Sunday, October 27, 2019


On Thursday and Friday it was too hot for comfort, and sensible people in the Bay Area would have vastly preferred to be naked, with easy access to walk-in refrigerators, where they could commune with their pals the frozen sides of beef. Today, and for the foreseeable future, it's sweater weather.
The freezing wind drains your energy, and maybe you should rub yourself all over with bear fat before going out.

Just remember, climate change isn't real.

Honestly, dear republicans, we encourage you to walk around naked.

Precisely as G-d made you.

The human body is a thing of beauty.

The power in much of the Bay Area is still off, with no reliable word as to when it will be back on again. Meanwhile, down in the Financial District, bums are setting fire to trashcans to stay warm, and workers being paid overtime at PG&E (77 Beale at Mission Street) are laughing at them and sneering while eating croissants.
Widows and orphans in Marin and Sonoma are desperate for heat, warm food, and shelter.
There is no place between the Bridge and Oregon with fresh sushi.
The situation is getting tormentuous there.
We need chocolate.

Slight hyperbole is to be expected.

Because my apartment mate is home today, and staying warm by cooking up a storm in the kitchen, this blogger because of sheer necessity bailed out to Chinatown, seeing as I needed a place to smoke where doing so wouldn't piss-off a Cantonese woman. Well, one Cantonese woman.

The frigid wind would have driven me indoors, but instead I shivered in an abandoned doorway, later in an alley with the sound of mahjong tiles coming from what had been a framing shop years ago, then under a metal awning of a store for rent. In the afternoon the windtunnel effect that the down-slope areas experience picked up, smoking my pipe was hard.

I sought refuge in a bakery where the eggtarts are excellent, the milk tea is good, and patrons agreeable. No smoking, but no freezing either.

In the Financial District, after tea, strong winds blew empty plastic buckets past me, smacked parked cars with flying fast food containers, soda cans and similar debris, and swept intersections clean, leaving sharp objects and filth heaped behind windless corners and in sheltered nooks.

Cut the second pipe short when I saw a naked fakir.

No, I do not like this weather.

We need more naked republicans glistening with bear fat here.
And well-fed croissant-torpid PG&E employees.
They're combustible.

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