A MIGHTY WASPY WIND

You 've heard me say this before: young white people of a certain type should never do karaoke; they're attitude is not right. Karaoke is a fine art in the right hands -- that being middle-aged drag queens doing show tunes and some Cantonese barflies -- but when people who could be marketing types, sales, or white trash do it, it's torture.

There are not enough Chinese customers of that bar. Sad.

Not that I wish to encourage more Chinese to develope alcoholic habits. I've seen what that can lead to, and I'm not as young as I used to be, so less likely to get out of the way of insanity. Just not as prepared for misbehaviour and mayhem.


Still. Too many Caucasians. Loud. Long. And off-key.
Screams from the mountains of madness.
The sound of hornets.
A screeching.

The older I get, the more I like half empty bars with nothing but a bunch of decorous virgins sitting around demurely dawdling over cocktails, and discussing politics in soft tones.

That, I've been told, was what bars were like when my parents were still at university. Their entire generation had experienced hardship and war, and loved nothing more than civilized discourse in quiet lounges with bright lighting. Honest.

No salesmen or marketing types.
Just well-behaved sailors.
Refined people.



SIDE NOTE: Today I became aware of a fabulous new dish, which I wish that a chachanteng nearby would serve. 車打芝士腌肉蘑菇麵 ('che daa ji si yim yiuk mo gu min'; cheddar cheese bacon mushroom noodles). It sounds absolutely delicious!

I guess I'll just have to make it at home.



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