DON'T LET ANYONE HEAR YOU!

Far be it from me to speak ill of the tone-dead. Nevertheless, that singing was indescribably bad. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Four songs. We left before they were even half-way through Lady Gaga and her horrid love life. Which, for some reason, I have to think she thoroughly deserved. I wish ill upon her.

Karaoke should be forbidden to fresh young things just out of college. It illuminates their worst sides. Makes people despise them and their intemperate behaviours.
They should limit themselves to facesucking in public.
Perhaps while humming.

This blogger has never been a fan of Lady Gaga.
I've probably heard everything she did.
All of it is regrettable.


The evening started well enough. Bus over the hill, a very pleasing bowl of tobacco in a fine briar, not very many people on the street, almost none of them tourists. And while the burger joint was densely crowded, refreshments were got very nearby.
Including Mexican Coca Cola. Real cane sugar.

The beer place was too crowded, we gave it a miss.

One of the Dutch cities for which I have a soft spot -- my brother lived there for several years, and a favourite antiquarian book seller is located there -- is Utrecht. In which, on good nights, drunken students may fall into the canals, which probably has a deleterious effect on their efforts to sing karaoke. Pneumonia kind of hampers an ability to offend by excesses for a while. As does the turbid water into which the university person plunged.
San Francisco does not have that advantage.

There are no tree-shaded canals here. No coble-stoned bridges over cold black water. Nor any steep embankments down which an inebriated songbird might flailingly roll, ending up soaked by freezing effluent and requiring medical attention. It is very sad.

It's something about which I do not think often.
Evenso, it's a profound source of regret.
Utrecht. It is quite a lovely city.
Charming, civilized.


Never before has karaoke been so painful.



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