Thursday, December 31, 2009


Twenty years ago a certain kitten and I had our first date.
It has been a good twenty years. A very good twenty years.

For the next three years we met regularly at a bookstore which no longer exists.
In 1993 we moved in together.

We're still living together.
Same apartment.

I look twenty years older.
She has hardly aged at all.

I am looking forward to the next twenty years.
And I think she is too.

Have a happy new year, all of you.
See you again in January.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009


Made the mistake of reading De Telegraaf during lunch - as usual, agida was the result.
An article mentioned an American Schoolteacher who was sentenced to twenty years for having sex with a thirteen year old boy.

Twintig jaar cel voor seks met leerling,1
IDAHO - Een Amerikaanse lerares is dinsdag door de rechtbank veroordeeld tot twintig jaar celstraf omdat ze seks had met een 13-jarige leerling.

[It's about a thirty seven year old school teacher in Idaho, Ashley Jo Beach, who had a torrid affair that lasted several months with a 13 year-old student - they sent each other nude pictures of themselves via cellphone in addition to banging up a storm.]


The key fact of the matter is that she molested a minor, and one who was her responsibility, nota bene. Irrespective of gender, that must be considered abuse of power and authority, in addition to child-rape.
It is quite clear-cut.

Of course, the Dutch, who know all there is to know about sexual abuse, do not see it that way. Well over half of the 155 comments underneath the article praise the woman and damn the country that sentenced her for raping a child - which in the eyes of over half of the commenters is only a minor matter, scarce deserving any punishment at all.

The United States, in their words, is a frightful puritan hell hole, and responsible for ninety percent of all misery in the world today.
We are the armpit of the planet, and pustulence personified.
And they feel good about saying that.

Many of the commenters feel that any punishment of the teacher for having an affair with a student is utterly ridiculous, and the severity of the punishment is beyond all reason.
Apparently it betrays our hypocrisy and a demented value system, we're a disgusting and appalling nation of pornographers and violent criminals, totally backward, unadvanced, retrograde, and uncivilized.

A fair number of the writers also laud the woman, and consider her a hero - both praiseworthy and commendable.

I have in the past rather indicated my feelings about the Dutch and their sexual predilections.......

[This post:
in which I damn them all as sexual degenerates and perverts of the worst order.
And this post:
where I take issue with Dutch attitudes towards American teenagers.
This post discusses European attitudes towards the sexual exploitation of women in general:
and mentions sexual slavery in the Netherlands in particular.]


But the bright side is that NOT ALL COMMENTERS underneath the article in De Telegraaf condemn us; several of the readers understand that a teacher abusing a position of power and authority is reprehensible. They also grasp that a mere slap on the wrist combined with community service, such as is common in the Netherlands for indecent acts with a minor, do not even begin to address the issue. Many even observed that the gender of the victim and the gender of the perpetrator are immaterial - if it should not happen to a thirteen year old girl, it should also not be done to a thirteen year old boy.

So while I would recommend not allowing any Europeans, especially the Dutch, anywhere near your children, I am pleased to report that they are not all utter degenerates. Not all of them.
There is an intelligent and civilized minority that has to put up with their countrymen and maintain their reason despite such dysfunctional neighbors.
That they manage to do so at all is commendable, that many of them do it so well is miraculous.

[There is even a Dutch website, Stop Kinderporno Nu ( which combats paedophilia and struggles to bring child-molestors to justice. What makes their task much more difficult than it should be is the incredibly light sentencing customary in the Netherlands for sex-crimes, even violent ones and repeat-offenses. A few weeks community service, or a talk with a social worker, are quite common. Gang rape usually means counseling for the perpetrators. Most sex-crimes in the Netherlands go unpursued, unprosecuted, and unpunished.]

If you are a young woman, it is probably not advisable to visit the Netherlands until they have changed their sexual dialectic. Or if you do, avoid drinking in bars at the very least, in order to avoid date-rape drugs.
But the same can be said for much of Europe, as well as parts of England, Mississippi, Georgia, and the third world.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009


Sometimes I like cruising into the Indymedia sites just to see what the hobbits are up to.
It hasn't been very productive recently, as many of them now neglect to put their announcements up - perhaps they no longer trust the big bad internet since the Jews and Masons have taken over.

But today, lucky strike!

Sunrise CodePINK:Women for Peace (RE) Commitment Ceremony
Friday January 01

6:30 AM - 8:00 AM

Sunrise (RE)Commitment Ceremony, New Year’s Day Jan 1, 2010, Ocean Beach, SF, 6:30am
Let’s begin our new year, our new decade, with an inspirational CodePINK: Women for Peace Sunrise (RE)Commitment Ceremony New Year’s Day. We will build a bonfire on the beach, sing, talk, chant, and revive our wills, fine tune our commitments, stoke our determination.

And the chanting will tell the flying saucers where to land!

Bring a log, a branch, a speck, a piece of paper, with you to this Sunrise Ceremony to throw onto the fire. Bring a blanket, your own cup for organic hot apple cider, dress warm, look for the PINK on Ocean Beach, west of Golden Gate Park!

For the cold, a fur coat or bearskin rug is probably best.
If you bring alcoholic beverages, make sure that they too are organic certified - you can tell by the soft golden aura around the bottle.

The next three months will be the MOST critical times of our lives in this country: we will get to determine if Congress grants President Obama BILLIONS more of our money to fund his proposed SURGE against Afghanistan! Or not!

We weren't succesfull against Bush and Cheney, but Obama is a wuss, and Congress is now dominated by our androids. If we lose AGAIN, it's surely because of the FreeMasons, the Bilderburgers, the Club of Rome, the Illuminati, and the Zionists.

What will WE do to ensure it is NOT? Let us (RE)commit ourselves on New Years Day, Friday, January 1st, to doing EVERYTHING in our power over the next three months – the beginning of this new decade, January, February, and March – to BLOCKING this war supplemental and thereby turning the tide of our wars once and for all.

Everything in our power includes chanting, tunnel hum, twirling clockwise AND counter-clockwise, shaking tortoise shell rattles, and pouting. We are all Medea Benjamin.

Do not worry about how, or when, or what it will cost, or whether it will work, or not. Worry about those things that are BLOCKING YOU from committing 100% to BLOCKING this funding.

Don't forget the certified organic hard liquor. It's crucial.

We will put all those reasons blocking us, from lethargy to depression to money to priorities to whatever into these logs and burn them, transforming whatever is holding us back into positive energies!

Positive karmic energy is better than electricity! And it's organic too! Wheeeee!

Call 510-540-7007 or email info bayareacodepink .org for more info, to help organize, to participate or just BE THERE!

Humm into our answering machine!


Ladies, don't forget to wear your tutus. Can't twirl without 'em.

"By expanding our awareness and intention of holding peas, being peas, speaking peas, we give voice and power to peas...... "


CodePink was mentioned previously elsewhere in connection with their two hour starvation per day in solidarity with tourists in Egypt - two hours entirely without food, each day, for three days this week, sitting on the sidewalk in front of the Egyptian Consulate - it's something existential or Zen, don't ask - so when I found that these dear, dear ladies of loose moorings were planning an earthmother chanting and pyromania party at the beach, I just had to smile.

Girls, I love you.
Such spotless minds.
Bonfires are very macho, by the way.

Like Frank Chiu and the Bush Man of Fishermans' Wharf, you CodePinkers are ambulatory landmarks, the contemporary equivalents of Emperor Norton.

Monday, December 28, 2009


There was another hate-fest in San Francisco yesterday. No, it wasn't organized by Richard Becker and International ANSWER - they seem to have lost all zipp lately - but by a bunch of unknowns, largely of the juvenile delinquent persuasion and senescent Berkeley earthmother type.
Evenso, several known names of terror-supporters and their organizations were listed as sponsors, and much internet poofle had been generated by the pro-Palestinian side about the event.


It was the one year anniversary of operation cast lead. Which meant that for the Israel-hating Bay Area ultras, it was an opportunity to stand in the cold and yell insults.

Except that their sound-system failed, and not many people showed up.

The vast majority of the people in Union Square were either shopping or waiting for their turn on the ice rink, and were absolutely unaware of the petulant throng at the south-west corner. Not surprising, as they only had three flags and few balloons, and didn't know what to do. Not without leadership, a sound system, and rocks or bottles.

Across the street from them stood about one hundred and twenty cheerful pro-Israel individuals, who occasionally taunted the Hamas supporters for their lack of direction and paltry performance.


Other than watching the luscious eye-candy passing by (mini skirts, even in frigid weather, are a vast blessing), there was not much to entertain me.
I was standing in front of Victoria's Secret, looking up the street and across, keeping my eye out for infiltrators and other bogies. I hardly had any cause to look behind me, as there was a security presence just a few yards away.

Which meant that I missed something VERY IMPORTANT!

Quote: "At one point their performance was so boring I went into the Victoria's Secret Store to browse."


The writer of that sentence is Steffy, a fellow blogger. Whom I would have loved to have finally met face to face. I am very disappointed.

Steffy, if you remember the middle-aged chap with the Israeli Flag and the goatee who was smoking cigarillos, please feel free to introduce yourself the next time you attend one of these fêtes.
I will gladly take you out for coffee once it's over.

Don't worry, I do not bite.


Anyhow. The adult supervision on the anti-Israel side faded out by around six o'clock, leaving only a tenured radical from SF State in charge of the bloodthirsty children, who obediently started screaming unimaginative slogans in unison.
It was dreary, and reminiscent of screechy children's choirs singing Christmas carols.

Quite the most uninspired political action of the year.

The pro-Israel side soon got bored, and decided that food, coffee, and the tail-end of the game were far more important than observing Arab juveniles in a rutting frenzy, and decided to leave.
Some nice young men from the ZFA escorted a few of us back to our cars. They had been engaged in spirited "debate" with the other side, firing back sharp and witty retorts, for about twenty minutes in all - they too felt bored by the exercise.

A battle of wits with a moron is rather like clubbing a harp-seal - the poor hurt eyes of the animal look up in dumb reproach, unable to actually understand what is happening. It is very sad.

By six thirty, only the angry Pally pubescenti remained in the square, utterly disconsolate at the lack of attention.
The presence on the Hamas side of Rob Kanter and Jim Harris, looking baffled as usual, could not make up for that; they grumbled their ire. Self-hating Jews are far less satisfying an audience than actual Jews.
But maybe Rob Kanter and Jim Harris had left already also - their departure having been as unremarkable as their presence ever is.


Dutch 'pedosexual' (child-molester) Sytze van der Velde, who was convicted three times of raping boys, has, through the agency of his brother in law, sued to have all texts mentioning him and his heinous crimes removed from the site of Stop Kinderporno Nu ('stop child pornography now'), which is an organization that seeks to make known the names and criminal histories of known child molesters, ESPECIALLY if they still pose a threat to the public.

[Stop Kinderporno Nu:
A geographic file on locations of known child molesters in the Netherlands: ]

Sytze van der Velde is a particularly notorious individual, who molested and disseminated obscene material for several years before the Dutch authorities actually did something about him.

Dutch criminal sentencing is so lax that often the practising pedosexual (child molester) is back on the street and ready to rape again in pretty short order.

[It should be mentioned that Dutch tolerance ALSO allowed a particularly nasty magazine with the name "LOLITA" to be sold for several years at porno salons. The magazine had covers and content that were extremely disturbing.]

Sytze van der Velde was released in September 2009 after jail time for his most recent conviction (rape and sexual abuse of four young boys from Eindhoven - a three year sentence not entirely served due to early release).
It being his third offense, a five year probationary period was imposed upon the 61 year-old degenerate.

Please note: numerous offenses over the years, but only three convictions.

Sytze van der Velde has been well-known for decades among his fellow-pedophiles, having in 1981 published a book accusing parents of treating their children as possessions.
An attitude that, for his own perverse reasons, he found problematic.

Sytze van der Velde's release prompted the city fathers of Eindhoven to try to ban his return to the city, due to both anonymous threats against the convicted pederast and the extremely real likelihood of him resuming his predatory practises.

" with children is a problem ONLY because other people object and have dared to make it illegal..."
---Sytze van der Velde

The courts decided against the city, even though there was 'a reasonable presumption that he might reoffend'.

According to Sytze van der Velde, 'sex with children is a problem ONLY because other people object - and have dared to make it illegal'.
[Source: - Article (in Dutch): Wat te doen met pedofielen? ('what to do whith pedofiles').]

Follow some of the texts which I believe the brother in law of the monster considers offensive, and for which he demands a monetary burden be placed on the operators of the anti-childpornography site STOP KINDERPORNO NU.
The texts are straightforward and matter-of-fact, but in that they might link the name of a known sexual predator (Sytze van der Velde) with certain horrendous crimes (and thus might not be salubrious to Sytze van der Velde's reputation or operational anonimity), it is likely that they will be found objectionable.

Even though his crimes are a matter of record.


Zwager pedofiel Sytze spant kort geding aan

EINDHOVEN – De zwager van pedoseksueel Sytze van der Velde is een kort geding begonnen tegen Chris Hölsken. Dat is de woordvoerder van de site Stop Kinderporno Nu.
De man eist dat alle bezwarende teksten tegen Sytze van der Velde van de website worden gehaald en een schadevergoeding die op kan lopen tot maar liefst 750.000 euro. Het kort geding dient op woensdag 6 januari in Utrecht.

Van der Velde kwam landelijk in het nieuws toen burgemeester Van Gijzel van Eindhoven hem geen woning wilde toekennen. Sindsdien weigeren ook andere gemeentes hem te huisvesten en is hij dakloos.

Bron: Omroep Brabant.



Zwager van Pedoseksueel Sytze van der Velde daagt Chris Hölsken voor de Rechter.

"Chris Hölsken voor de eerste keer gedagvaard"

De Zwager van de inmiddels bekende en beruchte pedoseksueel Sytze van der Velde Heeft een kortgeding laten starten tegen de Woordvoerder van Dhr C.J. Hölsken.

De advocaat van Wim H is de zelfde advocaat die Sytze van der Velde meerderende keren heeft bijgestaan. mr A.P. Knippenbergh.

Wim H,eist een schadevergoeding die op kan lopen tot maar liefst 750.000,-; euro

Het kortgeding zal op Woensdag 6 Januari 2010 plaatsvinden bij de Voorzieningsrechter te Utrecht. Justitiaplein 1 te utrecht <>

Voor meer informatie kunt u contact met Chris Hölsken opnemen 0613209492


Fijne feestdagen!!

De redactie van wenst u hele fijne feestdagen. Wij nemen voor het eerst even 5 dagen rust. Dinsdagmorgen zijn wij er weer. Als er in deze dagen echt iets te melden is, zal een redactielid dit op de website zetten.

Chris Hölsken is dinsdag weer te bereiken. dan zal hij uitgebreid uitleg geven over het gesprek dat hij maandag heeft met de Burgemeester van Wijk bij Duurstede.

Hij zal uitgebreid in gaan op het kortgeding dat TEGEN hem is aangespannen door de zwager van pedo Sytze van der Velde.

Voor slachtoffers zijn wij natuurlijk wel bereikbaar op ons vertrouwde telefoonnummer: 06-13209492.


Pedoseksueel daagt RTL Nieuws

EINDHOVEN – De Eindhovense pedoseksueel Sytze van der Velde spant een kort geding aan tegen RTL Nieuws. Dat meldt het Eindhovens Dagblad. Hij wil dat de redactie een uitzending van 2 december rectificeert. Ook eist Van der Velde een schadevergoeding van 10.000 euro wegens smaad.

RTL Nieuws meldde dat van der Velde na zijn vrijlating in september opnieuw contact had gezocht met de minderjarige jongens die hij eerder seksueel had misbruikt. RTL liet als bewijs een bandopname van een telefoongesprek horen, waarop een gesprek is te horen tussen hem en een tienjarige jongen uit Eindhoven.

Volgens Van der Velde dateert het gesprek echter van 8 juli 2007, een week na zijn arrestatie. Een schriftelijke weergave van de opname is ook opgenomen in zijn strafdossier. Van der Velde ontkent verder dat hij recent contact heeft opgenomen met slachtoffers.

Bron: Omroep Brabant.


“Van der Velde zoekt slachtoffers op”

Author: admin EINDHOVEN – De veroordeelde pedoseksueel Sytze van der Velde probeert al sinds zijn vrijlating uit de gevangenis, in september, in contact te komen met de Eindhovense jongens die hij heeft misbruikt. Dat zegt Chris Hölsken van Stop Kinderporno Nu. Volgens Hölsken was Van der Velde afgelopen week nog in de straat waar een van zijn vroegere slachtoffers woont.

Hölsken stelt dat Van der Velde, die al meerdere malen werd veroordeeld voor het misbruiken van kinderen, sinds zijn vrijlating meerdere keren in Eindhoven is geweest om contact te zoeken met de jongens die hij heeft misbruikt.

Voor zijn vrijlating zou Van der Velde vanuit de gevangenis met zijn slachtoffers hebben gebeld. Hölsken kreeg van een van hen een bandje met een opgenomen telefoongesprek.

Het is onbekend waar Van der Velde nu verblijft. Donderdag doet de rechter uitspraak in een kort geding dat Van der Velde had aangespannen tegen de gemeente Utrechtse Heuvelrug, omdat hij daar niet welkom is.

Bron: Omroep Brabant.


Pedo ook Utrechtse Heuvelrug uitgezet.

Vandaag is er opnieuw een woonverbod opgelegd aan Randdebiel en pedoseksueel Sytze van der Velde. Ditmaal gaat het om de Buurtgemeente van onze Woordvoerder Chris Hölsken "De Utrechtse Heuvelrug".

De beweeg reden om Sytze van der Velde te weren uit de gemeente was de grote kans op recidive. Hij is driemaal veroordeeld en de kans is groot dat hij weer toe kan slaan, dit willen wij voorkomen aldus de woordvoerster.

De Utrechtse Heuvelrug bestaat uit 6 Dorpen welteverstaan Driebergen, Doorn, Leersum, Maarn, Amerongen, Maarsbergen. Om welk Dorp het gaat wilde Ellen Lodder, woordvoerster van de Utrechtse Heuvelrug niet zeggen.

Wij hopen dat we snel ter weten komen om welk Dorp het gaat. Chris Hölsken is erg teleurgesteld, dat hij niet eerder achter deze woon en verblijfplaats van Sytze van der Velde is gekomen.


Sytze van der Velde: “ik ben uitgekotst”

En weer ging het alleen maar over de driemaal veroordeelde pedoseksueel uit Eindhoven. Hij had het weer alleen maar over zichzelf. Geen spijt, geen berouw, geen excuses, nee niets. Heel Nederland moest aan horen hoe zielig deze randdebiel wel eigenlijk is. Iedereen moet weten dat heel Nederland terecht deze randdebiel uitkost.

Ik heb ook geen goed woord over voor het Televisie programma Eenvandaag, ik ben teleurgesteld in de redacteur, het lijkt erop dat hij de slachtoffers totaal in de kou laat staan. Geen verhaal van de slachtoffers en geen duidelijkheid wat deze man daadwerkelijk heeft gedaan. Vele gezinnen heeft hij verwoest, een mensen leven op zijn geweten. En dan durft deze man te zeggen. Ik hoef geen hulp over 20 jaar ben ik 82 jaar, denk je dat ik dan nog wat doe? Verder uiten hij meer walgelijke uitingen die kleinerend en schokkend zijn voor de velen slachtoffers.

Ook werd in de rapportage duidelijk dat Sytze gelukkig door andere gemeentes geweerd wordt. Ga maar terug naar Eindhoven wordt dan gezegd. Op deze manier ziet Sytze geen heil meer in dit leven. En wij hopen dan ook, dat hij heel snel de goede spoorbaan zal vinden.



Chris Hölsken is the spokesman for the anti-child pornography site (Stop Kinderporno Nu), and the defendant in the law suit. His site is a valuable resource in a society where the enforcement of laws against the sexual exploitation of the young is lax, and the sentencing of offenders is sometimes startlingly mild.

Questions about the Dutch texts can, as always, be directed to this blogger at:
Or to my regular e-mail address.

Friday, December 25, 2009


Pursuant my mention of the delightful connexion between Cantonese-American females and food, I am reminded of something that happened during Thanksgiving week.

[I waxed eloquent about the innocence of high-school girls here:
Which lead to further details, plus several cocktail recipes, here:
And finally an essay on the allure of small maidens and their dietary habits here:
By 'high-school girls' , the Cantonese-American type are meant if the mention is positive, the coarse heifer type when speaking negatively - this is obvious. You could also use the search bar above this post for all of the articles that delve into this subject if you are curious.
Why are you curious? Is it some kind of obsession? ]

I was sitting in one of the bakeries in Chinatown enjoying a steamed chicken bun and coffee, when I became aware of girlish voices behind me. By turning my head slightly, I could observe the speakers reflected in the mirror.
Several small Cantonese-American high school girls. Fifteen or sixteen years old.

They were talking about food while enjoying a sumptuous array of pastries.

Specifically, they were talking turkey. Roast turkey.

The one with the thick, thick, THICK ponytail was saying "so we soak it in salt water with star-anise and sugar ....."
She took a bite out of an egg-custard tart, getting the yellow cream all over her glistening upper lip, and crumbs dribbling down her front. She sighed contentedly while relishing the eggy goodness.

A cute round-faced girl with pigtails and specs who was attacking a meat turnover asked, with full mouth: "How long? I mean, soaking, how long"

Thick thick ponytail: "about a day and a half, two days I think. Then we roast it."
Chomp. More cream, more crumbs.
Man O man, those lips!
I accidentally dashed some hot-sauce on the table before getting some in the chicken bun. Chicken buns taste very good with hot sauce - it rounds out the flavours.
As, no doubt, you know.

Pigtails and specs: "Do you stuff it at all? I don't like stuffing...."
She slurped her hot beverage audibly.
Those were the most appealingly distracting mouth noises I have EVER heard.
Girl, you are something.
And those glasses make you seem utterly sweet and bright-eyed. Very nice.

Thick thick ponytail: "No, but we do lo mai (glutinous rice) with lapcheung (fatty Chinese sausage), hoimee (dried shrimps) and dong-gew (Chinese dried mushrooms), and mah-tai (water chestnuts), is VERY gooooood!"
She dreamily drew out that last syllable, her eyes half-closed in remembrance.
At this point, so were mine.
She wasn't breathing heavily, but I was.

They continued talking, I kept listening. Girls discussing food.
Cantonese-American High School Girls, enthusiastically speaking of good things to eat, while scarfing down snacks in a bakery.
Girls! Food! Masticatory noises!
Sweet cheeses, I'm in heaven!

Apparently roast turkey is "soooo delicious......, and uh, nice!" with mashed potatoes. Fluffy mashed potatoes. You really have to whip them. Hard - "real hard, ya gotta perspire!"
When she said that, I nearly spilled my coffee.
I was imagining small golden arms energetically manhandling goo.

And the secret to a crispy skin is first to leave the turkey out for two hours after draining and rinsing it, inside and out. Then you shove some ginger and garlic up the hole, and stick it in the oven at 425 degrees Fahrenheit.
After thirty minutes, pull it out to baste.

"Rub it vigorously with butter."

High School Girls should NOT talk of rubbing a turkey vigorously with butter. Not aloud. Not in public. Not with all the turkeys wandering around this city.
It's dangerous. Trust me.

An entire stick of butter. All over.

I had to wipe my brow at this point - I had used too much hot-sauce on my snack. Steamed chicken buns are excellent with a dash of chili.
I felt hot and flushed.

Continue roasting at 350 degrees for another three hours.
Or more, if you rub it with butter again. Several more times.

[Oh yes. Several more times. Again. Very. All over. Butter. So excellent for the skin. Good. Vigorously.
I fondly imagined all of them armed with butter, basters, and wooden spoons.]

Someone with long soft black hair and a gently dimpled forehead volunteered that she loved to rub the turkey, as it smelled and looked so nice when roasting. So crisp and toasty. Roast turkey was YUMMY if you sloshed it with gravy.
Her voice was mellifluous and reverent......
So charming and girlish in her Turkey pleasure.

She then cheerfully remarked that before you stuck the bird in the oven, "it looks just like an old-man's butt - all moist and wrinkly!!!!"
The others agreed, adding emphatically "white man's butt".

[Mopping up spilled coffee with a napkin, I wondered how those girls knew. Was there something about the contemporary teenage world in SF that had escaped me?]

Another girl liked the greasy bits, and also the thick fleshy parts of the drumsticks.
Turns out all of them liked meaty thighs. Nice, meaty, thighs.

While they then all agreed that potatoes made silky smooth, with LOTS of butter and cream, where very very VERY! good, all creamy pale and spoonably soft, I paid up and left. It was hard to do - I could have easily spent another hour there - but I felt flushed and needed fresh air.
I really must have used far too much hot sauce.
Odd, that. I have a high tolerance for capsaicin.
It's a totally innocent fondness.



When brining a bird, the proportion of salt to liquid is 1:35.
That means for each tablespoon salt you will need 35 tablespoons (slightly less than two and a quarter cups) water.
Use less sugar than salt.
For a big turkey you will probably need two or three gallons of liquid in all.
One gallon is sixteen cups. For each gallon, seven tablespoons salt. Plus a pinch extra.
You can replace some of the water with rice-wine, sherry, or fragrant vinegar.
Throw in some star-anise and ginger, plus other spices.
Do not add garlic - while it tastes good, the result will be reminiscent of Italian Salami. Which is fine, but not particularly festive.

First 20 - 30 minutes of roasting are at a higher temperature (425°) to colour the skin and get the heat into the bird. The remainder of the roasting, at 350 degrees, will take twelve minutes per pound of dead bird.
So for a twenty pound turkey, about four hours.

Rest the bird for half an hour after taking it out of the oven.
Do not stuff it - if you need stuffing, make it on top of the stove, and use some of the pan juices for flavour.

If you eat with bowl and chopsticks, don't bother carving the bird, simply whack it into chunks with a cleaver, or cut it up with kitchen shears. Drizzle some of the pan juices over.

And yes, roast bird is very good with hot-sauce: Sambal Oelek or Chili Garlic.
From Huy Fong Foods, available in fine stores everywhere.

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

Wednesday, December 23, 2009


One of the main reasons for the Crusades was the reprehensible attitude of Muslim tyrants to the Christian pilgrims in the Holy Land. Having seized control over the holy places, and massacred Christians and Jews during their conquest, generations of Islamic warlords either outright forbade Christians and Jews from worshipping and visiting the sacred sites of their religions, or seized pilgrims and sold them at slave auctions.
In all, Muslim hegemony over other peoples' lands was horrific, barbaric, and rapacious.

One bright spot is the behaviour of the Turks.

Now the blight of Mohammedan bigotry and strongarmism has returned.

One of Britain's premiere choirs is being prevented from performing in Bethlehem following a Palestinian protest over its scheduled performance in Israel.

The choir of Clare College, Cambridge, will sing Bach's "Christmas Oratorio" with the Israel Camerata Orchestra, but may not visit and perform in St George's Cathedral in East Jerusalem and the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, where it was invited to sing by the Anglican bishop of Jerusalem, according to Tim Frank's Jerusalem Diary published Monday by the BBC.

The choir is being stymied in its efforts to visit areas controlled by the Palestinian Authority following a letter from the London-based Palestine Solidarity Campaign asking the choir to cancel its trip to Israel, saying it would "appear indifferent to Palestinian suffering."

The Palestinian Authority then asked the bishop of Jerusalem to withdraw the choir's invitation to sing in eastern Jerusalem and Bethlehem, and informed the choir that its members would not be welcome in Bethlehem as part of the bishop's pilgrimage.



Let me explain some pertinent facts to you Muslims:

Israel allows you to worship at your sites within the land. Europeans allow you to construct mosques in their ancient cities (mosques which, due to modern architecture and perfectly horrid taste, are ghastly eye-sores).
Even here in America, your practices are safeguarded - contrary to what your mad mullahs and lying imams tell you, the Mohammedan religion is alive and well in Yankee-stan.

Pressuring your captive dhimmis - pardon, "native" Christians - into blackmailing the west, however, is an action entirely beyond the pale of civilized conduct.

We accept that the degenerate Wahhabis of Saudi Arabia violently discriminate against non-Muslims and non-Arabs. After all, their brigands seized Mecca and Medina nearly a century ago, and have kept the entire Muslim world over a barrel ever since. Like you, we do not expect any better from those pigs.
And no Christian or Jew would want to settle in that poxed armpit of a place.
No biggie.

But if the rest of you Muslims wish to continue our acceptance of your presence and your cult outside of your wastelands and brutal societies, you need to play by civilized rules.

That means allowing our pilgrims to visit our holy places unmolested, and unhindered.


You've already driven the Christian majority out of Bethlehem.
The Christians of Iraq, Jordan, and Egypt, all of whom represent communities far older than the Islamic umma, keep emigrating to our lands - there is no place for them under your despotic and intolerant rule.
The Jews of the Arab lands have been robbed and expelled - except for those whom you viciously slaughtered.
In Pakistan and Indonesia your rabid dogs burn down churches and lynch believers. Your thugs in Iran and Central Asia are rapists and sadists - we have for years been treated to horrific news about your treatment of Christians and Jews in those benighted places.
Yearly, the record of your brutal bigotry grows ever more horrendous.

You do know, don't you, that there are several million Muslims living in the West?
Muslims who at present are still guaranteed safety and equal rights.

Perhaps you should consider that Western hospitality is a very brittle and recent overlay on centuries of violent tendencies. That such 'tolerance' is NOT limitless. And it is NOT fundamental to our psyche.
It really must be requited.

Merry Christmas. Bitches.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009


Another of my readers reacted somewhat adversely to my recent postings about high-school girls, suggesting that titillation ends where daled amos begins. Alas, I seem to be hitting a sour note.

I clarified that unless the girl in question is a cute bespectacled Chinese-American brainiac with grown-up tastes, she will not interest me.
Chinese-American brainiacs doing trigonometry homework, however, are just so adorable!


My significant other, Savage Kitten, is an exciting woman. She got excellent grades for algebra and geometry and other branches of the mathematical arts when she was at Lowell High School.
She is, if you will, the standard by which I judge others.

When we first met twenty years ago I looked like a young man in his late twenties, she looked like someone in her mid-teens. She was already legally of drinking age at that point, and in college.
I now look like a 47 year-old geezer (more or less), and she..... looks like a 22 year-old.
A slim twenty-two year-old. With exceptionally slender hands. And a quirky wit. She's still sharp-tongued, like she was then. Sparky.

She installed her own computer, isn't scared of technology, and understands plumbing.
She is a very smart woman. Though she doesn't think so.


I have described the ideal female in detail a few times on this blog.
Shorter than me, dark-haired, round-headed. Intelligent. Above all, intelligent.

In this post, she resembles Eric Cartman from South Park, both in vocabulary and burning hunger.

Here, she is a noodle-snarfing temptress. With raven tresses.

Food seems a dominant theme. That's a very Cantonese thing. Life is food, living is food. Eating is fun, eating is comfort, eating is sensual, eating is utter ecstasy.

Unless good things to eat are part of the program, you might as well forget about the company of attractive women.


Let me confess that I do indeed have an obsession.

I love watching bright young ladies eat. It's that single-minded concentration on aromas and textures, tiny fingers tightly clenching chopsticks, lips parted, a slight blush from hot-sauce, a fully involved focus, and the deliberate exclusion of all extraneous stimuli while enjoying all the yummy tasty juicy goodness - totally angelic.

They are totally adorable.

Eyes twixt bedroom-tempting and calculating. It's that wide-awake yet narrowed look. Curious, and piqued.
Is there more food? Does it taste good? Can I eat it?

Noodle soup. Steak semi-rare. Lobster. Oysters. Little egg tarts from one of the Chinatown bakeries. Chow mein. Cheung fun. Ho-yao ngau yuk. Steamed dumplings. Deep-fried snackypoos. Cake. Pork chop and rice with a fried egg on top. Milk-tea with tapioca pearls. Chocolate biscuits. Chicken soup with noodly bits. Clay pot prawn with butter and fish paste. Lamb curry broth. Shiitake mushrooms. Bearnaise sauce.
Yes. Talk dirty to me.

I salivate, achoti, I salivate meod.

Monday, December 21, 2009


One of my friends read Friday's post about high school girls and slutty behaviour (HERE) and was creeped out. Totally! Creeped!! Out!!!

She thinks it's quite my most perverted post yet, and worries about my sanity.
Can I be trusted around children? Probably not.

Well... Dos iz super uber affen geil. Doch. Meeeeeeenshh!!

Even though the point of the post was that behaving like a well-brought-up young lady could lead to being treated like a well-brought-up young lady - in other words, like an adult, or like someone worthy of respect and consideration - apparently my focus on HIGH SCHOOL GIRLS was disturbing.


So, for all of you college grads, illiterate drunks, and senescent old trailer park reptiles, if you lot ALSO act like well-brought-up young ladies, there is a very good chance that you too will be treated as such.
No questions asked.
Not by me.


In the meantime, here are several recipes for froofy drinks at the illegal drinking hole I intend to open across the street from Lowell High School, in order to attract the ever-so-cute brainiacs who study there.
Winsome bespectacled academic damsels!
Charming and so stimulating. Oooooh!
Short, sweet, with sparkling eyes.
They NEED cocktails!

Come here, little miss, would you like a drinkie?

3 oz gin.
2 oz Apricot Brandy.
2 oz lemon juice.
Two large dashes of grenadine.
Shake over ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

1 oz Vodka.
1 oz Cherry Brandy.
1 oz Noilly Pratt.
Small dash lime juice.
Small dash orange juice.
3 drops Angostura.
Shake over ice and strain into a cocktail glass.
Add sliced lime and orange on the rim.

3 oz Vodka.
2 oz Blue Curacao.
4 oz Orange juice.
1 oz Lime cordial.
Put rocks in a pint glass. Pour in, in order given.
Garnish with an orange slice.

1 oz Blue Curacao.
Pour into a champagne flute, top up with iced champagne.

2 oz Apricot Brandy.
1 oz Lime juice.
Half oz Orange juice.
Half oz simple syrup.
Shake with ice, strain into a cocktail glass.
Add a cherry and a lemon peel.

COPPER CAMEL1 oz Bailey's Irish cream.
1 oz butterscotch schnapps.
Put ice in a lowball glass ('Old Fashioned Glass'), then pour in Baileys and schnapps in order given.

2 oz Bourbon.
Heavy dash grenadine.
Three drops Angostura.
Over ice in a highball glass. Top with ginger ale.
Add a cherry, a bendy straw, and an umbrella.

FLUFFY DOGOne ounce Cointreau orange liqueur.
One ounce Bailey's Irish cream.
Shake over ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

Two ounces rum.
Two ounces orange juice.
One ounce crème de cassis.
Dash of grenadine.
Shake over ice and strain into a lowball glass. Garnish with a slice of lemon.

1 oz each: vodka, crème de vanilla and crème de cacao.
Shake over ice and pour. Garnish with chocolate shavings.

1 oz shot gin.
Half oz grenadine.
2 oz cream.
Shake over ice and strain into a cocktail glass.
Garnish with a cherry.

1 oz green crème de menthe.
1 oz crème de cacao (clear preferred).
1 oz heavy cream.
Shake over ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

1 oz butterscotch schnapps.
1 oz vanilla vodka.
Shake over ice, pour into a cocktail glass, and garnish with a cherry.

All long drinks will be served with Sanrio swizzle sticks.


A clean well lighted place for doing your algebra and trigonometry homework.
Comfy chairs and divans for reclining. Big pillows.
Soft classical music.

No boys allowed.

Just knock on the door, and tell them 'Bad Batz Maru' sent you.
There's a heated smoking patio, with heavy glass ashtrays, and a selection of cigarillos.
The spacious powder room has lavender soap, complimentary lotions, and perfume samples.
Chewing gum and strong coffee available at the bar, for when you need to go home.
Refresh yourself.

Friday, December 18, 2009


I have always had a soft spot for high-school girls.

Actually, I need to clarify that statement.
I have always had a soft spot for the innocence that high-school girls used to represent. Today's teenage females can seldom be called 'innocent'. Not with alcohol, pot, casual sex, too much make-up, and trollop clothing.
They are still innocent, but it just doesn't seem that way.

Yes, call me an old fart.
Back in MY day, girls still dressed to be presentable, hardly engaged in any shenanigans (many intended to remain virgins till the day they went away to college), and when they smoked or drank, they were very discrete and did so with that delightful sense of surreptitious depravity - the pleasure of getting away with something of which their parents would disapprove.
The trick was pretending non-lung-cancerous sobriety when they came home at nine, hi mom, hi dad, and walking up the stairs to their room in complete control.

If early of an evening you saw a little miss down a pot of coffee and furiously chewing gum, you knew what was going to happen. She was going home. Nine o'clock.
Quite the well-brought up young lady. How sweet.

I suspect that the parents were not fooled, but they appreciated the effort.

Nothing looks so delicious as a young girl with cheeks flushed from too much hot coffee consumed too fast. That rosy hopped to the gills on caffeine blush, and the over-stimulated sparkle to the eyes - can there be anything quite so lovely?
The enchanting after-image of the nine o'clock subterfugitive made the rest of the evening seem anti-climactic.
And you looked forward to catching another glimpse of her, perhaps at a more approachable age, having progressed from mere bud to full bloom.

I guess the equivalent for the younger generation is seeing the nipple ring that accidentally ripped the buttons off her tarty little blouse while she was shaking her booty to pimp-rap ........ but it just isn't the same.


Trash talk, telling your friends that you would SO blow the class delinquent, and passing packs of condoms back and forth on the bus seriously detracts from your image.

[Oh, and that cell-phone video of you having drunken truth-or-dare sex in the parking lot really does NOT need to be shown to your classmates. It will be on the internet soon enough, where they can enjoy it as often as they want and forward it to other friends with rude comments.]

There is a great difference between the pretense of propriety and the blatant exhibitionist vulgarity of expressing a standard-format uniquely hip creative individuality.
Could you at least TRY to act like a lady?

You know, normal shoes, a clean opaque shirt that covers your abdomen, pants that fit, and, other than a discrete application of lipstick, no make-up or nail polish.
Especially no blue or black nail polish.

Also, speak properly, and avoid foul language.

It might please your parents - not that that means much to you - but all of us dirty old men certainly will appreciate it.
If you stop looking like a five-dollar hooker, we will likely invite you out to dinner.
Our treat. Nice restaurant.
We'll even make sure you get home safely by nine.

Thursday, December 17, 2009


On a mailinglist, someone commented that learning Chinese, especially the written language, was a lot harder than learning Hebrew.

It isn't.

Not a lot harder. Only a little harder.

Ivrit has the usual complement of letters and numbers that one would expect. There are probably one to two dozen other characters that really need to be learned in order to write. Plus cursive forms.
All in all, about fifty or sixty symbols.

In Chinese, there are 214 basic characters or building blocks. These are the characters that cannot be broken up into simpler characters.
All of them have meanings, by the way - they're not just sounds or scratches.


All characters consist of one or more building blocks (basics, also called radicals).
The simplest basics (the signifiers) are usually the ones by which you look a word up in the dictionary.
Dictionaries are arranged from simplest basic to most complex by stroke order and stroke count.

The stroke order starts at upper right, finishes at lower left, horizontals before verticals..... plus a few more minor rules that make sense once you start writing.

[That can be seen here:
A good example is this page: which shows all the characters in that database for the ren radical (the 'basic' that means human: 人 or 亻) from simplest character (人) to most complex (儾 nàng: slow, dull; irresolute; 人 plus 22 strokes). Please go ahead and explore the Chinese-English Dictionary at your leisure: ]

There are about five hundred characters which can be analysed as pictures. These include the 214 basics. All other characters are combinations, with one element (the signifier) indicating the category of meaning (金 metalic, 木 wood, 艹 plant, 豸 beast, 言 speech, etc.) and the remaining part of the character almost always being a common phonetic element.

[For instance, all species of tree have the signifier tree (木) as part. The remainder of the character will usually be a phonetic element, yielding a combination that can be analysed as the tree with the name that sounds like the phonetic element.The metals, and many things made of metal, commonly have the eight-stroke character for gold (金), the paradigm of metals, as signifier, also with a phonetic element suggesting the pronunciation. Note that the character for gold (金) is a diagram of a mine, with a pulley at the top, an upper tunnel, and a lower tunnel, in which there may be found ingots or ores.]


Phonetic elements are usually a word in their own right. Some are simple constructions (in other words, the basics), others are more complex constructions of two or more characters (again, going back to the basic building blocks). Phonetic elements occur on the right-hand side, or on the bottom, of most combination characters.
There are approximately one hundred phonetics which occur so often that they become instantly recognizable. Another five hundred or so which are quite common, and about 1200 others (more or less) which are used because a homophonous phonetic was already utilized for another word constructed with the same signifier.

Some phonetic elements have been extremely stable over the past two-thousand years - what they sound like today as independent characters is reasonably close to how they sound in the various characters in which they are used phonetically, even if the pronunciations of modern Chinese are not the same as during Zhou and Han.

Others have deviated considerably. What may be pronounced as 'wo' independently can become 'wu', 'wa', 'go', or 'e'.

There are also phonetics which have pronunciations that seem to make no sense unless one figures out where everything went wrong. For instance, a character pronounced as 'yi' originally was borrowed as an abbreviation of a word pronounced 'dai', and subsequently that pronunciation was used phonetically for some characters just like the original pronunciation was used. Yi and dai are now both valid phonetic uses of that character, along with 'chi', 'de', and 'gung' - based on different borrowings and linguistic changes.

Fortunately, the really buggered-up phonetic elements are rare, and characters containing them infrequent.


For most Chinese people, there is seldom an exact overlap between the spoken vocabulary and the written vocabulary.
One could be a fluent speaker with less than fluent literacy, or one might know what a character means without being able to pronounce it. Knowing what a word sounds like while being ignorant of the meaning is somewhat less common.
For almost all literate Chinese, there is a large number of characters that they know well, plus a large number of characters that they recognize when they see them but might not remember exactly how to write, as well as a number of characters of which they know only the sound or only the meaning.
Furthermore, there may be many characters which they have forgotten, or never even knew.
In some cases the meaning of a word can be deduced from the context.
Never-the-less, the dictionary is the constant companion of the reader, and rare is the literate person who has not destroyed at least one dictionary by years of use.

Not all words in the spoken language have a character assigned to them. There are slang terms, dialect words, and colloquialisms that have not entered the dictionary, as well as the usual curses and unprintabilities. In so far as they are written, the characters will be constructed along standard lines, or may simply be other characters borrowed for the purpose - context will may clear that the word is not used as it should be.

Many characters are almost never used in speech. This is because they have been replaced by other words in the last several centuries, or have only limited applicability (names for types of Zhou bronze vessels being a good example), or because they sound so much like other words in the modern pronounciation that they would be confusing. For instance, there are well over five dozen characters pronounced 'shi'. Even with different tones mistakes are possible.
There are some characters which represent concepts that in speech are given with two-syllable combinations - the single syllable character may still be used in writing, but its use in speech would not be understood.


To read the newspaper, about three thousand characters are sufficient. Almost all words are either single syllables written by one of these characters, or combination words using two or more.

To read technical literature, one might need an additional few hundred or so words, depending on the field.

For the poetry of the T'ang (唐) and Sung (宋) dynasty periods, about fifteen hundred more characters would be needed, because the language has changed a bit since then.

For the classics from the Zhou (周) and Han (漢) era, perhaps another thousand words in addition to the vocabulary necessary for the poems.

If one has mastered about four to five thousand characters, one should have little problems reading Chinese for enjoyment or scholarly purposes.
With a minimum of around a thousand, one can easily figure out menus, product and store names, street signs, and simple texts.

With less than five hundred characters, one is merely a pretentious white person capable of boring other white people with the mysterioso beauty and meaningfulness of it all - while irritating Chinese people nearly beyond measure.

Even with a reasonably full vocabulary (4 to 5 thousand characters) one will not be Chinese unless one started out that way - one will still be a foreigner looking through the window, albeit a completely literate one.
This is not bad at all, and often it is far better than being a Chinese person, as one gets full credit for the effort expended and the result achieved. Much more so than if you looked Asian.

Most of the characters you will ever need are used so often, and in so many ways, that it is not hard to remember them. You will see them so frequently that once you have learned what they mean and how they are pronounced that knowledge will become instinctive.
Many characters can be learned by their similarity to others within a meaning category - tree types, metals, etcetera.
Some characters are so simple, being no more than half a dozen strokes, that you cannot avoid learning them.

A concerted effort to memorize even as few as a score of characters a day would yield a vocabulary more than sufficient to read the newspaper within the year.



In November 2007 I wrote a post with transliterations and translations of three T'ang poems:

That was followed a few days later by a longer exploration of Chinese poetry:

Here, a post on speaking Chinese:

And a post on Chinese speaking:

Any feedback on those early posts will be appreciated.

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

Wednesday, December 16, 2009


Today I am a man with kopfvetig. It's my own fault too.
Though I'll happily blame the Jews.

The headache is the result of yesterday's love-fest outside the hotel where AIPAC had its annual dog-and-pony show for the members. Which always brings out the worst in some people.

[Friend and co-conspirator Chaim ben David gives his impression of the event HERE.
Out-takes: psychopaths, Hassan Fouda and Marilyn Fouda, tantrums, poltroons, loonies, and Paul Larudee.]


I got there at around 4:40 PM, well in advance of most members of the dark side, with six Israeli flags and two American flags. Said hi to several comrades-in-arms, passed out flags, took up position.
At this point, no headache yet.

Within half an hour, some of the usual misguided and remarkably ignorant intellectuals from Berkeley showed up to support the eradication of Israel.
Several of them are members of Jewish Voice for Peace or Women in Black - of whom most are sour Presbyterians, Methodists, or Jews of Convenience (Jewish when it is politically appropriate to be Jewish but not actually Jewish Jewish). We glared at each other from opposite sides of the street. Our happy band of pro-Israel activists clearly gave them indigestion.
Still no headache.

By six o'clock, most attendees of the AIPAC dinner had gone inside, and the sidewalk across the street was populated by several unruly juveniles of Arab and Hispanic background, middle aged white densities from Berkeley, Dick Becker and few others - occasionally chanting threats to ethnically cleanse Israel ("Palestine will be free from the river to the sea", "ba ruh, ba damn, nafdeek ya falesteen", etc.), or yelling unintelligible stuff.
On our side, several of the attendees on their way in thanked us for being there, some of the uniformed individuals winked at us or flashed victory signs.
No headache.

During the hour between six and seven PM, an immature person from the pro-Palestinian side started mumbling into his friend's megaphone, a few provocateurs tried to come over to steal flags or act threatening, some "observers" slipped on by unobtrusively after having ditched their anti-Israel signs, and a verbal altercation between unstable elements on both sides of the street at the intersection of Taylor and O'Farrell was providing much amusement.
The cops moved in several times to prevent the more offensive members of the pro-Palestinian side from inadvertently endangering themselves.
No headache at this point either.


Even the frequent confrontations on my corner with middle-aged Berkeley Jew-haters and other pro-Palestinians intent on incidental mayhem did not give me a head-ache. Rather, I felt a sense of exhilaration. Even encouraged a few of them to play in traffic.
Apparently I am an obnoxious sob ("thank you for your words of praise!"), a kike warmonger ("but, but, but, I haven't monged any war in soooooo long!") and a Jew-Nazi-Fascist ("you used it in a sentence, good, but can you spell it?").
In case you are wondering, I am also a Zio-imperialist, and I bomb children.
None of which causes headaches.

I still did not have the headache when I got home shortly after eight o'clock with some flowers for Savage Kitten.
Then I had a cup of coffee and a snack, prepared myself a nice tall glass of grapefruit juice with sparkling water, and sat down to watch a Japanese science-fiction movie.
Within twenty minutes the headache started.
So I had some more coffee, and then some more grapefruit juice.


I kept waking up in the middle of the night and having more grapefruit juice. Smoke a bit, finish the glass, return to bed.

Then I'd think about things for another hour, get up again and have some more grapefruit juice, repeat. I've had maybe five hours sleep.
I still have the headache today.

See, if I hadn't joined the pro-Israel demo outside the Hilton, I probably would've had a cocktail or two at a bar instead. No problem, no pain.

A bunch of Jews with Israeli and American flags is guaranteed to cause headaches.
Everyone knows that.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009


That, probably, is the best thing that's ever happened to her - if indeed she made a face-to-face connection. If. Only if.
Camels, so we have been informed by several gentlemen named Abdoul, are zesty sexual partners.
An acquaintance named Pierre grudgingly admitted that he discovered the same thing, before being told that the beast was there in case he needed to ride into town.

But what about Katherine M. Fuchs? Is she in any way good for the camel? It HAS to be mutually rewarding, with natural progressions and conclusions to the hump.
Explosively, is it good for the camel?
Alas, we shall never know.
Camels cannot speak.

At this point, you may well be asking yourself what on earth has come over me, and why am I speculating about the perverse and possibly vile sex-life of a person named Katherine M. Fuchs, about which I probably know nothing.


I read about it on a blog.
QUOTE: "Hi Katherine, if you're reading this, go hump a camel. People like you are the poisonous dregs in American society, and the sooner you die (or get arrested for treason) the better. "

In short, fellow San Franciscan Snooky Wong got an e-mail from the 'US Campaign to end the Occupation' (that being Ms. Fuchs and her cohorts) advising that all the Israel haters should buy stock in Motorola and Caterpillar so that they can vote against doing business with Israel at the next shareholders' meeting.

Ms. Fuchs advised to keep this plan secret for now, because she doesn't want Motorola or Caterpillar to stymie her effort at subterfuge.

"Our purchasing of -- stock should be kept quite for now."

Unfortunately for Katherine M. Fuchs, the recipient of that e-mail was a bad, bad, BAD! little Chinese girl. Quite the wrong person to whom to send such an anti-Israel missive.
Naughty miss Wong promptly spilled the beans and concluded by advising Katherine M. Fuchs to "go hump a camel".

I am fairly certain that that is the MOST exciting thing anyone had ever suggested to Ms. Fuchs. If she has not done so yet, she should undoubtedly consider the proposition.


PLEASE NOTE: The author of this blog is NOT an advocate of bestiality. Suggestions that Katherine M. Fuchs might actually be into that, or should even consider going that way, are meant surreally, and we do NOT want to know about the mechanics of camel-humping (that being the purview of several gentlemen named Abdoul and at least one Frenchman), nor do we wish to see any photos of the attempt.
Any and all suggestions that Katherine Fuchs is sexually active are purely speculative.

PLEASE ALSO NOTE: "Humping a Camel" may be a code phrase for smoking a cigarette (commonly done after congress). If so, we would advise normal people against it. Being, as our regular readers know, a pipesmoker.
Katherine M.Fuchs (National Organizer, US Campaign to End the Israeli Occupation) can take it either way.



Hello all, If you were at our annual Organizers' Conference last September, you already know that we're asking supporters of the Stop Caterkiller campaign to each purchase one share of Caterpillar stock before the end of the year. While it may seem odd for a group pushing for divestment to encourage purchasing Caterpillar stock, there is a method to our madness. The real point of shareholder divestment is to pressure the corporation to divest of it's activities in the area of concern. With this in mind, once you become a Caterpillar shareholder you can 1) vote in favor of our resolution at the shareholder meeting and 2) support our protest activities inside the meeting by either attending yourself or designating a proxy. The reason we would like more turnout from our supporters at the shareholder meeting is that this has been the area where we've had the most success garnering media attention. The annual shareholder meeting is Caterpillar's day in the media's sun and if we can turn the attention from Cat's finances to their activities in Israel/Palestine it is a win for our campaign. Three important things to keep in mind as you purchase stock and encourage friends to do the same:
Our purchasing of Cat stock should be kept quite for now. If Caterpillar learns of this strategy they may change the rules of the meeting to require more than one share for entry. Time is of the essence. The cut-off date for shareholders receiving invitations to the meeting is fast approaching; I believe that this cut-off date is the end of the calendar year, so act now! Let us know when you've confirmed your stock purchase so we can be in contact with you about shareholder meeting plans. You can email me at organizer[at]endtheoccupation[dot]org or call our office at 202-332-0994. Please use the following instructions to purchase your share of Caterpillar Corporation: You can purchase one share of Caterpillar stock for approximately $58.00. You can purchase one share of Motorola stock for approximately $9.00. 1. Go to and sign up for a free membership. 2. After you complete all the information to set up your account, you will need to wait for an email that indicates that your account has been approved. 3. Follow the instructions included in the approval email to complete the account set up. 4. Once your account is set up, login to Zecco and then click on the "trading" tab. Please note that you will have a username and password for your Zecco account, as well as a trading key to access your trading account. 5. Once you’ve signed into the Trading Center, check the current asking price of the stock you wish to purchase using the Caterpillar symbol (CAT) and/or Motorola symbol (MOT). 6. Next you will need to set up a trading account, which is separate from the Zecco account. Click on "Funding and Transfers" on the left hand side of the page and then click on "Open an Account". Fill out all the required information and select the way in which you would like to fund your account. The easiest way is by electronic transfer link (ACH) from your bank account. 7. Once you have completed the application, you will receive an email to confirm that you application is being processed. The email will give you instructs to follow to complete the association between your bank account and your trading account. 8. When your account is approved, go back to the Trading Center and check the current asking price for the CAT and/or MOT stock. 9. Click on the "Funding and Transfers" tab in the Trading Center and then click on the "Deposit to Zecco Trading" tab. On this page you should see a drop down menu that shows your bank account. When you fill out the amount field to transfer money from your bank account to your Zecco account, you will need to add a few extra dollars to ensure that you have enough buying power to purchase the stock. Please note that there is a $4.50 transaction fee to process the transaction. If you do not transfer enough the first time, you will need to deposit additional funds. Each time you transfer money to Zecco there is a waiting period of a few days to complete the transaction. For example, if the cost of the stock is $9.00, you may wish to deposit $15.00 to be safe. 10. When the money has been successfully transferred to your Zecco account, go into the Trading Center and fill out the information to purchase the stock. Once you have completed this information and send the order, the transaction should be complete within a few hours. 11. You should receive confirmation of your transaction by mail within about a week of your purchase. Thank you so much for supporting this project! Even if you can't attend the shareholder meeting in Chicago next June your ownership of Cat stock will enable you to designate a proxy (we will put you in touch with a Stop Caterkiller activist in the Chicago area if you request) to participate in our "inside strategy" at the shareholder meeting.

Peace & Power, Katherine M. Fuchs
National Organizer US Campaign to End the Israeli Occupation


Monday, December 14, 2009


An antidote to the sickening Christmas crap music to which you have been forced to listen these past few weeks. This will blow that saccharine slop-ear right out of the water.


A song for exiles - Pardesi hona:

The sacrifice - Ankhan Valeh 1984

Something really lively - Rahe rahe jaan valiye

Quiet, contemplative.... well, sort of. Pao Bhangra

And finishing on a madcap note, Chan Mere Makna

Raj kare ga Khalsa.

Friday, December 11, 2009


Courtesy of an anonymous commenter on Dovbear's blog, we now know that FOX Broadcasting are a bunch of atheist, liberal, G-d-h-ting, Marxist, secular humanists.

Bill O'Reilly (the pope of FOX) insists that ONLY enemies of Christmas will wish people happy holidays and refer to the season as 'holiday' or 'the holidays' instead of calling a spade a spade.
In O'Reilly's world, bugger everyone who has different traditions, it's Christmas, guddammit.

What the anonymous commenter brought to light was this:


The pope of FOX (Bill O'Reilly) is either a hypocrite or a dunce - his own church (pardon, "employer") has joined the WAR ON CHRISTMAS!

Fie! Fie! Fie!

[From WIKIPEDIA: "...the concept of a modern-day "War on Christmas" only became widely discussed in the United States and Canada during the first few years of the 2000s decade, often credited particularly to an exposure of the issue by American commentator Bill O'Reilly.
The claim among Brimelow, O'Reilly, and later a variety of prominent media figures and others was that any specific mention of the term "Christmas" or its religious aspects was being increasingly censored, avoided, or discouraged by a number of advertisers, retailers, government (prominently schools), and other public and secular organizations."

Given that Bill O'Reilly is certainly NO poster boy for Christian values, being a narrow-minded hateful right-wing s.o.b. with a foul temper (oh wait, never mind......... ).......... !

Strike that. Different tack.

Look, Bill, I accept that you and your evil masters at FOX are spineless and ethically deprived. Really. We treasure you people for being folks we can comfortably feel much better than.
That counts for very much, and we're grateful.


For instance, if one week you're gonna advocate that all not-quite-humans be encouraged to have abortions, and the next week you praise anti-abortionists, you can't blame us if we don't quite understand what you're thinking.

As another less than hypothetical example, if one of you avers that the poor are getting rich by screwing the system, and another one of you follows that by screaming that the system is gonna impoverish us all it's the apocalypse run fer the hills maw, shouldn't we be a little confused?

What do you really mean?

So also with the War on Christmas.
Or the War on the War on Christmas.
Or even the War against the War on the War on Christmas.

If, because of greed and an understandable desire to join in the bleeding of suckers which is traditional around this time of year, you join in on the War on Christmas, and call it the 'holiday', or 'holidays', surely you are sending mixed messages?

You can't have it both ways. Either you are outraged, furiously outraged(!) at the mercantile exploitation of sweet little baby Jesus' very own special magic joy-joy time, OR you are guilty of buying into the whole midwinter Germano-Celtic pine tree and fatman feast, trying to squeeze every last drop of lucre out of all the non-sectarians who aren't going to church on Christmas Eve because they need to hide expensive stuff under a decorated fire hazard in their living room.
It's one or the other.

Show some backbone, Billy. Some gumption. Go down there Billy and burn the gift shop down! Damn them for speaking of "Holiday Must Haves", damn them all. Curse them and their children and their children's children, and cast them out into the cold. Pitchforks and torches, pitchforks and torches - it's a matter of principle! Expunge them, Billy, show them what real Christians think of their vile opportunism. Be foul tempered. Possibly violent.
We know you can do it.
They're besmirching the holy name of FOX and innocent wee floofy Jesus and all that is good.

Money changers in the temple, Billy. Money changers in the temple.

Thursday, December 10, 2009


It is cold, so cold..... The chill brings out strange behaviour in people. Not me, of course, as I am refreshingly normal.
It brings out strange behaviour in my significant other, Savage Kitten. Maybe because she is Cantonese-American.
We Dutch-Americans have NO screws loose, but Chinese-Americans..........

Due to the economy, she is no longer working full-time. And in consequence can stay in bed on a day like today. When I disappeared into the bathroom this morning, she had grabbed all the bedclothes and wrapped them tightly around herself. Even her nose was covered, just her eyes were visible. She held on to the one-legged monkey and the sock-sheep for comfort. So cold! So cold!

One thing I've noticed is that she feels the cold more acutely than I do. If she needs five blankets and a down comforter, I am perfectly happy with just one layer of sheeting and my feet exposed to the elements. She'll huddle up close to me, to soak up warmth, front to back..... then sneakily press her icy hands upon my glutei maximi.
At which point I may yelp.

Are other Cantonese-American girls like that?
I need to find out.

Anyhow. When I returned from my shower, she had just one word:
Her eyes followed me around the room as I put on my clothes and prepared for work. There seemed a hunger in her glance, a deep yearning. On my way out, I found out what it was. Warm body! I represent something to suck heat out of.


That was what she yelled as I turned to leave. Spoon tookus! When I asked what she meant, she said that the words sounded appetizing. Comforting even, and so very very very wholesome.
Spoon tookus.
That, plus 'fuzzy', paints a picture ........ which we need not describe.

I am certain that she will spend most of the day curled up in bed with the small furry creatures. When I get home she will put aside the trashy book about the royal family, and reach for spoon tookus. Nice, warm, fuzzy spoon tookus. Because of the cold. Everyone needs such a thing, when it is chilly outside. Only then.

I feel SO objectified! Sniff!

Actually, I'm pretty darn comfortable with the idea. No problem at all.

I am the possessor of the spoon tookus. Which is good. Spoon tookus appeals to at least one charming Cantonese-American damsel, and maybe more. That is potent juju.
Spoon tookus. Spoon tookus. Spoon tookus.
Spoon tookus!

Wednesday, December 09, 2009


Over cocktails, a friend mentioned that he has to give his children 'the talk'. You know, 'that one'...., the one about the birds and the bees. He is NOT looking forward to it.

I can sympathize with his trepidation.
I remember my father's version of 'the talk'. It was shortened considerably by the fact that both of us boys in theory already knew all about human reproduction by the time we were nine years old (it was the practical aspects with which we had no experience).
My father's version of the talk was, accordingly, simple.

"Always keep yourself clean, especially your privates - some nice young thing might stick her tongue down there."

At this point, my brother turned green and ran from the room making retching sounds.
When he returned, the talk resumed:

"When you masturbate, hair grows on the palms of your hands."

This second datum, delivered with a straight face, had the desired effect.
Again my brother left the room.

That was it. Simple.

[You could expand it by adding in the advice he gave me when my pipe-smoking had been discovered: "Stay away from the perfumed crap; good tobacco shouldn't smell like a Turkish cat house".]


My friend, on the other hand, is dealing with a darker and more complex world. He has daughters.
And there is no guarantee that their school has touched upon human reproduction.

I doubt that I am the best person to ask for advice. Never the less.


Girls, you aren't supposed to have sex. Yet you are reaching the age when you may think about it.
There are five rules that all boil down to 'safe sex'.

Avoid getting pregnant, avoid getting infected, avoid getting abused, avoid getting talked about, avoid getting found out.

The best method for achieving all of these aims is abstinence, but let's be realistic.

Know about your body and about basic biology - pregnancy is most likely to ensue during your fertile period, which starts more or less nine or ten days after the beginning of the menses, and continues till retirement age, errrrm, I mean until a few days before the next period. Fercrapessakes, read up on it!
Condoms are the best method of avoiding the transfer of sperm other than abstinence, the pill goes a long way towards preventing fertilization, but has side effects, and is contra-indicated in many cases.

Condoms help prevent infections, but are NOT guaranteed. Consequently you must be extremely careful in your choice of partners. Not all diseases are curable, many have long incubation periods. Sexually Transmitted Diseases are a fascinating subject, please read all about it.
A clean, intelligent, kind, and well-behaved person (good manners, morals, and ethics) is probably far less likely to be the Typhoid Mary of the clap than the captain of the football team or the class delinquent. Evenso, assume that most teenage boys are carriers of something vile, and you probably won't be far wrong.
AIDS is incurable.

Sports jocks are oafs. You should not associate with boys who are selfish or domineering.
If a boy with whom you are in a relationship hits you or verbally abuses you, cripple the bastard. Preferably before things have gone any further than holding hands.
Your mom and dad are here to bail you out if you get arrested.

Boys only want one thing. Whether or not they get it, they will talk about it. Some of them will talk trash and name names when they haven't even gotten within a mile of it. On the other hand, some boys go nuts if they don't or no longer get it. At which point the entire school will know about it. Consequently there are many boys whom you must avoid.
Girls also talk trash, and some will gladly make another girl out for slut.
Choose whom you associate with carefully.
Sex is like net ninety terms; once it has been put on the table by the morons in the sales department, it just will not go away.
If anybody ever calls you a slut, break their jaw.

If you have a relationship, no one needs to hear about it. Not your classmates, not the neighbors, not your relatives. If you cannot guarantee complete discretion and silence (in other words, don't get pregnant, don't get infected, don't get abused, don't get talked about, don't get found out), don't even take the risk. Ninety percent of the foregoing about personal association and common sense choices applies here as well.
Avoid football players, bullies, delinquents, or trash talkers. Clowns too.

The safest partner is someone who knows exactly what is at stake and what both of you have to loose. This means an intelligent, well-mannered, insightful, and considerate person. Someone who is likely to keep confidences and secrets, and will not embarrass you, or weasel-out on you.
Which, almost by definition, is someone beyond their teenage years who is not into sports. A mature individual, like an engineer or an accountant, heaven forbid!

There are risks.

So you should probably wait until you're eighteen before you jump into the sack with anyone. Better yet, wait until you've graduated college.
A doctorate. At least a Masters Degree.



One might get the impression from the foregoing that sex should be avoided, being more trouble than it's worth. That is by no means correct.
I'm sure my readers realize that sex is as good as food. But it should NOT be shared with the world. Whether you like tight frilly panties (still occupied, OR nicely laundered), constricting naughty garments, or even unguents, heating lotions, and a black tarpaulin, go ahead and do your thing.
Just don't be messy about it, get to know the person first, and for heavens sakes keep it private.
If you live at home, don't forget to wash your sheets.

Oh and by the way - smoking is bad. Stay away from tobacco.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:

All correspondence will be kept in confidence.

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