Treppenwitz writes lovingly of steak in his most recent post, and illustrates it with a beautiful photograph of meat on the grill.
[Here: http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2008/06/the-israeli-lov.html ]
I like a nice piece of animal flesh. But since the American beef industry got caught lying repeatedly about spongiform bovine encephalitis ('Texan Brain', for short), I have generally avoided beef. Ate some nice grilled moo over at Spiros' parents house last month, and a lovely little cut of Niman ranch at a new restaurant in my neighborhood this past weekend. That's the only beef in about four years.
While I like beef, I love lamb.
I really really really love lamb.
So, because of that deep-seated lust for luscious little lambkins, their fatty cutlets glistening and steaming on a platter, sensuously reclining in juicy baby-baa 'come-hither you big carnivore' sexiness, invitingly smoking, tempting me by looking adorable and sending forth rich meaty aromas, AND to snark the self-righteous veggie chowderhead who invaded Treppenwitz's blog with blinkered missionary waffling about avocados, here's a recipe.
PEPPER-CRUSTED LAMB CHOPS
Ingredients:
1 Tablespoon coarsely cracked black pepper.
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander.
1/2 teaspoon salt.
Generous pinch of cayenne, medium pinch of ground cumin, smaller pinch of cinnamon powder.
4 small lamb chops, about a pound of meat in total.
Olive oil.
Rub the chops with the spices and a little oil, making sure that they are well coated.
Add a splash of oil to the cast-iron fry-pan, and heat till smoking. Put the chops in the pan and cook on high heat until the outside is nicely browned - the inside should be at the stage of reddish rosiness at this point - use a knife to find out.
Remove to a plate.
Deglaze the smoking pan with a generous splash (half cup, more or less) of red wine (see below). Add a small jigger soy-sauce, and simmer till syrupy. Pour through a tea-strainer to filter out the pepper-bits that stayed behind. Drizzle and nap the chops, and strew some finely chopped scallion and cilantro over.
Serve with warm crusty bread, and a little bit of apricot preserve jazzed up with cayenne on the side. Or serve over rice, with sliced tomato, and some chard.
Drink the rest of the bottle of red wine (see above) while preparing and eating the chops. One's cooking skills are more fluid and inspired when tiddly.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Monday, June 09, 2008
ORANJE VERNEDERT WERELD KAMPIOEN
Sorry, Spiros, couldn't resist. The title of this post is the headline that appeared on the Algemeen Dagblad site after the match against Italy.
Translation: "Orange HUMILIATES world-champion".
I guess you've probably figured out that the Dutch won.
Of course, the AD is a crappy source for news. So lets go to another source, marginally less crappy - the BBC:
Netherlands took a firm grip on Euro 2008's so-called "Group of Death" by winning a classic encounter with Italy.
Ruud van Nistelrooy put the Dutch ahead in controversial circumstances after 26 minutes when he scored from close range - but also from an offside position.
Wesley Sneijder swept in a second from Dirk Kuyt's header five minutes later.
Edwin van der Sar then denied Italy with stunning saves from Fabio Grosso and Andrea Pirlo before Giovanni van Bronckhorst headed in after 78 minutes.
[Source: http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/euro_2008/7363339.stm ]
The score was 3 - 0.
[Oooooh, was it sad at the Steps of Rome? Were all the folks jammed into the place watching the match ...... disappointed? So sorry. My piles bleed for them. Alas, poor Italy. Weep weep, wail wail, gnash gnash. Ooooooh.!!!! Oh well. Pie.]
There were no little Catholic schoolgirls involved, nor any Japanese schoolgirls. So from my point of view it actually means very little. No pantsu. No yuri. No sideboob. No shojo ai. No accidental grope or face-pie. No mahou maid or nekomimi. No megane, strap-on fox tails, or short short skirts. Why do people watch this game anyhow?
It is also unlikely that this will have any bearing on my three known obsessions.
Additionally, it will not be a reason for me to discover a new and sickening cocktail. I will not be waving any flags, or painting my face orange. I will not go on an all-night drinking binge in Berne, finishing with a refreshing oral expulsion of stomach-contents off a bridge as the sun comes up.
No repetitive songs and chants of ole ole ole with ten thousand other cheese.
Instead, immediately after posting this, I will continue reading Yuri to Boushi to Hon no Tabibito.
In other news, the J-blogs are remarkably quiescent today. Betcha a number of them will be lamenting lactose intolerance tomorrow. Happy chag ha blintzim, y'all.
--------------------------------------------
UPDATE: Gratuitous insult: "Italiani languide checche!"
This in cheerful response to the gentleman who opined 'Olandesi tutti froci!'
And neener neener neener to you. Have you seen the videos of the Olandesi in the Bundesplatz? This was indeed la notte piu nera for the squadra azzura.
Pa-a-a-artaaayy!!!!!!!
--------------------------------------------
Translation: "Orange HUMILIATES world-champion".
I guess you've probably figured out that the Dutch won.
Of course, the AD is a crappy source for news. So lets go to another source, marginally less crappy - the BBC:
Netherlands took a firm grip on Euro 2008's so-called "Group of Death" by winning a classic encounter with Italy.
Ruud van Nistelrooy put the Dutch ahead in controversial circumstances after 26 minutes when he scored from close range - but also from an offside position.
Wesley Sneijder swept in a second from Dirk Kuyt's header five minutes later.
Edwin van der Sar then denied Italy with stunning saves from Fabio Grosso and Andrea Pirlo before Giovanni van Bronckhorst headed in after 78 minutes.
[Source: http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/euro_2008/7363339.stm ]
The score was 3 - 0.
[Oooooh, was it sad at the Steps of Rome? Were all the folks jammed into the place watching the match ...... disappointed? So sorry. My piles bleed for them. Alas, poor Italy. Weep weep, wail wail, gnash gnash. Ooooooh.!!!! Oh well. Pie.]
There were no little Catholic schoolgirls involved, nor any Japanese schoolgirls. So from my point of view it actually means very little. No pantsu. No yuri. No sideboob. No shojo ai. No accidental grope or face-pie. No mahou maid or nekomimi. No megane, strap-on fox tails, or short short skirts. Why do people watch this game anyhow?
It is also unlikely that this will have any bearing on my three known obsessions.
Additionally, it will not be a reason for me to discover a new and sickening cocktail. I will not be waving any flags, or painting my face orange. I will not go on an all-night drinking binge in Berne, finishing with a refreshing oral expulsion of stomach-contents off a bridge as the sun comes up.
No repetitive songs and chants of ole ole ole with ten thousand other cheese.
Instead, immediately after posting this, I will continue reading Yuri to Boushi to Hon no Tabibito.
In other news, the J-blogs are remarkably quiescent today. Betcha a number of them will be lamenting lactose intolerance tomorrow. Happy chag ha blintzim, y'all.
--------------------------------------------
UPDATE: Gratuitous insult: "Italiani languide checche!"
This in cheerful response to the gentleman who opined 'Olandesi tutti froci!'
And neener neener neener to you. Have you seen the videos of the Olandesi in the Bundesplatz? This was indeed la notte piu nera for the squadra azzura.
Pa-a-a-artaaayy!!!!!!!
--------------------------------------------
Sunday, June 08, 2008
HENRY DARGER I AM NOT: NEW TAG, PLEATED SKIRTS, AND A COCKTAIL RECIPE
My readers often point things out to me, about myself, that I did not know before. Or did not fully realize. This is always better than having a complete stranger ask "are you nuts?"
And way better than having a bartender say "are you SURE you want another one - that's the fifteenth Grasshopper you've ordered".
[Grasshopper Cocktail: One shot Crème de Menthe, one shot clear Crème de Cacao, one shot half&half. Shake well over ice and pour into a large cocktail glass. If you're really perverse, add a cherry.]
So I appreciate it. Part of having a blog is self-discovery.
[Kinda like discovering a secret perverse fascination with unspeakable drinks. See grasshoppers mentioned above.]
Part of blogging is similar to hearing the next day that one puked all over the bar.
[See grasshoppers mentioned above.]
Fortunately the puking bit, like being caught in a compromising situation with several schoolgirls, has not happened yet. This is largely due to avoiding drinks like grasshoppers.
[I fondly imagine that schoolgirls just LOOOOOOVE froofy drinks with crème de menthe or crème de Cacao. Anything sweet. A watering hole that wanted to attract schoolgirls would serve grasshoppers, with Hello Kitty swizzle sticks. If I ever open a bar near Lowell Highschool, that is exactly what I'll do. ]
"YOU ARE BECOMING THE NEXT HENRY DARGER"
All of this is prolegomatic to a quote.
E-kvetcher wrote: "Dude, you are well on your way to becoming the next Henry Darger."
This was after I had cited a letter from Treppenwitz to one of his obsessed readers, forewording and afterwording it with stuff about dildoes, schoolgirls, teenage lesbians, schoolgirls, Japanese phallus festivals, schoolgirls, Thai penis-shaped luck totems, schoolgirls, and similar decorative elements. Sort of a festive and appealing dimsum banquet approach to using someone else's brilliance, in other words. Treppenwitz's superior cooking, with my parsley on the side of the platter.
[E-kvetcher's blog: http://search-for-emes.blogspot.com/ Treppenwitz's blog: http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/ The questionable post itself: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/05/all-about-fellow-blogger-and-cute.html .
Bear in mind that there is nothing on either e-kvetcher or Treppenwitz's blogs about teenage lesbians - they probably do not think about such things. Deliberately. I can understand that - teenage lesbians can be very distracting.]
Henry Darger was the genius who wrote "The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion". A magnum opus of over fifteen thousand pages, with hundreds of illustrations, about pubescent heroines making daring escapes, fighting fiercely, being tortured, along with supernatural elements, general cruelty, and decadent spookiness.
Fifteen thousand pages, plus. About pubescent girls.
He may have been obsessed.
So I'm not entirely sure what e-kvetcher meant - teenage schoolgirls only occur occasionally in my writings. I am by no means obsessed. Not by a long shot. I am fourteen thousand pages short of an obsession.
[I should mention that we can divide the category 'teenage schoolgirls' into TWO main categories of interest: 'Little Catholic Schoolgirls', and 'Japanese Schoolgirls'. The division is according to garment - little Catholic schoolgirls wear white shirts, cardigans, and plaid skirts, whereas Japanese schoolgirls wear a sailor suit top and plain blue skirts. The skirts, in both cases, are pleated (this is very important). Socks are white. Thighs are pleasingly peachy.]
It's not an obsession. Food and pipe-tobacco are obsessions, medicated foot-powder perhaps also.
Uniformed schoolgirls and their healthy habits, and delightful lack of sartorial choices, aren't.
But e-kvetcher noticed a theme. So for his and your benefit, I have created a new tag: SCHOOLGIRLS. It occurs beneath this post, and has been appended to all posts in which schoolgirls (of either type) appear. Click on it, and read the posts. Especially the very first one ('Enough Char-siu noodle soup for two people' - posted October 26, 2007). You will kindly note that the hero of that post is actually a fresh-faced and weak-kneed bochur. Not a schoolgirl.
And way better than having a bartender say "are you SURE you want another one - that's the fifteenth Grasshopper you've ordered".
[Grasshopper Cocktail: One shot Crème de Menthe, one shot clear Crème de Cacao, one shot half&half. Shake well over ice and pour into a large cocktail glass. If you're really perverse, add a cherry.]
So I appreciate it. Part of having a blog is self-discovery.
[Kinda like discovering a secret perverse fascination with unspeakable drinks. See grasshoppers mentioned above.]
Part of blogging is similar to hearing the next day that one puked all over the bar.
[See grasshoppers mentioned above.]
Fortunately the puking bit, like being caught in a compromising situation with several schoolgirls, has not happened yet. This is largely due to avoiding drinks like grasshoppers.
[I fondly imagine that schoolgirls just LOOOOOOVE froofy drinks with crème de menthe or crème de Cacao. Anything sweet. A watering hole that wanted to attract schoolgirls would serve grasshoppers, with Hello Kitty swizzle sticks. If I ever open a bar near Lowell Highschool, that is exactly what I'll do. ]
"YOU ARE BECOMING THE NEXT HENRY DARGER"
All of this is prolegomatic to a quote.
E-kvetcher wrote: "Dude, you are well on your way to becoming the next Henry Darger."
This was after I had cited a letter from Treppenwitz to one of his obsessed readers, forewording and afterwording it with stuff about dildoes, schoolgirls, teenage lesbians, schoolgirls, Japanese phallus festivals, schoolgirls, Thai penis-shaped luck totems, schoolgirls, and similar decorative elements. Sort of a festive and appealing dimsum banquet approach to using someone else's brilliance, in other words. Treppenwitz's superior cooking, with my parsley on the side of the platter.
[E-kvetcher's blog: http://search-for-emes.blogspot.com/ Treppenwitz's blog: http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/ The questionable post itself: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/05/all-about-fellow-blogger-and-cute.html .
Bear in mind that there is nothing on either e-kvetcher or Treppenwitz's blogs about teenage lesbians - they probably do not think about such things. Deliberately. I can understand that - teenage lesbians can be very distracting.]
Henry Darger was the genius who wrote "The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion". A magnum opus of over fifteen thousand pages, with hundreds of illustrations, about pubescent heroines making daring escapes, fighting fiercely, being tortured, along with supernatural elements, general cruelty, and decadent spookiness.
Fifteen thousand pages, plus. About pubescent girls.
He may have been obsessed.
So I'm not entirely sure what e-kvetcher meant - teenage schoolgirls only occur occasionally in my writings. I am by no means obsessed. Not by a long shot. I am fourteen thousand pages short of an obsession.
[I should mention that we can divide the category 'teenage schoolgirls' into TWO main categories of interest: 'Little Catholic Schoolgirls', and 'Japanese Schoolgirls'. The division is according to garment - little Catholic schoolgirls wear white shirts, cardigans, and plaid skirts, whereas Japanese schoolgirls wear a sailor suit top and plain blue skirts. The skirts, in both cases, are pleated (this is very important). Socks are white. Thighs are pleasingly peachy.]
It's not an obsession. Food and pipe-tobacco are obsessions, medicated foot-powder perhaps also.
Uniformed schoolgirls and their healthy habits, and delightful lack of sartorial choices, aren't.
But e-kvetcher noticed a theme. So for his and your benefit, I have created a new tag: SCHOOLGIRLS. It occurs beneath this post, and has been appended to all posts in which schoolgirls (of either type) appear. Click on it, and read the posts. Especially the very first one ('Enough Char-siu noodle soup for two people' - posted October 26, 2007). You will kindly note that the hero of that post is actually a fresh-faced and weak-kneed bochur. Not a schoolgirl.
Friday, June 06, 2008
ANGRY MOBS, RAMPANT THUGGISM, OR JUST THOSE SMOKERS?
We smokers, when we're not trying to kill your children with our cancer-causing fumes and effluvia, or nauseate your delicate stomachs, or blacken the innocent lungs of people five counties over, are a potentially violent bunch of over-indulgers, profligates, and orgiasts. Nay, veritable brigands, rapists, and incendiarists. We're so evil. Gevalt.
Quote from a newsletter:
SMOKING BAN A THREAT TO PUBLIC ORDER
The ban on smoking in cafés and clubs which comes into effect on July 1 may lead to extra tension and security problems around busy night spots such as the Rembrandtplein and Leidseplein in Amsterdam, says the safety and crisis management institute COT in Friday’s Parool.[Source: http://www.dutchnews.nl/news/archives/2008/06/]
The original article in Het Parool can be found here:
http://www.parool.nl/parool/nl/4/AMSTERDAM/article/detail/16649/2008/06/06/Lallende-cafeganger-buiten-kan-probleem-zijn.dhtml
It's entirely in Dutch, so you'll just have to accept my assurance that the headline "Lallende caféganger buiten kan probleem zijn" is actually rather pithy. The verb 'lallen' implies joyous over-the-top misbehaviour. Celebratory perversity, in fact. Such as a drunkard would commit.
[Het Parool ( http://www.parool.nl/ ) was founded during WWII as a resistance newspaper (for background, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Het_Parool). It is a far better newspaper than the Algemeen Dagblad or the Telegraaf. The Netherlands no longer has the over-all excellent journalism of the fifties and sixties, but Het Parool still has integrity and still maintains high standards.]
A SINCERE (& HEARTFELT) PLEA FOR ACTION
It is essential to insulate the pure and innocent public from deviants such as us. The reason being that when we're not 'snoozing in the gutter (as the rioting begins)' after a night of cheap cigars, black shag, navy flake, or coarse Turkish, we are 'too drunk to give a hoot ' about your wellbeing. We will threaten and leer. We will endanger you - unless we are stopped. You need to be protected.
Yes you do.
Trust me.
Give us our own places, and we won't bother you. And it seems logical that you would want to keep us INDOORS. Away from traffic. Away from the horses. Away from the sensitive eyseses and noseses of the gentler sex. Away from sweet little Catholic schoolgirls with their little plaid skirts, plump girlish thighs, and white white socks.
I suggest stocking the 'smokers-reserves' with lots of good reading material in several languages, plus a broad selection of single malts, fine Irish distillates, cognac, and Armagnac. This (plus a choice of teas and coffee) will keep us inside. Guaranteed.
You lot can have the gin and vodka. And we sincerely hope you enjoy drinking it. Outside.
------------------------------------
NOTE: The statements "snoozing in the gutter as the rioting begins" and "too drunk to give a hoot" are praedictions by concerned non-smokers Eric S. and Maya C. .
They further opine that the ban cited above means the end of civilization.
I concur.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Quote from a newsletter:
SMOKING BAN A THREAT TO PUBLIC ORDER
The ban on smoking in cafés and clubs which comes into effect on July 1 may lead to extra tension and security problems around busy night spots such as the Rembrandtplein and Leidseplein in Amsterdam, says the safety and crisis management institute COT in Friday’s Parool.[Source: http://www.dutchnews.nl/news/archives/2008/06/]
The original article in Het Parool can be found here:
http://www.parool.nl/parool/nl/4/AMSTERDAM/article/detail/16649/2008/06/06/Lallende-cafeganger-buiten-kan-probleem-zijn.dhtml
It's entirely in Dutch, so you'll just have to accept my assurance that the headline "Lallende caféganger buiten kan probleem zijn" is actually rather pithy. The verb 'lallen' implies joyous over-the-top misbehaviour. Celebratory perversity, in fact. Such as a drunkard would commit.
[Het Parool ( http://www.parool.nl/ ) was founded during WWII as a resistance newspaper (for background, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Het_Parool). It is a far better newspaper than the Algemeen Dagblad or the Telegraaf. The Netherlands no longer has the over-all excellent journalism of the fifties and sixties, but Het Parool still has integrity and still maintains high standards.]
A SINCERE (& HEARTFELT) PLEA FOR ACTION
It is essential to insulate the pure and innocent public from deviants such as us. The reason being that when we're not 'snoozing in the gutter (as the rioting begins)' after a night of cheap cigars, black shag, navy flake, or coarse Turkish, we are 'too drunk to give a hoot ' about your wellbeing. We will threaten and leer. We will endanger you - unless we are stopped. You need to be protected.
Yes you do.
Trust me.
Give us our own places, and we won't bother you. And it seems logical that you would want to keep us INDOORS. Away from traffic. Away from the horses. Away from the sensitive eyseses and noseses of the gentler sex. Away from sweet little Catholic schoolgirls with their little plaid skirts, plump girlish thighs, and white white socks.
I suggest stocking the 'smokers-reserves' with lots of good reading material in several languages, plus a broad selection of single malts, fine Irish distillates, cognac, and Armagnac. This (plus a choice of teas and coffee) will keep us inside. Guaranteed.
You lot can have the gin and vodka. And we sincerely hope you enjoy drinking it. Outside.
------------------------------------
NOTE: The statements "snoozing in the gutter as the rioting begins" and "too drunk to give a hoot" are praedictions by concerned non-smokers Eric S. and Maya C. .
They further opine that the ban cited above means the end of civilization.
I concur.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, June 05, 2008
THREE TOBACCOS AND SOMETHING ABOUT BEING CHEAP
As several of my readers know, I used to sell pipes, cigars, and tobacco.
I smoke a pipe, and have a fair hand at blending. In all modesty, I believe I am one of a handful of tabak-mayvens in Northern California (primarily because the anti-smokers have driven all the others to drink, suicide, South Carolina, or the brink of extinction).
As such, occasionally there are times when I must waffle on my blog about the noble weed. Such as now.
Joseph Izrael writes:
"I have an assignment for you. If you do it, you get a beer. Or a commission, whatever you want.
I'm still looking for that incredible blend that you smell in the traffic jam and you go "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" what wouldn't I give for that stuff! And sure enough, after a few minutes you catch up with the old geezer with a big white mustache in a 1923 Buick Touring. You probably had a teacher smoking it too.
Oh the catch? Well, I guess you've heard of the proverbial "cheap Jew". That's me. I don't spend more than $10 for a tin. But if it's really pikuach nefesh, it can go up to $15. "
Cheap Jew? What a strange concept. To a Dutchman. We Dutch have a hard-won reputation for being the cheapest penny pinchers in the ten worlds. Stingy is first-nature to us. How is copper wire made? Two Dutchmen fight over a penny. How was the rubble cleared after the last big earthquake? Some Dutchman heard there was a penny buried underneath.
I would tell more cheap Dutchman jokes, but two freebees is all you get; those things cost money.
Anyhow, pipe tobacco.
I'll need more information from you - what does it smell like? What type of blend or mixture do you think it is? Can you describe it in more detail?
Need more data than geezer's age and car...... what other tobaccos does it remind you of?
We can probably find it, or a close replica - but it will require some effort. The trade has changed since the days when that old geezer was still the typical pipe smoker.
-----------------------------------------------------
In the meantime, here are the three tobaccos that I have been smoking recently.
PETERSON'S SHERLOCK HOLMES MIXTURE
This is composed of thin-ribbon cut pale Virginias and air-cureds (the tin says Burley, but it is more like Maryland), top-dressed with a plum-apricot flavouring. I should mention that an aroma of prunus spp is not unusual for matured Virginias - the Japanese and some American brands still fake the smell of well-aged tobacco for their cigarettes with a heavy plum reek.
The top-dressing fades if the tobacco is dried out a bit before smoking, and in any case does not carry over into the smoke. Nor does it leave a perceptible after-presence in the bowl.
It smokes fairly mild, with sweetness on the center of the tongue. Enjoyable, though medium high in nicotine. A short bowl is best, too deep a bowl will likely exhaust your patience. A fine product with a remarkably stupid name. The amateur detective never smoked anything like this. This is not likely to offpiss anyone other than diehard tobacco-haters, and could be smoked with pleasure several times a day.
Lipman's mention of this tobacco made me try it. I very am glad I did.
ROANOKE
[A house blend - Grant's Tobacconists ]
This is something that Thomas at the local pipe-shop threw together after grilling me intensely about blending one evening while I was getting smashed on single malt. He must have been drinking considerably less than me, because his first batch was quite good, quite balanced. Two other experimental batches later he had the final product - the only difference being the proportions of two of the five tobaccos in relation to each other. And while he may have gotten some ideas and feedback from me, the inspiration and judgment that went into this blend are his alone. Kudos.
It is a Virginia blend with a touch of Perique. The base consists of two similar matured Virginias and an unflavoured Cavendish. There is a proportion of ribbon.
It grows on you. The taste is medium strength, leafy, and tangy because of the Perique, with a creamy sweet touch from the matured Virginias. It can be set aside and relit without concern. I've actually smoked a lot of it, all three versions while it was in development. Since then I've become the first person to actually purchase it. I find it quite enjoyable.
This is the fourteenth tobacco in Grant's current line-up of house blends, and the only one that I will smoke. If you want it, you will have to order it from them.
Internet: http://www.grantspipeshop.com/
Brick and mortar location: 562 Market Street, San Francisco, CA 94104.
E-mail: grantspipeshop@gmail.com
PH: 415-981-1000. FX: 415-981-1310.
BALKAN SASIENI SMOKING MIXTURE - ORIGINAL FORMULA
Made in Denmark for Peter Stokkebye Tobaksfabrik A/S
Yes, this is the so-manieth iteration of the Balkan Sobranie replacement. It is actually better than the Balkan Sasieni mixture from several years ago, which was too toasted and steamed to replicate anything other than a certain fine tobacco ponginess. I also think that the recipe has been changed - there seems to be more Turkish in the mix, less Latakia. The texture is finecut ribbon, irregular and short.
It's an excellent tobacco, profoundly old-fashioned, with a nice interplay between stinky Turk, nicotine-laden colonial, and just enough smelly Cypriote to accentuate their love-making and chase away your friends. It is of course not the Balkan Sobranie - nothing in this world will ever be like that again. But it is an excellent tobacco that not only echoes the old Balkan Sobranie, but has distinct charms of it's own. The first bowl will probably disappoint you, but halfway through the tin you may decide to go out and purchase California Tobacco Center's entire supply.
Still waiting to try Germain's King Charles Mixture, and some of the Burley mixtures from various sources. Will discuss the Samuel Gawith line-up at some point in the future.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I smoke a pipe, and have a fair hand at blending. In all modesty, I believe I am one of a handful of tabak-mayvens in Northern California (primarily because the anti-smokers have driven all the others to drink, suicide, South Carolina, or the brink of extinction).
As such, occasionally there are times when I must waffle on my blog about the noble weed. Such as now.
Joseph Izrael writes:
"I have an assignment for you. If you do it, you get a beer. Or a commission, whatever you want.
I'm still looking for that incredible blend that you smell in the traffic jam and you go "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" what wouldn't I give for that stuff! And sure enough, after a few minutes you catch up with the old geezer with a big white mustache in a 1923 Buick Touring. You probably had a teacher smoking it too.
Oh the catch? Well, I guess you've heard of the proverbial "cheap Jew". That's me. I don't spend more than $10 for a tin. But if it's really pikuach nefesh, it can go up to $15. "
Cheap Jew? What a strange concept. To a Dutchman. We Dutch have a hard-won reputation for being the cheapest penny pinchers in the ten worlds. Stingy is first-nature to us. How is copper wire made? Two Dutchmen fight over a penny. How was the rubble cleared after the last big earthquake? Some Dutchman heard there was a penny buried underneath.
I would tell more cheap Dutchman jokes, but two freebees is all you get; those things cost money.
Anyhow, pipe tobacco.
I'll need more information from you - what does it smell like? What type of blend or mixture do you think it is? Can you describe it in more detail?
Need more data than geezer's age and car...... what other tobaccos does it remind you of?
We can probably find it, or a close replica - but it will require some effort. The trade has changed since the days when that old geezer was still the typical pipe smoker.
-----------------------------------------------------
In the meantime, here are the three tobaccos that I have been smoking recently.
PETERSON'S SHERLOCK HOLMES MIXTURE
This is composed of thin-ribbon cut pale Virginias and air-cureds (the tin says Burley, but it is more like Maryland), top-dressed with a plum-apricot flavouring. I should mention that an aroma of prunus spp is not unusual for matured Virginias - the Japanese and some American brands still fake the smell of well-aged tobacco for their cigarettes with a heavy plum reek.
The top-dressing fades if the tobacco is dried out a bit before smoking, and in any case does not carry over into the smoke. Nor does it leave a perceptible after-presence in the bowl.
It smokes fairly mild, with sweetness on the center of the tongue. Enjoyable, though medium high in nicotine. A short bowl is best, too deep a bowl will likely exhaust your patience. A fine product with a remarkably stupid name. The amateur detective never smoked anything like this. This is not likely to offpiss anyone other than diehard tobacco-haters, and could be smoked with pleasure several times a day.
Lipman's mention of this tobacco made me try it. I very am glad I did.
ROANOKE
[A house blend - Grant's Tobacconists ]
This is something that Thomas at the local pipe-shop threw together after grilling me intensely about blending one evening while I was getting smashed on single malt. He must have been drinking considerably less than me, because his first batch was quite good, quite balanced. Two other experimental batches later he had the final product - the only difference being the proportions of two of the five tobaccos in relation to each other. And while he may have gotten some ideas and feedback from me, the inspiration and judgment that went into this blend are his alone. Kudos.
It is a Virginia blend with a touch of Perique. The base consists of two similar matured Virginias and an unflavoured Cavendish. There is a proportion of ribbon.
It grows on you. The taste is medium strength, leafy, and tangy because of the Perique, with a creamy sweet touch from the matured Virginias. It can be set aside and relit without concern. I've actually smoked a lot of it, all three versions while it was in development. Since then I've become the first person to actually purchase it. I find it quite enjoyable.
This is the fourteenth tobacco in Grant's current line-up of house blends, and the only one that I will smoke. If you want it, you will have to order it from them.
Internet: http://www.grantspipeshop.com/
Brick and mortar location: 562 Market Street, San Francisco, CA 94104.
E-mail: grantspipeshop@gmail.com
PH: 415-981-1000. FX: 415-981-1310.
BALKAN SASIENI SMOKING MIXTURE - ORIGINAL FORMULA
Made in Denmark for Peter Stokkebye Tobaksfabrik A/S
Yes, this is the so-manieth iteration of the Balkan Sobranie replacement. It is actually better than the Balkan Sasieni mixture from several years ago, which was too toasted and steamed to replicate anything other than a certain fine tobacco ponginess. I also think that the recipe has been changed - there seems to be more Turkish in the mix, less Latakia. The texture is finecut ribbon, irregular and short.
It's an excellent tobacco, profoundly old-fashioned, with a nice interplay between stinky Turk, nicotine-laden colonial, and just enough smelly Cypriote to accentuate their love-making and chase away your friends. It is of course not the Balkan Sobranie - nothing in this world will ever be like that again. But it is an excellent tobacco that not only echoes the old Balkan Sobranie, but has distinct charms of it's own. The first bowl will probably disappoint you, but halfway through the tin you may decide to go out and purchase California Tobacco Center's entire supply.
Still waiting to try Germain's King Charles Mixture, and some of the Burley mixtures from various sources. Will discuss the Samuel Gawith line-up at some point in the future.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
PROTESTING AND COUNTER-PROTESTING AT ISRAEL IN THE GARDENS 2008
Israel in the Gardens: A celebration of all things Israeli and Jewish held every year in San Francisco's Yerba Buena Gardens - sounds innocuous, no? Some people think otherwise.
SUNDAY, JUNE 1st
Attempting to pish on everyone else this year were Bay Area Women in Black, JVP, the International Solidarity Movement (ISM), AlAwda, and a multitude of committed supporters of Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and Hezbollah, as well as an entire slew of Stalinists, crypto-Stalinists, neo-Stalinists, meta-Stalinists, anarcho-Stalinists, vegan femmo-Stalinists, wicca-Stalinists........
[Jim Harris was also there. He's too inchoate to qualify as any of the above, he's probably just lonesome. Hi Jim.]
ABOUT BAWIB
Bay Area Women in Black includes all variations of the above. Self-hate does marvelous things to people. BAWIB members always apologetically identify themselves as Jews, although not all of BAWIB are in fact Jewish women - several are Presbyterian or Episcopalian.
[While I can thoroughly understand and sympathize with their Presbyterian and Episcopalian self-hatred, I am confused by them making Jews the target thereof. Jews are what's wrong with Anglo-Protestantism??!?]
PAUL LARUDEE
Larudee (of ISM) was also there - he is not a woman, despite his haberdashery saying that there are unresolved issues.
Paul Larudee, a fervently anti-Israel conspirator, is a sixty-one year old gentleman from Northern California whose sole field of expertise lies in piano tuning, and whose knowledge of middle-eastern matters originates with friends in Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, and Hamas (which he defends as a peaceful, mainstream democratic movement).
[As an example thereof, note this article:
http://www.tikkun.org/rabbi_lerner/news_item.2006-01-16.8453650708 . And please also observe that Tikkun Magazine, from whence it comes, is not precisely a friend.]
Hi Paul, nice to see you again. Why are you wearing that thing on your head?
PHOTOS AND VIDEOS
Given the many unique individuals on the other side, a cultural anthropologist could have had just as much fun as a psychiatric researcher. As Zombietime's photo reportage illustrates:
http://www.zombietime.com/israel_in_the_gardens_2008/
[It also shows the positive side of the day. Entirely unlike the BAWIB report, here:
http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2008/06/01/18503762.php - worth scoping out too, if only to understand what a poisonously self-righteous coven flies under the cloak of Women in Black.]
For video of the protests and counter protests, please visit:
http://www.youtube.com/user/bluetruth36
A WONDERFUL CELEBRATION
On the bright side, the self-important ladies and lady wanna-bees of No Time To Celebrate (usually including Sarah Kershnar, Kinneret Israel, Perry Bellow-Handelman, Libbey Goldberg, Ms. Eric Romann, Mr./Ms./M?. Jaron Browne, et altres) didn't find a single opportunity to disrupt events inside, so instead they peaceably enjoyed some fine falafel and hummus in the food-court.
[No Time to Celebrate, also known as Na-Na-Nakba:
http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/notimetocelebrate/ ]
Over twenty thousand normal attendees enjoyed a sunny day in a beautiful location, great music, the company of friends, plus a multitude of booths with interesting organizations and free literature. No matter the distant tumult of the Keffiyeh-wearing cryptos outside - the day was barely marred by protests.
[Note: The keffiyeh, also known as a shemag or ghutra, is the checkered tea-cloth worn on the head to guard against the sun. Traditionally it is held in place with an 'iqal (heavy braided rope band), but stylish radikaler-jugend prefer to wear it around the neck, a la Rachel Ray. Black checks are associated with Palestinian Terrorism and Al Qaeda, red checks with Jordanian Bedouin and Saudis, though some kopstukken of AlQaeda wear either. Paul Larudee, mentioned above, favours red checks.]
THE SF POLICE
I am still furious that the police broke their stated agreement and allowed women in black and other provocateurs to walk on our side of the street to harass attendees, and did not keep the other side from yanking an Israeli flag out of the hands of one of us (officer Thompson, badge 4223, a particular pissant in that regard), then tried to prevent 'reconquest' of said flag.
The first police on site had been very reasonable.
About an hour into the protests, new police arrivals replaced most of the decent cops, and these officers were far less tolerant - although they seemed to have no animosity whatsoever towards the other side. I got the distinct impression that they felt that confronting da jooz was a jolly good thing.
Captain Balmy, who I believe arrived later, was clearly on the side of the anti-Zionists.
I suspect that there are members of the police who have been told to take sides against us, or that it is okay to do so if they wish. Supervisors Daly and Ammiano are NOT on our side - Ammiano is dangerous in that regard. It may be very good for someone's career in SF to be on unofficial record as "not in the pocket of the Jews".
Unlike last year, there is no strong indication of collusion between the anti-Israel activists and certain police officers this time.
CHILDREN HOLDING FLAGS
Many kids and adolescents were willing to hold an Israeli or American flag, even enthusiastic about doing so, and maintained their vigorous presence on the protest line for several hours, with the support of their parents, most of whom proudly took photos.
At one point a number of teenagers headed across the street en-masse to march flags and signs past sour-looking Jihadophiles - the police had no clue how to handle this incident.
["Do we arrest them? Do we club them fiercely? Tear-gas them? Do we really, really want to piss-off twenty thousand Jews?"]
EN FIN
Our booth inside the garden was busy till the very end, with our volunteers answering questions, handing out literature, signing people on to our mailing-list. We explained our positions, and got lots of good feedback from hundreds of people. So, despite being tense, angry, and having a screaming headache afterwards, I am pleased with how the day went.
SUNDAY, JUNE 1st
Attempting to pish on everyone else this year were Bay Area Women in Black, JVP, the International Solidarity Movement (ISM), AlAwda, and a multitude of committed supporters of Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and Hezbollah, as well as an entire slew of Stalinists, crypto-Stalinists, neo-Stalinists, meta-Stalinists, anarcho-Stalinists, vegan femmo-Stalinists, wicca-Stalinists........
[Jim Harris was also there. He's too inchoate to qualify as any of the above, he's probably just lonesome. Hi Jim.]
ABOUT BAWIB
Bay Area Women in Black includes all variations of the above. Self-hate does marvelous things to people. BAWIB members always apologetically identify themselves as Jews, although not all of BAWIB are in fact Jewish women - several are Presbyterian or Episcopalian.
[While I can thoroughly understand and sympathize with their Presbyterian and Episcopalian self-hatred, I am confused by them making Jews the target thereof. Jews are what's wrong with Anglo-Protestantism??!?]
PAUL LARUDEE
Larudee (of ISM) was also there - he is not a woman, despite his haberdashery saying that there are unresolved issues.
Paul Larudee, a fervently anti-Israel conspirator, is a sixty-one year old gentleman from Northern California whose sole field of expertise lies in piano tuning, and whose knowledge of middle-eastern matters originates with friends in Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, and Hamas (which he defends as a peaceful, mainstream democratic movement).
[As an example thereof, note this article:
http://www.tikkun.org/rabbi_lerner/news_item.2006-01-16.8453650708 . And please also observe that Tikkun Magazine, from whence it comes, is not precisely a friend.]
Hi Paul, nice to see you again. Why are you wearing that thing on your head?
PHOTOS AND VIDEOS
Given the many unique individuals on the other side, a cultural anthropologist could have had just as much fun as a psychiatric researcher. As Zombietime's photo reportage illustrates:
http://www.zombietime.com/israel_in_the_gardens_2008/
[It also shows the positive side of the day. Entirely unlike the BAWIB report, here:
http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2008/06/01/18503762.php - worth scoping out too, if only to understand what a poisonously self-righteous coven flies under the cloak of Women in Black.]
For video of the protests and counter protests, please visit:
http://www.youtube.com/user/bluetruth36
A WONDERFUL CELEBRATION
On the bright side, the self-important ladies and lady wanna-bees of No Time To Celebrate (usually including Sarah Kershnar, Kinneret Israel, Perry Bellow-Handelman, Libbey Goldberg, Ms. Eric Romann, Mr./Ms./M?. Jaron Browne, et altres) didn't find a single opportunity to disrupt events inside, so instead they peaceably enjoyed some fine falafel and hummus in the food-court.
[No Time to Celebrate, also known as Na-Na-Nakba:
http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/notimetocelebrate/ ]
Over twenty thousand normal attendees enjoyed a sunny day in a beautiful location, great music, the company of friends, plus a multitude of booths with interesting organizations and free literature. No matter the distant tumult of the Keffiyeh-wearing cryptos outside - the day was barely marred by protests.
[Note: The keffiyeh, also known as a shemag or ghutra, is the checkered tea-cloth worn on the head to guard against the sun. Traditionally it is held in place with an 'iqal (heavy braided rope band), but stylish radikaler-jugend prefer to wear it around the neck, a la Rachel Ray. Black checks are associated with Palestinian Terrorism and Al Qaeda, red checks with Jordanian Bedouin and Saudis, though some kopstukken of AlQaeda wear either. Paul Larudee, mentioned above, favours red checks.]
THE SF POLICE
I am still furious that the police broke their stated agreement and allowed women in black and other provocateurs to walk on our side of the street to harass attendees, and did not keep the other side from yanking an Israeli flag out of the hands of one of us (officer Thompson, badge 4223, a particular pissant in that regard), then tried to prevent 'reconquest' of said flag.
The first police on site had been very reasonable.
About an hour into the protests, new police arrivals replaced most of the decent cops, and these officers were far less tolerant - although they seemed to have no animosity whatsoever towards the other side. I got the distinct impression that they felt that confronting da jooz was a jolly good thing.
Captain Balmy, who I believe arrived later, was clearly on the side of the anti-Zionists.
I suspect that there are members of the police who have been told to take sides against us, or that it is okay to do so if they wish. Supervisors Daly and Ammiano are NOT on our side - Ammiano is dangerous in that regard. It may be very good for someone's career in SF to be on unofficial record as "not in the pocket of the Jews".
Unlike last year, there is no strong indication of collusion between the anti-Israel activists and certain police officers this time.
CHILDREN HOLDING FLAGS
Many kids and adolescents were willing to hold an Israeli or American flag, even enthusiastic about doing so, and maintained their vigorous presence on the protest line for several hours, with the support of their parents, most of whom proudly took photos.
At one point a number of teenagers headed across the street en-masse to march flags and signs past sour-looking Jihadophiles - the police had no clue how to handle this incident.
["Do we arrest them? Do we club them fiercely? Tear-gas them? Do we really, really want to piss-off twenty thousand Jews?"]
EN FIN
Our booth inside the garden was busy till the very end, with our volunteers answering questions, handing out literature, signing people on to our mailing-list. We explained our positions, and got lots of good feedback from hundreds of people. So, despite being tense, angry, and having a screaming headache afterwards, I am pleased with how the day went.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
DILDO BOB
No, this is not another episode of "this writer's strange obsession with unprintable subject matter". It is not about dildoes. If you came here for that, I am sorry to disappoint you.
This is about bars in San Francisco.
The year after the prohibition against smoking in bars went into effect, the three elderly owners of my favourite watering hole sold the place to a couple whose vitriolic domestic disputes in the bar nearly qualified the place as a cabaret - live shows, quotable lines, and over-the-top stream of consciousness poetry. I held out longer than many patrons, but I eventually found somewhere else to have the occasional drink.
I went to the karaoke bar around another corner. The gay couple that ran that place was more likeable than the two people who ran The White Swallow, and their quarrels were far less public. Many of the loyalists of The White Swallow eventually also started roosting there.
Those two gay men no longer own the place (two other gay men own it now), and while it is still a karaoke bar, the clientele has changed somewhat. One of the loyalists who has stayed, and who enjoys the presence of the younger, hipper, more tattooed crowd that drinks there now, is the person named in the title of this post - a gay man in his seventies with a handlebar moustache, a raspy voice, and a farting dog (which is not allowed in the bar anymore).
Dildo Bob drinks Manhattans, sings off key and out of tune, has an overactive imagination, and is conversationally both a disaster and a toxic-waste dump (he's called 'Dildo Bob' because listening to him, speaking or singing, is a pain in the sphincter). But he's an all-right kind of chap, and once you know him you will recognize this.
GET NAKED
Dildo Bob has a number of lines he yells as encouragement to the singers. One of which is "get naked". When he yells it at young men (that is, anyone under seventy years of age), it also expresses his hope, nay, his desperation, that he might see some fine masculine gootch tonight.
But he yells it at women much more often - he's a gentleman, and believes that the fairer sex need all the encouragement they can get.
It's very sweet of him to do so.
Not everybody appreciates the sheer positivity of his approach. A few weeks ago he yelled it at a woman who sang pretty darn bad. She looked pained, then sang even worse, and when she finished the song she came over to inform him that she did not like what he had yelled. It hurt. It objectified her. It was totally inappropriate!
All of us nearby were smiling like maniacs at this point - it's fun seeing Dildo Bob discomfited. And further: Yelling 'get naked' was sexist, typically male, and deliberately insulting, she felt he was undressing her with his eyes, and using "gender-based judgementalism"...... Bob was starting to look very uncomfortable by now (he probably had no clue what "gender-based judgementalism" could possibly be), and she went on to explain that she had had a mastectomy........
The first person among the listeners to recover from a sudden coughing fit (yes, all of us are smokers) put her hand gently on the woman's shoulder, and explained "hon, Bob's an old queen. He wouldn'ta known about the missin' titty even if you had come up and pressed your chest in his face. He simply wants you to be happy."
So that's basically it. Dildo Bob's advice to you is 'get naked, be happy'.
Promise me you'll at least think about it.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
This is about bars in San Francisco.
The year after the prohibition against smoking in bars went into effect, the three elderly owners of my favourite watering hole sold the place to a couple whose vitriolic domestic disputes in the bar nearly qualified the place as a cabaret - live shows, quotable lines, and over-the-top stream of consciousness poetry. I held out longer than many patrons, but I eventually found somewhere else to have the occasional drink.
I went to the karaoke bar around another corner. The gay couple that ran that place was more likeable than the two people who ran The White Swallow, and their quarrels were far less public. Many of the loyalists of The White Swallow eventually also started roosting there.
Those two gay men no longer own the place (two other gay men own it now), and while it is still a karaoke bar, the clientele has changed somewhat. One of the loyalists who has stayed, and who enjoys the presence of the younger, hipper, more tattooed crowd that drinks there now, is the person named in the title of this post - a gay man in his seventies with a handlebar moustache, a raspy voice, and a farting dog (which is not allowed in the bar anymore).
Dildo Bob drinks Manhattans, sings off key and out of tune, has an overactive imagination, and is conversationally both a disaster and a toxic-waste dump (he's called 'Dildo Bob' because listening to him, speaking or singing, is a pain in the sphincter). But he's an all-right kind of chap, and once you know him you will recognize this.
GET NAKED
Dildo Bob has a number of lines he yells as encouragement to the singers. One of which is "get naked". When he yells it at young men (that is, anyone under seventy years of age), it also expresses his hope, nay, his desperation, that he might see some fine masculine gootch tonight.
But he yells it at women much more often - he's a gentleman, and believes that the fairer sex need all the encouragement they can get.
It's very sweet of him to do so.
Not everybody appreciates the sheer positivity of his approach. A few weeks ago he yelled it at a woman who sang pretty darn bad. She looked pained, then sang even worse, and when she finished the song she came over to inform him that she did not like what he had yelled. It hurt. It objectified her. It was totally inappropriate!
All of us nearby were smiling like maniacs at this point - it's fun seeing Dildo Bob discomfited. And further: Yelling 'get naked' was sexist, typically male, and deliberately insulting, she felt he was undressing her with his eyes, and using "gender-based judgementalism"...... Bob was starting to look very uncomfortable by now (he probably had no clue what "gender-based judgementalism" could possibly be), and she went on to explain that she had had a mastectomy........
The first person among the listeners to recover from a sudden coughing fit (yes, all of us are smokers) put her hand gently on the woman's shoulder, and explained "hon, Bob's an old queen. He wouldn'ta known about the missin' titty even if you had come up and pressed your chest in his face. He simply wants you to be happy."
So that's basically it. Dildo Bob's advice to you is 'get naked, be happy'.
Promise me you'll at least think about it.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, June 02, 2008
BOYCOTTS AND OTHER TIRESOME CLICHÉS
In reaction to my posting about the British University and College Union reviving their odious campaign to boycott Israel, regarding which I cheekily complained that there were too few British things to boycott in response, reader and friend of blog Graham suggested that instead I boycott the English language.
He made the suggestion in Dutch.
Touché. 'Cheek-mate', so to speak.
[He is an Englishman. Dutch is my other native tongue. ]
However, boycott the English language? Heaven forefend! If I wrote mostly in Dutch, I would have far too many Netherlanders visiting this blog, and not nearly enough rational readers.
--------------------------
Speaking of a boycott.............
BIGOTED FRENCHMAN BOYCOTTS ISRAEL
Passé cineaste cancels appearance in Tel Aviv.
Director Jean-Luc Godard recently withdrew from an Israeli film festival because of political motivations, succumbing to pressure from pro-Palestinians to boycott Israel.
That decision probably came naturally to him; his oeuvre betrays his biases.
PEEVISH IDEOLOGUE
Jean-Luc Godard is a crypto-Stalinist from an era (1960's) when post-war Europeans were discovering just how delicious it was to daemonize the United States, their own governments, their war heroes, their colonialist involvements, their societies' values, their own spectacular role in the mismanagement of the world, their religions, and their parents.
Such rejectionist "self-liberation" from the burden of the past enabled them to deny all involvement, guilt, and responsibility. It also allowed them to set aside WWII and pretend to be new, different, clean - societies transformed and sanctified.
It still is considered au courant, hip, and educated to subscribe to this crippled and glib world-view. Coupled with a selective superficial appreciation of both "culture" and Marxist ideals, it has been a hallmark of ultra-progressive Europeans ever since.
HACKNEYED HAS-BEEN
Jean-Luc Godard is nothing if not consistent - in the last forty years he's done little more than remain staunchly loyal to a rigid iconoclastic hashkofo.
One would not expect a leading light of New Wave cinema to break his own mold and reject his own clichés.
I wish him much success cooperating with the film boards of the Arab world - I expect that his next film will be a masterpiece along the lines of 'Triumph des Willens'.
Anything else would, of course, be censored, and being ideologically supportive of developing-world despotisms, he would wholeheartedly approve of that - societies struggling upward must not be hampered by free speech.
Even if one would expect such censorship to go against the very fibre of Jean-Luc Godard's being, we should instead assume that the very fibre of his being is sodden with self-loathing and a drang for discipline rather than any real appreciation of liberal values. That is a common response to the extraordinary freedoms of postwar European society, and many ultra-progressive Europeans are thus afflicted (their liberalism hides an insecurity and negativity that goes all the way to the bone).
[It probably also explains 'progressive' support for a boycott of Israel; as such it represents not only denial of that nation's right to exist, but deliberate deafness to its ideals and ideas, and a rejection of everything that is Israeli - people, society, culture, products - as if they were pollution and their very proximity defiling. All done in the approved manner, self-righteously as a social movement or group manifestation rather than by tyrannic fiat.
This is a censorship as fierce but far more degenerate than any other - with the pretense that personal freedoms are not affected, though individual choices are circumscribed and dissent is fiercely censured.]
At the ripe old age of seventy eight it must be too painful for Jean-Luc Godard to admit that he is scarce more than an intellectual manqué, appreciated because of political correctness, by the politically correct.
The lack of imagination on both sides of that equation speaks volumes.
If any of that loathsome Marxist's jejune films get shown in the bay Area, I will be organizing a protest.
He made the suggestion in Dutch.
Touché. 'Cheek-mate', so to speak.
[He is an Englishman. Dutch is my other native tongue. ]
However, boycott the English language? Heaven forefend! If I wrote mostly in Dutch, I would have far too many Netherlanders visiting this blog, and not nearly enough rational readers.
--------------------------
Speaking of a boycott.............
BIGOTED FRENCHMAN BOYCOTTS ISRAEL
Passé cineaste cancels appearance in Tel Aviv.
Director Jean-Luc Godard recently withdrew from an Israeli film festival because of political motivations, succumbing to pressure from pro-Palestinians to boycott Israel.
That decision probably came naturally to him; his oeuvre betrays his biases.
PEEVISH IDEOLOGUE
Jean-Luc Godard is a crypto-Stalinist from an era (1960's) when post-war Europeans were discovering just how delicious it was to daemonize the United States, their own governments, their war heroes, their colonialist involvements, their societies' values, their own spectacular role in the mismanagement of the world, their religions, and their parents.
Such rejectionist "self-liberation" from the burden of the past enabled them to deny all involvement, guilt, and responsibility. It also allowed them to set aside WWII and pretend to be new, different, clean - societies transformed and sanctified.
It still is considered au courant, hip, and educated to subscribe to this crippled and glib world-view. Coupled with a selective superficial appreciation of both "culture" and Marxist ideals, it has been a hallmark of ultra-progressive Europeans ever since.
HACKNEYED HAS-BEEN
Jean-Luc Godard is nothing if not consistent - in the last forty years he's done little more than remain staunchly loyal to a rigid iconoclastic hashkofo.
One would not expect a leading light of New Wave cinema to break his own mold and reject his own clichés.
I wish him much success cooperating with the film boards of the Arab world - I expect that his next film will be a masterpiece along the lines of 'Triumph des Willens'.
Anything else would, of course, be censored, and being ideologically supportive of developing-world despotisms, he would wholeheartedly approve of that - societies struggling upward must not be hampered by free speech.
Even if one would expect such censorship to go against the very fibre of Jean-Luc Godard's being, we should instead assume that the very fibre of his being is sodden with self-loathing and a drang for discipline rather than any real appreciation of liberal values. That is a common response to the extraordinary freedoms of postwar European society, and many ultra-progressive Europeans are thus afflicted (their liberalism hides an insecurity and negativity that goes all the way to the bone).
[It probably also explains 'progressive' support for a boycott of Israel; as such it represents not only denial of that nation's right to exist, but deliberate deafness to its ideals and ideas, and a rejection of everything that is Israeli - people, society, culture, products - as if they were pollution and their very proximity defiling. All done in the approved manner, self-righteously as a social movement or group manifestation rather than by tyrannic fiat.
This is a censorship as fierce but far more degenerate than any other - with the pretense that personal freedoms are not affected, though individual choices are circumscribed and dissent is fiercely censured.]
At the ripe old age of seventy eight it must be too painful for Jean-Luc Godard to admit that he is scarce more than an intellectual manqué, appreciated because of political correctness, by the politically correct.
The lack of imagination on both sides of that equation speaks volumes.
If any of that loathsome Marxist's jejune films get shown in the bay Area, I will be organizing a protest.
Friday, May 30, 2008
BRITISH UNION RENEWS BOYCOTT CALL
Campaign against Israel gathers steam, expresses hot air.
The University and College Union, representing more than one hundred and twenty thousand British academics, voted to "consider the moral and political implications of education links with Israeli institutions" on Wednesday.
The reason being that they have an insect in their colon about Gaza and the settlements.
[They've had that insect there for the past half-decade, and it's looking mighty pathological. An organizational psychosis of sorts.]
I like the British, and I like several British things. Much about the British lifestyle is quite enjoyable. Civilized.
But I too am willing to boycott. The problem is that it will be difficult to do so.
The British pipe-tobacco I smoke is made in Germany, the trademark is owned by a combine headquartered in Switzerland and the US. The Scotch I drink is owned by a Japanese brewery and imported by an enterprise located in the deep South (I mostly drink Irish whiskey anyhow), the beer I drink is made here (at Columbus Avenue and Pacific by the San Francisco Brewing Company).
My condiments and my cheese are either Californian or French.
[Including the cheddar - did you notice that I didn't capitalize cheddar? That's because the British Empire still owns the capital-letter on that word.]
My trench-coat (the infamous flasher mack, now looking like utter perversion and smelling of condiments, cheesy substances, and degeneracy, plus fine tobacco) is originally from Vroom & Dreesman in Mokum. But it was made in China. Much of my wardrobe is of Chinese manufacture.
My fedora is Croatian...... via Amsterdam (from a merchant who relocated during the nineties).
The belt holding my pants up and my gut in comes from India. I think it's holy cow originally.
It's hard finding British goods to boycott. There is so little that is actually British. I am of course open to suggestions......
Perhaps I should stop reading Kipling?
[Knowing that many British people are willing to give up much modern technology in return (including computers, telephone gadgets, high tech doohickeys of many types, and medical equipment) abundantly compensates for the struggle. I wish all British academia hatzlacha in that endeavor. Kol tov, y'all, kol tov.]
In the meantime, I'll start purchasing Wissotzky products for my black-tea requirement; they're a fine company, and they seem to understand precisely what I need.
[Web address: http://www.wtea.com/ Brick-and-mortar address: Wissotzky house,103 Hashmonaim Street, P.O.Box 147, 61001 Tel Aviv, Israel. Tel: 972-3- 5651515. Fax: 972-50-89-67-363. Available to the US market from several Israeli mail-order houses, plus QVC.]
The green tea (綠茶), semi-fermented (Oolong (烏龍), Wu-Yi (武夷), Guan Yin (觀音), Ti Luo Han (鐵羅漢), and Shui Hsien (水仙)), and fragrant black teas (Chi Men (祁門), Yunnan (雲南), Lok On (六安)) are all from China. Without any British intervention. I buy them at Gong Nam (江南公司 or 江南行) on Grant Avenue (formerly named 'Calle De La Fundacion'). They have a marvelous selection of loose teas, and the white people have not discovered them yet.
Gracious, it's hard to boycott the British.
-------------------------------------------
NOTE: I apologize to my three British readers (Rabbi Jeremy Rosen, Graham in Germany, and Daniel Saunders). Sincerely. I do not wish to offend you, and I hope you can appreciate the spirit of the post: cheeky good cheer mixed with venomously raging gout.
Dinner last night was late, and though modest, incredibly rich. I also had some cheese afterwards. And some sherry. Woke up at four this morning with a painfully swollen and twitchy foot. Its companion (feet often come as a matched set) was not feeling happy either.
Gout is so very very British, but it certainly is something I would gladly boycott.
The University and College Union, representing more than one hundred and twenty thousand British academics, voted to "consider the moral and political implications of education links with Israeli institutions" on Wednesday.
The reason being that they have an insect in their colon about Gaza and the settlements.
[They've had that insect there for the past half-decade, and it's looking mighty pathological. An organizational psychosis of sorts.]
I like the British, and I like several British things. Much about the British lifestyle is quite enjoyable. Civilized.
But I too am willing to boycott. The problem is that it will be difficult to do so.
The British pipe-tobacco I smoke is made in Germany, the trademark is owned by a combine headquartered in Switzerland and the US. The Scotch I drink is owned by a Japanese brewery and imported by an enterprise located in the deep South (I mostly drink Irish whiskey anyhow), the beer I drink is made here (at Columbus Avenue and Pacific by the San Francisco Brewing Company).
My condiments and my cheese are either Californian or French.
[Including the cheddar - did you notice that I didn't capitalize cheddar? That's because the British Empire still owns the capital-letter on that word.]
My trench-coat (the infamous flasher mack, now looking like utter perversion and smelling of condiments, cheesy substances, and degeneracy, plus fine tobacco) is originally from Vroom & Dreesman in Mokum. But it was made in China. Much of my wardrobe is of Chinese manufacture.
My fedora is Croatian...... via Amsterdam (from a merchant who relocated during the nineties).
The belt holding my pants up and my gut in comes from India. I think it's holy cow originally.
It's hard finding British goods to boycott. There is so little that is actually British. I am of course open to suggestions......
Perhaps I should stop reading Kipling?
[Knowing that many British people are willing to give up much modern technology in return (including computers, telephone gadgets, high tech doohickeys of many types, and medical equipment) abundantly compensates for the struggle. I wish all British academia hatzlacha in that endeavor. Kol tov, y'all, kol tov.]
In the meantime, I'll start purchasing Wissotzky products for my black-tea requirement; they're a fine company, and they seem to understand precisely what I need.
[Web address: http://www.wtea.com/ Brick-and-mortar address: Wissotzky house,103 Hashmonaim Street, P.O.Box 147, 61001 Tel Aviv, Israel. Tel: 972-3- 5651515. Fax: 972-50-89-67-363. Available to the US market from several Israeli mail-order houses, plus QVC.]
The green tea (綠茶), semi-fermented (Oolong (烏龍), Wu-Yi (武夷), Guan Yin (觀音), Ti Luo Han (鐵羅漢), and Shui Hsien (水仙)), and fragrant black teas (Chi Men (祁門), Yunnan (雲南), Lok On (六安)) are all from China. Without any British intervention. I buy them at Gong Nam (江南公司 or 江南行) on Grant Avenue (formerly named 'Calle De La Fundacion'). They have a marvelous selection of loose teas, and the white people have not discovered them yet.
Gracious, it's hard to boycott the British.
-------------------------------------------
NOTE: I apologize to my three British readers (Rabbi Jeremy Rosen, Graham in Germany, and Daniel Saunders). Sincerely. I do not wish to offend you, and I hope you can appreciate the spirit of the post: cheeky good cheer mixed with venomously raging gout.
Dinner last night was late, and though modest, incredibly rich. I also had some cheese afterwards. And some sherry. Woke up at four this morning with a painfully swollen and twitchy foot. Its companion (feet often come as a matched set) was not feeling happy either.
Gout is so very very British, but it certainly is something I would gladly boycott.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
MAZZEL TOV, YOU PERVERT
Two of the more socially acceptable fetishes evinced in Japanese Manga and Anime have to do with spectacles and sailor suits.
Spectacles ('megane') are seen by the fans as emphasizing the woman's attractive qualities, accentuating the face and brightening the eyes.
Sailor suits ('seifuku', 'sera-fuku') as worn by high-school girls, well....., I'm not entirely sure what they do. But it's very much like the plaid skirts worn by little Catholic school girls, and subject to the same perverse fantasies. Something about nice thighs, I guess. Plump smooth even-textured and hued feminine leg skin. Delicious.
[There's an entire subdivision of the rag trade vending used seifuku, skirts especially, for role-playing and bed-room fantasies. It is much more wholesome than the sale of used panties in the US, which is baffling and demented - but who am I to judge your foibles?]
For those who wish to see what the fuss is about, here's a link to a totally clean page about seifuku:
http://hontouni.com/taihendesu/?p=577
And here's a link that is just a little bit naughty:
http://animedesho.animeblogger.net/?p=2659
For the spectacle "thing", here's Mizuhara Koyomi (水原 暦), from the series Azumanga Daioh (also totally clean):
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koyomi_Mizuhara
Please note that Koyomi-chan is not wearing a sailor suit. And gracious doesn't she look adorable. You are probably not surprised to hear that huge (huge!) numbers of lonely teenage men think of her as the perfect date. Without anything perverted in mind, just an all-encompassing otaku loneliness that divorces them from the impossibility of meeting her, or the painful realization that SHE. IS. NOT. A. REAL. PERSON!
[We won't even mention the fact that the typical otaku is a walking conversational disaster zone, nearly incapable of actually speaking to a real woman. Or to any other normal human. Much like a soft-ware engineer, in other words.]
There's also a third fetish, that can combine with either of the two mentioned above: cat ears.
Nekomimi ("cat-ears" - 猫耳) or nekomusume ("cat damsel" - 猫娘) show up only occasionally in manga and anime, but are very often featured in cosplay and fan art collections.
[Put on your cat ears, and remove everything else except that red velvet ribbon around your left thigh - ooooooooooh, now you're "purr-fect"!]
So, to recap: School uniform. Cat ears. Glasses. Seifuku - Nekomimi - Meganeko.
The keys to a healthy sex life.
Now you know.
It's what you've been waiting for your whole life.
Your mother will be so glad that you finally got married.
Spectacles ('megane') are seen by the fans as emphasizing the woman's attractive qualities, accentuating the face and brightening the eyes.
Sailor suits ('seifuku', 'sera-fuku') as worn by high-school girls, well....., I'm not entirely sure what they do. But it's very much like the plaid skirts worn by little Catholic school girls, and subject to the same perverse fantasies. Something about nice thighs, I guess. Plump smooth even-textured and hued feminine leg skin. Delicious.
[There's an entire subdivision of the rag trade vending used seifuku, skirts especially, for role-playing and bed-room fantasies. It is much more wholesome than the sale of used panties in the US, which is baffling and demented - but who am I to judge your foibles?]
For those who wish to see what the fuss is about, here's a link to a totally clean page about seifuku:
http://hontouni.com/taihendesu/?p=577
And here's a link that is just a little bit naughty:
http://animedesho.animeblogger.net/?p=2659
For the spectacle "thing", here's Mizuhara Koyomi (水原 暦), from the series Azumanga Daioh (also totally clean):
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koyomi_Mizuhara
Please note that Koyomi-chan is not wearing a sailor suit. And gracious doesn't she look adorable. You are probably not surprised to hear that huge (huge!) numbers of lonely teenage men think of her as the perfect date. Without anything perverted in mind, just an all-encompassing otaku loneliness that divorces them from the impossibility of meeting her, or the painful realization that SHE. IS. NOT. A. REAL. PERSON!
[We won't even mention the fact that the typical otaku is a walking conversational disaster zone, nearly incapable of actually speaking to a real woman. Or to any other normal human. Much like a soft-ware engineer, in other words.]
There's also a third fetish, that can combine with either of the two mentioned above: cat ears.
Nekomimi ("cat-ears" - 猫耳) or nekomusume ("cat damsel" - 猫娘) show up only occasionally in manga and anime, but are very often featured in cosplay and fan art collections.
[Put on your cat ears, and remove everything else except that red velvet ribbon around your left thigh - ooooooooooh, now you're "purr-fect"!]
So, to recap: School uniform. Cat ears. Glasses. Seifuku - Nekomimi - Meganeko.
The keys to a healthy sex life.
Now you know.
It's what you've been waiting for your whole life.
Your mother will be so glad that you finally got married.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
GREEN BULLETIN BOARD
I am in receipt of an annoyingly sanctimonious e-mail.
It says:
Hello All,
[Name omitted #A] and I started a GREEN bulletin board in the kitchen. You will be able to find tips on ways to help preserve and save our beautiful planet. We will be adding to this each week. Please see [Name omitted #A] or [Name omitted #B] if you have ideas you would like to share with other employees.
Thanks,
------[Name omitted #A] and [Name omitted #B]
Well now. How...... wholesome.
The e-mail prompted someone else to send me the following:
"All this nonsense about green is making me see red. Why don’t people just keep their obsessions to themselves? How much is [Name omitted #C] paying these people? If they don’t have enough real work, cut their hours! I hate sanctimonious people who believe everyone should do as they do.
[Name omitted #A] especially seems to have precious little to keep him busy other than practically sitting on [Name omitted #D]’s lap forty times a day, tiptoeing through the tulips all over the office and greening the place. I can hardly wait to see this year’s pathetic excuse for a “Holiday” tree. Sorry for the vent, but I am so sick of this nonsense. Feel free to double delete this."
Eloquent. Lyrical. Poetry of sorts. I cannot but admire. I have my own reasons for seeing both green and red.
I'm a smoker, I have no children. I am almost forty nine years old.
I will be dead long before our planet - and seeing as the planet wants to insist that the only place I can smoke (and be free of children) is in the bus lanes, I may die more suddenly than being a smoker would suggest. Playing in traffic has that effect sometimes. Consequently, I bear the planet little good will.
I shall continue to smoke. Tobacco fields generate oxygen. That is the extent of my green. Be grateful if you must.
Do not thank me for sharing. I do it naturally.
It says:
Hello All,
[Name omitted #A] and I started a GREEN bulletin board in the kitchen. You will be able to find tips on ways to help preserve and save our beautiful planet. We will be adding to this each week. Please see [Name omitted #A] or [Name omitted #B] if you have ideas you would like to share with other employees.
Thanks,
------[Name omitted #A] and [Name omitted #B]
Well now. How...... wholesome.
The e-mail prompted someone else to send me the following:
"All this nonsense about green is making me see red. Why don’t people just keep their obsessions to themselves? How much is [Name omitted #C] paying these people? If they don’t have enough real work, cut their hours! I hate sanctimonious people who believe everyone should do as they do.
[Name omitted #A] especially seems to have precious little to keep him busy other than practically sitting on [Name omitted #D]’s lap forty times a day, tiptoeing through the tulips all over the office and greening the place. I can hardly wait to see this year’s pathetic excuse for a “Holiday” tree. Sorry for the vent, but I am so sick of this nonsense. Feel free to double delete this."
Eloquent. Lyrical. Poetry of sorts. I cannot but admire. I have my own reasons for seeing both green and red.
I'm a smoker, I have no children. I am almost forty nine years old.
I will be dead long before our planet - and seeing as the planet wants to insist that the only place I can smoke (and be free of children) is in the bus lanes, I may die more suddenly than being a smoker would suggest. Playing in traffic has that effect sometimes. Consequently, I bear the planet little good will.
I shall continue to smoke. Tobacco fields generate oxygen. That is the extent of my green. Be grateful if you must.
Do not thank me for sharing. I do it naturally.
TROLLING FOR PORN BOTS
This post is a gratuitous exercise; I am trying to see precisely how many comments linking to vendors of questionable literature or rubber devices will show up underneath.
To that end, the text of this post will consist largely of 'words of enticement'.
If you are a fresh-faced yeshiva bocher, or a sweet little Catholic School girl, this post is not for you - it may excite you too much, and corrupt your darling innocence. Please do not read it, go away now or scroll to a different post before it's too late. You have been warned, and your parents are very concerned about you.
[If it already is too late, feel free to vent in the comment-section. Was it good? Do you feel guilty? Was an electronic device involved? A colourful wig? Go ahead, tell us all about it, and get whacky with the adjectives. Extra brownie points for using all of the terms below.]
SEX WORDS
Porn. Pr0n. Prawn. Straps. Sportscar. Breast. Beast. Sheep. Rear. Manga. Anime. Life-like rubber. Flesh-coloured. Chocolate. Abdomen. Bottom. Thigh. Belly button. Peach. Feet. Virgin. Whiskey. Bondage. Teen. Glistening skin. Tarpaulin. Hair. Cat ears.
DESCRIPTIVES
Curve. Smooth. Warm. Velvety. Hairless. Angular. Tense. Fragrant. Deflated. Taut. Sweaty. Smile. Panic. Underside. Stroke. Pointy. Pert. Silken. Hot. Feline. Energetic. Hungry. Glowing. Excited. Nude. Teenaged. Cow-girl. Cossack slut. Tokyo schoolgirls.
WEIRD JAPANESE FETISHES
Yaoi. Yuri. Guro. Loli. Shota. Furu. Hentai. Echi. CG. Dildo festivals. Mah jong. Moe. Rotten girls. Cosplay. Fuigyua. Furi. Dead frogs. Free lesbian porn videos. Incest. Feet. Straps. Koreans. Blushing. Seifuku. Glasses. Skirts. Blue hair. Ribbons. Pantsu.
I suppose this is probably not the right time to describe one of my current favourite manga, is it? It's all about this bespectacled high-school girl, besotted with gay-romance cartoons, who thinks that the two handsome boys in her class are actually an item - she imagines them as the perfect young romantic gay couple. Much to their distress, as they themselves are both quite taken with her. Oh, the heartache! Oh, the amusing situations all of them get into! There is male chest nudity (an art class), female thigh nudity (due to the limitations of the typical Japanese high school uniform, AND because of a bath which our heroine takes near the end of volume one - one of the heroes gets to save her from a giant tropical cockroach, her wet hair drips on his hands, then both of them blush). It's all very nice, the drawings are quite innocent.... But I better not go into that; you're already far too wound up. You might not be able to sleep tonight. Sorry.
To that end, the text of this post will consist largely of 'words of enticement'.
If you are a fresh-faced yeshiva bocher, or a sweet little Catholic School girl, this post is not for you - it may excite you too much, and corrupt your darling innocence. Please do not read it, go away now or scroll to a different post before it's too late. You have been warned, and your parents are very concerned about you.
[If it already is too late, feel free to vent in the comment-section. Was it good? Do you feel guilty? Was an electronic device involved? A colourful wig? Go ahead, tell us all about it, and get whacky with the adjectives. Extra brownie points for using all of the terms below.]
SEX WORDS
Porn. Pr0n. Prawn. Straps. Sportscar. Breast. Beast. Sheep. Rear. Manga. Anime. Life-like rubber. Flesh-coloured. Chocolate. Abdomen. Bottom. Thigh. Belly button. Peach. Feet. Virgin. Whiskey. Bondage. Teen. Glistening skin. Tarpaulin. Hair. Cat ears.
DESCRIPTIVES
Curve. Smooth. Warm. Velvety. Hairless. Angular. Tense. Fragrant. Deflated. Taut. Sweaty. Smile. Panic. Underside. Stroke. Pointy. Pert. Silken. Hot. Feline. Energetic. Hungry. Glowing. Excited. Nude. Teenaged. Cow-girl. Cossack slut. Tokyo schoolgirls.
WEIRD JAPANESE FETISHES
Yaoi. Yuri. Guro. Loli. Shota. Furu. Hentai. Echi. CG. Dildo festivals. Mah jong. Moe. Rotten girls. Cosplay. Fuigyua. Furi. Dead frogs. Free lesbian porn videos. Incest. Feet. Straps. Koreans. Blushing. Seifuku. Glasses. Skirts. Blue hair. Ribbons. Pantsu.
I suppose this is probably not the right time to describe one of my current favourite manga, is it? It's all about this bespectacled high-school girl, besotted with gay-romance cartoons, who thinks that the two handsome boys in her class are actually an item - she imagines them as the perfect young romantic gay couple. Much to their distress, as they themselves are both quite taken with her. Oh, the heartache! Oh, the amusing situations all of them get into! There is male chest nudity (an art class), female thigh nudity (due to the limitations of the typical Japanese high school uniform, AND because of a bath which our heroine takes near the end of volume one - one of the heroes gets to save her from a giant tropical cockroach, her wet hair drips on his hands, then both of them blush). It's all very nice, the drawings are quite innocent.... But I better not go into that; you're already far too wound up. You might not be able to sleep tonight. Sorry.
EHUD BARAK, NOTABLE ARAB
Who says politicians can't be comedians? Today Israeli Defense Minister Ehud Barak proves that at least one of them has an utterly keen sense of the absurd. Possibly also a sense of humour.
From Arutz Sheva:
Defense Minister Ehud Barak dramatically called this afternoon for Prime Minister Ehud Olmert to remove himself from office.
[Source: http://www.israelnationalnews.com/News/News.aspx/126326 ]
Barak demanding that another politico resign because of corruption is more than a little bit inappropriate - it brings to mind his own misadventures with accounting. Perhaps he has forgotten? There's a convenient gap in his memory? The hard drive is fried?
Or maybe he's a Palestinian.
Let me quote him on that account, and you may judge for yourselves.
"They are products of a culture in which to tell a lie creates no dissonance --- they don't suffer from the problem of telling lies that exists in Judaeo-Christian culture."
"Truth is seen as an irrelevant category -- there is only that which serves your purpose and that which doesn't. [CUT] There is no such thing as 'the truth'."
[Source: Ehud Barak about lying by Palestinians, as quoted by Brian Whitaker writing in The Guardian, Thursday May 23 2002. http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2002/may/23/israel ]
I'll give him the benefit of doubt and I will assume that he is indeed a Palestinian. The idea that he is a major Israeli politician is just too ridiculous to contemplate.
From Arutz Sheva:
Defense Minister Ehud Barak dramatically called this afternoon for Prime Minister Ehud Olmert to remove himself from office.
[Source: http://www.israelnationalnews.com/News/News.aspx/126326 ]
Barak demanding that another politico resign because of corruption is more than a little bit inappropriate - it brings to mind his own misadventures with accounting. Perhaps he has forgotten? There's a convenient gap in his memory? The hard drive is fried?
Or maybe he's a Palestinian.
Let me quote him on that account, and you may judge for yourselves.
"They are products of a culture in which to tell a lie creates no dissonance --- they don't suffer from the problem of telling lies that exists in Judaeo-Christian culture."
"Truth is seen as an irrelevant category -- there is only that which serves your purpose and that which doesn't. [CUT] There is no such thing as 'the truth'."
[Source: Ehud Barak about lying by Palestinians, as quoted by Brian Whitaker writing in The Guardian, Thursday May 23 2002. http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2002/may/23/israel ]
I'll give him the benefit of doubt and I will assume that he is indeed a Palestinian. The idea that he is a major Israeli politician is just too ridiculous to contemplate.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
WHAT'S IN A NAME?
Store names often reflect the peculiarities of the merchandise being sold. Upscale men's clothing stores often sound dignified and classy, bookstores sound... "bookish", porno-boutiques have names twixt plain brown wrapper and ballsy sleaze-o-riffic, tobacconists tend towards dusty, old-fashioned, tweedy.
Lingerie stores sound feminine or spicy. Hardware stores aim for matter-of-fact. Most artsy boutiques are cutesy-poo.
And toy stores?
Insane. Often, not always. But often enough.
My top ten, in no particular order:
Chez Crazy Sally
[Trust your kid with her?]
Uncle Fugger
[Elderly pervert.]
Whiskey Jungle
[An alcoholic.]
Baa Baa's Sheep Skin
[They skinned a farm animal. Was it still alive?]
Ba Ba Edna's Stampquarium
[What the heck does this mean?]
Sweet Uncle's
[Come here, little boy, would you like some candy?]
Crocodile Pie
[Reptile poo.]
Twinkies for Winkies and Toys
[What on earth were they thinking!!!]
Empty Nest
[Sad. The kid croaked. Now she wants yours.]
Tina's Tiddly Poo
[Please see a doctor.]
All of this reminds me of Reginald Perrin and his chain of 'Grot Shops'. As featured in a BBC comedy series set in late 1970's England. Honestly named - they sold grot. Guaranteed useless stuff. Pointless garbage.
Grot in all it's grotty glory, in fact. Sold in a shop.
Here's a description of the viewing audience the BBC hoped to reach with the show:
"...wreckers of law and order. Communists, Maoists, Trotskyists, neo-Trotskyists, crypto-Trotskyists, union leaders, Albanians, atheists, agnostics, Lutherans, long-haired weirdos, short-haired weirdos, vandals, goths, hooligans, football supporters, namby pamby probation officers, rapists, papists, foreign surgeons, Anthony Wedgwood Benn, cardinals, keg bitter, punk rock, dancers, glue-sniffers, Clive Jenkins, Chinese restaurants, thugs, bully-boys, psychopaths, sacked policemen, security guards, racialists, rioters, Paki-bashers, queer-bashers, anybody-bashers, rear Admirals, fascists, loyalists, and Irishmen. And their wives."
Truly a fine market segment. And a growing one, too. Some of my readers will surely recognize this as a golden opportunity. Don't forget to cut me in for a share of the profits.
Lingerie stores sound feminine or spicy. Hardware stores aim for matter-of-fact. Most artsy boutiques are cutesy-poo.
And toy stores?
Insane. Often, not always. But often enough.
My top ten, in no particular order:
Chez Crazy Sally
[Trust your kid with her?]
Uncle Fugger
[Elderly pervert.]
Whiskey Jungle
[An alcoholic.]
Baa Baa's Sheep Skin
[They skinned a farm animal. Was it still alive?]
Ba Ba Edna's Stampquarium
[What the heck does this mean?]
Sweet Uncle's
[Come here, little boy, would you like some candy?]
Crocodile Pie
[Reptile poo.]
Twinkies for Winkies and Toys
[What on earth were they thinking!!!]
Empty Nest
[Sad. The kid croaked. Now she wants yours.]
Tina's Tiddly Poo
[Please see a doctor.]
All of this reminds me of Reginald Perrin and his chain of 'Grot Shops'. As featured in a BBC comedy series set in late 1970's England. Honestly named - they sold grot. Guaranteed useless stuff. Pointless garbage.
Grot in all it's grotty glory, in fact. Sold in a shop.
Here's a description of the viewing audience the BBC hoped to reach with the show:
"...wreckers of law and order. Communists, Maoists, Trotskyists, neo-Trotskyists, crypto-Trotskyists, union leaders, Albanians, atheists, agnostics, Lutherans, long-haired weirdos, short-haired weirdos, vandals, goths, hooligans, football supporters, namby pamby probation officers, rapists, papists, foreign surgeons, Anthony Wedgwood Benn, cardinals, keg bitter, punk rock, dancers, glue-sniffers, Clive Jenkins, Chinese restaurants, thugs, bully-boys, psychopaths, sacked policemen, security guards, racialists, rioters, Paki-bashers, queer-bashers, anybody-bashers, rear Admirals, fascists, loyalists, and Irishmen. And their wives."
Truly a fine market segment. And a growing one, too. Some of my readers will surely recognize this as a golden opportunity. Don't forget to cut me in for a share of the profits.
Monday, May 26, 2008
KITTENS AND PORNOGRAPHY
A few weeks ago I discovered imageboards. As you may suspect, the discovery relates to manga (Japanese cartoons) and anime (Japanese animation).
Imageboards are a wonderful invention - the idea is, like much in the modern age, a logical development of computer culture. An imageboard is a place where users post pictures rather than texts. Think of it as a visual blog maintained by several different people.
Sadly, unlike text sites and youtube, imageboards are often warehouses of pornography. Almost every site seems to have a resident smut-poster, some sites are utterly repellent.
THE INTERNET IS DEVOTED TO THREE THINGS, AND ONLY THREE THINGS
It seems like most people do indeed use the internet for only three purposes: Pornography, scamming money, kitten pictures.
The pornography is pretty much self-explanatory - people like pictures, and some people like pictures so much that they obsess. Heck, a nice healthy bit of cheesecake is somewhat like finding candy in an unexpected place. If it's nicely wrapped and lint-free, it's like winning the lottery.
Scams are also pretty intuitive. Human history is a continuing tale of one person pulling a fast one on another person, or on several. Cheating is part of human nature. Kinda like the sexuality which underlies the pornography mentioned earlier. Instead of pictures, descriptive prose.
But the kitten thing is utterly baffling.
I like kittens. But my affection for the little furballs is easily satisfied - if I meet a kitten I'll poke it with a feather or throw a crumpled scrap of paper at it, and both of us will be happy. This needs to happen at least once a decade to be effective.
Some people are a little "different" in that regard.
KITTENS COMING OUT THE WAZOO!
There are hundreds of imageboards and blogs out there devoted to kittens. Kittens. Descriptions of the cute things that kittens have done. Kittens. Photos of little furry kittens. Kittens. Links to videos of kittens. Kittens. Animations, movie clips, pop-ups. Kittens. Sound files. Kittens.
Other than being baffled at the obsessive quality displayed by kitten people, kittens, I have little issue with them and their imageboards. Kittens. Heck, they're a refreshing change from the imageboards that have videos of big-breasted women doing odd things with small nude men interspersed with 'normal' manga pictures, kittens.
Finding a video of physically talented twenty year-olds performing tricks with fat old men in between rather charming anime clips is somewhat disturbing. Kittens. Small people and large people whipping each other before and after pictures of mecha or gundam heroes from boys' manga? Kittens! Not unusual. Kittens. Medical-manual quality reproductions of regenerative organs punctuating scenes from high-school comedy adventures, kittens, precision close ups of breasts and buttocks, kittens, better than life textural photos of conjoined perverts, kittens, scenes of wetness and sweating bestiality, kittens, spanking the fat degenerate? Kittens, kittens, kittens.
Smooth fleshed young girls? Kittens. Pretty boys with tanned legs? Kittens. Curvaceous college co-eds? Kittens. Long legs, blond hair, ferrari? Kittens. A tarpaulin, a sheep, and a bucket of melted chocolate? Kittens, kittens, kittens.
Kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens!
Miao.
Fortunately for kitten people, kittens and pornography don't really go together. Most perverts instinctively react to kitten boards the same way normal people react to images of child-pornography - by physically starting back with a nauseated feeling. Utter repulsion and disgust. At least I imagine so (I also hope that the kitten pictures give them nightmares and haunt their waking moments).
Most kitten boards are clean. Boring, but clean.
DOCTOR ZOIDBERG
In between the islands of kittens and continents of pornography on the imageboards one can occasionally find something wholesome. I recently found an animated clip of Dr. Zoidberg (the hero of Futurama) doing a crab dance. When I grow up I want to be just like him!
I can't remember where I found it, though. Sorry. Be very careful looking for it - if you type "thumbnail crab dance" as your search criteria, you'll find a lot of sites devoted to incest or inter racial gay sex. Crabdance as one word gets you ethnography, Russian pornography, and kittens.
Imageboards are a wonderful invention - the idea is, like much in the modern age, a logical development of computer culture. An imageboard is a place where users post pictures rather than texts. Think of it as a visual blog maintained by several different people.
Sadly, unlike text sites and youtube, imageboards are often warehouses of pornography. Almost every site seems to have a resident smut-poster, some sites are utterly repellent.
THE INTERNET IS DEVOTED TO THREE THINGS, AND ONLY THREE THINGS
It seems like most people do indeed use the internet for only three purposes: Pornography, scamming money, kitten pictures.
The pornography is pretty much self-explanatory - people like pictures, and some people like pictures so much that they obsess. Heck, a nice healthy bit of cheesecake is somewhat like finding candy in an unexpected place. If it's nicely wrapped and lint-free, it's like winning the lottery.
Scams are also pretty intuitive. Human history is a continuing tale of one person pulling a fast one on another person, or on several. Cheating is part of human nature. Kinda like the sexuality which underlies the pornography mentioned earlier. Instead of pictures, descriptive prose.
But the kitten thing is utterly baffling.
I like kittens. But my affection for the little furballs is easily satisfied - if I meet a kitten I'll poke it with a feather or throw a crumpled scrap of paper at it, and both of us will be happy. This needs to happen at least once a decade to be effective.
Some people are a little "different" in that regard.
KITTENS COMING OUT THE WAZOO!
There are hundreds of imageboards and blogs out there devoted to kittens. Kittens. Descriptions of the cute things that kittens have done. Kittens. Photos of little furry kittens. Kittens. Links to videos of kittens. Kittens. Animations, movie clips, pop-ups. Kittens. Sound files. Kittens.
Other than being baffled at the obsessive quality displayed by kitten people, kittens, I have little issue with them and their imageboards. Kittens. Heck, they're a refreshing change from the imageboards that have videos of big-breasted women doing odd things with small nude men interspersed with 'normal' manga pictures, kittens.
Finding a video of physically talented twenty year-olds performing tricks with fat old men in between rather charming anime clips is somewhat disturbing. Kittens. Small people and large people whipping each other before and after pictures of mecha or gundam heroes from boys' manga? Kittens! Not unusual. Kittens. Medical-manual quality reproductions of regenerative organs punctuating scenes from high-school comedy adventures, kittens, precision close ups of breasts and buttocks, kittens, better than life textural photos of conjoined perverts, kittens, scenes of wetness and sweating bestiality, kittens, spanking the fat degenerate? Kittens, kittens, kittens.
Smooth fleshed young girls? Kittens. Pretty boys with tanned legs? Kittens. Curvaceous college co-eds? Kittens. Long legs, blond hair, ferrari? Kittens. A tarpaulin, a sheep, and a bucket of melted chocolate? Kittens, kittens, kittens.
Kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens, kittens!
Miao.
Fortunately for kitten people, kittens and pornography don't really go together. Most perverts instinctively react to kitten boards the same way normal people react to images of child-pornography - by physically starting back with a nauseated feeling. Utter repulsion and disgust. At least I imagine so (I also hope that the kitten pictures give them nightmares and haunt their waking moments).
Most kitten boards are clean. Boring, but clean.
DOCTOR ZOIDBERG
In between the islands of kittens and continents of pornography on the imageboards one can occasionally find something wholesome. I recently found an animated clip of Dr. Zoidberg (the hero of Futurama) doing a crab dance. When I grow up I want to be just like him!
I can't remember where I found it, though. Sorry. Be very careful looking for it - if you type "thumbnail crab dance" as your search criteria, you'll find a lot of sites devoted to incest or inter racial gay sex. Crabdance as one word gets you ethnography, Russian pornography, and kittens.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
ALL ABOUT A FELLOW BLOGGER AND CUTE LITTLE TEENAGE LESBIANS
Envy is actually a warm glow. I discovered this upon reading Treppenwitz's latest posting. I've always been rather envious of the popularity of his blog, though I realize that that is due to Treppenwitz actually being a better writer, in addition to being a nicer person, than myself. I am not very nice. I do not have what it takes to be nice.
[I will freely admit to having a talent for wishing ill on other people, most particularly members of JVP, AlAwda, MECA, and several other organizations that I despise, along with several Dutchmen, several politicians, and a whole host of others. My ill-wishing is not particularly detailed, however. I do not dwell on the nature of the ill I wish, merely on the fond hope that it will happen soon and in our days.]
Today that envy became a warm glow. Being a better blogger has a down side: obsessive commenters.
I merely have the occasional confused Japanese reader who posts links in the comments field to a Tokyo rent-a-porn site whenever I mention manga or anime (or sweet little Asian teenage lesbians - they're so cuuuute), and sometimes a lost dildo salesman sees words like virgin or deflate in close conjunction on my blog, and decides "hey, this looks like a good spot for a smut ad" underneath a post.
[Warning to my more innocent readers. Any link that looks baffling in a comment, on any blog, not just mine, could lead you right into the salesparlour of a dildo emporium. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
And judging from the enormous variety of dildoes available, there's clearly a huge demand. Otherwise there would not be a dildo for every conceivable..... "taste".
In Thailand you can buy big red lacquer dildoes of impossible size, inscribed with a Buddhist good luck charm. And some hefty antique Japanese dildoes are clearly meant for display rather than hide and seek. So if that tickles your fancy, good for you. I hope that by happily point-and-clicking you find precisely the right dildo - one that makes you supremely happy and fullfilled.
I wish I could give you some recommendations, but my experience with dildoes is somewhat limited. Sorry I couldn't be more helpful.]
But Treppenwitz has an obsessed commenter (hence my glow - I am entirely obsession-free). A prolix problem-gefal. To whom he addresses the following letter:
Dear treppenwitz reader/commenter (you know who you are),
After reading the many comments you've posted here and around the blogosphere over the past two or three years I have to make the following observations:
When a comment is longer than the blog post that inspired it there is something wrong. Also, you seem to go out of your way to pack as many unrelated topics and opinions into each comment as is humanly possible (please don't take that as a challenge). This is (IMHO) an abuse of the commenting privilege. It tires and annoys readers who are trying to follow the comment thread in order to possibly contribute something of their own to the topic at hand.
By hijacking the thread with a wandering, unsubstantiated filibuster, you seem to be deliberately trying to derail all intelligent discussion. There are several sites offering the opportunity to set up your own personal blog for free. Failing this, there are also plenty of blogs out there where people are encouraged to rant... but be assured that mine is not one of them.
We get that you think Bibi is a criminal, although you seem to be a tad light on evidence (again, not a challenge... just an observation). You make reference to this in nearly every comment you leave here and elsewhere in the blogosphere... regardless of the topic at hand. If this is your signature tag line please excuse me for cramping your creativity. But if you are simply unable to focus on the current topic, I suggest you sit still for a few minutes and wait for the Tourette-like urge to type "BIBI TAKES BRIBES" in all caps, to pass.
Lastly, I can appreciate that you are happy over there in California, but in nearly every single comment and email you have sent you have criticized multiple aspects of Israel as compared to the US. Treppenwitz is an Israel-based blog about life in Israel and all things related to Israeli culture, politics and society... warts and all. Please try to be sensitive to the fact that many people have different priorities in their life than you do.
I have written to you privately (multiple times) in the past about all of these issues in an effort not to embarrass you publicly with my comments or criticism. You are a big girl and should not have to be subjected to public scolding. But by the same token, I am a big boy and do not need to have my handiwork hijacked and/or derailed... which is precisely what you have been doing.
In conclusion, feel free to read and comment... you obviously have many interesting viewpoints. But please wait until the topic of one of my posts actually coincides with one of your viewpoints before offering it up. By showing this small courtesy you will avoid making the reading/commenting experience at treppenwitz unpleasant for others.
Thank you,
-------The Management
===============================================
The letter is well written. So I decided to paste it here in it's entirety. To share in some of the glow (and because I really have little to say at present). The original is on Treppenwitz's blog (http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/ this post: http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2008/05/i-hate-that-thi.html ) which I visit on a daily basis.
I do not always leave comments there, because, as I may have indicated previously, I do not write as well as he does, and I actually have very little to contribute to some conversations (which is why I let Treppenwitz's letter do most of the talking today). I encourage you to visit his blog. You will find NO mention of dildoes there. But I assure you that you will not be displeased - unless davka the dildoes ARE your thing, in which case you probably shouldn't be here either.
This blog hardly ever mentions dildoes, though cuuute little Asian teenage lesbians are a frequent theme.
[I will freely admit to having a talent for wishing ill on other people, most particularly members of JVP, AlAwda, MECA, and several other organizations that I despise, along with several Dutchmen, several politicians, and a whole host of others. My ill-wishing is not particularly detailed, however. I do not dwell on the nature of the ill I wish, merely on the fond hope that it will happen soon and in our days.]
Today that envy became a warm glow. Being a better blogger has a down side: obsessive commenters.
I merely have the occasional confused Japanese reader who posts links in the comments field to a Tokyo rent-a-porn site whenever I mention manga or anime (or sweet little Asian teenage lesbians - they're so cuuuute), and sometimes a lost dildo salesman sees words like virgin or deflate in close conjunction on my blog, and decides "hey, this looks like a good spot for a smut ad" underneath a post.
[Warning to my more innocent readers. Any link that looks baffling in a comment, on any blog, not just mine, could lead you right into the salesparlour of a dildo emporium. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
And judging from the enormous variety of dildoes available, there's clearly a huge demand. Otherwise there would not be a dildo for every conceivable..... "taste".
In Thailand you can buy big red lacquer dildoes of impossible size, inscribed with a Buddhist good luck charm. And some hefty antique Japanese dildoes are clearly meant for display rather than hide and seek. So if that tickles your fancy, good for you. I hope that by happily point-and-clicking you find precisely the right dildo - one that makes you supremely happy and fullfilled.
I wish I could give you some recommendations, but my experience with dildoes is somewhat limited. Sorry I couldn't be more helpful.]
But Treppenwitz has an obsessed commenter (hence my glow - I am entirely obsession-free). A prolix problem-gefal. To whom he addresses the following letter:
Dear treppenwitz reader/commenter (you know who you are),
After reading the many comments you've posted here and around the blogosphere over the past two or three years I have to make the following observations:
When a comment is longer than the blog post that inspired it there is something wrong. Also, you seem to go out of your way to pack as many unrelated topics and opinions into each comment as is humanly possible (please don't take that as a challenge). This is (IMHO) an abuse of the commenting privilege. It tires and annoys readers who are trying to follow the comment thread in order to possibly contribute something of their own to the topic at hand.
By hijacking the thread with a wandering, unsubstantiated filibuster, you seem to be deliberately trying to derail all intelligent discussion. There are several sites offering the opportunity to set up your own personal blog for free. Failing this, there are also plenty of blogs out there where people are encouraged to rant... but be assured that mine is not one of them.
We get that you think Bibi is a criminal, although you seem to be a tad light on evidence (again, not a challenge... just an observation). You make reference to this in nearly every comment you leave here and elsewhere in the blogosphere... regardless of the topic at hand. If this is your signature tag line please excuse me for cramping your creativity. But if you are simply unable to focus on the current topic, I suggest you sit still for a few minutes and wait for the Tourette-like urge to type "BIBI TAKES BRIBES" in all caps, to pass.
Lastly, I can appreciate that you are happy over there in California, but in nearly every single comment and email you have sent you have criticized multiple aspects of Israel as compared to the US. Treppenwitz is an Israel-based blog about life in Israel and all things related to Israeli culture, politics and society... warts and all. Please try to be sensitive to the fact that many people have different priorities in their life than you do.
I have written to you privately (multiple times) in the past about all of these issues in an effort not to embarrass you publicly with my comments or criticism. You are a big girl and should not have to be subjected to public scolding. But by the same token, I am a big boy and do not need to have my handiwork hijacked and/or derailed... which is precisely what you have been doing.
In conclusion, feel free to read and comment... you obviously have many interesting viewpoints. But please wait until the topic of one of my posts actually coincides with one of your viewpoints before offering it up. By showing this small courtesy you will avoid making the reading/commenting experience at treppenwitz unpleasant for others.
Thank you,
-------The Management
===============================================
The letter is well written. So I decided to paste it here in it's entirety. To share in some of the glow (and because I really have little to say at present). The original is on Treppenwitz's blog (http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/ this post: http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2008/05/i-hate-that-thi.html ) which I visit on a daily basis.
I do not always leave comments there, because, as I may have indicated previously, I do not write as well as he does, and I actually have very little to contribute to some conversations (which is why I let Treppenwitz's letter do most of the talking today). I encourage you to visit his blog. You will find NO mention of dildoes there. But I assure you that you will not be displeased - unless davka the dildoes ARE your thing, in which case you probably shouldn't be here either.
This blog hardly ever mentions dildoes, though cuuute little Asian teenage lesbians are a frequent theme.
LUNCHING AT THE MOMA
Discovered a painter I knew not previously - Clyfford Still.
Liked. Sat and looked. Bought book about.
Mild indigestion from food. Warm afterglow from discovery. Anticipatory brightness for as yet to read book.
Liked. Sat and looked. Bought book about.
Mild indigestion from food. Warm afterglow from discovery. Anticipatory brightness for as yet to read book.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
NICE ERVA GETS VERY FAVOURABLE ATTENTION
Apparently my recent disquisition on ervat pleased several readers. They gave it high marks over on J-blog central. The votes put it up there with my most popular posts. People liked my erva, and I flatter myself that it tickled them. The post, that is. Not the erva. Not having seen these readers up close, it is quite likely that I do not want them anywhere near my erva.
And likewise, you neither near yours.
I hasten to clarify - the word being discussed is not the city of Erva in Iran, nor the line of designer handbags named Erva, but the erva of 'kol isha erva'. In the stricter sense erva means the feminine reproductive part, all that tempts twixt the wine-cup of the navel and velvety inner thighs, and in the wider sense it can mean temptation, sexuality, lust, and procreative behaviours and thoughts thereof. Nakedness, unmentionable parts, and pudenda. Exposure of the pillow part. The part we shall not mention, in all its radiant glory. The cupfull that runneth over, oh my, and gasp.
[If 'kol isha erva', how will they ever cope with a bas kol?]
In the same way that the voice of a woman is temptation ('kol b'isha erva'), the term erva itself calls forth pleasing associations. I am not familiar with the environment of typical Chareidi teenagers in Flatbush, but I fondly imagine them secretly listening to famous opera divas while whispering the word 'erva' to themselves late late at night.
It seems so innocent. So sweetly zesty. So deliciously depraved.
Erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva!
Or, softly whispered: erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, ervaaah!
Of course, if you are a well-brought up Gentile reading this, you could instead repeat the word pudenda for the same effect.
Pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda!
Meh, not quite the same, but close.
Was it good for you?
How about 'muliebre'?
Better?
Somehow, none of the currently popular hot Hollywood babes make one quiver so. Not Paris Hilton, not Britney Spears, not Sarah Jessica Parker or whatserbucket Dushku, Aniston, Cox, and Kudrow. Despite the spambots who flood me with offers I cannot refuse, I have no burning desire to see these women naked. But I'll happily mutter erva or pudenda to myself for hours on end. It gets me through the day.
And likewise, you neither near yours.
I hasten to clarify - the word being discussed is not the city of Erva in Iran, nor the line of designer handbags named Erva, but the erva of 'kol isha erva'. In the stricter sense erva means the feminine reproductive part, all that tempts twixt the wine-cup of the navel and velvety inner thighs, and in the wider sense it can mean temptation, sexuality, lust, and procreative behaviours and thoughts thereof. Nakedness, unmentionable parts, and pudenda. Exposure of the pillow part. The part we shall not mention, in all its radiant glory. The cupfull that runneth over, oh my, and gasp.
[If 'kol isha erva', how will they ever cope with a bas kol?]
In the same way that the voice of a woman is temptation ('kol b'isha erva'), the term erva itself calls forth pleasing associations. I am not familiar with the environment of typical Chareidi teenagers in Flatbush, but I fondly imagine them secretly listening to famous opera divas while whispering the word 'erva' to themselves late late at night.
It seems so innocent. So sweetly zesty. So deliciously depraved.
Erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva!
Or, softly whispered: erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, erva, ervaaah!
Of course, if you are a well-brought up Gentile reading this, you could instead repeat the word pudenda for the same effect.
Pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda, pudenda!
Meh, not quite the same, but close.
Was it good for you?
How about 'muliebre'?
Better?
Somehow, none of the currently popular hot Hollywood babes make one quiver so. Not Paris Hilton, not Britney Spears, not Sarah Jessica Parker or whatserbucket Dushku, Aniston, Cox, and Kudrow. Despite the spambots who flood me with offers I cannot refuse, I have no burning desire to see these women naked. But I'll happily mutter erva or pudenda to myself for hours on end. It gets me through the day.
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GRITS AND TOFU
Like most Americans, I have a list of people who should be peacefully retired from public service and thereafter kept away from their desks,...
