze up the rope.
Somebody informed me recently that the reason why German tanks rolled all over the French tanks in World War Two was because the French tanks were veneered -- brilliant and stylish furniture finishes are what the French are known for -- whereas the Germans had steel. Cold hard steel.
Ford motor quality. If you know what I mean. Hint, Hint.
A novel and charming idea, but totally berserk.
That person should piss up a rope.
Pissing up a rope leads to greatness. When architect Domenico Fontana was installing the famous Obelisk in Saint Peter's Square, it was the simple sailor Benedetto Bresca who saved the day on 28 September 1586 by yelling that they should piss up a rope. The friction lessened, the cords tightened, and the work was completed. True story. Look it up.
Per Wikipedia, "organic matter makes up between 65% and 85% of urine dry solids, with volatile solids comprising 75–85% of total solids. Urea is the largest constituent of the solids, constituting more than 50% of the total. On an elemental level, human urine contains 6.87 g/L carbon, 8.12 g/L nitrogen, 8.25 g/L oxygen, and 1.51 g/L hydrogen. The exact proportions vary with individuals and with factors such as diet and health."
I also have other useful suggestions.
File under "life hack".
Just ask.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Frankly, I don't give a damn. Some self important twat tweeting stupid things doesn't cut my gristle. I do not understand why Lena Dunham is famous, I have never watched her shows or movies, and it's of no import whatsoever that she has all the charm of earth-moving equipment.
She should go piss up a rope.
And devil-worshipping transgenders overwhelmingly(!) supported Trump, so they can go piss up a rope too. As indeed can all those neurotic New York noodges of whom Lena Dunham is the archetype, and for whom Lena Dunham is the one whose coming was foretold.
Today someone assured me that we were all under the control of Admiralty. He also can go piss up a rope.
One person today inquired about "the most organic tobacco".
"I'm sorry, it's all vaccinated AND gmo."
Go piss up a rope.
Caitlin Jenner, Jenny McCarthy, Vani Hari, Gwynneth 'Goop' Paltrow, Ingrid Newkirk and Alex Pacheco, Vladimir Putin, Michael Farage, Geert Wilders, Texas, Benjamin Netanyahu, Caroline Festering Bio-hazard Glick, Narendra Modi, the Bharata Janata Party and their gau rakshak goondas, Fox News, New York, Hollywood, and Bernie Sanders can all go piss up a rope.
Milo Yanniopoulos can go piss up a rope.
So can Alex Jones.
Trump can't, but that's only because his brain and bladder are old, decrepit, and dribble a lot, plus he's full of something else.
Ooze up the rope.
Somebody informed me recently that the reason why German tanks rolled all over the French tanks in World War Two was because the French tanks were veneered -- brilliant and stylish furniture finishes are what the French are known for -- whereas the Germans had steel. Cold hard steel.
Ford motor quality. If you know what I mean. Hint, Hint.
A novel and charming idea, but totally berserk.
That person should piss up a rope.
Pissing up a rope leads to greatness. When architect Domenico Fontana was installing the famous Obelisk in Saint Peter's Square, it was the simple sailor Benedetto Bresca who saved the day on 28 September 1586 by yelling that they should piss up a rope. The friction lessened, the cords tightened, and the work was completed. True story. Look it up.
Per Wikipedia, "organic matter makes up between 65% and 85% of urine dry solids, with volatile solids comprising 75–85% of total solids. Urea is the largest constituent of the solids, constituting more than 50% of the total. On an elemental level, human urine contains 6.87 g/L carbon, 8.12 g/L nitrogen, 8.25 g/L oxygen, and 1.51 g/L hydrogen. The exact proportions vary with individuals and with factors such as diet and health."
By Jmarchn - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=56091000
I also have other useful suggestions.
File under "life hack".
Just ask.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
IT USED TO BE A CAJUN RESTAURANT: 浩味茶餐廳
Honestly, who in their right mind opens a Cajun restaurant in the middle of a neighborhood that has evinced no interest in Cajun food? Such optimism! And, in it's own way, inspired.
That was nearly four years ago. By the time I started going there, two years ago, the menu showed a very strong chachanteng influence, and the place had probably changed hands.
At this point the Cajun items have disappeared, and the clientele is mostly Chinese enjoying familiar food with their wives, husbands, lovers, friends, and small children.
Which is an improvement.
Oh, also single diners like myself. I have do not have a wife, husband, lover, or small children, but if I ever do I should like to take them there, assuming that they are comfortable with Hong Kong style milk tea, and bittermelon (涼瓜 'leung gwa').
I should mention that among the condiments offered for modification of your meal on every table are red vinegar (dumplings), soy sauce (tourists), Sriracha hotsauce (anything you choose), and ketchup.
They do not serve hamburgers.
Why ketchup?
浩味茶餐廳
THE BOILING SHRIMP
150 Waverly Place,
San Francisco, CA 94108.
Telephone: (415) 658-7168
Their menu has changed about three times since I started going, but everything I like is still there. The wall-specials are particularly good.
If you are a very typical American you might not like it, and if you are a 'banana' you might not like it. Which is okay too. That's why you slam everything on Yelp, which serves no other purpose than to give pissy people like you an outlet, and more power to you!
You frustrated weenie.
But you see, I like it. The food is good, the ambiance is just right, there are happy people talking Cantonese or German eating there, and did I mention the bottles of Sriracha hotsauce, and the Hong Kong style milk tea?
The Germans (and Italians, French, and Dutch) wander in off the street while visiting the city, the Cantonese speakers are there all the time.
The only time I have been even mildly disappointed was when a waitress who worked there well over a year ago misunderstood my Cantonese, because of a word that also sounded like .....
She was American, and didn't last long.
Still, I tipped well, because it was a natural mistake, and I have eaten there over a score of times since then, and tried several things on the menu or the wall, even the General Tso's Chicken which a banana who couldn't speak Chinese swore was nothing like the authentic General Tso's Chicken.
The version he wanted was invented in New York, and is ... odd.
What I had was quite good, and I've asked for it since then.
If I ever go to New York I shall be disappointed.
Their version is not the same.
As you may have gathered, I like bittermelon, and have it with fish collops over rice (涼瓜斑球飯 'leung gwaa pan kau faan') not infrequently there. One of the other diners often has steamed shellfish and stalky vegetables, and an auntie tends to go for the noodles.
They are closed Wednesday afternoon and evening.
The waitress I like works after five. White people who speak Chinese are usually repulsive freaks, but she treats me like a human, and understands my speech, as well as my burning need for hot Hong Kong style milk tea.
Some friends who may be involved in activities which are technically not strictly legal also like the place. That, too, is a recommendation.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
That was nearly four years ago. By the time I started going there, two years ago, the menu showed a very strong chachanteng influence, and the place had probably changed hands.
At this point the Cajun items have disappeared, and the clientele is mostly Chinese enjoying familiar food with their wives, husbands, lovers, friends, and small children.
Which is an improvement.
Oh, also single diners like myself. I have do not have a wife, husband, lover, or small children, but if I ever do I should like to take them there, assuming that they are comfortable with Hong Kong style milk tea, and bittermelon (涼瓜 'leung gwa').
I should mention that among the condiments offered for modification of your meal on every table are red vinegar (dumplings), soy sauce (tourists), Sriracha hotsauce (anything you choose), and ketchup.
They do not serve hamburgers.
Why ketchup?
浩味茶餐廳
THE BOILING SHRIMP
150 Waverly Place,
San Francisco, CA 94108.
Telephone: (415) 658-7168
Their menu has changed about three times since I started going, but everything I like is still there. The wall-specials are particularly good.
If you are a very typical American you might not like it, and if you are a 'banana' you might not like it. Which is okay too. That's why you slam everything on Yelp, which serves no other purpose than to give pissy people like you an outlet, and more power to you!
You frustrated weenie.
But you see, I like it. The food is good, the ambiance is just right, there are happy people talking Cantonese or German eating there, and did I mention the bottles of Sriracha hotsauce, and the Hong Kong style milk tea?
The Germans (and Italians, French, and Dutch) wander in off the street while visiting the city, the Cantonese speakers are there all the time.
The only time I have been even mildly disappointed was when a waitress who worked there well over a year ago misunderstood my Cantonese, because of a word that also sounded like .....
She was American, and didn't last long.
Still, I tipped well, because it was a natural mistake, and I have eaten there over a score of times since then, and tried several things on the menu or the wall, even the General Tso's Chicken which a banana who couldn't speak Chinese swore was nothing like the authentic General Tso's Chicken.
The version he wanted was invented in New York, and is ... odd.
What I had was quite good, and I've asked for it since then.
If I ever go to New York I shall be disappointed.
Their version is not the same.
As you may have gathered, I like bittermelon, and have it with fish collops over rice (涼瓜斑球飯 'leung gwaa pan kau faan') not infrequently there. One of the other diners often has steamed shellfish and stalky vegetables, and an auntie tends to go for the noodles.
They are closed Wednesday afternoon and evening.
The waitress I like works after five. White people who speak Chinese are usually repulsive freaks, but she treats me like a human, and understands my speech, as well as my burning need for hot Hong Kong style milk tea.
Some friends who may be involved in activities which are technically not strictly legal also like the place. That, too, is a recommendation.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Friday, August 04, 2017
BLONDE PSYCHO
Like many half-educated middle class mothers, I too believe everything celebrities say. Especially if what was said was said with conviction!
And teeth! Breasts! Blonde hair!
From Brainjet:
"I don't want my baby to get a vaccine because Jenny McCarthy's book says her son got Autism from the Thimerosal in his MMR vaccine."
-Jenny McCarthy is a one time Playboy model who wants to sell you her books.
-MMR is a live vaccine and does not contain Thimerosal.
-Thimerosal contains Ethylmercury, which clears from your body in about 10 days, unlike methylmercury which stays for months and actually causes damage.
-Measles killed 135,000 people in the world LAST YEAR.
-Autism has a strong genetic component. If one identical twin has it, there is a 75% chance the other will as well.
-Andrew Wakefield faked the research linking autism to MMR vaccine, lost his license to practice medicine, and made millions helping lawyers sue and selling books. He lives in a mansion in England.
[End cite]
SOURCE: Doctors Share Dumbfounding Moments.]
In all honesty, I did not have a clue who Jenny McCarthy was until fairly recently -- about four or five years ago -- or that she wrote books.
Which is when I started working in Marin.
That isn't coincidental.
I fondly imagine that what usually goes through Jenny McCarthy's head are scenes from Homestar Runner, with many mini luchadores. Because it's wondrous, and I cannot conceive of anything better for her brain to do.
AFTERWORD
Though Hugh Heffner (the former employer of Jenny McCarthy when she was naked) smokes a pipe and is male, in which we are alike, I stopped 'reading' his magazine after my teenage years. Nowadays the only thing we have in common is that I lurk around the house in a bathrobe.
Which, in fact, I am doing now.
His pipe tobacco of preference reputedly was Mixture 79.
Over the years I've smoked three bowls of that.
None of them were enjoyable.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
And teeth! Breasts! Blonde hair!
From Brainjet:
"I don't want my baby to get a vaccine because Jenny McCarthy's book says her son got Autism from the Thimerosal in his MMR vaccine."
-Jenny McCarthy is a one time Playboy model who wants to sell you her books.
-MMR is a live vaccine and does not contain Thimerosal.
-Thimerosal contains Ethylmercury, which clears from your body in about 10 days, unlike methylmercury which stays for months and actually causes damage.
-Measles killed 135,000 people in the world LAST YEAR.
-Autism has a strong genetic component. If one identical twin has it, there is a 75% chance the other will as well.
-Andrew Wakefield faked the research linking autism to MMR vaccine, lost his license to practice medicine, and made millions helping lawyers sue and selling books. He lives in a mansion in England.
[End cite]
SOURCE: Doctors Share Dumbfounding Moments.]
In all honesty, I did not have a clue who Jenny McCarthy was until fairly recently -- about four or five years ago -- or that she wrote books.
Which is when I started working in Marin.
That isn't coincidental.
I fondly imagine that what usually goes through Jenny McCarthy's head are scenes from Homestar Runner, with many mini luchadores. Because it's wondrous, and I cannot conceive of anything better for her brain to do.
AFTERWORD
Though Hugh Heffner (the former employer of Jenny McCarthy when she was naked) smokes a pipe and is male, in which we are alike, I stopped 'reading' his magazine after my teenage years. Nowadays the only thing we have in common is that I lurk around the house in a bathrobe.
Which, in fact, I am doing now.
His pipe tobacco of preference reputedly was Mixture 79.
Over the years I've smoked three bowls of that.
None of them were enjoyable.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, August 03, 2017
NEXT TIME ORDER SOME PIZZAS!
An Indian politician was so dismayed by the vegetarian-food-only farewell dinner he attended that he tweeted his gustatory despair. With which this blogger sympathizes. Because, truth be told, Indian non-veg food is very delicious! Sure, all the buggery Sanghis and Sainiks who have found Ram are veg-onlies and wish to impose their food fascism on every body else.
But everybody else disagrees.
"Veg only! Will go home & have fish curry."
-----Derek O’Brien, Rajya Sabha MP from West Bengal, as quoted in the Indian Express
How very sad! Bengali food is superb. Most especially their fish curry. Looking at the array of grey and brown vegetable muck probably upset his stomach, as it would mine. I worked for several years part-time in an Indian restaurant, expressly for the food. Often there were weddings or social parties, at which the finest meaty dishes that could be provided were provided. Fish curries! Chicken curries! Lamb and goat curries! Even egg curries. Roast leg of lamb, mutton korma, chicken tikka on sizzling platters, and the queen of feastables, murgh makhni. And, sometimes, when a tourgroup came in, Bengali ilish, and zesty prawn curries.
Bhola vetki jhol, doi maach with mustard seeds.
And jira, methi, mori.
And everything with roti, achaar, fresh green mirch.
Pizza is also great with achaar and mirch.
Paneer and sausage pizza.
Not being a Veggie-weggie or a Bengali, but Gora to the max, I have a marked fondness for late night bacon curry with hari mirch.
But Bonglo fish curry is indeed top notch.
Worth going home for.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
But everybody else disagrees.
"Veg only! Will go home & have fish curry."
-----Derek O’Brien, Rajya Sabha MP from West Bengal, as quoted in the Indian Express
How very sad! Bengali food is superb. Most especially their fish curry. Looking at the array of grey and brown vegetable muck probably upset his stomach, as it would mine. I worked for several years part-time in an Indian restaurant, expressly for the food. Often there were weddings or social parties, at which the finest meaty dishes that could be provided were provided. Fish curries! Chicken curries! Lamb and goat curries! Even egg curries. Roast leg of lamb, mutton korma, chicken tikka on sizzling platters, and the queen of feastables, murgh makhni. And, sometimes, when a tourgroup came in, Bengali ilish, and zesty prawn curries.
Bhola vetki jhol, doi maach with mustard seeds.
And jira, methi, mori.
And everything with roti, achaar, fresh green mirch.
Pizza is also great with achaar and mirch.
Paneer and sausage pizza.
Not being a Veggie-weggie or a Bengali, but Gora to the max, I have a marked fondness for late night bacon curry with hari mirch.
But Bonglo fish curry is indeed top notch.
Worth going home for.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I ALSO LIKE JOONG!
While eating yesterday afternoon at around five PM I was joined by a charming woman. We talked, I remember her name and hope she remembers mine, and that we meet again. That is all yet.
She purchased a joong and looked around for a place to sit. "May I sit here?" "Please do, please do!" She asked me how I had learned to speak Cantonese and I explained that it was mostly from the movies.
There used to be four theatres in Chinatown.
Earlier I had seen her out of the corner of my eye and thought that she looked very nice.
Dressed well, very intelligent eyes, pretty.
If I had had my wits about me I would have asked for her e-mail.
But at least we know each other's names. She likes joong.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
She purchased a joong and looked around for a place to sit. "May I sit here?" "Please do, please do!" She asked me how I had learned to speak Cantonese and I explained that it was mostly from the movies.
There used to be four theatres in Chinatown.
Earlier I had seen her out of the corner of my eye and thought that she looked very nice.
Dressed well, very intelligent eyes, pretty.
If I had had my wits about me I would have asked for her e-mail.
But at least we know each other's names. She likes joong.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, August 02, 2017
I CAN'T BELIEVE I WAS TOUCHING THAT!
Nap, followed by coffee. Probably not the best scheduling, as I have go to work tomorrow, but the apartment mate is occupying the kitchen (meaning my presence there is unwelcome), and even if I go to bed late tonight I should end up rested enough when I get up again in the morning.
When I shall have more coffee.
She is roasting a chicken. It smells delicious, so it's a good thing I already ate today, because it's for her boy friend and I shan't be having any.
In the television room her favourite show illuminating how tremendously repulsive some Caucasian females are is on the telly. She is not there,
but what she misses she will rewind and view. It's educational.
White woman on the Real Housewives of New York:
"With all this craziness, yoga is, like, a great calming force".
[Americans doing yoga, practicing taichi, or attempting to speak Dutch, are a perfect illustration of what is wrong with society. You are not impressing anyone. Please stop. And don't talk about it, because you really don't understand any of it, and you make other people cringe.]
"You have a very nasty side to you"
[You betcha. All of you are very nasty, as well as remarkably vacuous, vicious, and vulgar. Your lives have far less meaning than you think, and some of us wish you ill. Very great ill.]
Thank the lord for the lingerie advertisement that just came on. It gives me ideas, and it's a lovely distraction from the alcoholic she-wolves.
Women wearing bras are totally wonderful.
As are women not wearing bras.
Note: the title of this post is what one of them said.
I'll let you imagine the context yourself.
It's multi-applicable.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
When I shall have more coffee.
She is roasting a chicken. It smells delicious, so it's a good thing I already ate today, because it's for her boy friend and I shan't be having any.
In the television room her favourite show illuminating how tremendously repulsive some Caucasian females are is on the telly. She is not there,
but what she misses she will rewind and view. It's educational.
White woman on the Real Housewives of New York:
"With all this craziness, yoga is, like, a great calming force".
[Americans doing yoga, practicing taichi, or attempting to speak Dutch, are a perfect illustration of what is wrong with society. You are not impressing anyone. Please stop. And don't talk about it, because you really don't understand any of it, and you make other people cringe.]
"You have a very nasty side to you"
[You betcha. All of you are very nasty, as well as remarkably vacuous, vicious, and vulgar. Your lives have far less meaning than you think, and some of us wish you ill. Very great ill.]
Thank the lord for the lingerie advertisement that just came on. It gives me ideas, and it's a lovely distraction from the alcoholic she-wolves.
Women wearing bras are totally wonderful.
As are women not wearing bras.
Note: the title of this post is what one of them said.
I'll let you imagine the context yourself.
It's multi-applicable.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
ONE SOCK
The sock is lonesome. It probably experiences existential angst, due to its solitary state. But it is extremely clean, as I washed it thoroughly. It lay by the side of the road, single and abandoned, when I found it and took it home.
It is a Hello Kitty Sock. Size approximately four or five years old.
Presumably female. Possibly Chinese.
That last speculation is because I found it in a neighborhood where many Chinese live, as well as some artistic white people who are between their twenties and mid-thirties, which is not yet breeding age for Caucasians.
And the sock is far too small for an adult to wear. Even a Chinese adult.
I know this because I looked at my apartment mate's feet this morning.
She is modest in the pedal extremity department. Yep, sock too small.
She would no doubt be distressed had she seen the sock.
"What", she would have asked, "is my crazy Caucasian apartment mate doing with a child's Hello Kitty sock?" And "where is the other one?"
So I hid it.
Several years ago I saved a small pink teddy bear sitting at a bus stop late at night, recently it was a Hello Kitty sock. Not the same person.
I also have two rescue monkeys and another teddy bear.
凱蒂貓襪子
I wonder how the little girl lost her sock. Does she miss it? Were it and its match maybe her favourite footwears?
My mind's eye sees a tyke hobbling home, disconsolate, one foot bare, the other shod. It upsets me that no one thought to help her rectify the problem. Children's feet are tender, the streets of San Francisco are hard and mean.
Years from now she'll recognize the lost sock in my possession and thank me profusely. Childhood memories will come flooding back and she'll be well on her way to resolving many of her issues.
Undoubtedly.
定白痴呀你！點解你保存一隻細女襪？怪怪傻傻咁!
['Deng baak-chi ah nei! Dim-gaai nei bou-chuen yat jek sai neui maat? Gwaai-gwaai so-so gam!']
Approximate translation: "what a kind man!"
Existential angst ("existenzangst") translates to 存在主義的焦慮 ('chuen joi chu-yi dik chiu-leui'). 存在主義 is an almost nonsensical phrase ("remaining at principal conduct"), 焦慮 ('chiu-leui') is angst, anxiety, dread.
Naturally, the single sock made me think of the passage below.
THE CALM LEADERSHIP OF THE OFFICER CLASS MADE THE BRITISH ARMY WHAT IT IS
Ainsworth: "What's, uh, all the trouble, then?"
Perkins: "Bitten, sir, during the night."
Ainsworth: "Hmm. Whole leg gone, eh?"
Perkins: "Yes."
Ainsworth: "How does it feel?"
Perkins: "Stings a bit."
Ainsworth: "Mmm. Well, it would, wouldn't it? That's quite a bite you've got there, you know."
Perkins: "Yes, a real beauty, isn't it?"
Ainsworth: "Any idea how it happened?"
Perkins: "None whatsoever. Complete mystery to me. Woke up just now, one sock too many."
Pakenham-Walsh: "You must have a hell of a hole in your net."
[Doctor enters, greets officers present, asks questions.]
Ainsworth: "Yes. Uh, during the night, old Perkins here got his leg bitten sort of...., off."
Doctor: "Headache? Bowels all right? Mmm, well, let's have a look at this one leg of yours, then, eh? Yes. Yes. Yes, well, nothing to worry about."
. . . . .
Doctor: "Erh....., I think I'd better come clean with you about this. It's, um, it's NOT a virus, I'm afraid. You see, a virus is very, very small. So small, it could not possibly have made off with a whole leg. What we're looking for here is, I think, and this is no more than an educated guess, I would like to make that clear, is some multi-cellular life form with stripes, huge razor sharp teeth, about eleven foot long, and of the genus Felis Horribilis."
[End cite]
From Monty Python's The Meaning of Life, First Zulu War, 1879.
Somewhat abbreviated for, uh, clarity.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
It is a Hello Kitty Sock. Size approximately four or five years old.
Presumably female. Possibly Chinese.
That last speculation is because I found it in a neighborhood where many Chinese live, as well as some artistic white people who are between their twenties and mid-thirties, which is not yet breeding age for Caucasians.
And the sock is far too small for an adult to wear. Even a Chinese adult.
I know this because I looked at my apartment mate's feet this morning.
She is modest in the pedal extremity department. Yep, sock too small.
She would no doubt be distressed had she seen the sock.
"What", she would have asked, "is my crazy Caucasian apartment mate doing with a child's Hello Kitty sock?" And "where is the other one?"
So I hid it.
Several years ago I saved a small pink teddy bear sitting at a bus stop late at night, recently it was a Hello Kitty sock. Not the same person.
I also have two rescue monkeys and another teddy bear.
凱蒂貓襪子
I wonder how the little girl lost her sock. Does she miss it? Were it and its match maybe her favourite footwears?
My mind's eye sees a tyke hobbling home, disconsolate, one foot bare, the other shod. It upsets me that no one thought to help her rectify the problem. Children's feet are tender, the streets of San Francisco are hard and mean.
Years from now she'll recognize the lost sock in my possession and thank me profusely. Childhood memories will come flooding back and she'll be well on her way to resolving many of her issues.
Undoubtedly.
定白痴呀你！點解你保存一隻細女襪？怪怪傻傻咁!
['Deng baak-chi ah nei! Dim-gaai nei bou-chuen yat jek sai neui maat? Gwaai-gwaai so-so gam!']
Approximate translation: "what a kind man!"
Existential angst ("existenzangst") translates to 存在主義的焦慮 ('chuen joi chu-yi dik chiu-leui'). 存在主義 is an almost nonsensical phrase ("remaining at principal conduct"), 焦慮 ('chiu-leui') is angst, anxiety, dread.
Naturally, the single sock made me think of the passage below.
THE CALM LEADERSHIP OF THE OFFICER CLASS MADE THE BRITISH ARMY WHAT IT IS
Ainsworth: "What's, uh, all the trouble, then?"
Perkins: "Bitten, sir, during the night."
Ainsworth: "Hmm. Whole leg gone, eh?"
Perkins: "Yes."
Ainsworth: "How does it feel?"
Perkins: "Stings a bit."
Ainsworth: "Mmm. Well, it would, wouldn't it? That's quite a bite you've got there, you know."
Perkins: "Yes, a real beauty, isn't it?"
Ainsworth: "Any idea how it happened?"
Perkins: "None whatsoever. Complete mystery to me. Woke up just now, one sock too many."
Pakenham-Walsh: "You must have a hell of a hole in your net."
[Doctor enters, greets officers present, asks questions.]
Ainsworth: "Yes. Uh, during the night, old Perkins here got his leg bitten sort of...., off."
Doctor: "Headache? Bowels all right? Mmm, well, let's have a look at this one leg of yours, then, eh? Yes. Yes. Yes, well, nothing to worry about."
. . . . .
Doctor: "Erh....., I think I'd better come clean with you about this. It's, um, it's NOT a virus, I'm afraid. You see, a virus is very, very small. So small, it could not possibly have made off with a whole leg. What we're looking for here is, I think, and this is no more than an educated guess, I would like to make that clear, is some multi-cellular life form with stripes, huge razor sharp teeth, about eleven foot long, and of the genus Felis Horribilis."
[End cite]
From Monty Python's The Meaning of Life, First Zulu War, 1879.
Somewhat abbreviated for, uh, clarity.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
A TALE OF ENDURING DIGESTION
For some reason which I cannot explain, I woke up with an image in my mind, startlingly vivid, yet in my subconscious entirely unrecollected for many years. A painting reproduced in a book which I read when I was ten. Having learned to read Dutch fast and fluently in the first year of grammar school, in the second year when I was sick for several weeks I taught myself how to do the same to the language we spoke at home, that being English. I quickly exhausted my home school assignments, and had run out of stuff to read suitable for Netherlandish kiddies of my age.
[It helps that like Dutch, English is a Germanic tongue and shares many words in slightly different guise. The alefbeis is the same, peculiarities of spelling are not a great stumbling block, and though English borrows and butchers Latin to a far greater extent, there are always clues. No, rifle, fragile, precipice, praecipe and Penelope (the daughter of king Icarius and Periboea) did not form a significant part of my speech, and as a result I remained foggy on their pronunciation for several more years. Riflay, froggeelay, prissipay, presspay... and fair Pen-nuh-lowp, pining for Oddy Sauce. But also pinda, pisang, ketjap, and senang.]
Pretty soon I was reading more mature stuff.
No, not smut. Though I did know many of the scientific terms for parts of the human body (circulatory system, the renal and digestive organs and functions, plus human reproduction), which is just as good. I would not appreciate smut for several more years, and even today I do not know which of my parents actually owned Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure ('Fanny Hill'), a happy literary discovery when I was twelve.
It is very British nastiness. Fascinating!
Oh, the words it contained!
蜀
When I was ten I was still innocently discovering the world, in copiously illustrated books about Adam and Eve, the Leviathan, the Crusades, the Rape of Mexico, Columbus, Pizarro, Savonarola, Brueghel, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Gutenberg, Zhou Dynasty Bronzes, and the Tang period.
From that last came the painting below.
TRAGEDY ON MA WEI SLOPE
In the year 756, after a reign of forty three years, the emperor Hsuan Tsung (唐玄宗) fled the rebels advancing on the capital, and with his entourage headed to Sichuan (四川), which anciently was named Shu (蜀).
The text accompanying the painting spoke fascinatingly of Turks, ministers and chancellors, concubines, eunuchs, corruption, and angry military officers finally demanding the execution of the pleasingly plump consort lady Yang (Yang Kueifei 楊貴妃), whose relatives had destroyed the nation and caused the upheaval that forced the court to depart for the safety of Chengdu (成都).
Subsequent thereto, many of her relatives also ended up dead.
For a ten year old, reading all this was thrilling stuff.
And required frequent recourse to a dictionary.
The scenery shown above particularly excited my mind, as such verticality is, you understand, rare in Holland. Non-existent. Incomprehensible.
The painting has aged well, those faded hues are pleasing and elegant.
The mental image is still thrilling and vibrant, the soaring peaks remain as other-worldly and near-unbelievable as they were then.
Possibly what I ate late last night brought this up. Chicken pesto pizza.
It was rich and delicious, brimming with greasy goodness.
And covered with a sploodge of hot sauce.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
[It helps that like Dutch, English is a Germanic tongue and shares many words in slightly different guise. The alefbeis is the same, peculiarities of spelling are not a great stumbling block, and though English borrows and butchers Latin to a far greater extent, there are always clues. No, rifle, fragile, precipice, praecipe and Penelope (the daughter of king Icarius and Periboea) did not form a significant part of my speech, and as a result I remained foggy on their pronunciation for several more years. Riflay, froggeelay, prissipay, presspay... and fair Pen-nuh-lowp, pining for Oddy Sauce. But also pinda, pisang, ketjap, and senang.]
Pretty soon I was reading more mature stuff.
No, not smut. Though I did know many of the scientific terms for parts of the human body (circulatory system, the renal and digestive organs and functions, plus human reproduction), which is just as good. I would not appreciate smut for several more years, and even today I do not know which of my parents actually owned Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure ('Fanny Hill'), a happy literary discovery when I was twelve.
It is very British nastiness. Fascinating!
Oh, the words it contained!
蜀
When I was ten I was still innocently discovering the world, in copiously illustrated books about Adam and Eve, the Leviathan, the Crusades, the Rape of Mexico, Columbus, Pizarro, Savonarola, Brueghel, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Gutenberg, Zhou Dynasty Bronzes, and the Tang period.
From that last came the painting below.
[Ming Huang's Journey to Shu (明皇幸蜀圖), from the Palace Museum in Taipei]
TRAGEDY ON MA WEI SLOPE
In the year 756, after a reign of forty three years, the emperor Hsuan Tsung (唐玄宗) fled the rebels advancing on the capital, and with his entourage headed to Sichuan (四川), which anciently was named Shu (蜀).
The text accompanying the painting spoke fascinatingly of Turks, ministers and chancellors, concubines, eunuchs, corruption, and angry military officers finally demanding the execution of the pleasingly plump consort lady Yang (Yang Kueifei 楊貴妃), whose relatives had destroyed the nation and caused the upheaval that forced the court to depart for the safety of Chengdu (成都).
Subsequent thereto, many of her relatives also ended up dead.
For a ten year old, reading all this was thrilling stuff.
And required frequent recourse to a dictionary.
The scenery shown above particularly excited my mind, as such verticality is, you understand, rare in Holland. Non-existent. Incomprehensible.
The painting has aged well, those faded hues are pleasing and elegant.
The mental image is still thrilling and vibrant, the soaring peaks remain as other-worldly and near-unbelievable as they were then.
Possibly what I ate late last night brought this up. Chicken pesto pizza.
It was rich and delicious, brimming with greasy goodness.
And covered with a sploodge of hot sauce.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tuesday, August 01, 2017
YOUR EXCESS WEATHER
A friend in Germany is currently suffering through a heat wave (36°C or 96°F), whereas another person says that where he is (England), it's raining cats and dogs. These are not mutually exclusive conditions.
They are both speaking in centigrade.
Very well then.
A number of people on that forum are tea drinkers.
All of them smoke a pipe.
I mention these facts merely for colour.
Pipe smoking is normal.
Rain isn't.
Here in SF it's 19 degrees, elsewhere in the Bay Area low to mid twenties. On the other hand, in Hong Kong where A.F. lives, and also in the American deep south (yes, there ARE pipesmokers there), it is heading into the thirties. Bangalore is twenty five degrees, Amritsar twenty eight.
In all those places a soothing bowl of a medium flake is the proper response to excess weather.
Except for the rain, Yorkshire is rather like San Francisco.
A SOOTHING BOWL OF MEDIUM FLAKE
You can imagine my surprise to find that many people are convinced that there is chocolate in Greg Pease's latest release.
As their reviews make plain.
I shall quote selectively, because they are idiots.
" The cocoa is not all that mild. In fact it obscures a lot of the Virginia taste "
" The cocoa topping is lightly applied -- the cocoa is a little more more obvious "
" I find the effect of the cocoa flavoring to be a detractor "
" Wonderful chocolate floral hay "
" A rich chocolate nose "
Gentlemen, what the blazes are you smoking?!? The only worthwhile statement that you coconuts made was the zen-like phrase "drying it tempers the geranium". Indeed. Temper your damned geraniums!
After reading that nonsense yesterday, I had five people and a cigarette smoker smell the freshly opened tin. Not a single person even considered chocolate, except for the cigarette smoker, because I mentioned chocolate when asking her to take a whiff. Which is the power of suggestion. If I say "it reeks of a Parisian bordello in here", many people will automatically remember the last time they visited a Parisian bordello, and agree.
Mentioning it makes the nose recollect.
STONEHENGE FLAKE
I do not smell chocolate in this tobacco. And I know chocolate. If you do, maybe there is something wrong with your nose. Is there an ugly growth? Have it checked out.
That is not to say that there is no chocolate. The tobacco industry does use various fragrances and flavourings to emphasize certain characteristics that leaves have, but what they were probably smelling was the minor addition of Burley, which can be chocolatish. But it does not reek of chocolate.
Or Geraniums. Or a Parisian bordello.
"This traditional, no-nonsense blend combines bright flue-cured and sun-cured leaf from Brazil, Zimbabwe, and Malawi with just a touch of Burley and a good bit of Perique for added body and spice. After blending all those quality components together, the mixture is steamed and hot-pressed into blocks and allowed to mature."
This is a very subtle product; even the Perique seems to have been applied with a delicate hand. And it is very enjoyable. Usually I do not stay with the same tobacco three tins in a row, but I suspect that I will have to acquire more of this to smoke, as well as augment the stockpile.
The other two tobaccos that I am smoking right now are Samuel Gawith's St. James Flake, which has considerably more Perique, and one of my own mostly Virginia concoctions, with somewhat more Burley.
My geraniums are very nicely tempered.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
They are both speaking in centigrade.
Very well then.
A number of people on that forum are tea drinkers.
All of them smoke a pipe.
I mention these facts merely for colour.
Pipe smoking is normal.
Rain isn't.
Here in SF it's 19 degrees, elsewhere in the Bay Area low to mid twenties. On the other hand, in Hong Kong where A.F. lives, and also in the American deep south (yes, there ARE pipesmokers there), it is heading into the thirties. Bangalore is twenty five degrees, Amritsar twenty eight.
In all those places a soothing bowl of a medium flake is the proper response to excess weather.
Except for the rain, Yorkshire is rather like San Francisco.
A SOOTHING BOWL OF MEDIUM FLAKE
You can imagine my surprise to find that many people are convinced that there is chocolate in Greg Pease's latest release.
As their reviews make plain.
I shall quote selectively, because they are idiots.
" The cocoa is not all that mild. In fact it obscures a lot of the Virginia taste "
" The cocoa topping is lightly applied -- the cocoa is a little more more obvious "
" I find the effect of the cocoa flavoring to be a detractor "
" Wonderful chocolate floral hay "
" A rich chocolate nose "
Gentlemen, what the blazes are you smoking?!? The only worthwhile statement that you coconuts made was the zen-like phrase "drying it tempers the geranium". Indeed. Temper your damned geraniums!
[Photo ripped from here: Another Run -- Cornell and Diehl ]
After reading that nonsense yesterday, I had five people and a cigarette smoker smell the freshly opened tin. Not a single person even considered chocolate, except for the cigarette smoker, because I mentioned chocolate when asking her to take a whiff. Which is the power of suggestion. If I say "it reeks of a Parisian bordello in here", many people will automatically remember the last time they visited a Parisian bordello, and agree.
Mentioning it makes the nose recollect.
STONEHENGE FLAKE
I do not smell chocolate in this tobacco. And I know chocolate. If you do, maybe there is something wrong with your nose. Is there an ugly growth? Have it checked out.
That is not to say that there is no chocolate. The tobacco industry does use various fragrances and flavourings to emphasize certain characteristics that leaves have, but what they were probably smelling was the minor addition of Burley, which can be chocolatish. But it does not reek of chocolate.
Or Geraniums. Or a Parisian bordello.
"This traditional, no-nonsense blend combines bright flue-cured and sun-cured leaf from Brazil, Zimbabwe, and Malawi with just a touch of Burley and a good bit of Perique for added body and spice. After blending all those quality components together, the mixture is steamed and hot-pressed into blocks and allowed to mature."
This is a very subtle product; even the Perique seems to have been applied with a delicate hand. And it is very enjoyable. Usually I do not stay with the same tobacco three tins in a row, but I suspect that I will have to acquire more of this to smoke, as well as augment the stockpile.
The other two tobaccos that I am smoking right now are Samuel Gawith's St. James Flake, which has considerably more Perique, and one of my own mostly Virginia concoctions, with somewhat more Burley.
My geraniums are very nicely tempered.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD
A few years ago I had discussions with medical men about my right leg, which gives me trouble. Recommendation A) "Oh it's probably Sciatica, you should quit smoking and change your life style, plus it's all in your head". Recommendation B) "An operation! Bad joints versus titanium! You'll be walking again within months! Half a year tops! A modern miracle!"
In both cases, X-rays and expensive tests are required.
Leading, inevitably, to more of the same.
[Errm, I walk now. Why would I want to not do so for six months?]
I have been told by people with little or no medical expertise that avoiding gluten, AND smoking pot, are the answer, and there have been helpful suggestions that becoming spiritual or vegetarian would clear up the problem in no time. Fergawdsakes try it! Try both!
There is a grey zone between deductible and extortable that many of us occupy in today's America. Trump, McConnell, Ryan, Priebus, Cruz, et autres bâtards maléfiques de ce type, would like to expand that area.
The bus ride back from work was dominated by the right leg.
Fortunately it is quiescent at the moment.
TWIXT HIP SOCKET AND METATARSAL
Pain in my leg does not affect my job performance or most interactions with society, but there may very well be a psychosomatic ("mental") component; I am more grouchy around idiots than I used to be, and there seem to be many more of those folks than ever before.
The leg flares up in their presence.
Especially when they speak.
One conversation that I was roped into yesterday shall serve to represent all of them. A person was speculating that her grandmother's life must have been really tough, what with half of her Facebook friends bellyaching about Germans, rain, and rationing, in England during the war, and everybody else talking about steak and sunshine in Southern California at that time. "People can be so insensitive!" She genuinely believed that her British grandma was on Facebook during the second World War.
Facebook must have been a horrible experience for English people while they were fighting the Europeans. No wonder they are angry.
Medical marijuana and avoiding gluten would have solved their all issues.
Becoming more spiritually woke and not eating meat too.
If only they had known.
My accent sounds sort of British to many Americans, and I am older than some folks. That probably gave her that train of thought. England, and antiquity. There were fewer vegetarians during those days.
Brexit, because those people dislike Europeans.
I am just guessing, as I cannot fathom it.
Nor do I really want to.
Many of my fellow human beings are complete dunderheads. No, this is not an epiphany, it is something I have always known. But I am more painfully aware of this than I used to be.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
In both cases, X-rays and expensive tests are required.
Leading, inevitably, to more of the same.
[Errm, I walk now. Why would I want to not do so for six months?]
I have been told by people with little or no medical expertise that avoiding gluten, AND smoking pot, are the answer, and there have been helpful suggestions that becoming spiritual or vegetarian would clear up the problem in no time. Fergawdsakes try it! Try both!
There is a grey zone between deductible and extortable that many of us occupy in today's America. Trump, McConnell, Ryan, Priebus, Cruz, et autres bâtards maléfiques de ce type, would like to expand that area.
The bus ride back from work was dominated by the right leg.
Fortunately it is quiescent at the moment.
TWIXT HIP SOCKET AND METATARSAL
Pain in my leg does not affect my job performance or most interactions with society, but there may very well be a psychosomatic ("mental") component; I am more grouchy around idiots than I used to be, and there seem to be many more of those folks than ever before.
The leg flares up in their presence.
Especially when they speak.
One conversation that I was roped into yesterday shall serve to represent all of them. A person was speculating that her grandmother's life must have been really tough, what with half of her Facebook friends bellyaching about Germans, rain, and rationing, in England during the war, and everybody else talking about steak and sunshine in Southern California at that time. "People can be so insensitive!" She genuinely believed that her British grandma was on Facebook during the second World War.
Facebook must have been a horrible experience for English people while they were fighting the Europeans. No wonder they are angry.
Medical marijuana and avoiding gluten would have solved their all issues.
Becoming more spiritually woke and not eating meat too.
If only they had known.
My accent sounds sort of British to many Americans, and I am older than some folks. That probably gave her that train of thought. England, and antiquity. There were fewer vegetarians during those days.
Brexit, because those people dislike Europeans.
I am just guessing, as I cannot fathom it.
Nor do I really want to.
Many of my fellow human beings are complete dunderheads. No, this is not an epiphany, it is something I have always known. But I am more painfully aware of this than I used to be.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
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LIGHT ON THE HILL
For years I have been ambivalent about breakfast. I've been told that it's the most important meal of the day, and I scoff at that s...
