Sunday, March 22, 2020


A gentleman in Australia craved Bombay Duck, so a friend sent him some. Then he realized there might be a slight problem. "Unfortunately, I won’t be able to fry it cause of the smell. My Aussie neighbors would think there’s a dead body here. Any recipes as a curry alternative I can use?" The obvious solution is to sing loudly while frying, so they won't think you're dead yet.
Besides, getting out of the apartment building and going for a long walk might be just what they need. Exercise! It keeps arthritic joints from stiffening up because of inaction, and improves circulation.
And muscle tone, if they run.

You're doing it for them.


Okay then. Having solved an Australian problem, let us return to the non-kangaroo infested part of the world. Particularly San Francisco. Where I live. We don't have Bombay Duck. And instead of Aussies, we have pavement dwelling psychopaths and dysfunctionals. About whom I am rather worried. Because, in all honesty, they weren't coping under normal conditions.
Then weren't friends before this, and I kept my distance.
But I'll be glad to see them back.

The streets are cleaner and emptier than they've ever been.

The apartment mate has been binge watching old teevee series, as well as clips from The Muppet Show. Sofar, I have heard Sam The Eagle ranting about nudity -- we're all NAKED under our clothes -- as well as the theme song from Bat Masterson (several times). She is in her pajamas, with a stuffed animal next to her while she plonks on her computer.

It's been a little surreal going for a stroll around the neighborhood recently.
Strangers wish each other a good morning or good evening from six to twenty feet distance (or more), shops are closed, one or two planked-up, non-smokers walk their dogs, joggers occasionally go by, and, thank heavens, the local liquor store is open.

The smell of Bombay Duck would be immensely positive at this point.
Evidence of intelligent life on this planet.

So far my landlords have not spoken to me about the dried fish, shrimp paste, and fish sauce I use. That, too, is evidence of intelligent life.

As long as at least one shop in Chinatown is still open, I'll be able to find more, if needed. It's an essential supply.

As you probably know.

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