A PAEAN FOR THE CORN FED PEOPLE

As proof that I'm alive, I offer that I did feel the needle go in, and the hospital person was able to draw enough actual blood from me for the slew of tests my doctor has ordered as part of the regular yearly check-up and let's see if the old reptile gonna live a while longer. Which I am determined to do, because I have a humongous pipe tobacco stockpile, and intend to smoke a goodly portion of it calmly with many cups of tea before I croak.

So, naturally, I had neither coffee nor tea this morning, in preparation for the collection of samples. You can probably imagine what that did to my mood. Which would have been marginally better if I had gotten out of the house earlier.

Before I was so depleted.

Normally I have the sunniest of personalities, positivly radiant with goodwill, love for the human beings around me, cheerfulness, and warmth, oh boy!
Just chockful of good Christian feelings!

As my coworkers can attest.


But that's only when I've had a sufficiency of caffeine. Without that, I want to burn everyone at the stake, like the inquisition, a fine old tradition that sadly went by the wayside after those people discovered hot stimulating beverages. Which we should bring back. We'd do it better now that we're hepped all the time. Need to set up public pyres and stakes outside of every Starbucks in the city. Every one who consumes hazelnut-syrup frappoos is a heretic!

Two hours later, after a bite to eat and two cups of milk tea followed by a pipe, I felt a lot more human. The pipe I brought with me is an old piece which Tiberio gave me, which he had bought during the mid-sixties, and which he admitted had never smoked well for him. After enlarging the draft hole and futsing around inside the shank so that it can easily take cleaners now, it's been a stellar smoker. Nice old briar. A Comoy made unstamped bent billard shape number 43.


Now, far be it from me to fat-shame.

When the lady at the chanteng where I went after being jabbed bought new chairs, which are very nice, she wasn't taking big white behinds into account. Two enormous gentlemen from the lord only knows where but probably Texas looked like their arses got squooze something good, and shortly after they left, having pulled their rumps out, a white and pinkish woman half my age and three times my size came in with her daughters for lunch. Her daughters were young enough that I briefly toyed with the idea of asking her if the artificial insemination was something her doctor had suggested, or maybe her husband worked on a farm and got the idea from there. But I am wise and diplomatic.

Far be it from me to fat-shame.

I am just mean, okay?

Don't sit on me.


The most popular after dinner drink in America is a shocking pink colour, and can be found in the busted-gut aisle at Walgreens. Far be it from me to fat-shame. Om, shanti shanti shanti.

The grumbly old geezer with a walker on the bus whom I had stood next to in the front while heading into Chinatown for my rendezvous with a small Cantonese woman who had a deft hand with needles was seated one table over from me. He must have thought "oh good, another kwailo eating healthy instead of stuffing himself with gut and artery clogging junkfood!" He was finishing a baked porkchop on fried rice covered with cheese.
Which is a very HK Chinese dish. He's scrawny.
Proving how "healthy" it is.
Good for you!


I remain quite baffled about the size and girth of many Anglos. But I finally understand how the buffalo were eaten to extinction. Y'all needed mass quantities of something to get that awful taste of grits out of your mouths. Boiled corn meal. Buckets of it.
Or enough to fill one of those stupid ten-gallon hats.
Two, if you use butter.


There has been a tonne of caffeine since jab-jabs.
I'm all better now.

抽血室。



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