Tuesday, September 30, 2008


The American people, and their hired hacks in Washington, are right to be somewhat cautious about the bail-out package. Especially as the same clever people who got us into this mess are now offering to get us out. At a price.

From news articles, and reading between the lines:

Bush warns over bail-out delay.
[Translation: "My friends are going belly up! How can you not care?!?!"]

US President George W Bush warned the US economy is at a 'critical moment', and vowed to ram his Wall Street rescue plan through Congress.
[Like the Patriot Act?]

He said the consequences would be 'painful and lasting' if the $700 billion deal rejected by the US House of Representatives was not passed.
[To whom?]

He offered reassurances to citizens of the US and wider world that the current political deadlock would be resolved.
[Of course it will. But not necessarily the way he would like.]

The New York stock market opened with prices up after Mr Bush's statement. The Dow Jones index was about 2% higher in initial trading, rebounding from Monday's record losses.
[Hot air is good for business - who knew?]

In Brussels, the European Union earlier urged Washington to live up to its special responsibility and demonstrate statesmanship to resolve the global credit crisis.
[Translation: "If you Yanks don't act, all of us Europeans will suffer, because we jumped into the American market like a bunch of piranhas devouring a horse. It was good for our pension funds, central banks, investment companies - we profited from your lack of regulation, but heck, why should we pay for the risks we took? So please, screw the American taxpayers!

If you don't, our people will start asking questions that we can't answer, they might even be very upset with us, and they too think that the American taxpayer should be screwed."]

For the second time in as many days on Tuesday, Western European governments stepped in to prop up an ailing financial institution. The French and Belgian governments rescued the Franco-Belgian financial services group, Dexia, with a package totaling more than $9bn. Dexia's share price had fallen sharply following reports that it was seeking extra funds after governments bailed out its rival, Fortis. [Rabbosai, maybe this will teach you to be more careful and responsible in the future. If it does, you can all be a shining example to our own rapacious bankers and Texans - and they might actually pay attention, now that they've realized that greed alone does not guarantee wealth and respect.]

President Bush said: "We are in an urgent situation and the consequences will grow worse each day if we do not act,"
[Right, giving in to extortion by the same gangsters who got us into this mess is the solution.]

"This is not the end of the legislative process. Our country is not facing a choice between government action and the smooth functioning of the free market,"
[The market will continue to function, smoothly, but at a more realistic level - and that means electoral disaster for the people who told y'all to merrily spend yourselves into cloud-cuckoo land. You might loose the SUV you can't afford along with that suburban neo-Tudor ranch, which you couldn't afford either. That private school for your two little delinquents? Sorry, you're gonna have to finally face-up to the trainwreck we've made of public education in this country; you though it was just a deserved screwing of the urban poor, didn't you?]

"We're facing a choice between action and the real prospect of economic hardship for millions of Americans."
[The middle-classes might have to pay their credit-card bills, and realize that they were not financially stable enough for that mortgage. And that would be horrible - it would finally make it clear to them that sharks gutted the American dream, and bribed them with their own money. Might actually make them think. And that would be very dangerous.]

Republican presidential candidate John McCain said he was disappointed at the "lack of resolve" shown by both parties in the US House of Representatives.
"The whole spectrum of Main Street America's economy is going to be jeopardized unless we pass this legislation. And we didn't do a good enough job selling it."
[Dude, main street died years ago - ever since Walmart opened up down the road and sucked the life out of every small retailer from here to Timbuktoo. Have you driven down main street lately? Alcoholics and boarded up storefronts. Except for that stretch near McDonalds...., you know, the part of town with the Starbucks, Boo King, Jack in the Box, Pet-Groomers, Jogging Shoe chain-emporia, and nail-salons run by Vietnamese women rotting their nervous systems breathing solvents while pandering to the self-indulgence of suburban white women.]

Both the president and the two gentlemen who hope to succeed him in January are under pressure to show leadership amid the partisan bickering which has followed the bill's failure.
[Leadership? Hooha. Try less pandering to special interests, more actual thoughtfulness. You guys would be surprised what "main street" America really thinks of you and your whore-like behaviour.]

The candidates both backed lifting the limit on bank deposit insurance from the present $100,000 to $250,000 to prevent any run on commercial banks.
[Really, boys, how many people do you know have that kinda poon in their account? Oh, sorry, I forgot - y'all ain't dealing with real Americans, but with the people who can afford to shell out several thousand for the pleasure of dining with you at fundraising soirees.]

Republicans and Democrats are blaming each other over the failed bill, which was rejected by 228 to 205 votes in the House of Representatives on Monday.
[Well, at least some of those turkeys blew a fat raspberry at the thugs trying to railroad us into paying for their stupidity. Bravo.]

The House is not due to meet again until Thursday as many members have gone home for a Jewish holiday.
[Sollst alln hobn a gezunte, ziesse, und gebentshte rosheshone, le shana tova tikasevu ve sechasemu, le chayim tovim u le shalom, be sifran shel politikim gamurim.]

As you may have gathered, I am not heavily vested in bailing out Wall Street - far less so than many Europeans, in fact. I've got more of an emotional stake in seeing some hangings.

Monday, September 29, 2008


Pursuant two items mentioned in Friday's posting: ONE, I do NOT have a hairy posterior. Any mention of the hirsuteness of my tuches was purely the invention of my significant other, by whose standards all white people are overly endowed with fur, fuz, pelt, hairy bits, and navel-lint. Chinese people are not so fortunate, and consequently I believe she resents my rather modest topographic behairedness.

Repeat, not hairy - except in her beady little eyes, at seven-thirty in the morning, when she is full of sugar and in a feisty mood. I feel I must stress this, because I have heard that the young daughter of a friend let out a stream of ew! ew! ew! and several icks upon reading Friday's post over her mother's shoulder. Which was almost immediately followed by the question "does he really have a hairy ....?", and the snapped response thereto "how the heck should I know? Why don't you ask him yourself!".

Again, no dense moss on the keel. Despite evil rumours to the contrary.

And item number TWO: Attended the Folsom Street Fair yesterday. As previously mentioned, it was in an informative and educational capacity.

Never have so many naked men been so glad to see me. One would scarce have thought it possible that a fully clothed person smoking a pipe and wearing a kippah would be so welcomed.
[I do not often wear a kippah in public, but if everyone else is wearing tribal colours (or by their lack of clothing advertising affiliations), then it makes sense that I too should "express my individuality by dressing like my companions". And note that many attendees did just that by being undressed exactly alike.]

First one up was a Jewish gentleman from Fresno, with whom my colleague and I had a nice long chat about Israel and pro-Israel activism. This is when I realized that it would be best for me to stand the entire time, so as to be able to have a face to face conversation. My colleague, however, had to remain seated most of the day due to a physical infirmity, poor man. He coped with that situation by frequent reference to a bottle of single-malt.

My associate has informed me that he wishes to forget for the rest of his life that this day ever happened, and I shall be sure to remind him in detail of the day when he is sober again.

The pamphlets about the legal position of gays in Israel, and the freedoms accorded them, as well as their serving in the IDF, were extremely popular. Even to people who were fully clothed.
The happy pro-Israel prophylactics (slogan: "Israel - It's still safe to come") proved a smash hit ("they're like fortune cookies - you never know what you'll find inside").

Several people took them with the excuse "I'm getting these for my friend; he's Jewish". Many of the people who said this were girls. One of whom gave a disciplined nod to modesty by wearing nipple-clamps with chains that kept her err, ums from doing anything untoward.
I do not know what she was wearing below the navel, as I maintained eye-contact.
Oddly, I cannot remember what her face looked like at all.

A cluster of dear sweet goth dominatrix lolita-types grabbed handfuls to stock the bathroom at work. I forgot to ask them where they work.

By physical evidence alone, the majority of men attending the fair may have been Jewish. Even the little Asian gentleman with no place to put the free literature or the condoms.

Many people wore black. I doubt that they were chossids, but it made some of us feel right at home.

Some people combined fetishes - clamped and studded vampire pirate catgirl with fairy wings and a strap-on furry tail, or a fat man wearing leather gag hog mask, handcuffs, and a pink ballerina skirt.
Also some people dressed like European or Japanese tourists in the wrong part of town - now that's a twisted fetish I don't even want to know about, those people are just sick, along with the men wearing diapers.

After eleven hours of the fair, I know more about studs, clamps, rings, straps, collars, corsets, chains, leashes, lashes, tattoos, eye-liner, and tight leather negligee than is really healthy. On the other hand, several of the attendees now know more about Israel and the middle-east than they ever knew before, and several remarkably well-endowed Jews know that there is a group out there that fights back against the anti-Semitism with which the Bay Area is sodden. As do several sympathetic quite unJewish gentlemen.
[Including one wearing fetching yellow knee-pads and nothing else. ]

So yes, it was a productive and worthwhile day. I'm glad we did it. We must have talked to hundreds of very positive people, and given away well over a thousand pro-Israel condoms.
Put them to good use, ladies and gentlemen, and make someone happy. Use them in the best of health. Or pass them on to a friend. Feel the love.

Friday, September 26, 2008


As of this morning, I realize that I really don't know what is up with that woman. When I got home last night she was asleep in what can only be described as the most uncomfortable position - no, I'm not going to describe it; just imagine your own most uncomfortable position and put some pajamas on - and she is currently going through a monthly biological process that I shall not describe either, so she should be drained, exhausted, pooped out, and just plain limp.

Yet she bounced out of bed this morning way before I did, full of bright cheerful piss and vinegar, oppressively vivacious. I stumbled out of bed quite a while later, stiff-jointed and feeling twinges of gout in both feet.
I grumblingly drank my coffee while she burbled.

I have told to her that I shall be at the Folsom Street Fair this Sunday, in connection with .... "education". So she brightly suggested that I should keep an especial eye out for men with hairy cheeks showing through the cut-outs in their ass-chaps.

[The Folsom Street Fair is the biggest leather event in San Francisco. Many of the big butch gentlemen who attend wear skimpy scanty leather get-ups and nearly nothing else. In recent years, more families and women have also attended. I shall be there in an informational function - I do not have leather clothing, and do not own any whips, riding crops, quirts, paddles, studded straps, spandex vests, cowhide diapers, ass-chaps, or buffalo skin tights.]

When I looked up from my coffee and asked her why I should look for such men, she said "because they might be related to you....., you know, hairy buttocks".

"My butt is not hairy!"

"How do you know? You've never seen it, I have."

"I've felt it - it is not hairy!! Not. At. All!!!"

"Sure it is. Kind of like two furry hibernating forest critters."


"A pair of hugging hairy trolls, just waiting to jump out at unsuspecting travelers......."

I should mention at this point that Savage Kitten has a rich inner life, and, being of Chinese ancestry, may consider Caucasian skin to be impossibly fuzzy. But she has a tendency towards poetic exaggeration. Which her subsequent speculation on my eventual residence in a retirement home exemplified.

Apparently I shall be a source of constant fear and frustration for Doctor Gumbly and Nurse Twaddle.

"Doctor Gumbly, the patient is hiding weapons in his arse fur! We've already pulled a cleaver out of a dense patch!"

"Nurse Twaddle, use electric hedge-clippers and a rake!"

"I daren't, I don't know what else is still in there! I need a machete!"

"We have no machete! You know they don't allow them in retirement homes since that incident last year!"

"In that case, give me ten-foot pole and a hazmat suit!"

"Godspeed, and be careful! We can't afford another search-party if you get stranded!"

This is the same woman who has previously asserted that I shall probably be rolling after the caregivers in my wheelchair, leering lasciviously and making pervert sounds. Or running down innocent little schoolgirls with my walker and scaring them. A senile delinquent, and a veritable hazard to public order.

I think that all of this is merely her 'charming' way of making sure that I am awake in the morning, and properly riled up. Rhetorical shock-treatment, to startle the toad into a state of goggle-eyed alertness. Surely she does not believe that any of it is possible?

Yet perhaps I should control her caffeine-intake. I do not know how much of this cheerfulness a man is supposed to stand.

Besides, I am not a hairy pervert. As is well known.

Thursday, September 25, 2008


That, more or less, was the gist of what some dude on the bus snapped at a little old lady.
Fortunately, she neither saw nor heard him, as she was deep in conversation with another little old lady.

I have often found the Chinese ability to be blissfully unaware of white people remarkable. Many Chinatown Chinese not only sometimes fail to register the distinct presence of a white person in their vicinity, but also have a hard time recognizing them at all. All of us white folk look alike, you see.
And whatever those sounds coming out of the lower halves of our faces are, they sure don't sound like a human language. It seems at all times as if we are having an argument with ourselves.
They wish we would learn Chinese and speak like civilized people.

White people, especially if they are not long-time San Francisco residents, tend to get irritated when Chinese refuse to speak English with each other. Surely "those people" are talking about whitey behind his back? What else could "they" be doing than conspiring against Caucasians? Are they saying I'm ugly? What, what, I have a booger hanging from my chin? Or are they telling each other where they can take away some white person's livelihood, or sell a white person's kidney? Hmmmph!

Let us examine a fairly typical Cantonese conversation, by two Toishanese persons on the Number One California Street bus heading into C'town.

[Canton: Kwang Chau, a southern province of China, which speaks a language more closely related phonetically to T'ang dynasty Chinese than to Mandarin. Toishan: a district in Canton, where many of the Chinese-Americans have relatives. The Toishanese dialect is not too different from city Cantonese, and many Toishanese are bilingual in both their own dialect and Cantonese. Besides often possessing a modicum of Mandarin proficiency.]

I shall refer to the first Toishanese gentleman as 'Little Mustache' (siu wew-soh), and the second as Smelly Foot ( chau keuk). Such casual and almost comedic handles are fairly typical nicknames among old acquaintances - I myself am often called 'Dow Sah' (red bean paste - a filling used in certain pastries and dumplings).

I think you'll agree that it is a very suspicious conversation. Yes.

Little Mustache: Wah, ho loi m-kien-ah nei, diem?
[Hey, haven't seen you in a long time, whazzup?]

Smelly Foot : Mow-yeh, hoei gong, nei ne?
[Much of nothing, going to work, and you?]

Little Mustache: Fan ok-kay laaaaa, gong yuen le. Wei, nei yi-ga tzo matyeh gong ah?
[Returning home (long drawn out vocal marker of finality), work over (short marker of completed aspect of the active verb). Hey, what kind of work do you do nowadays (questioning verbal off-glide)?]

Smelly Foot: Tzo woei-kai.

Little Mustache: Wah, key ho yeh, tzo low sai ma?
[Well, that's quite impressive, are you a boss?]

Smelly Foot: M-hai, m-tzo low sai, jauh hai tzo gong.
[No, not a boss, (just) doing a job.]

Little Mustache: Do key ho (g) me, fat-tat le nei. Ngoh jong hai foh key...... yat yeung e fan diem.
[Still, that's very good, you've had good luck. I'm still a waiter..... same kind of restaurant.]

Smelly Foot: Wah, ngoh teng-wa le nei-ge sai-low sien kiit-fan le ma, hai m-hai chan ge woh?
[Oh, (polite change of subject to avoid causing the other person to dwell on their current differences as far as jobs and income levels are concerned), I heard that your younger brother/younger male friend already got married, is it true?

Little Mustache: Yau hai, saam nien ji chien, nau-yuk-si.
[Sure did, three years ago, (in) New York city.]

Smelly Foot: Ay-yah, gong hay le, siu-so hai mut-yeoh ah?
[Well congratulations anyhow, his wife ('younger sister-in-law') is what kind of person?]

Little Mustache: Ah, keui ne, yau sam uh, yau leng ge, wong-sik tau fa.....
[Oh, she, well, a good person, pretty, blonde hair.....]

Smelly Foot: Waaaaaah!!!! Keui-yah kwai-muy lah maah?!? Kam keng ga![Whaaaaat?!?!?! She's a barbarian!?!!!!?! That's terrific!!]

Note: Kwai-muy literally means ghost-devil (kwai) younger sister (muy). One distinguishes among older and younger in all the familial terms.

Yes, as you can see they are clearly conspiring against us. We must absolutely be angry and put a stop to this right now. Did you hear what they called the blonde? Outrageous, I tell you what - they just aren't respecting the majority of the natives of this place. This is California, speak Spanish dammit!

Wednesday, September 24, 2008


Despite the title, this is not about nekomimi, though it is about manga.
[Manga: Japanese graphic novels and comic-strips. Nekomimi: catgirls - usually impossibly vixenish damsels with cat ears and long furry tails that extend out from their short short skirts or tight tight shorts.]

There are three manga series which I am currently reading: Chibi Vampire, Pretty Face, and Ghost Talker's Daydream.


The first is a charming tale about a defective teenage vampire, who is easily embarrassed. Unlike other members of her family, Karin doesn't hide during daytime, and doesn't drink blood - she expels it in huge gushing torrents from her nose once a month instead. Yes, nosebleeds are a Japanese illustrative convention indicating sexual excitement. No, here it simply means that she is chock-full of blood. And let us not talk about what 'normal' girls do once a month with blood.

Volume ten hit the bookstore recently, and I have already devoured it (tongue delicately rimming the lips of my slightly open mouth). I have been avidly following the story since I first discovered it several months ago, and I delight in every new twist to Karin and her shy classmate Kenta Usui's budding relationship. There is nothing sexual here (unless you have a filthy mind, which I do), and the interplay of the various characters has a distinct dysfunctional charm.

There are some memorable bits - "Mommy, why are you dragging daddy across the floor?" "'Cause he's an idiot, that's why!". But mostly it is just a charming romance between two young people who are social klutzes, against a background of their friends and relatives who are also not entirely socially adept. Most especially so the eternally young sex-bomb grandmother, whose psychotic episodes and homicidal tendencies paint a much more cheering picture of senescence than we normally expect.


Self-centered dim bulb high school karate club leader wakes from a coma more than a year after a disastrous traffic accident. Psychotic plastic surgeon Dr. Jun Manabe has worked on him during that time, and restored him to normal appearance.

The problem is that Dr. Manabe didn't know who he was working on, and has rebuilt his face to exactly resemble the girl that our hero had a schoolboy crush on........ Who, with her family, are now convinced that the long-lost twin sister has finally returned after running away several months ago. Albeit with some gaps in her memory.
Doctor Manabe wants to finish the job - a full sex change, with some nips, tucks, inserts - the young man will not hear of it. Meanwhile, everybody is convinced that he is indeed a girl.

It's a straightforward story about your basic gender-bending cross-dressing ultra-cute border-line hermaphrodite, in other words. With plenty of scope for high camp, high jinks, and high drama.

It just isn't particularly good.

By the end of volume two there is little more there than a tale featuring a cast of sexy girls drawn in a stereotypic fashion, with frequent panty shots, panic about being discovered, drooling schoolboys from the karate club (who do not realize that the object of their affection is their former leader), and scenes of amusing discomfit.
This is scarcely worth a second glance - I doubt I will purchase any further volumes.


Small violent teenage albino necromancing dominatrix solves crimes. Great story, surprisingly low level of fan-service (Fan Service: curvy thighs, tight cotton panties, lacy bra edges, etcetera - in this case some rather startling outfits that leave almost nothing to the imagination while nevertheless leaving everything to the imagination).

Humour: What do you do when you're not wearing panties, because a stalker who broke into your apartment stole them all (leaving several thousand yen in their place), and you stumble and land on your posterior, your short dress flipped up to expose your paipan to a garage full of startled mechanics?

Do you A) explain that no underwear and no pubic hair is healthy, good for the circulation; B) inform them you are merely obeying your dying mom's last wish; C) kill all witnesses and dispose of their bodies in the trunk of a car; or D) furiously act as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.

The answer, it turns out, is D.

High heels are dangerous. I've always thought so. This proved it.

A kinui is a daemon rope that serves it's mistress, and will only feed on a victim if she permits it. Normally it is hidden on her body, masquerading as typical Japanese rope-bondage art, interwoven and connecting like a complicated and symmetrical cats-cradle tightly wound around the torso and the fatty thighs.

Mmmmmm, fatty thighs.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008


Reb Reicher in New York recently queried me regarding chassidim who "inhale eighteen cigars on yom kippur". At first I was baffled, but then I realized that I am the logical person to ask such things.

What other blog combines tobacco, a dimsummish modicum of Talmud-Torah, and chassidic genealogy?
[Plus penguins, panties, wombat curry, and plotshikke bibber peltzen?]

Besides, I know the Rabam personally. The Rabam, as is well-known, is the descendant of both the Ba'al Ha Turetz AND the Rebbe of Prolicz - both sources of riezige lomdus on this very subject!

My correspondent writes:
All I have is the phrase "Chassidim who inhale eighteen cigars on Yom Kippur". Who are they, which shtroim of chassidus, why precisely do they do that, and what cigars do they prefer? Especially that last datum - is their roichende minhog Honduran, Nicaraguan, or European dry-cured? Long filler, Sumatran wrapper, or Connecticut shade-grown? These are important considerata.

Well, my dear Talmid, it's a special minyen by the rebbe of Tzeger. There's no break on Yom Kippur, they just davven the shtille shimonesro, and then they smoke throughout the entire chazoras ha-shatz of each of the four tefillos of the daytime.

Why eighteen cigars?

Eighteen cigars plus a small cherus (the so-called 'cheruth katan') because there are nineteen benedictions. Rather than changing the name or the symbolism, one accounts for the addition by a different item in the same category - the analogy is with four tins of GLPease tobacco on Peip Sach plus one tin of Cornell & Diehl for Eliyahu Ha-Huma.
The eighteen are life (chai), the cherus represents the minim. The cheroot is optional, though some hold that it is obligatory, because every day we thank our maker for cherus.

According to HaRav BenTzion Halberkrona, the Rebbe of Tzeger explained: "There is a Medrash which says that Eliyahu Ha-Huma was punished for complaining that his people were lax in performing the bendikzions, by being made to be present at every benediction in the future. Hence the "Cigar of Eliyahu". I could never understand how being present at such a holy ceremony could be punishment, but now I see why it is sometimes a matter of great annoyance to be present at some of the functions of our faith - the kavana of eighteen cigars is shverrer on the chest than any amount of beating."

But at Omblatt's, they would smoke eighteen señoritas (or bolknaks, during a shmitta year - the symbolism is lost, though it may have something to do with bolknaks being made from last year's compost heap). With a cup of black coffee for each. Because one should also taste the bitter during the great festivals (strictly murra). The symbolism of a señorita is that kabbalistically it acknowledges the feminine aspect of the divine - the shekinah, zigar anpin, or tiferes.
This per HaRav Kutchner, currently of Kehillos Ohevei Madonna.

[In the same shul of thought, the truly fervent would go north to Mokum Alef for simches toireh...... instead of jannevier (Genever - Dutch Gin), the current minhag is to get so blasted on spliv in a coffee shop that you cannot tell Hamansterdam from whateveritisnejad that you just forgot.]

The Tzegerer minhag is also a rejection of the profligacy of Ruzhin and the Kozhnitzer (to whom Napoleon gifted a precious snuff-box), namely ostentatiously dipping snuff on shabbes or the high holy days, but only on week days smoking fine cigars through amber holders. In recent decades it has become harder to do so, due to the enormous increase in price of stogies - up to six hundred dollars for a box of twenty five handrolled Coronas from a reputable maker (supervised le mehadrin min hamehadrin min hamehadin min hamahadda dadda da).

The correct custom when offering a cigar is to open the box and allow the receiver to take one rather than handing the cigar to someone directly. It is also customary to light cigars for others, especially for women.

The Rebbe's nephew, Shalom Ber Tzigary, writes: "... while the Rebbe walked around Berlin in a beret and a well-tailored suit, his lomdishe brother wore a pair of slacks with his shirt out and his tzitzis showing. While my uncle's hair was short, Leibel's was long and wild, with luxurious peyes. However, it was clear that they really cared for each other. I remember that both of them were physically very strong, and would challenge each other by locking their arms on one another's shoulders and "wrestling" for long periods."
[Reb Leibel Tzigary emigrated to Palestine in 1933 -- his T.A. shtiebl on Nachalos Binyamin was a disorganized mess, with no regular hours, though it was always open on Shabbat; he would strut in front of the grand Kozhinitzer Shul up the block with his Shabbat cigar in hand.]

Reb Leibel is buried with his wife in Sfat. His spouse was employed, after his death, as a religious teacher in Mercaz L'inyonei Cherut in London.

For a full minyan one needs eight boxes of coronas (or thirteen boxes of half-coronas), and one box of señoritas - the excess is traditionally given to the poor, or to your no-good son-in-law's father (pretty much the same thing, really).

The boxes must be cedar, as is written: "imchoma hi nivne aleyha tirat kasef, v'imdelet hi natsur aleyha luach arez".

One time the Baal Ha Turetz was gifted with eighteen fine herring. But he did not eat them, because of the verse "ach basar bechiyo'msterdamo, lo tochelu". That day he breakfasted on Genever (Jannevier, also known in Mokum Alef as jajem (yayim)).
Jannevier is as mayim chayim, but also intense menucha, because HE accompanies one beside still waters, whether pot or patent (Tehillim, mizmor kaf gimmel - p.23:2).

Smoking is a baroicho.

There is no free-association; somebody always has to pay for it.
I think I need more coffee, sukar ziyada.
I hope this answers all of your questions about the eighteen cigars.

Monday, September 22, 2008


In December of last year I filled out an eHarmony questionnaire. No, not to play the field - there's only one pair of panties that I want to get into - but just to see what would turn up.

I filled out the questionnaire on behalf of Borat Sagdaiev. As a favour to the man. More or less. Just haven't told him yet.

[Mentioned in this post: Hairy Sex Beast ]

The answers I gave to the eHarmony questions were more or less guesses, based on how I understand Borat's personality. I had a framed photo of him wearing his electric green stretchable mankini in front of me while going through the questionnaire, to make certain that the many facets of his sparkling personality would be reflected in the answers.

I kinda went ape - some of the answers were ....., well ....., errrm ....., your know.

Now, ten months later, and eHarmony is STILL sending Borat breathless news about women who wish to be hitched to a man obsessed with anooses, chrams, Gypsies, and Jews (though not the anooses or chrams of Gypsies or Jews).
Plus offers he really should not refuse.

Dear Borat,
Fall is just around the corner, and it's a new season full of great possibilities. To help get your fall off to an exciting start, we are offering you this special opportunity to save.
Get our best deal ever and save an extra 75% on our 3-month plan. That's just $9.95 a month!
Borat, give yourself the opportunity to fall in love this season and join eHarmony today.
Offer Ends Soon!

Their faith in Borat's innate lovability is touching. On behalf of the man himself, I shall be touched. I never though of Borat as a pleasure object, but someone does.

NOTE: The term 'Pleasure Object' is also a high-fallutin' term for vibrators and dildoes.
I found this out yesterday while at an emporium near my house - I was discretely listening to half a dozen young Philippinas talking in front of the display of 'Pleasure Objects'.

Snippets of overheard conversation:
"How many batteries per week? Oh, about six, sometimes eight or ten." "This one plugs into your computer - must be for business people." "The g-spot is the female equivalent of the prostate - hah, they haven't felt either!" "This one comes in two sizes - the extra-large one must be for blondes." "You can hide that one in a bowl of bananas." "Which end is the wrong end?" "Sounds like a dentist's drill." "No, not the pink one - too teenagy; purple and black are more assertive". "Lifetime warranty? What the hell do they think I'll be doing in sixty years?" "Size like a dump truck." "It's not how it feels in your hand that counts."

Between the six of them, they spent over a thousand dollars. Mostly on the stealth models - the ones that don't sound like a band-saw.
Ergonomic, plus European design.

They've got their priorities screwed on right.
More power to 'em.
Borat is NOT part of their welltanshauung.


Me: I’m getting kinda tired of that arrogant bunch of old-world snobs and know-it-alls commenting on anything American.

Dammit, the Euries should learn to shut the intercourse up, and just keep quiet until we ask them their opinion.
We've saved their donkeys three times (WWI, WWII, Cold War), the least they could do is JUST SHUT UP.

--- ---

Other Person: He can rant all he wants. This is just the typical arrogant Yankee response to criticism, even when it’s the truth. In my opinion, assuming I’m entitled to one, Palin is horrendous. Maybe when we keep our noses out of the world’s business, they’ll stop commenting on ours. We even try to influence other countries’ elections, as though having our own rigged isn’t enough to keep us busy.

--- ---

Me: Thank you for allowing me the privilege of ranting. And thank you for calling me a Yankee - a term applied every single day of my years in Europe, and not in affection. I'll take it as a badge of pride.
The rest of the world is a cesspool, and as far as I'm concerned they can stew in their own foul juices. Screw them, and screw the ratty camels they rode in on.

--- ---

Other Person: Please keep me off your future rants. The Ugly American lives and thrives in all his bigoted splendour.



I do not mind straightforward honest criticism – the kind of criticism that one both expects from and offers friends and equals.
[The operative concept being a sense friendship and equality, on a larger scale than just the individual level.]

What gets my goat is the sneering, condescending, and patronizing tone of pretty much all negative foreign commentary about the United States – the attitude that radiates dislike of American religion, American politics, American coffee, American entertainment, American popular culture, American values, American products, the American form of government, and Americans in general. Everything American, in fact.

I particularly resent the opportunism and overweening sense of superiority and self-importance of the people delivering the negative foreign commentary; get over yourselves, you people really shouldn’t talk – you’re no great shakes yourselves, and your societies, if they are actually livable, have only been so a short time. Which, coincidentally, is only since our involvement with the rest of the world – there may be a link there, and you might want to look into that. Before then, you were all brutal dictatorships, oligarchies, and class and caste ridden tyrannies.
Every single one of your societies has history of viciously quashing dissent, persecuting minorities, and exploiting and enslaving whoever could not resist, plus warfare, extermination, and ethnocide. You lot are much better at being brutes than we are; you-all had a lot more practice.

Feel free to comment on this – but please leave your anti-Americanism at the door. Thank you.

Friday, September 19, 2008


Lauren Booth, sister-in-law of former British prime minister Tony Blair, said that the "concentration camp" of Gaza received less media attention than Darfur.

Has Gaza in fact received less attention? Not just less media attention, but less attention overall?

An internet search for 'Darfur,' shows 16,300,000 results.
[Deaths in Darfur: nearly half a million over the past five years.]

An internet search for 'Gaza,' shows 39,400,000 results.
[Conflict deaths in Gaza: 7007 since 2001.]

Note: The idea for comparing death tolls was taken from an Arutz Sheva article. It dramatically highlights the disparity. There is relevance, and then there is 'relevance'. I got the idea for internet searches from the same article.

Further searches showed a similar pattern:

5,330,000 results for 'Darfur UN'.
9,840,000 results for 'Gaza UN'.

603,000 results for 'AFP Darfur'.
1,380,000 results for 'AFP Gaza'.

1,940,000 results for 'BBC Darfur'.
3,040,000 results for 'BBC Gaza'.

1,350,000 results for 'Reuters Darfur'.
2,790,000 results for 'Reuters Gaza'.

387,000 results for 'Al Jazeera Darfur'.
1,020,000 results for 'Al Jazeera Gaza'.

32,300 results for 'Ha'aretz Darfur'.
361,000 results for 'Ha'aretz Gaza'.

3,690 results for 'Algemeen Dagblad Darfur'.
5,260 results for 'Algemeen Dagblad Gaza'.

19,100 results for 'Volkskrant Darfur'
31,800 for 'Volkskrant Gaza'.

1,050,000 results for 'Guardian Darfur'.
2,040,000 results for 'Guardian Gaza'.

1,610,000 results for 'New York Times Darfur'.
2,800,000 results for 'New York Times Gaza'.

There are two logical conclusions.

The first one is that Lauren Booth is an ignorant and biased woman who neither knows nor cares about the truth. The second one is that each Gazan is worth far, far more than at least fifty Sudanese in the eyes of the world.

One might also think that the killing of Gazans is frowned upon, and the deaths of Sudanese positively welcomed.
But it is probably only people like Lauren Booth who incline that way.

My own personal conclusions are that the world cares too little about Darfur, and that Lauren Booth and her type are evil and vicious.
I would be keen to hear from anyone who knows ms. Booth whether that latter conclusion matches their perception.



This article is crossposted here:

I compared the figures for the fatalities in Darfur and Gaza in several places: B'Tselem, The United Nations, various Palestinian and activist websites, etcetera.
The figure for Gaza is based on B'Tselem. I did not include Palestinians killed by other Palestinians, such as the victims of political assassinations by the factions, targeted killings by gangsters such as the Dogmush clan, murdered kidnap victims, or poisonings.

Thursday, September 18, 2008


I see that the world's foremost authority on the use and mis-use of South-African historical perceptions has once more judged Israel and found her wanting.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu, conniving anti-imperialist and religious charlatan, asserts that Israel may have committed a war-crime shelling Beit Hanoun in 2006. He further castigates the international community - not for their toleration of terrorism from the territories, not for their silence about Arab anti-Semitism, not for their passivity in the face of Arab, Persian, Pakistani, and Malay clerics and politicians openly demanding genocide of the Jews, but for not feeling particularly responsible for Gaza.

"It is the silence of the international community in the face of what is happening there which most offends. This silence begets complicity"

Further quote:
"I think the West, quite rightly, is feeling contrite, penitent for its awful connivance with the Holocaust - The West is penitent, the penance is being paid by the Palestinians."


As usual, the Palestinians claim that it was a war crime. Considering that they claim everything is a war crime, if done by Israelis, and nothing no matter how reprehensible is a war crime, if done by Palestinians, it is obvious how much credence should be given to Arabs claiming war crimes.

"Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?"
-----Henry Plantagenet

I suggest that the UN take Tutu's report, fold it until there is nothing left but sharp corners, and put it somewhere deep in Tutu's rotund body. And they should pound some sand in after.

I am not fond of South-Africans of any hue. I cannot think of a more sick and dysfunctional society than South Africa. Their ideas about sex, their idiocy about HIV, and their raping of juveniles as a means to cure AIDS, widespread in that pit of a country, rather suggest that South-Africans need more lecturing than they will ever be capable of giving.
At the very least, that pesky ecclesiastic should concern himself only and entirely with the rectifying of his own ghastly society.

Nor am I fond of churchmen. Many such, of whatever denomination, are pederasts and petty bullies.
I will not suggest that someone deal with him violently, despite the quote above about a meddlesome priest.
I will, however, state that it does NOT take all kinds - there are many we could well do without. Mr. Desmond Tutu is one of them. I shall shed no tears when he dies, and the manner by which he leaves this world is of no consequence to me; I just hope that it is very soon - it would merely be icing on the cake if it were bloody and brutal, but that is not an essential condition.

One knave less and the world will be a better place.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008


A member of a San Francisco pro-Israel organization reacts badly to the pro-Palestinian self-hating Jew side, particularly their self-righteous pronunciamentos about the upcoming chag.

SARCASTIC QUOTE:"Dipping apples in honey is SOOOOO white imperialist hegemonist, maybe they should dip tofu in salt water to symbolize the entire third-world (tofu) weeping bitter tears (salt-water) over the cruelty and exploitation by the first world (which would be symbolized by the bland tastelessness of the tofu and salt-water together). How can anybody be happy at a time when poor little furry Palestinian butterflies and whales are crying???!?! That's SOOO heartless!!!
And honey is SUCH a ruling-class fascist running dog luxury, why, the exploited and oppressed masses spit on honey, feh!"

Hee hee hee.

Pursuant thereto, the Bay Area Women in Black will be cursing Jews and Israel again at their scheduled 'community tashlich observance' on Saturday, October 4, 11:00 PM, at the Lake Merritt Pergola.

This from their announcement:
"We gather to discard that which holds us back from our potential as peacemakers -- our fears, isolation and silence, and to renew our commitment to work for peace and justice. We re-dedicate ourselves to standing in solidarity with all those who resist -- and who continue to challenge, dismantle, subvert, re-envision and transform the forces of violence, coercion and inequality in the world."

Please note that their "standing in solidarity with all those who resist" in practice has meant active support of both Hamas and Hezbollah, praise for Ahmedinejad, Sheikh Nasrallah, Chavez, and Castro, and apologesis for the Sudanese in their brutal holy war against non-Arabs.
[Naturally, many of them are also members of various other 'revolutionary' organizations - anything anti-Israel or anti-American is sodden with their nauseating aura. ]

In recent years, the Bay Area Women in Black have stood in proud solidarity with Arab protestors and Berkeleyites outside the consulate screaming "Falastin balad'na wa'l Yahud qalab'na" (Palestine is our land, and the Jews are our dogs), "Khaibar Khaibar ya Yahud, jaish Muhammad saya‘ud" ('Khaybar, Khaybar, oh Jews, the army of Muhammad will come again' - in reference to the battle of Khaybar where the prophet Muhammad resupplied his forces by slaughtering and enslaving former friends and allies at the Oasis of Khaybar).

It cannot be argued that the Women in Black were unaware of the content of those chants - they had not objected in any way when the crowd chanted in English - "with our blood and our souls we will redeem you oh Palestine", or "Palestine will be free from the river to the sea", along with other threats and curses.
In fact, the more violent and bloodthirsty the rhetoric, in English or Arabic, the more Bay Area Women in Black seemed to relish the frisson.

At such events, the Women in Black who come from Berkeley positively bask in the ecstasy of the moment - most especially the elegant and extraordinarily ignorant Italian woman. Her presence in the United States is truly baffling - she would feel so much more at home in a Turin soccer stadium singing Bandera Rosso, or encouraging the local jugend to throw bricks and molotovs. As would be fitting for an intellectually pretentious European America-hater.

If she actually had a brain, she would be dangerous.

Heck, if any of them had brains, they would be dangerous.
Even Kate Bender Raphael.
Whose verbose blog is pathetic yet amusing.


PS. 1.
The term 'self-hating Jew' is technically a misnomer. These people are not self-hating, they just hate you and every other Jew. They are Jew-hating Jews.

In addition to Kate Raphael Bender (also known as Kate Raphael or Kate Bender Raphael - sometimes using the spelling 'Rafael'), there are several others of that ilk in the activist circles of northern California: Libbey Goldberg, Perry Bellow-Handelman, Kinneret Israel, Sarah Kershnar, Barbara Lubin, Cecilie Surasky, et alia.

Please note that several people are NOT included in this category, as despite their membership in the Bay Area Women in Black, they aren't actually Jewish, being instead counted among the congregations of Saint John's Presbyterian Church (2727 College Avenue, Berkeley), or the Lake Merrit United Methodist Church (1255 1st Avenue, Oakland).
Both of these churches are making a name for themselves in the divestment and boycott movements. Pandering to politically correct hatred wins friends, especially for Christian denominations with declining memberships.
Jew-hatred, of course, is traditional.

PS. 2.This is a post I really enjoyed writing - it allowed me to indulge the latent anti-Semitism within as well as the latent philo-Semitism within. Bucket loads! Yep, I feel so fulfilled! Heck, even my verkrampte Dutch-Calvinist side is gleaming!

To the ladies from Bay Area Women in Black, especially the mono-gender-preferential womyn of the San Francisco chapter, I have say: Thank you, ladies, you've been very good to me, I mentally creamed in my imaginary panties, it was that good! Thank you again - do you feel all warm?


You want a rich inner life? I give you the rich inner life of Ms. Sarah Palin, who visualizes the US rolling into Russia, George Patton style, if those Godless Ruskies don't stop picking on those po' Georgians (I guess that's what the famed Bridge to Nowhere is in aid of). I don't suppose that anybody has had the chance to brief Ms. Palin on the fact that the Georgia in question is not in fact the Georgia in which Ty Cobb was born, but the Georgia in which Josef Stalin was born; come to think of it, I'd be willing to trade our Georgia for Minsk-Pinsk, and maybe a case of vodka. Or some latkes.


Tuesday, September 16, 2008


A correspondent on the East-Coast wishes that I write something about Chassidim and their cigar-habits. A potential customer in the same neighborhood as the correspondent desires net thirty terms (N30). And a member of our sales department has told someone else that they can have net forty five (N45).

Sometimes it seems as if I am the only person actually left on the planet, and that everybody else has taken a vacation in fantasy-land.

To the cigar-chossid: Probably tomorrow. 'Siz a wichtige sach. Tzarich iyun.

To the potential customer: Why is your business located in a parking spot between the Red Hook recreation area and a vacant industrial lot out near the docks? And why did you list the precise location of Frankel's Shul as your home address? Are rabbis Wolvovsky and Levertov aware that you live in the basement of Kehillos Bnei Shlomo Zalman? Don't you think you should tell them already?

To the sales department: Stop smoking crack. If we haven't done business with someone in over three years, there is no reason to even think of net forty five (N45)! Please think in terms of prepay (PP). We have nothing on them. No up-to-date credit data. Zip-dash-diddly. Bupkes. And stop trying to kiss-up to those people. They don't really like you.

--- --- ---

All of these things explain, of course, why I do what I do. I love people. Particularly, I love their rich inner lives. I too have a rich inner life. But in comparison with some of our potential customers, and our sales department, my rich inner life is a mere shadow, a poor deficient beastie, a crippled and stunted little rich inner life. Their rich inner lives are the big mack daddies of inner lives. The gedolim of phantasmagoria.
Kol hakavod, y'all, I am jealous. Please do not wave your big inner lives around.
I think I need my blankie and my teddy bear now. And I just want to read a bit more about the Tzigarrer Chassidim - that looks comforting and non-threatening. Butterflies.

Monday, September 15, 2008


And huzzah to that! For some reason, internet searches for my blog yielded both a hot gay video site, and a manga cat girl pornography site. Both incredibly detailed and content-rich. As well as a page about Dutch protestants, including but not limited to Calvinists, strict Calvinists, very angry Calvinists, and Dutch Calvinists married to Scottish women, farklempt or otherwise, or some such (I didn't stay there very long, so I may be not entirely clear about the content of that site - I do have some standards).

Being no longer listed as a link on pages about hot gay sex or spanking bikini-clad catgirls is a profound cause for celebration!

Not that I object to those people who are searching the internet for hot bottoms or furry spanking accidentally stumbling into my very clean and almost puritanically sex-free blog - heavens no! Their contributions can be staggeringly eloquent! Consider the many comments about panties and wombats that I have received over the past two months - lyrically descriptive of hem-lace, stripes versus patterns, pink-rose-violet versus peach-apricot-saffron. Cotton versus silk. High-waisted, low-waisted, or even barely waisted at all, the merest band of embroidered ribbon connecting front and back. Plus wombats. Such comments penned underneath posts that had naught to do with panties. Or wombats.
I myself have no opinions about panties or wombats, in case you are wondering. I do not wear panties, I have no wombat.

But emmes, the people who really should discover my site on the internet are NOT the panty and wombat fetishists. They have enough destinations on the web already. And we must celebrate their no longer being sent here by the false promises of search engines, or sites with troll-capability but no discrimination.

Thank you for not distracting them from their epic quest.

This site is not about panties.

It is rarely about schoolgirls (including but not limited to megane-ko, neko-mimi, blushing, and nose-bleeds), often about rabbis, and Balkan Sobranie. Plus anger and Dutch things. Basically, Talmud, Torah, the occasional tempting two-dimensional teenager, Treifus gamur, and Tobacco. Please remember that.


Saturday, September 13, 2008


Wow. Even the US government is paying attention! Apparently the camel-corps over at State has realized that Malaysia's assaults on freedom of speech and freedom of the press should not stand. The Malaysian Charge d'Affairs, Mr. Ilango Karuppanan, was given a talking-to over the recent arrests of an oppositionists, a blogger, and a journalist.

"Peaceful expression of political opinions is a fundamental right and critical to a democracy,"

"The United States believes that the Malaysian government should provide due process and treatment consistent with Malaysian law and international standards,"

"We expect that democratic countries that purport to advocate free expression of political views will not curtail such freedom,"

[Source: http://afp.google.com/article/ALeqM5jaqcOFqlsYHyxjXfkbxuJcNRQ5_A ]

It should be stressed that the ruling powers in Malaysia do NOT believe in a fundamental right to express ANY political opinions - they tolerate such expression when it more or less agrees with their own ideas - nor does the Malaysian government adhere to international standards, save when convenient.

As for the expectation so eloquently expressed, such does not accord with Malay adat at all.

[Adat means traditional law and custom. The word is derived from Arabic. But the Malay interpretation means everything from enforced obedience to societal pressure and government dictat, to draconian legal measures against any form of dissent and non-Malay ethnic assertion.]


The honourable Ilango Karuppanan has a less than enviable position; representing a society and a ruling class which fears dissent, independent thought, and outside influences. For such is the dominant ethos in Malaysia - an undereducated and superstitious agrarian hinterland occupied by Malay migrants from the coasts and the Indonesian islands, fiercely fearful of the influence and success of the urban Chinese and Indians who have made the peninsula prosperous, and the country viable as an independent nation.

[Malays originate in Sumatra and Riau predominantly, though there are Malaysian villages inhabited by the descendants of Javanese settlers, as well as Minang in Negri Sembilan. The dominant class in Malaysian Borneo are mostly carpetbaggers and the Malayized pirate classes of the coast, along with corrupt officials who have seized control of the natural resources in the upriver areas. The Buginese form distinct strata both in the peninsula and Borneo, but are nevertheless considered Bumiputra]

Twenty years of noteworthy service in Malaysia's foreign service also can not quite prepare even so intelligent an individual as Ilango Karuppanan for the promotion of what is essentially a system of apartheid; the legalized advancement and preference given to mal-educated Malays and Arabs-gone-native over qualified Indians and Chinese, the quotas and projects that benefit aforementioned Malays and Arabs-gone-native, and the legal privileges that being a Malay (or an Arab-gone-native) have.

[For background on Malay Apartheid and the term Bumiputra, see here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bumiputra
and note especially the favoured position of Muslims. ]

Mr. Ilango Karuppanan himself may have some private objections to such a system - not being, strictly speaking, a beneficiary thereof.

[Bio of the honourable Mr. Ilango Karuppanan:
http://www.akronworldaffairs.org/programs/speaker_bios/karuppannan.html ]


Perhaps it is time for the rest of the world to stop passively accepting the Malaysian government's utterances at face-value, and actually start investigating the human rights abuses in that stalwart Muslim country?

I am sure that the activists of SUARAM could assist them in that regard, as well as all the people who have over the years been arrested and held indefinitely under Malaysia's Internal Security Act (ISA) - including but not limited to human rights activists, activists of the ethnic and political minorities, plus lawyers, scholars, and people who have cast aside a former Islamic identity in favour of other religions.

Converts to Buddhism, Hinduism, or Christianity in Malaysia can certainly speak, from bitter personal experience, of the treatment they have received from their Muslim ex-coreligionists.
The experiences of reporters and politicians who at some point ran afoul of UMNO (United Malays National Organization - the major Malay political party) and were arrested under the Internal Security Act might also be instructive - ISA has in the past been used as a catch-all statute to squash dissent, punish recalcitrant politicians, and enforce the Mafia-like rule of local machers.

[For just one example of a reporter arrested arbitrarily, see here:
and also read this:

If the world were to support the sincere and honest individuals in Malaysia in their attempts to improve their society, they would discover that Malaysians of all ethnicities have the capability to make Malaysia flourish. This is not a country that is starting from zero, these are not people without valid reasons for national and ethnic pride.
It is a great pity that the integration of Malaysia in the world economy has been at the expense of certain inalienable freedoms, and it is a tragedy that the international community has so profitably turned a blind eye to the rape of its own ideals.

Friday, September 12, 2008


What, you do not know that name? RPK is the editor of a popular newsblog in Malaysia. He was arrested today under the Internal Security Act for posting an article which the Malaysian government claims insulted Islam.

The Malaysian government claims equitability and a lack of bias, yet have consistently favoured Islam and discriminated against non-Muslims.

This is the same government whose then prime minister, Datuk Seri Mahathir Muhammad, spouted anti-Semitic and anti-Western drivel of the most reprehensible kind. This is the same government which discriminates against all non-Muslims. This is the same government which supports some of the worst elements in the Islamic world while blandly pretending neutrality.

This is the same government which panders to Minangkabau, Javan, and Melayu carpetbaggers by claiming that they are the true natives, because they are Muslim.

This is the same government which maintains the proud Muslim traditions of several royal families descended from Bugis and Arab pirates, rapists, and robbers - what, you didn't know that Malay royalty is traditionally half a generation removed from the most successful brigand in the local bog? You didn't know that piracy ennobled?

You didn't know that Malay royal families happily claim descent from the kin of the prophet Muhammad?

I'm not surprised you did not know that last bit - the only ones who believe that claim are the Malays themselves.

The Malaysian government seems determined to keep its citizenry ignorant and unenlightened. If they have to use Islamic sensibilities as a tool to that end, they will. It’s a means of staying in power.


BBC article:
Quote: "General Abdul Aziz Zainal called for "stern action" to be taken against anyone stoking racial tension in the country."
Quote: "Interior Minister Syed Hamid Albar said he had been arrested because his writings posed a threat to national security."

Racial tension is of course the great Malay bugaboo. In 1969, the ethnic Malays, incited by "native" racialists (Islamic politicos, mostly), rioted in Kuala Lumpur ('Muddy Estuary') against the Chinese, the actions having been preplanned (as is evident from the near simultaneous speed with which the violence spread throughout the city), and the ensuing organised violence including murder, rape, robbery, and torture.

The official figures speak of less than two hundred dead. Non-governmental figures reliably state that the real numbers were over two thousand fatalities. Army units sent to quell the rioting deliberately added to the chaos - by bringing in armed Malay thugs, and by arson.
This has been denied by all Malay parties and politicians since then.

The scale of the violence eventually shocked the instigators, but more importantly convinced the Malaysian mainstream politicians that unless something was done the economic basis of the country would collapse. That economic basis being the industrial sector created by Chinese enterprise and drive. Even to the "native" Malay, it was evident that the agrarian village economy could not sustain any development, nor provide the surplus that the ruling classes had come to depend upon.

Hence the use of 'racial tension' as the catch-all reason for curbing freedom of the press while yet encouraging Malay-ethnic chauvinism.

So, what actual text got Raja Petra Kamaruddin in trouble?


Posted by Raja Petra Kamaruddin (2008-9-11)

"The following statement is a factual account of the above-mentioned event given to me by the late Tunku Abdul Rahman (first Prime Minister of Malaysia) during an interview at his residence in Penang in 1972. I requested to discuss the above incident and was surprised when the appointment was given within three days.
His Secretary, a Chinese gentleman, allotted me one hour and advised me not to go into too much detail as this would tire the Tunku unnecessarily. In fact, the interview lasted three and a half hours. Because of the very surprising details provided to me, I think it would be best to report in a first-hand manner based on my notes written immediately after the interview.

It was clear to me as well as the police that in the highly charged political atmosphere after the police were forced to kill a Chinese political party worker on May 4th, 1969, something was bound to happen to threaten law and order because of the resentment towards the Government by the KL Chinese on the eve of the general election. This was confirmed at this man’s funeral on the 9th May when the government faced the most hostile crowd it had ever seen.

Therefore, when the opposition parties applied for a police permit for a procession to celebrate their success in the results of the general election, I was adamant against it because the police were convinced that this would lead to trouble. I informed Tun Razak about this and he seemed to agree.

Now, without my knowledge and actually "behind my back", there were certain political leaders in high positions who were working to force me to step down as a PM. I don’t want to go into details but if they had come to me and said so I would gladly have retired gracefully.

Unfortunately, they were apparently scheming and trying to decide on the best way to force me to resign. The occasion came when the question of the police permit was to be approved.

Tun Razak and Harun Idris, the MB of the state of Selangor, now felt that permission should be given, knowing fully well that there was a likelihood of trouble. I suppose they felt that when this happened they could then demand my resignation.

To this day I find it very hard to believe that Razak, whom I had known for so many years, would agree to work against me in this way. Actually he was in my house, as I was preparing to return to Kedah, and I overhead him speaking to Harun over the phone saying that he would be willing to approve the permit when I left. I really could not believe what I was hearing and preferred to think it was about some other permit. In any case, as the Deputy Prime Minister, in my absence from KL, he would be the Acting PM and would override my objection.

Accordingly, when I was in my home in Kedah, I heard over the radio that the permit had been approved.

It seems as though the expected trouble was anticipated and planned for by Harun and his UMNO Youth. After the humiliating insults hurled by the non-Malays, especially the Chinese, and after the seeming loss of Malay political power to them, they were clearly ready for some retaliatory action.

After meeting in large numbers at Harun’s official residence in Jalan Raja Muda near Kampong Bahru, and hearing inflammatory speeches by Harun and other leaders, they prepared themselves by tying ribbon strips on their foreheads and set out to kill Chinese. The first hapless victims were two of them in a van opposite Harun’s house who were innocently watching the large gathering. Little did they know that they would be killed on the spot. "

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/May_13_Incident

Further from Wikipedia:
Less than 24 hours after posting the above entries in the "Malaysia-today's blog", Raja Petra Kamaruddin was arrested by the Badawi's Government under the draconian Internal Security Act.(2008-9-12)

A few hours later, a reporter for the Chinese-language Sin Chew Daily, "Miss Tan Hoon Cheng" was also arrested under the Internal Security Act after reporting on an outburst from a ruling party member who called the ethnic Chinese community "squatters".
Her report triggered a major row in the coalition which is made up of race-based parties. The leading party, which represents majority Muslim Malays, was forced to punish the member responsible.

Just before midnight, a third person, "Miss Teresa Kok", a highly regarded member of Parliament from the Chinese-based DAP which is a member of the opposition alliance, had also been arrested under the Internal Security Act. Miss Kok is an outspoken lawmaker and critics denouncing the race based politics in Malaysia.

[Source: same Wikipedia entry as the article by Raja Petra Kamaruddin]


I'll admit it - I am a partisan of the overseas Chinese in South East Asia. While I admire the cultural achievements of the Indonesians (not those of the Malays or Philippinos, because they have achieved so little), and consider the civilization of central Java both splendid and inspiring (again, not that of the Malays or Philippinos - what exactly have they achieved?), I know that if it weren't for the enterprise, drive, and vitality of the Chinese (and the Atjehnese, Batak, Buginese, Dayak, Minangkabau, and a few others), there would be little more than overpopulated swamp and jungle-villages from Patani in an arc all the way to the tip of Luzon.

The twentieth century would not have penetrated. The tax-base that allows corrupt politicians and military men to live in luxury would not exist. The modern conveniences that lighten the burden of the orang tanah or the labourer in the kuta would never have been imported. The tourists would not come, the traders would never leave the coast, and the educated classes would emigrate en-masse.

Let's face it - the only South East Asian countries that still have vibrant native cultures are Thailand and Viet Nam. The rest? Meh. The ruling classes do not encourage intelligence or creativity.

I really wish that the Malaysian government would realize that by their cowardice they effectively condemn their culture to death. They could instead re-inspire it.

Dengan hormat,



Blijkbaar heeft, in na-aping van Evo Morales, Hugo Chavez nu ook de VS ambassadeur het land uit gewezen.

Zal me een worst wezen. Wat mij betreft kan dat hele zooitje wanmatjo daar in Latijns-Amerika met z'n allen de kolere krijgen.

Laat de Euros dat ook maar doen, dan zijn we gelijk van al die kanker kwallen af.
Meteen ook maar alle ontwikkelingshulp stopzetten, en de VN afschaffen.
A pox on all of them.

Met anti-internationalistische groeten,


Thursday, September 11, 2008


Bamidbar 25:1 "Vayeshev Yisrael ba-Shitim va-yachel ha-am liznot el banot Moav" (And Israel stayed in Shittim, and the people began to commit harlotry with the daughters of Moab).

Interestingly, none of the commentators I've read brings up the most obvious reason why this was such a profound evil - temple prostitutes.

Religious prostitution was common to a number of traditions in the ancient world. The woman would be dedicated to the service of the temple, often as a harlot, often with some kind of symbolic sexual union with a member of the heathen pantheon as the subtext. Additionally, orgies were part of the ceremonies during certain festivals, participated in by all the devotees.

Right there is the best reason to consider 'harlotry' with the b'not Moab as a far worse offense than it first seems (even taking the complex moral issues of harlotry into account) - effectively those who committed harlotry were serving other gods and the idols of strangers. Hardly the proper behaviour of those dedicated to divine service, and quite the opposite of kiddush Hashem. [Shmos 20:5 "Lo tishtacha ve lahem ve lo ta'avdem... " (You shan't bow down to them, nor serve them...).]

I guess the commentators are not used to thinking about prostitutes much.


The following is a poem in Dutch that mentions Javanese historical events.
I shall not bother translating it, because poems in translation become mere doggerel at best, gibberish at worst.
However, I do provide notes underneath that may clarify.


Amangkoerat heeft meer dan dertig jaren
In 't oude rijk Mataram geregeerd,
En meer dan onder Soeltan Ageng waren
In list en lust zijn machtigen volleerd.

Meer nog dan in zijn vaders wreede tijden
Lag zwart gebrek in 't leeggeroofde veld.
Dood en verwoesting, vuur en zwaard verspreidden
Zijn trotschen naam in daden van geweld.

Totdat hij, zat van zinnen, in het slijten
Van ledige uren zijn voldoening vond:
Amangkoerat, de Keizer, dreef zijn geiten
Over de pleinen van den Kraton rond.

Toen, in zijn ouderdom, kwamen de dagen
Van tegenspoed, de dagen van gevaar:
Zijn huis verdeeld, zijn oversten verslagen,
Van angst en afschuw zijn gedachten zwaar.

't Verraad sloop rond. De Madoereesche benden
Drongen tot in zijn open hofstad door.
Amangkoerat, de Keizer der ellende,
Werd als het wild, de jagers op zijn spoor.

Hij vluchtte, - maar 't vermoeide leven kwijnde
In 't lijf, waarvoor hij zwervend toevlucht zocht.
Toen vroeg de vorst alleen, dat na zijn einde
Een geurig veld zijn lijk ontvangen mocht.

Hij stierf. En door zijne enkele getrouwen
Werd aan den uitgesproken wens voldaan.
Nu brengen op zijn graf bedroefde vrouwen
Haar wierook en haar wilde bloemen aan.

Kinderen spelen er, bejaarde wijzen
Zoeken den boom, die van den heuvel helt
En schaduw schenkt, - en vrome pelgrims reizen
Eerbiedig naar het zoet geurende veld.

Written by Jan Prins (1876 - 1948) in Surabaya in 1908. From 'Indische Gedichten' - published 1932.



Amangkoerat - name of an emperor of Mataram (Amangkurat I, who was driven from Plered to Tegal by the Madurese invaders in 1672).

Mataram - A Javanese empire that endured from the fifteen hundreds to the seventeen hundreds - the name is still used for the successor princedoms, though when the empire was still united the term was less common.

In the latter half of the sixteenth century Kyai Gedhe Pamanahan, also called Kyai Gedhe Mataram (who was descended from Ki Ageng Sela) became the ruler of the Mataram region. His son, Suta Wijaya (styled Panembahan Senapati Ing Alag, often shortened to Senapati, which means 'army-lord') succeeded him around 1584. It is because of Senapati's campaigns against Padjang and Demak that Mataram rose to become the major power in Java.

[Kyai = Honourable Lord. Gedhe = Great, awesome. Wijaya = Victorious. Panembahan = One to whom the 'semba' (a worshipful and abnegatory gesture) is made.
For the terms I do not explicate you are on your own.]

The heirs of the royal house of Mataram still have thrones: Hamengku Buwono (He Who Holds The World In his Embrace), Paku Alam (The Axis of the World), Paku Buwono (The Axis of the World), and Mangku Nagara (The Guarantor of the State).
The first two mentioned are located in Yogyakarta, the latter two in Surakarta. All derive from the same original house - the separation into different thrones was during the colonial period and suited the purposes of the Dutch far more than that of the princes.

Sultan Ageng - Sultan Ageng Hanyokro Kusumo (Raden Mas Rangsang, reigned 1613 - 1645), one of the most important Sultans of Mataram, who suppressed several revolts against the supremacy of the empire founded by his ancestor Senapati, but failed in his attempt to take Batavia from the Dutch. His grave is a pilgrimage site, as are those of many of his successors.

Zijn vader's vrede tijden - "His father's cruel era", in reference to the years of Sultan Ageng's father, Panembahan Seda Ing Krapyak (reigned 1601 - 1613), the son of Senapati. It was a time of conflict, during which princes abraded each other's tax-bases with abandon. Largely due to the resultant decline in population, the Dutch were able to cement their control of the west of Java and the port cities, and Chinese immigrants were brought in by both the Dutch and Javan rulers to repopulate formerly prosperous areas.

Geiten - goats.

Kraton - Term for a palace, also rendered as Kedaton and Kedatuan, in which we see the root 'dato' (Javanese and several other languages: Ratu), which ranges in meaning from 'chieftain' to 'royal' (in Javanese, it nowadays means 'queen').
A kraton is a residence of a prince, usually located at a nexus of mystical power. In Javanese and Balinese the correct terms is 'pura' (Sanskrit: gated city), often rendered as 'puro dalem' (the inside city).

Madoereesche benden - Madurese gangs, in reference to an invasion of Java from Madura during the seventeenth century. The Madurese are natives of an island (Madura) north of Java which was often part of the Javanese sphere of influence, and which has a culture related to that of Java (as do Bali and some areas in Borneo and southern Sumatra). The suppression of Madura by Senapati in 1622 laid the basis for subsequent irredentist tendencies, which were manifested by the revolt of Raden Truna Jaya of Madura and culminated in the capture of the Mataram court city in 1677.

In modern Indonesia, the Madurese have a reputation for chicanery, cruelty, and coarseness (in some part due to their looting of Mataram over three centuries ago). They are at times ethically crippled. A number of years ago Madurese transmigrants were the targets of indignant Dayaks in Indonesian Borneo who wished to speak to them severely about their several years of misbehaviour on that island, and undo them of their heads.

Geurig veld - Fragrant field. In the poem, mention is made of Emperor Amangkurat's expressed desire that his mortal remains be buried in a fragrant field. The location has since become a place of pilgrimage. In the poem the emperor's request to be buried in a fragrant field comes after the flight from the palace city, when he is a hunted man, and his body has become a tormentation.

Bedroefde vrouwen - grieving women.

Haar wierook en haar wilde bloemen - Literally: 'her incense and her wild flowers'. But note that in Dutch 'haar' (her) is both singular and plural, so it means 'their incense and their wild flowers' (as tribute offerings at his grave).

Vrome pelgrims - faithful pilgrims. Note that 'vroom' is the same as Yiddish and Yeshivish 'frum'.

Eerbiedig - with respect.

Het zoet geurend veld - the sweet-smelling field.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008


Cornell & Diehl produce a huge number of tobaccos that can best be described as English Mixtures with an addition of Burley, and one might almost think that they intend to own that market. Unfortunately, that isn't exactly a growing segment, as aromatic crap has dominated the trade for at least the last three decades. The Europeans, of course, tend to prefer panty-waisted odoriferous abortions, but even here in the United States, fruity whore house perfumes overwhelm the unwary.

You know, stuff that smells of berries, cherries, peaches, and apricots.
With unsubtle additions of vanilla and caramel.
All very popular!

Cornell & Diehl is not participating in a popularity contest. Most of their offerings replicate the feel-good experience of a reliable old-fashioned tobacconist, and though they have a peculiar fondness for air-cured leaf, they do well with the English mixtures and know their condimentals.

By Cornell & Diehl

Latakia, plain black Cavendish, Virginia, Burley

Initially the Latakia dominates, but it is soon gentled by the other components of this likable blend. Soon you notice that yes, the Burley is not shy, and inserts an almost chocolaty note into the discussion. If this is smoked fast, the Burley may clobber you, and ask that you refrain from re-offending, at least for a while.

Burley often communicates in the form of tongue-bite. Which with this blend it has done for me at times. I should only smoke this calmly after nightfall, not in the middle of the day. And bourbon goes remarkably well with it at that time.

When this product sings, however, it is almost beyond compare.

It should be on your shelf, though not an every day indulgence.

Smoke it when you enjoy being alone with your day dreams.

Old College sounds like the sort of thing that students should smoke, but this is not a tobacco for young lads. Instead, one imagines elderly mathematics dons jamming this into their briars, before setting off through the groves surrounding the campus to surprise lubricious naked couples and raccoons in the underbrush. Perhaps they have blackthorn walking sticks with which to whack at the wildlife.
In any case, beards. Big bushy beards.
And very smelly tweeds.

Not suitable for aromatic perverts or young degenerates.
A very civilized and educated tobacco.


NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


Rabbi Dr. Benzion Twerski quit as head of a recently formed task-force dealing with rabbinic sex abuse of minors.
He resigned for safety's sake - he was threatened. So were members of his family.

See this article:
Top Doc Scared Off Panel On Rabbinic Sex Molestors
Tapped by Hikind, Twerski cites threats; pol ready to ‘name names’ of alleged abusers.

The issue of rabbinic sexuality has cropped up a lot recently. As has the issue of massive cover-ups, and the protection of perverts.

Joel Engelman thought he had a deal. The Satmar rabbi who he says molested him would stay away from children. He now charges he was violated twice.

I guess I don't have to mention Rabbi Yehuda Kolko, who sexually abused children at Yeshiva Torah Temima.... oh heck, just in case:

The words 'Chillul Hashem' and 'a shandeh fir di goyim' seem appropriate.


Two of my occasional readers are arguing passionately about death-metal music and Islamic radicalism underneath one of my posts.


The two readers are Joe Izrael and Kylopod.

Yes, there have been other commenters there - but they got sidetracked, and continued their own obsessions elsewhere - mostly underneath later posts. Some people just commented once, and left.
[One of those 'lefties' was the gentleperson from Texas, where they have a lot of such people, who wrote: "And another thing, you commie loving chritstian hating asshole, what makes you think that Obama can be trusted in anyway? He isn't a n American, he wasn't ecudated here, and isn't even able to spalk to real people, only to intelligentsia and ellites in New york and calfirnsia!!!!"]

If you wish to join the discussion about Barak Obama and death-metal, please visit the post referenced above.

If you wish to make a fool of yourself in a very Texan and Christian manner (complete with misspellings and evidence of a lack of a functioning brain), please do so underneath this post - we welcome rednecks and ridgerunners who explore the wonderful world of Homo Sapiens. We promise we won't call Animal Control on you. And we realize that not all of you Trailerites have raped your sisters. Kudos. And bravo. There is hope for you yet!

Welcome. I love you all. Yes.


-----The Commie-Loving Christian-Hating A''-hole Who Writes This Blog.

PS. If any of you visiting Dixie-Neanderthals wish to go into detail about your sisters, please don't. Incestuous inbreeding after a few generations becomes bestiality, and we really aren't into such things. You are, we understand that, more power to you, but please, we have sensitive stomachs. If at all possible, refrain from sharing. Thank you.


Yes, I'm feeling pissy. Hence this post. But it's a cheerful pissy, not a gloomy and sour pissy. So don't worry - I still love humanity, and I'm not in a funk. If this post got you down, think about butterflies. Big smiling furry butterflies. Goodness, happiness, and prosperity will come your way if you do.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008


A literature professor at Yeshiva University has undergone hormone treatment, and now has breasts. From what little I have bothered to read, the person in question has not taken the next step yet (surgery), and still has certain masculine equipment.
[The particular masculine equipment should probably be seen as mere urinary tract hose at this point - hormones tend to affect sex drive, and there may have been prior issues affecting the libido.]

Apparently the frisson of transgendery is a little too much for some frumme yidden - in between screaming bloody murder they are having several fits of the vapours, and quoting Rav Moshe Tendler, several acharonim, and a few rishonim, with gay abandon.

The poor dears.

The students at Yeshiva University are all adults, and unlike regular goyishe university students, are not at school for the marvelous opportunities for sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Any sex, drugs, and rock and roll they engage in is almost certainly far away from campus in any case.
[And none of the YU men I have met impress me as in any way obsessed with sex, drugs, and rock and roll.]

I must doubt that the professor's particular gender issue has any bearing on the subject she teaches, or affects the ability of her students to absorb the material. And as far as I can tell, the professor in question has no intention of somehow magically becoming a priest in the third temple, and does not have a matchmaker on retainer.

I would therefore respectfully suggest that the hysterical frumme yidden mentioned above should come right out and admit that they are sexually farklempt themselves, having probably hoped that the professor in question would express a physical interest in them. Either that or something else deep within their own sexuality is twisting their knickers.
IF that is NOT the case, I fail to see how it is any of their business what gender he was before, or what gender she is becoming now.
Take pill, boys, and breathe.

Monday, September 08, 2008


On this blog, sanity sometimes takes a back seat to obsession. I refer to my readers' obsessions, of course, as mine are entirely normal.


Occasional commenter Lev writes:
Such a long post, and NO mention of panties! You are losing your touch, and soon will have no deviants visiting you. You do not want that, do you?
I am not here for clean living. Next post better mention panties."

This blog is entirely about clean living and deviant-free. I state categorically that I have no clue what he's talking about. I am not touchy, and there is no deviance.

Panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties, panties!


Reader and voluminous commenter Grant Patel waxed lyrical about the connection between panties, coconuts, and gorillas. Even after rereading his many comments twice, I'm not entirely sure what he meant, and his thoughts seemed to have little connection with the posts beneath which they appeared.
The most lucid thing he wrote recently was: "Avi, the creepy part is not the post, but the readers."

Omeyn ve omeyn to that.


Two months ago Tzipporah astutely connected panties, wombats, and elderly rabbis in an eloquent and image-rich comment that made a heck of a lot more sense than Lev or Grant are capable of, and actually related to the post under which she placed it.

Quote:"The petite Asian schoolgirl blushed prettily when she realized the wombat had made off with her panties... what would she do, with an elderly rabbi about to arrive for Torah study (which, under no circumstances, would involve Jeebus). "

[See under this post: a short middle-aged bald person with a tiny penis and mediocre breasts]


Lev wants me to write about panties. Grant wants more coconuts and gorillas. Avi finds creepiness. Spiros is on record with wombats and bananas. Graham admires Greeks and arse-antlers.
And Tzipporah sees the myriad possibilities.

My readers are precious to me. But rather than writing about panties, I shall mention boxer shorts. This post is not about an obsession, nor about a fetish. Yes, some people (innocent little feminine persons, mostly) do indeed have a boxer thing going, but this post is not about that.
No im gonzen. And no to panties.

This is about what happens when a credit and collections person gets dressed in an awful hurry before rushing off to work, having woken up late and gulped down the coffee and showered before being really awake (I had a long day yesterday and needed more sleep than I got).
And discovers, at nineteen minutes past ten in the men's bathroom at the office, that he has his boxers on backwards. This being the only logical conclusion one can jump to while groping around frantically and not finding the opening in the cloth that logic dictates should be within easy finger-reach -- dammit where is it what's wrong is this a sign of the end-times aaaaaurghh!!!
Said logical conclusion being accompanied by something akin to panic, with possible foaming at the mouth and pained moans of distraction.
Hop hop hop stumble.

Darn well lost my balance there for a moment, and crashed into the crapper wall.

Good thing nobody was in stall next door.

I have had better mornings. Much better.

No, I did not partially disrobe and reverse the boxers in a desperate hurry lest any of my coworkers see my hairy calves under the crapper door.
No, I did not have a soggy accident, despite the unforeseen barrier to a calm and controlled bladder-emptying.
Nor did I temporarily borrow the darkroom next to the CFO's office for emergency wardrobe adjustments, or sneak into the un-used conference room for some high-speed clothing remanipulation.
I am not an accidental exhibitionist.

Let's just say that now that I am actually aware of this clothing dissonance,
I am indistractably conscious of it. It does not particularly constrict .
But it does feel ..... Odd.

Comfy, too - possibly half of what I imagine that panties might feel like.
But I don't want to go there, and neither do you.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:

All correspondence will be kept in confidence.

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For some reason which I cannot explain I thought about the Shanghainese girl this morning. I knew her years ago, we drifted apart, and lost ...