FULLY GLUTENIZED AND PROCESSED

As I was grabbing magnesium supplement tablets off the shelf at the drugstore, a yokelish person passing by muttered about 'magnetism'. Not being a fool, I did not seek clarification. I've heard that type of person before. One of them, upon overhearing my conversation a few months ago, gave me a long strident lecture about how if I only ate right, and scrupulously avoided both gluten and processed meats, I would never need the laxatives.
What I had mentioned was Latanoprost. An opthalmic solution.
It has absolutely zip-didly to do with the guts.
Which are quite fine, thank you.
They're magnetic!


Thanks to an East Coast person on Facebook, I am also aware of an idea to seed the stratosphere with essential oils to counter the chemtrails. It's for our own good.

This, too, illustrates that we live in an unbalanced age.
The insanity is out there.


Lunch yesterday was at a long-time restaurant that has been at their location in Chinatown for years, decades. They were there back when I went to Ping Yuen Coffeeshop (平園咖啡店) nearby, before heading over to the Great Star Theater (大明星戲院), when DPD (一品香) was at the corner further down the block, when the Bund Restaurant (上海飯店) first opened, and they were still there when that institution closed. A very long time.

They had a vehicular incident a few months ago.
After repairs they've reopened.

Over the years I've had mediocre, good, and excellent meals there. Yesterday's bacon cheese burger (煙肉芝士漢堡) was exceptionally enjoyable.

Peaceful, very few other customers, sunlight obliquely shining in, an atmosphere rather remarkably reminiscent of a bistro in a European country town, clean surfaces, soft murmering conversations in the kitchen.

Old fire soup, iced milk tea, bacon cheese burger.
A trusted brand of hot sauce.


A quiet pipe afterwards, patent era Dunhill Shellbriar bent billiard filled with aged flake, while walking down to the Financial District. Earlier I had noted Tat Yee enjoying his pipe outside of Reds in the corner of my eye. He had gone inside again when I stepped out. He seems to be enjoying his retirement years with the occasional drinkie, and doesn't seem to be locomoting too much anymore. He's usually in good spirits, though. Things have turned out okay.



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NON-JEWS ARE COWARDS (MOSTLY)

Over on my Facebook page several people are fighting over the threat by Zohran Kwame Mamdani to arrest Benjamin Netanyahu, as well as a few related matters. And for the record, I'm kind of pissed at that total putz Mamdani even thinking of doing so. An argument could be made that because we'd agreed to host the United Nations, which was composed of blatant war criminals and psychopaths from the very beginning, we should recuse ourselves in any case, and not even think of arresting foreign "diplomats" and political leaders. We set ourselves up to maintain a pretense at strict impartiality.

Besides, feel-good city politics do not override Washington in this case.
No matter what your feelings are on the issue.

[Including pro-Hamas gays in SF.]

If they did, one would expect a lot more of those threats covering many more people during the UN general assembly in September. That's usually when we host the most murderous dictators. At the very least, Modi, Putin, and many of the African leaders.
Plus, of course, 80% of the Arab world.


ALL of the people fighting on my Facebook page are Jews. I am the only gentile in that fray.
I have over five hundred FB friends, the majority of whom are gentiles, which largely mirrors the real world. Zohran Kwame 'the-performative-putz-playing-to-the-peanut-gallery' Mamdani is not among them. He's irrelevant anyway. While I quite enjoy the fact that he pisses off all the people who really need off-pissing, he is not in my friends list. And I know a very great many sanctimonious overconfident know-it-all subcontinentals already, so I'm predisposed to treat them all as Spam®, and shan't send him an invite. Please note that I like Spam®, as neither Canadian nor Hawaiian cuisine would be the same without it.
That goes double for English cooking.

Why is this? Are gentiles afraid to test their opinions? Are they so afraid that the other person might cogently disagree that they step back and avoid any possible conflict?
The historical record would argue otherwise.


No, I will not invite anyone from Berkeley or Oakland to engage there, as too many of them are rather like me and my family tree (until five generations ago we were severe hair-splitting Calvinists), but with opinions which are largely without any foundation. I have no need for rancid political puritans in my life, as I look in the mirror ocasionally, and that is more than enough. Berkeley and Oakland kunnen verdomme oprotten met hun klote opvattingen.
Stelletje verrotte pissant puriteinen.


Still, it irritates me that the only ones arguing serious matters are all Jewish.
Without debate human progress comes to a standstill.
Is everyone else stagnant?




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IMPRESSIONS COUNT

Recently I've seen three articles mentioning that Kamala Harris might run in 2028. To which my reaction, in a nutshell, basicallly is "oh lord bitch don't!" I voted for her in the last election because of the alternative, and sadly she and her fanbase handed us the alternative. If she runs for national office ever again, the Republicans are going to make Trump a god.

"But she's the first Black Asian woman candidate!"

Mmm, okay, what the 'F' is your point there? She's a waffler and an opportunist, and doesn't actually stand for anything but Black Asian Womanism. Much like Mamdani is the first Hindu Muslim Zen Buddhist antisemite crossover performance artist. Neither one of them have any appeal in the America that lives in single storeys. And while I despise the farm belt, we need a candidate who is comfortable sitting on a hay baler or at a back yard barbecue, rather than someone who performatively says crap like "I appreciate you", "I'll have my people look into that", "be your best", and "let's do lunch sometime".

Hello Kitty would be a better candidate.


Let's run through the people whom you recently believed to have stature, shall we? With a view toward what "middle America" thinks about them and does NOT go for.

Bernie Sanders? A grumpy old fart. Pete Buttigieg? Gay gay gay gay gay gay, nerd. Hillary Clinton? Policy wonk whose husband is a sex pig liability. Governor Gavin Newsom? Slick insurance salesman (who was married to Kimberly Ann Guilfoyle, which just goes to show that his judgement absolutely sucks).

Run anything like the folks I mentioned above, or Kamala, and the Republicans could get the Tate brothers elected with a landslide. Please don't screw this up again, you morons.


Tim Walz was okay. A likeable man whom one could respect. But Kamala as the party's main choice hosed him. Maybe in another decade he will have regained consideration.


Seriously, guys, how about Raphael Warnock with Gretchen Widmer as a running mate?
Just toss your old baggage (Sanders, Butttigieg, Clinton, Newsom, and especially Kamala) back into the attic, along with the pet rock and your nineteen seventies Sears Roebuck leisure suits, and embrace change.


Kimberly Ann Guilfoyle's former lust-bug? I mean come on!



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GO EAT LETTUCE IN THE REFLECTING POOL

A friend on Facebook, who used to be sane until Hamas attacked on October 7th., regularly gets his panties in a huff when he sees me posting negatively about Trump. Recently I wrote; "So. When are we sending our young men into a meat grinder for a narcoleptic pedophile? Just asking." Oh boy did that send him into a frenzy about the Iranians.

He's probably going to unfriend me in a day or so.

He did not use to worship Trump.


The October 7 attack was the best thing that ever happened for MAGA and Netanyahu.


No, I am in no way excusing the anti-America and anti-Israel mobs on the streets of London and the civilized world, and fervently wish ill upon them, and as far as I'm concerned brutal intercourse with a bull-camel is in order for the lot. As well as many (most) Muslim clerics, Russian government officials, as well as lots of others including but not limited to United Nations functionaries, American Republicans, much of the Christian Church, Hindu Nationalists, Irish, Eastern Europeans, Central Asians, and Argentinians.

Yes, I supported Spain in the World Cup final.
I'm glad they won. Sod them too.

There are, in fact, a huge number of people upon whom would I wish visits by the bull-camel of brutal sodding, including fascists in Marin County, Israeli and Hungarian rightwingers, and all those wankers in the man-o-sphere, but I will sort of hold-off on expressing that.

Instead, I shall mention the half a dozen mid-twenties commuters on the crowded rush hour bus back home from the SF Financial District after smoking my pipe, who collectively helped a tiny antiquated old Cantonese gentleman with a walker on and into a seat. Courteously and without complaint. Despite being obviously shagged out from an entire day dealing with the dull mundanities and drudgery of modern office life, they acted like decent people.
Without making a big deal out of it. Kudos.

May they all have long and happy lives. And be able to afford healthcare, good food, education for their kids if they have any, and home ownership, soon and in our days.


There are some individuals who should be thrown off the train while it's in motion.
And then there are some who show the very best of humanity.
Their conduct redeems the rest of us.



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THEY'VE GOT BUGS

One of my friends really likes New York, and visits at least once a year. Another one, who since October 7 has lost his mind, lives there. Being a rational man I naturally hope the best for both gentlemen, as well as a speedy recovery. Having seen both Midnight Cowboy and Trevor Noah I know how hard that must be. The best that can be said for New York is Kramer, the worst is Newman. And no soup for you.

Another friend is bizarrely taken with New York Pizza. Now that I can understand. As a San Franciscan, given a choice between high-fallutin' hipster ramen, California Pizza, Chigago deep-dish, and New York Pizza, I will always choose the last mentioned. Dude, this is real; the flour was kneaded by big-ass working class cockroaches using all their arms and elbows, this cheese was grated by rats wearing greasy Knicks baseball caps, artisanal paint chips from the Guggenheim museum collection were incorporated into the crust, and the counter worker got syphilis from a tranny taxi driver. And it tastes like all of that.
Better than being mugged on the subway. It's good

Yadda yadda yadda to you, good sir.


But basically, I have no plans to ever go there. Any travel plans for the near-future include Honduras and Hong kong as possibilities. The first for cigars, the second for Portuguese Chicken Rice and hot milk tea, plus tomato omelette. That last at a family-run open air restaurant in Central well-known for using fresh tomatoes, lots of them.

So yeah, I'm not into the East Coast thing. A certain tolerance verging on slight fondness, largely cause by reading Pnin and Pale Fire by Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov, as well as the existence of old tobacconists near Ivy League institutions, plus occasional forays into cheesecake, perfected there using an ingredient my great great grandfather was instrumental in bringing to the market, but erm, um, and meh.
I'm decidedly apathetic.


Plus of course there are bedbugs. Apparently they're all over New York. One keeps reading about that. High-priced accommodations with bedbugs crawling out of the woodwork.
Sounds magical. Totally.



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BIRDLIKE APPETITES

When we left we lit up our smokes outside the place with THREE different styles of chicken feet. Where I have never eaten, because it does not really cater to my type (old geezer), and there would be a skeevy feel to going into a snackery with teenagers snarfing down boba drinkies, squealing, and sucking up some curry fish balls. What with being old enough to be their creepy older uncle. Not so much ah sook (啊叔) as sey lo kwai (死老鬼).

Besides, I've never been overly fond of chicken feet (鳳爪 'fung jaau'). They're not one of my family's favourite foods. We've never sat down to a scrumptious feast of 家式香蒜無骨鳳爪 ('gaa sik heung suen mou gwat fung jaau'; family style boneless garlicky "phoenix" claws). Good for you, lots of collagen, make you clear complexion!
Something is missing in my upbringing.

But I can't put my claw on it.

Mm, sorry!


Lunch today was pork purses (豬肉燒賣 'jü yiuk siu mai') and turnip cake (蘿蔔糕 'lo paak gou'). With sambal and a drizzle of soy sauce, very delicious. Eaten while watching white tourists getting mounds of fried rice, fried noodles, and fried meat and vegetable buns (生煎菜肉包 'saang jin choi yiuk baau'). Which last are very good there, and I thought of getting those myself. But there was only one of me and that would have been too much.

My lunch, unfortunately, is never with another person. I sometimes imagine what it would be like to have eaties with a young lady significantly younger than myself, quite imaginary, who has a keen appetite and no weird food hang ups. Someone who wields her chopsticks with gusto and verve. Seriously into good things to eat.

Given that I am tongue-tied when not being sarcastic or caustic, and have no clue how to go about inviting another person, even if there was one on the horizon, I don't pursue the matter.


My friend the bookseller has, to the best of my knowledge, not pursued the same or similar matters. Given that he is erudite, witty, and a decent man to boot, as well as a good cook, he probably should. Also, he's okay with vegetarians and tattood women, so I'm surprised that no one has tried to set him up yet. Don't look at me.


"Miss, may I offer you some garlic sauced boneless chicken wings? They're my family's prized recipe, passed down for generations!
It's good for the complexion!"


The karaoke dive was filled with bikers, the primary bail-out was on the point of closing. We ended up further down at the back-up bail out. Some seriously good movies on the teevee. Surprising.

One of these days I might just have to develop a family recipe for chicken feet. I am thinking ketjap manis, dash vinegar, rice wine, and sesame oil. Garnished with lightly gilded garlic, a little slivered ginger, and chopped scallion after cooking.



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LOTS OF TESTOSTERONE

Not to hear Pete Hegseth talk about it, but too much testosterone can lead to health issues. Including heightened sexual drive but reduced sperm count, plus pimples, greasy skin, heart issues, and general smelliness. Which is probably exactly what we want our men in uniform to have. Especially in the hot climates to which we usually send them, places like Alabama, Louisiana, Florida, and Mississippi.

Where, because of all of that, they will blend right in.

Aggression, benign enlarged prostate, coronary disease, emotional instability, hairiness, halitosis, hypertension, increased appetite, infertility, insomnia, liver problems, low sperm count, migraines, uncontrollable sexual urges, violent mood swings. They'll be absolutely indistinguishable from most Republicans. And probably die much sooner.
Which leaves more for the rest of us.

You know, most of us are probably fine if you quarter all the smelly alcoholic rapists in the South, that's kind of what we expected anyway, which is why we don't ever visit.
At least I don't. Alabama will freeze over before I do.
And Louisiana, Florida, Mississippi.

[Also Texas, but for different reasons.]


Sorry folks, you'll have to survive without my sparkling presence.

Nevertheless, two of my favourite American writers remain William Faulkner and Tennessee Williams, both of whom had the misfortune of being southerners and could not see anything wrong with this. As you would expect both wrote about flawed human beings, people who were emotionally unbalanced, in some cases overwrought and batshit.

[William Cuthbert Faulkner: September 25, 1897 – July 6, 1962. The Sound and the Fury, As I Lay Dying, Sanctuary, Light in August, Absalom, Absalom! A Fable.  Thomas Lanier ('Tennesse') Williams: March 26, 1911 – February 25, 1983. Battle of Angels, The Glass Menagerie, A Streetcar Named Desire, Summer and Smoke, Rose Tattoo, Camino Real, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Orpheus Descending, Garden District, Sweet Bird of Youth, Vieux Carré.]

Faulkner was a pipesmoker, whereas Williams, the more unstable of the two, experimented with drugs, booze, and cigarettes to dull the pain he certainly must have felt as a gay man from Mississippi, where other than depravity and fatty foods there is so little to still the mindnumbing agony of being intelligent surrounded by inbred syphilitic morons.

Naturally I sympathize with both men.
I too am a pipesmoking man.
And I work in Marin.



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DO NOT REPLACE

There is just something about old smoking pipes in perfect condition that speaks to the soul. A well-maintained touchy-feely object that has not been maltreated by idiots smoking pot or morons with aromatic mixtures -- good tobacco only, smoked slow -- after a dietarily unwise lunch in Chinatown (high salt, fat, and capsaicin) is better for a Dutch American's peace of mind, by far, than arguing with any number of Netanyahu and Trump supporters on the internet, or putting up with senile rightwingers at work in Marin County.


While obviously the Netanyahu and Trump supporters infest the internet at all hours, even at the crack of dawn, the foul-mouthed senile Marinite rightwingers are not lurking around the upper reaches of Nob Hill at six thirty in the morning.

Which is good. My bowl of Fribourg & Treyer Special Brown Flake in the Comoy Tradition from the nineteen fifties would in no way benefit from their vicinity. I was thinking of having some strong tea after returning, milk and sugar, but instead went for a second cup of coffee. Now I'm waiting patiently for my apartment mate to head off to work so that I can use the bathroom. After that maybe some tea.

Netanyahu and Trump are both criminals and assholes. Their supporters are mostly just the latter, plus they dress funny and smell bad. In addition to eating too much.

The world will probably be a much better place when most people of my generation have died and been plowed under. Along with everyone younger who ever voted for Trump, Netanyahu, or Christians and bigots. The sooner that is effected, the better.


Not me of course. I should live forever.
So that I can piss on their graves.


Which is where coffee and tea come in. Both are diuretic, though the first mentioned much more than the second. Needing to pee within two hours of coffee is fairly normal, but while at work, I can go for several hours without needing to leak even after multiple cups of tea.
The bladder just seems more capacious at that time.

Probably because when I was at the Indian restaurant if I bathroom-broke during the evening my coworkers would make mistakes with money and the bills while I had stepped away, and figuring out what they had in their Indian brilliance done wrong would take longer. Never trust rushed waiters with making change. They just want to free up that table.
And what with being Indian, they. Are. Always. Right.


Anyway, if a rightwing bastard is buried, have some coffee at the funeral. That way you won't have to visit the grave much later in the day unless you reallly want to. Like after tea.



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HEADING TO THE CLOTES

Now let's see. Lettuce might give you explosive diarrhoea, the Straight of Hormuz ain't hormuzing, the reflecting pool was ruined by a motorcade, and depraved rapist pro-Trump ultra-macho influencers were arrested in Florida wearing stylish tight capris and or lovely pink semi-ruffled summer clothes. And there isn't enough testosterone in the entire U. S. military to give Pete Hegseth a hard-on. Have I got that right? Is America great yet?

Gosh golly, I think we are. Oh yes.

There is a Dutch expression, "naar de kloten gaan", which indicates that things are going to hell in a handbasket. It is appropriate here, and despite mentioning testicles it does NOT refer to Whiskey Pete, or his Tom of Finland fantasy life.

It could well apply the whips-and-chains-and-arrest-them-all fantasies of several people in our current Republican administration, however. And I'm not talking about Lindsey Graham, who has not been brought back from the dead yet. Still stiff as a nail. Putrifying as we speak. Gone to meet his maker, pushing up the daisies, joined the choir invisible. Expired.
Is no more. Croaked. Kaput. A has-been. Vamoosed.

Well, that's at least one bright spot.
We hope for many more.

Personally, I'm just praying that the country survives another month, month and a half. By that time the pipes I sent off recently for new stems will have returned and I will be heading into the final appointments of my yearly physical, and also financially on even more stable footing, as well as having depleted the supply of a certain pipe tobacco at a local suppliers (adding to my stockpile in my hide-out). So as far as I'm concerned, everything east of the Rockies can damned well fall into the ocean or burn up.

I encourage the rest of the country to continue eating iceberg lettuce in the meantime. Vegetables are good for you. Mitch McConnell, for instance. Great with Chianti.


I feel like I should end by mentioning Homan, Patel, and Miller. But that would be fucking unprintable, and this is a clean wholesome family blog. So no. Wholesome shit only.



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WIGGLE ROOM

This blogger is mighty glad that the World Cup is over and we can now renew our focus on real sports; slamming the President and his Republican babysitters for driving the country to ruin. As is natural. And not dominated by foreign players. Americans can destroy the country all by ourselves, we don't need short stocky Iberians or Argentinians for that.
No, Hormuz still ain't hormuzing. What did you expect?

Also, I was getting tired of explaining to Americans how the game is played.
My fellow citizens sadly don't know beans about sport.
Games with logic, and a point.
Sportsmanship.


Kind of reminds one of splendid verse: "The sand of the desert is sodden red, Red with the blood of a square that broke, the Gatling's jammed and the Colonel dead, and the men are blind with the dust and smoke; The river of death has brimmed its banks, and England is far and honour a name, but the voice of a school boy rallies the ranks; Play up, play up and play the game!" Oh, splendid! That's the ticket, boys!

None of that poofty Texan crap with spandex leotards.
Or busty chorus girls with pom poms.

The back room was filled with loud fellows today, making strange animalistic sounds. After it was all over they drifted out, till at last the only ones left were a few experts on everything. It wasn't as bad as on Friday, when the rancid right wing spew from the Irishman would have had me killing the old bastards if I had been paying attention, but darn close.

Most of the time I don't bother listening, because they're wrong and magat-christo-nazi about so much stuff. But they do not modulate, so one does hear fragments. Yesterday the alcoholic coke-fiend was swearing up a storm at "bitches, bitches, bitches".

Sometimes I fervently wish ill upon them and their ilk.
But somewhere else because of the clean-up.
They are all bio-hazards.
Toxic waste.



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THE PROPER DIET

One of the words which has gained circulation recently is cyclosporiasis, which reminds me that I haven't eaten at Taco Bell in years. When I still worked for a law office down in the Embarcadero area, it was a favourite lunch or dinner. Mmmm, Tex-Mex Cali junkfood!
And I realize, belatedly, that I have never had gastroenteritis. Or dysentery.
Or, for that matter, actually enjoyed the Poetry of Walt Whitman.

I've spent a lot of time on Wikipedia looking at symptoms. None of which I shall share here. Just one bit of advice: If you're worried about vampires, take garlic pills. As a prophylactic.

Being an intellectual, and being stark raving bonkers, are not mutually exclusive.

Key words, besides cyclosporiasis, are: Entamoeba histolytica, Salmonella, and Shigella. Common causes of chronic diarrhoea include microscopic colitis, ulcerative colitis, and irritable bowel syndrome.


You know, there are major reasons that most people in tropical countries don't touch raw vegetables. Reasons which include cyclosporiasis, dysentery, entamoeba histolytica, salmonella, shigella, and vampires. So avoid iceberg lettuce.
Also, wash your damned hands.

Lunch today was a burger from the convenience store, no lettuce no onion no tomato. The vegetable component was hot sauce. I have no guilt about this and would do it again.

Writing all of this took longer than it should have, because at the other end of the table my apartment mate is watching pimple-popping videos and giving a play-by-play. The internet is a marvelous thing. Because of it, people with a scientific bent can learn everything about epidermal care.


It is unlikely that either one of us will have cyclosporiasis. But both of us are probably going to develop, or may already have, a dermis.



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ORANGE PANCAKE DEMENTIA

Yesterday evening I wasted a lot of time listening to a senile pile of horse dung ramble on. And on. And on. Fortunately the dumb-ass kept it short. For him. Twenty eight minutes.

In that scant half hour he slandered, calumnied, and vituperated against President Biden, the Democratic Party, and the People's Republic of China. Clearly he or some of his circle would wish to see lynch mobs and political violence.

It was a nasty and repulsive self-pitying display of verbal compost.
No doubt pleasing to both Putin and Stephen Miller.
Proving that he is a good little monkey.

It was reprehensible, disgusting.
Pathetic and rather silly.

Very many of the rank and file Republicans, the traitors that voted for him and still support his insane and irresponsible behaviour, will be convinced of the truthiness of his speech. They know their way around torches and pitchforks, by gum. The anointed one has spoken!

Most people who sat through that twenty-eight minutes of unhinged conspiracy idiocy will, undoubtedly, have fought the urge to flush their eyes and ears down the toilet.

Imagine Eric Cartman elected to office.
Wait, that's still too good.

Large doses of pharmeceutical amphetamine cause delusions, hallucinations, paranoia, and psychosis. Sleep disorders are not uncommon, neither are two A.M. social media posting sprees filled with gibbering, plus multiple grammatical and spelling errors.



Anyhow, do not be surprised if the GOP quislings in the Senate organize committees, and a compromised partisan DOT launches a barrage of lawfare attacks before the 2026 elections.
Also predictable is the likelihood of rightwing vigilantism in such shithole states as Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Indiana, Iowa, Kentucky, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Jersey, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, West Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.



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ABOUT THE STYLISH HAT

Very recently an old friend in the Shomron commented semi-irately underneath one of my elsewhere posts: "Of the many things I enjoy about your wandering mind, your eminence, somewhere in the top five is that you are completely out of your damned mind. This is something I have tremendous appreciation for. Most people are only partially nuts."

High praise indeed.

A while back my apartment mate (Canto American) and I got off the bus in Chinatown on our way to the Rose Pak Muni Metro Station (華埠–白蘭站 'waa fau -- paak laan jaam) when we saw a young Caucasian fellow wearing a conical straw hat and what appeared to be a Japanese male kimono. Very geshmak. Shoyn.

I commented to her that the gentleman was trying to blend in.

Her response: "It's working. He's invisible.

Which is also high praise.


I don't know if she was being serious. I have been told that all of us white dudes look alike.
I am outsider enough to know that no amount of conical straw hat will make me look Asian, and insider enough to know that I do not want to know more than that.

So all of you large pale Midwestern tourists who wish to ponce around wearing such things (斗笠 'dau lap'), please, go right ahead. Height of fashion.
It's stylish and shows that you care.

In other news, the steamed fatty pork chunks with ginger and shrimp paste (蝦醬薑汁蒸豬腩肉 'haa jeung keung jap jeng jü naam yiuk') wich I prepared for lunch today was delicious. A completely non-Chinese touch was adding peeled chopped tomato in the last fifteen minutes of steaming, partly as a foil for the greasiness, partly simply for taste. And of course I had sambal on the side.

Both Uncle Roger and Jimmy O. Yang would have liked it, I think. Probably not Jamie Oliver, as there was no trace of chili jam. And the big stainless steel steamer was not celebrity chef approved or endorsed.


By the way: It still baffles me that Uncle Roger and Jimmy O. Yang are so deeply and passionately involved in fried rice. You wanting to cook for white people is it?


Expect people with rice paddy chapeaux to drop by.



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THERE ARE BOGS

A little bit beyond the town the wildnerness starts. Not primaeval wilderness, like in parts of the United States, where the wild redneck still roams in his native habitat, but the restrained Northern European forest and heath where the spawn of inbred peasants can't find his way home and kind of hopes that outlying farms have left some food outside so he won't starve. The feral halfwit is thin and rangy, and because of generations of genetic material folding in on itself stunted and short. And, in the case of Norfolk or Yorkshire, prone to the ague.


And we've all encountered Scotsmen, haven't we?


Years ago an urban collegeman from Leiden or Utrecht wrote a book arguing that the reason North Brabanders reported so many more sightings of fairies or gnomes was because they were so inbred that their idiot offspring might get lost one mile outside of the village and lurk for months or years in the local forests, not remembering how to get home. Where they sometimes spawned. Leading to generational genetic and intellectual rot.

It's a novel theory. Also biased, and indicative of Northern praeconceptions.
Those 'Ollanders need to get out more, their blinkers are showing.

Please don't anyone think of dolichocephalism.

MALPY VENNEN

When I was growing up in Valkenswaard that theory had not yet been formulated, and had anyone even expressed anything similar we would have automatically mentioned Friesland province, where no one in their right mind ever goes and the natives are that purebred that, like some breeds of dogs, their brains are as thin as a slice of supermarket luncheon meat.

Please imagine some fine Parma ham here.
With a thick white layer of fat.


Yesterday I finally bit the bullet and purchased a nice thick strip of fatty pork belly meat (腩肉 'naam yiuk'), which today I shall prepare for lunch. Scrape the skin side clean, cut into large chunks, blanch to firm it up, gild briefly to flavour, then steam with ginger and fish paste till tender. With some rice and sambal it will be splendid, and there should be plenty left over.

I am quite looking forward to this.
Oh it will be lovely.



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CUSTOMER FOR EVER A DECADE

Normally on Wednesday I would go to a regular place for lunch, smoke a pipe afterwards, do errands and shopping, then head to a bakery for afternoon tea and an egg tart. Followed by another pipeful. The regular place is on vacation till next month, and I haven't gone to that bakery in months. Largely because of four of the regulars. Those being older American born Chinese gentlemen. There are three other places to which I do not go. One of them has a tableful of discourteous middle-aged Toishanese in the afternoon on Wednesdays, one of them showed that they really didn't give a damn about my patronage, and at the last the owner has several times has been apathetic. I tip well, and I do not smell bad.
I tip well because I want you to remember me favourably the next time.
If you have seats, I wish to enjoy my food and beverage there.
And if I greet you, it would be nice to greet me back.

All of the places referenced are in Chinatown. On my days off I like to go there because it's the safest neighborhood in San Francisco, with a hospital and pharmacy where I can get my refills, there are vegetables and condiments I depend upon there, I enjoy the foods, snacks, and milk tea, and I can smoke a pipeful in an alley without having suburban earthmoms or wokey clean-living freaks scream at me that I'm poisoning the planet and their lungs.

But I am white, and a grouchy pissant to boot. So understandably, I do not go there for the people. There are many whom I like, and some regular places to which I go, but largely 'no'. Evenso, the places I no longer frequent are less than half the places which I like.

The Wednesday bakery that I no longer visit has gorgeous cakes, delicious pastries, and egg tarts fresh out of the oven (蛋撻啱啱出爐 'daan taat ngaam ngaam chut lou') right about tea time. And I really like their egg tarts. But, as I prevously mentioned, I am white, so in no way an old time Chinatown American born Chinese, and you may have also surmised that while my Cantonese is passable, my Toisanwaa is virtually non-existent (meaning I don't feel quite welcome at their sister establishment -- see tableful of discourteous middle-aged blisters also previously mentioned) and a grumpy old coot besides. Plus too sensitive to slights and likely to perceive deliberate rudeness when casual and mere apathetic rudeness was intended.

And I probably do smell bad.
Mm, yes, frightful.
Quite.



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AMERICA'S CLOCKS

Yesterday, on the fourteenth of July, contingents from dozens of countries marched down the Champs Elysees. The United States, which should have been there, was not represented at all, because currently we are not a beacon of freedom or anything worthwhile. In the previous twenty four hours I've seen several videos of the parade. It was splendid. I've also seen ICE goons brutalizing people on my screen, protests outside of federal facilities, and appointed officials lying through their teeth, deflecting, and not answering questions.

Plus several statements from our morally bankrupt president.
And a few reprehensible spews from his acolytes.


Yesterday, in discussion, Ronald Wilson Reagan was mentioned, possibly the very worst president we've had till the 2016 election. An absolutely detestable piece of garbage who seems mild and avuncular in comparison even though he laid the groundwork for all the ghastliness of the present. The Republican party has since then become such a rancid cesspool of self-aggrandizing greed-drenched putrid scum that our founding fathers are probably spinning in their graves, assisted wholeheartedly by evangelical rightwing Christians may they rot eternally. When you pass a church, spit.

Is it Molotov cocktail time yet?

In other news, it's finally beach weather here in California. Please remember that life vests are a conspiracy by Big Swim, and infect you with nano-chips that allow the illegal aliens to track you. You have rights as an American, and if you want to go into the water entirely unprepared, who is to stop you?


Naturally I encourage all good Christians to head into the surf.
It's America's ocean out there, yours for the taking.
Tides and undertows do not exist.
Please go.


In some parts of the Bay Area it will hit the high nineties today. Early man did not use sunscreen, and it isn't mentioned in the Bible, not even once. No true Texan uses it.
Jesus will protect you. Have faith. Dermis is evil.



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THE BODY PARTS

We were somewhat dismayed when she got on the bus with her four-wheeled luggage cart, because late at night there are sometimes not-perfectly-sane fellow travelers. People who mentally vibrate. I noticed that her calves and ankles were oedematic, and the skin down there showed dryness verging on dermal ailment. But other than that she seemed okay.

Still. There have sometimes been screamers.
Municipal transit is an adventure.

The original bail-out bar had an actual bartender this evening, so we didn't end up further down. Unfortunately he was filling in for the apathetic person and won't be there next week. The bartender from the secondary bail-out was there, it turns out that his shifts have changed and consequently there is a new bartender at the bail-out from the bail-out, who should be more fully broken in by the time we get there again. Nice enough chap, but somewhat overwhelmed the last time.

The bookseller is still in pain from fighting with a pin-ball machine, which I kept assuring him was a "sports-related injury", because that sounds ever so much better than "lost an argument with a box of nuts and bolts" or however else you wish to put it.
But a ball was involved. So it's a sporting mishap or accident.

I'm still not entirely sure how it happened.
But it cost him a quarter at least.

Warm weather, such as we're having (mid to high sixties) brings out more nuts. I don't know how the rest of the country can stand it. Places like New York City, Washington DC, and the entire deep south must be awash with loonies.

Plus mosquitoes, murder hornets, and giant cockroaches.
As well as iguanas, pythons, and feral children.
So glad we live in civilization here.
A temperate zone.



NOTE: I shall NOT mention the oedema woman, nor the chubby Chinese girl with the very intelligent face who was also on the bus, to the turkey vulture currently dozing among the other roomies in my apartment mate's room. He would have insisted that I really should have harvested fatty body parts for him to feast upon. We've already argued with him over that. It's not going to happend, little dude. And step away from the little girl hamster who comes over during the day, she's not a meatball, and the large purple cat will wack you very severely if you try to eat her friend. There are some things one just doesn't do. Okay?



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TOXIC WASTE

It appears that Donald John Trump's Department of Justice is blocking a full investigation of the bodies of sex-traffic victims buried at the Epstein ranch. Which should surprise no one. Given that one of the major policies of this administration is to protect as many of the wealthy donors as possible. A simple solution, one which appeals to many people, would be to line up everyone who was ever a guest or friend of Epstein, and just shoot them. The problem is that that would turn many Republicans both in and out of power into landfill.

Also, it would upset the conservative Christians.
Who are a major demographic.

This blogger, as you would expect, is rather in favour of pissing off conservative Christians. Among whom are a great number of sexual predators and deviants, of which, if you follow the news, you are reminded on a daily basis.

Somtimes it seems like certain states are full of them.

As a reminder, here are the American states where there are huge numbers of Christian sexual predators and Republican voters fully in favour of covering up everything Epstein: Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Indiana, Iowa, Kentucky, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Jersey, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, West Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.

So don't go there. Don't even think of visiting. Those places are all filled with Charlie Kirks, Erika Kirks, Candace Owens, and Andrew Tates. And several associates of Pete Hegseth, Stephen Miller, and Mark Wayne Mullin. Also Kash Patel, who isn't a fundamentalist Christian, but has a thing for them.


Knuckle-dragging troglodytes.



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