CANTONESE GIRLS

Over on Facebook, sparkling little minx and fellow-blogger Steffy Chou asked about herring, and wrote: "Feel free to wax lyrical about herring on your blog. And stop speculating about Cantonese girls. We're normal, you aren't."
Earlier she had said: "For the life of me I cannot figure out whether his primary fetish is Cantonese girls or pipe-smoking."
She kindly provided a link to a previous post in which I mentioned search criteria by which readers found this place. Hence the linking of Cantonese girls and herring.


Well now. Two things:

1. You'll find everything I have to say about herring here and here
[FAT GREEN VIRGINS: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2006/06/fat-green-virgins.html
FAT LITTLE VIRGINS: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2010/08/fat-little-virgins.html
Both essays have the words 'fat' and 'virgins' in the title. This confuses the occasional internet-wandering pervert. They would be better off with herring anyway. They just don't know it yet.]
2. I do like speculating about Cantonese girls. Boy howdy.


Actually, I like speculating about girls period. They are a fascinating subject. But I wouldn't describe 'Cantonese girls' as a fetish. Earlier on my blog I had mentioned that I like women who are shorter than me, and I may have also mentioned round heads and dark hair.
Having lived most of my childhood and adolescence in the Netherlands, you will probably understand that blondes who are taller than me are not exactly rain in my world. Nor, given my ambivalence about the Dutch, particularly an objective.
Most of the girls I ever had a crush on were indeed significantly shorter than myself - I don't like staring up at chins - though some of them were indeed blondes.

In particular, from my high school years I remember Bertje Klerk and Uki Schneider as stunning and loveable. Very nice girls, pale soft butter-blondes.

[Intelligent, too. Which may explain why I remember them. Stupid people are not memorable.]

However, Cantonese girls are quite delightful.

Whoever came up with the term 'Inscrutable Oriental' had never met the Cantonese. The term 'inscrutable' just does NOT apply. How can you possibly describe as 'inscrutable' an ethnic group which lives operatically at full volume, has a vocabulary that blisters paint, and expresses itself best through either insurrection or cooking?

There's an adventurousness and obstinacy to the Cantonese that is both endearing and unusual.

That isn't particularly surprising, given their history: Guangdong was Sinified by smugglers, pirates, incendiarists, criminals, dissidents, and tax-dodgers, as well as people who just wanted to get the hell away. The area south of the passes was long regarded as the wild frontier, where civilized people would suffer untold miseries surrounded by the wild Yuet, Man, Mang, Mieu, Yao and Fan tribes.
Nice polite Northern Chinese had no desire to go there. Nope. Not just Chinese enough. Too hot. Weird food. And they talk funny.

[Guangdong (廣東):'Broad East'; Canton province, the eastern part of the area south of the passes (嶺南 Ling Nan - another name for Kwantung). Yuet (越, 粵): the first character means 'frontier', and nowadays is applied to Vietnam (越南 South of the Frontiers). The second character is cognate and homophonous, originally a graphic representation of something creepy-crawly. It is the one-character referent for Canton Province and Cantonese things.
Man (蠻), Mang (芒), Mieu (苗), Yao (猺) and Fan (番): names of various tribes. The character for Man (蠻) shows a twisty critter underneath a cocoon, indicating that they weren't considered human, but rather repulsive, almost reptilian. Mang and Mieu both show the grass radical, as if the tribes in question were wild growths. Yao has the wild beast radical next to a phonetic element, and Fan has always meant barbarian.
White people are often refered to as Lofan' (佬番).]

BALLS!

The average Cantonese person does not whine about having been caught breaking the law - instead, they'll simply resolve to be a far better criminal next time.
And, if you're Cantonese, there's ALWAYS a next time.
The Cantonese combine chutzpah, cojones, and a brashly positive outlook.


粵女 YUET NUI

[Girl from Viet, as in the line 誰憐越女顏如玉 , 貧賤江頭自浣紗 ('shui lien Yuet-nui ngaan yu yuk, pan daam gong tou ji wun saa?'): "who notices the girl from Viet with a face like white jade, humbly washing silk alone down at the river bank?" Final line from a poem (洛陽女兒行) by Wang Wei (王維), T'ang Dynasty period.]

So in some sense, then, I do indeed have a fetish for Cantonese-American girls.
Feisty, at times foul-mouthed, and seriously into food.
Things like that I can definitely deal with.

I am not particularly intrigued by Japanese women, Filippinas, or other Asian-American types.
Northern Chinese can be very attractive - but they just aren't very interesting.
Taiwanese tend to whine in baby-like little-girl voices.... uuurghhh!
Shan't say anything about Shanghainese. Or Szechuanese. Or Fujianese. Nope, not my type. Dull.

And while I like the cuisine of nearly every place in South-East Asia, I am not interested in the women from those climes. Yes, many of them can be beautiful. But they have as little appeal as stuck-up European women, Irish-Americans, and chunky San Francisco Cholitas.
Or girls with tattoos.

Anger and indignation I can deal with. That, at least, demands to be treated as an equal.
Whining, pouting, and an attitude of entitlement are immediately repulsive.



背脊向天，都可以食
BUI-JIK HEUNG TIEN, DOU HO-YI SIK
[Anything with its back to the sky can be eaten!]

A lack of culinary curiosity also disenchants. One must be broad-minded!
Food is the great passion, finding new edible things and figuring out how best to prepare them is inexhaustibly intriguing.
The Cantonese approach to food is extremely appealing.
Almost a way of life.

So yes, Cantonese-American women excite me. They're like Belgians. Except smaller, angrier, and more opinionated. Zesty.

..............

I just need to find one who likes the smell of pipe-tobacco.


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STRAWBERRY CAKE!

Fellow San Franciscan and blogger Steffy Chou has put up a post baldly telling people what she wants for her birthday.
It is quite the verbal portrait of an individualist, despite her claim that "ALL teenagers are alike". Perhaps so, but some are clearly far less alike than others.......


"Maybe another big book about Italian food? Or a copy of the Larouse Gastronomique in English."


The post is a remarkable document, as the people who read her blog have almost certainly never met her, and the people she knows personally probably have no clue that she blogs.
So it’s really an exercise in imagination, or wishful thinking.

EXAMPLE:
"Please do NOT get me anymore Hello Kitty stuff. When you’re not even five feet tall, Hello Kitty shit just makes you look infantile. Not feminine. It's kinda silly. Please think in terms of chocolate."


I have never met her.

But I think I can describe her pretty well.

“You are long-haired, and fairly small. You probably stick your tongue out at people often, mentally at least. You don't particularly like most adults, though there are some you get along with well - primarily if they aren't boring. None of the friends and relatives you described above are boring, though some are not entirely comfortable with your interests or obsessions; your burning curiosity sometimes gives them a feeling of disquiet - less so if they are older and have long been elsewhere in the world.”


For some reason I'm thinking of *CHOCOLATE* right now.

It’s probably a good thing that we’ve never met, as she would probably smack me fiercely in the face with a pie. Over the past year or so I’ve pushed several envelopes in the comments underneath her blog posts. Feisty teenagers do NOT react with equanimity when teased.

Still. Meeting a person like that would be fun. And despite the danger of ending up with sticky fruit-gloop all over my face and a broken jaw (say, what kind of pie WAS that?), it would probably be worth it. At the very least I could dare her to lick off the crumbs, after which I would buy her strawberry cake. She sounds ... nice.


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All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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ANTI-ISRAEL RESOLUTION: WRITE TO THE SAN FRANCISCO BOARD OF SUPERVISORS

Yesterday an anti-Israel resolution was introduced by SF supervisors John Avalos, David Campos, Chris Daly and Sophie Maxwell. It is scheduled for a vote on Tuesday June 15th.

[John Avalos: District 11. David Campos: District 9. Chris Daly: District 6. Sophie Maxwell: District 10.]


Steffy (Infectious Asian) posted the contact information for all the supervisors here:
http://infectiousasian.blogspot.com/2010/06/condemn-israel-yet-another-san.html

She writes:
"Meddling in international affairs is typical of San Francisco. But if San Francisco is going to rampage all over the purview of the US State Department, surely the SF Board of Supervisors should be aware that there might be consequences?"


The following supervisors would benefit immensely from facts and feedback persuading them to vote AGAINST this short-sighted and hateful anti-Israel resolution:
Eric Mar (district 1), Michela Alioto-Pier (district 2), David Chiu (district 3), Carmen Chu (district 4), Ross Mirkarimi (district 5), Sean Elsbernd (district 7), Bevan Dufty (district 8).


Avalos, Campos, Daly, and Maxwell are of course beyond redemption, and need to be voted out at the next election.

SWEET TEEN SNAKE

This morning, as I was getting dressed, a small Cantonese woman patted my rump on her way to the bathroom.
When I yelped in protest, she sneered that someday I would remember it fondly.


"Hah! When I’m gone, you’ll miss my patting your butt. No one else would do it -- “Aiyah, don’t wanna touch those flabby ancient spongies!” "

And with that, the bathroom door closed.

She’s probably at least partially right. At fifty years of age, I am not exactly in the running for Don Juan, as Savage Kitten realizes. But then I never was.
More likely somebody’s crazy old male relative. Something avuncular.


Which brings me to a conversation on facebook, reproduced below.
It is between a dignified gentleman, and a smart-aleck young lady.
[Names have been changed to protect the innocent.]


Middle-aged Coot: I wish to formally affirm that I am NOT, repeat, NOT, trying to get into her panties. Although I am sure they are quite fine, as such things go.

Middle-aged Coot: They're probably too tight anyhow.

Middle-aged Coot: I merely wish to persuade her to take up smoking. That is the furthest I wish to go.

Middle-aged Coot: Young ladies with fine briars - it's a lovely combination.

Sweetyoungthing: Yes. Far too tight.

Sweetyoungthing: Not until I go to college.

Sweetyoungthing: Probably like swimsuit blondes and Ferraris.


Rabbitmom: SYT, ignore the creepy old men. Leave them to the creepy old women.

Sweetyoungthing: How can I ignore the creepy old men? They're all around us!

Sweetyoungthing: Besides, he's too much into tobacco and whiskey to do anything. It saps the male vitality.


Sweetyoungthing: The words "dried-up old Dutchman" come to mind. Nabokovian, yes, but hardly Humbert Humbert.


Middle-aged Coot: Young lady, I'll have you know I am still very moist! At least fifty-five to fifty-seven percent by bodyweight water! That is sufficient!

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My sympathies, of course, are with Middle-aged Coot. How could it be otherwise? He and I probably have much in common, and he is clearly the aggrieved party.
I've been there, I know how that feels.
Whereas his attacker, miss Sweetyoungthing, obviously, is a snarky fourteen year old who lacks a proper attitude towards her elders.

In actual fact, none of us wish to get into her panties. We are cognizant of the law. And that society disapproves of such things. If we were even ever so inclined.
Which we aren't.

We are the pure of heart. Think of us each as 'Tobacco Uncle'.


Instead, we fervently and passionately wish to introduce her to pressed blonde Virginia flakes (demure and maidenly), or light Balkan blends (zesty and full of life), English mixtures (perky, audacious, even quite full of figure), and, should she prove receptive, the full Balkan blend in all its glory (seductive, mysterious, and tantalizing).
We might even expose her to a dark stoved flake (earthy, but with an alluring sweetness), Perique concoctions (oooh, so naughty!), and if there is absolutely NO other choice, mild aromatics (out dancing with the boys, but still home by ten).

Trust me, my dear, these things are far far better than chocolate. You will soon be convinced.

TOBACCO INDEX


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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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FLIRTATIOUS TEENAGE PIT-VIPER

I am outraged! Outraged, I tell you. I have been mercilessly fisked by a small and feisty female, who has taken my fondness for a pipe-tobacco (Balkan Sobranie) which is no longer available to task, nay, even sent it up the flagpole and invited the world to throw raspberries at it.

[My fondness, that is. Not the pipe tobacco (Balkan Sobranie) itself. About which she has little to say.]


Fellow-blogger Infectious Asian wrote: "I also clicked on a link named "Tobacco List", and that was a frightfully stupid thing to do - forty pages or so of stuff about pipe tobacco - a lot of which is, obviously, about Balkan Sobranie and mr. Atboth's deep enduring love affair with his stinky mistress.
He loves to roll in it, to touch it, to fondle it, rub it all over his pasty middle aged torso, and breathe deeply and passionately of its heady perfume. Balkan Sobranie is better than ten women!
He remembers each and every lust embrace of Balkan Sobranie, each tar-stained kiss, each sooty frolic, and each sultry shred of stimulus. Balkan Sobranie!
That's pipe tobacco we're talking about, he isn't talking about ME, thank god even though I'm jealous, or even any other young ladies. Just pipe tobacco! Pervert!"

[SOURCE: http://infectiousasian.blogspot.com/2010/04/balkan-sobranie-till-youre-sick-of-it.html ]

Stinky mistress? Tar-stained kisses?


Forsooth! 'Tis slander!

That statement about touching, fondling, and rubbing it all over my pasty middle aged torso is a calumny of monumental proportion. If I had any Balkan Sobranie lying around I would stick it in my pipe, nothing else. Touching, fondling, and rubbing are perhaps things that should happen to YOU, you very naughty teenage person, but NOT to tobacco.
You have no cause for jealousy.

I also object to be being referred to as "an elderly Dutchman, no longer hormonally gifted," and "possibly dried up".
I'll have you know that I am still full of piss and vinegar.

Given the general tenor of her post, I suspect that the rambunctious fourteen year-old Cantonese-American blogger was both bored and seeking to stir something up.

[But she did give me some gratuitous linkage, including one to this post: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/08/balkan-sobranie-postscript.html
Linkage is always a good thing.]



POISONOUS PEN

There have been other times when Infectious Asian has shown her teeth.

In this post she un-gently ripped Katherine Fuchs (National Organizer US Campaign to End the Israeli Occupation) for several things, here she slashes at Lily Haskell of the Arab Resource Organizing Center, and in this post she rakes the Berkeley Daily Planet (the Bay Area's own anti-Semitic news rag) and its self-righteous publisher (Becky O' Malley) over the coals.


All in all, I probably got off lightly. Compared to what she wrote about Katherine Fuchs, Lily Haskell, and Becky O'Malley, it was an affectionate ribbing, rather than a rabid savaging. She has a talent for bile quite unusual in one so young.
I may have to suggest some other targets to her - Kate Raphael, Alice Walker, and Barbara Lubin haven't been mentioned much at all lately. Perhaps she should direct her bitchy attentions thither.

HEY GEEK OLD MAN!

Last week was my birthday. I turned fifty. I have officially joined the ranks of geezers. Or, as some might say, I am now an old fart.
That makes me feel like Portnoy in Bloom County, when he turned seven years old.

I am still very very liberal. Honestly. I can dance.



GEEZERTUDE

Let us make a list, shall we?

Gout. Arthritic joints. Partial deafness. Bile. Grump. Smell.
These are all ailments that I already have. Yep, I'm old.
Boruch Hashem I don't have 'Old Man's Penis'.

[Old Man's Penis is when you think you've finished micturating, and just when you've zipped up your fly, there's another sudden dribble. "Oh darn it", you say, "these pants were clean, I was planning to wear them for several more weeks....... perhaps no one will notice".]

The gout affects my right foot primarily, and is caused by various things - most notably a man-size portion of gehakte leber.
The arthritic joints are probably due to growing up in a bog.
Partial deafness is a blessing. Trust me.
Bile is an attitude, an outlook, and a way of life.
Grump is the natural result of gout, arthritic joints, partial deafness, and bile.

The SMELL is tobacco. If you don't like it, don't breathe.

[Who told you you could breathe? I didn't tell you you could breathe. What makes you think you can breathe? Stop it. Shut up. Now go.]

I mention all this, because birthdays were recently discussed on two other blogs.



THE ANGSTIGE INEXORABILITY OF IT ALL

Snooky Wong ('Death By Noodles') mentioned having cake for a friend's birthday. She loves cake.
http://deathbynoodles.blogspot.com/2009/10/cake.html

The friend was apparently someone in much better physical shape than myself.
To quote:
"So how old IS he? About fifty five? Sixty? He still LOOKS vibrant and vigorous - must be all that rich sweetened butter cream filling his joints. And the fruit. Fruit is healthy."

Young lady, I am not entirely pleased that you know some old geezer who still looks vibrant and vigorous, someone who is clearly in better shape than myself. He's that old that he should look decrepit and slightly seedy. It's only proper.


Stephanie 周 ('Infectious Asian') happily gloats about the gifts she got from her uncles. Lots of books. An eclectic selection.
http://infectiousasian.blogspot.com/2009/10/make-out-like-bandit.html

Her mother did not give her books, however.
Quote:"Ma gave me a brassiere. Tres femmy.
I CAN'T WAIT TO SHOW IT OFF! THANKS, MA!"

Well now.
Did I mention that I have a good eye? A keen ability to aesthetically appreciate all of the good lord's creations?
Proportion, youthful skin hue, delicate terminations of the appendages, gazelle-like poise and grace - these are all things I know well, and about which I can discourse informatively.

Also, I'm still amazingly vibrant and vigorous. Honestly. And very very liberal.
Did I mention my birthday?
I can dance.

EVERYTHING FITS!

There are times when everything just comes together. Critical mass is attained, the fissile material goes boom, and a rain of radioactive dust gently falls like snow.

This blog particularly likes those days. Everything seems so golden.

The traffic outside the office building is sheerly wonderful too. Automobiles move barely a foot in several minutes. Long lines of vehicles slowly pass by, at so somnolent a pace that one can dance gaily among the cars, making it clear to frustrated drivers that, as a pedestrian, one is blessed.


I am faster than you. You are stuck in traffic. My life is better than yours. You are suffering because of your addiction to oil. Poor poor you.

Don't thank me, I like to share.

--- --- ---

And in that vein, also coming together nicely......



PERVERSE PARSEE

Grant Patel is infuriated that Snooky Wong ignored him. Consequently he has more fun with Richard Becker's penis than any man is supposed to have.

Death by Noodles is a horrid mistress!
http://grantpatel.blogspot.com/2009/09/death-by-noodles-is-horrid-mistress.html

Quote:
"You wished proof of my valid claim that Richard Becker is blessed with a matchbox-sized lora, or even smaller, as befits a notorious communist from a comfortable armchair, who is desiring to entirely without danger to himself or evidences leading back to him, or the beneficiaries of his mini-me, instigate, stir-up, and outside-agitate for violent revolution and the bloody extinguishment of Jews and other fine peoples. As is utterly the balanced and considered opinion of myself, a discriminating and perspicacious lawyer."

Please note that whenever Grant is peevish, he mentions the idea that Richard Becker, who is the head of International ANSWER here on the West Coast, has a miniscule masculinity. When Grant is full of himself, he also raises Mr. Richard Becker's miniature endowment. Heck, in whatever mood he is in, Grant Patel is obsessed by Richard Becker and his microscopic wee willikin.



NOODLY GRACES

What set Grant off on his latest, was Snooky happily mentioning her recent posts on Pro-Israel Bay Bloggers (PIBB) in this post:

Gaily waving my panties!
http://deathbynoodles.blogspot.com/2009/09/gaily-waving-my-panties.html

Quote:
"... please imagine that tight little bikini briefs with a print pattern of red red strawberries are being waved in your direction. Hey guys, over here! "

No, she's not being lascivious, no matter what impression that quote may give, nor whatever Grant Patel might wish. It all fits very nicely, the strawberry panties have a place - they belong where they are.



STEPH INFECTION

After reading Grant and Snooky, I segued into another local blog. And discovered to my delighted surprise that Steffy also seems in the ballpark of naughty naughty naughty!

THREE BLOGPOSTS ABOUT LOLITA!

http://infectiousasian.blogspot.com/

[Watching the movie: http://infectiousasian.blogspot.com/2009/09/lolita.html Following which she starts reading the book: http://infectiousasian.blogspot.com/2009/09/nabokov-and-lolita-nymphets-in-bellfry.html About half way through Lolita: http://infectiousasian.blogspot.com/2009/09/charlotte-haze-and-her-dishy-daughter.html
I suspect that there may be another post about the book sometime soon. ]

I am thrilled to bits that a thirteen-year old is reading Nabokov. Perhaps it isn't healthy, but I shan't say anything. I started reading Nabokov when I was thirteen, and knew all about the nictitating grasses by the time I was fifteen.
Vladimir Nabokov is food for developing minds, nourishment for the soul.
Just avoid the depressing second half of Ada - it isn't nearly so sprightly and joyous as the first half, in which Van and Ada first mutually frustrate, then obsessively conjugate.

FROM MOONCAKES TO A HIGHER DEGREE OF SNARKINESS

The Bay Area Zionist Conspiracy held a meeting last month, in the Illuminati Building at the intersection of Mason and Bilderberg Streets.
Several items were discussed in detail.


AGENDA:
Ruling the world by proxy.
Subverting film festivals.
Exposing Ann Coulter as a crypto-Jew.
Stealing organs.
Perfecting our Jedi-like powers of mind control.

It was, of course, a grand success. Especially that last item. Which is why you are now reading this blog. Keep watching the pendulum as it swings back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. You will send me all your money.

I shall not be surprised if some idiot cites this post as proof that Jews control the universe.


A HIGHER DEGREE OF SNARKINESS

Now, gratuitously, I must mention that some of the Jews, crypto-Jews, semi-Jews, and Anarcho-Masons in the Bay Area have started another blog. More Jedi mind control, rest assured.
Keep watching the pendulum as it swings back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. You will send me all your money.

PRO-ISRAEL BAY BLOGGERS
http://proisraelbaybloggers.blogspot.com/
So far, there are thirteen contributors:
Anarcho~Zionist
BBJ
Chaim ben David
DEATH BY NOODLES
Dusty
Friar Yid (not Shlita)
Fuzpin
Gland 'X'
GRANT!PATEL!
MacTav
News Service
Steffy
The back of the hill
ViciousKitty


GLINTING EYES

Which leads me to mooncakes. As Steffy, one of the contributors of Pro-Israel Bay Bloggers, writes on her own blog, this is the time of year when mooncakes become available in Chinatown.
[This blog: http://infectiousasian.blogspot.com/
This post: http://infectiousasian.blogspot.com/2009/08/mooncakes-yay.html ]

Mooncakes are round pastries of the approximate size and shape of a tuna tin, composed of a thin dough crust surrounding a sweet filling which is usually augmented with a preserved egg yolk - when you cut the mooncake, the egg-yolk will by its appearance in the centre recall the full moon. The lunar image is not the only reason for the inclusion of the egg-yolk, however. It is an expensive and luxurious ingredient which adds a richness to the taste, and by its slight saltiness accentuates sweetness of the main filling ingredient.

Many people slice the cake into thin wedges to eat with hot tea. Others, like myself, simply cut it in half, so that we may pretend that we're going to save part of it for later, but then we decide to have another cup of coffee, and we guiltily scarf down the rest of it. So good!

I particularly like lotus-seed paste mooncakes and redbean mooncakes, both the one yolk kind and the two yolk kind. Back in the eighties I would always buy them from the Eastern Bakery (on Grant at Commercial), but for the past decade or so I have usually bought the brands that come four to a sealed tin. They aren't necessarily any better, but I have a thing for decorative tins.
Eggroll cookie tins, mooncake tins - so useful, so nice, don't you agree?

Savage Kitten, of course, thinks that I'm nuts. I have far more empty tins than I need.

I've tried pointing out to her that if there ever is a flood, they will make handy flotation devices, but she just looks at me funny. She is NOT convinced.
So much cynicism and disbelief, alas, what is this world coming to?

Keep watching the pendulum as it swings back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. You will send me all your money.

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NOTE: Mooncakes are usually not kosher by a very wide margin. Not only is lard often one of the components of the dough, but frequently it is also present in the filling. But there are brands from Hong Kong and Taiwan which use peanut-oil instead. The list of ingredients will clarify the issue, but to the best of my knowledge none of the many brands available has a hechsher.

You could also make your own.

Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mooncake

I've often thought of creating a filling based on sugar and crushed almonds. But given that I live so near C'Town, I have never gotten around to it.

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