Tuesday, August 09, 2022


When I came home from the appointment at the clinic (regularly scheduled confirmation that I am not a zombie), I found the turkey vulture doing research. Carrion: small furballs that are like meatballs (hamsters), fatty inner thighs (elderly cigar smokers), and stringy old fart pipesmokers (me, dammit!).

I encourage the search for knowledge. Grudgingly, at times.

I showed up early, got seen early, and was out of there early. As usual. A few blocks later and I was having lunch at a Stockton Street chachanteng watching what may have been the most wretched mainland Mandarin language song team contest show on the planet. There was a Sichuanese woman on there who came straight out of central casting for "old bint who spews party-approved propaganda" so that the rest of the show, filled with vacuous young ladies who all had the same make-up and the exact same hue of lipstick, had plausible deniability. Though there were nearly a dozen other customers in the place I may have been the only fool paying any attention.

To Cantonese, in the vicinity of food, such crap is merely white noise.

Yesterday while smoking on Waverly I heard an elderly man promise a paper wrapped cupcake (紙包蛋糕 'ji baau daan gou') to his little granddaughter. She brightened up immensely, and radiated a wave of good cheer at the happy prospect as they passed me. The prospect of something to eat always does that for Cantonese people, with the assumption that what is ahead is, in fact, something nice. If they were gloomy Lutheran Midwesterners that bet is off; no one looks forward to Lutefisk served in a drafty church basement.

I make it a point to have something good to eat after a medical appointment; it always brightens me up immensely. Other than the putrid garbage on the widescreen, lunch was very enjoyable. So was a spot of milk tea after doing some grocery shopping. A properly made cream-filled Swiss roll cake (忌廉瑞士捲 'kei lim seui si kuen') is a delightful thing.

I think we've established that I am not, unknowlingly, a zombie. I've got a pulse, have oxygen in the blood, and there is blood pressure. Various tests will be done, as every year, that will further confirm that. Blood will be taken -- need to see if it's actually crimson, instead of neon green, piss-yellow, copper-coloured, or semi solid (mmm, chunky!) -- as well as a scan of the upper torso, which will prove that there are fully functional organs, in the proper locations.
I'm scheduled to go back to hospital for all this on Thursday morning.

If they have a priest performing rituals I'll know something is up.

[Please refer to 殭屍先生 ('keung si sin saang') for clarification.]

By the way: one of the most important side effects of vaccinations is continued living.
Not in an iron lung, not in a wheelchair, not with palsy and blindness. It's rather key.
I'm heavily vested in not being dead, so I've had all mine.

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