These are perilous economic times. Which means that some of you need to re-think the operating paradigms of your business.
Please remember, net thirty is a privilege.
PRIH..... VIH..... LIDJ!
I can revoke that privilege (or refuse to grant it) if something suggests to me that you might not fully wish to co-operate with the 'underlying desirable progression'.
What that means is, I release your order on net thirty terms if you have a clean record.
The invoice for that order is generated immediately after shipment, and sent to you.
You pay the invoice reasonably close to the due-date, which is thirty days after the shipment went out the warehouse door.
A few days late, no problem.
It is a simple idea. Up until 2009 you understood it perfectly well.
E-MAIL ONE:
"Hi,
The customer will pay the past-due invoices if we agree to increase their credit limit. Please advise asap, as I have new orders in hand."
Comment: This customer doesn't understand the concept, neither does the salesrep.
E-MAIL TWO:
"Hi,
This customer has an order ready but they don’t want to give it to me unless they’ve been approved for terms."
Comment: What makes you think that I appreciate blackmail?
E-MAIL THREE:
"Hi,
OUR terms are Net 60. You do not dictate the terms. I will give you net 30 this time only!!! If you want to do business with us EVER again you are going to have to change your practices."
Comment: Bite me, bitch.
What we have here, in all three cases, is a failure to comprehend.
They re-thought their operating paradigms, and came to precisely the wrong conclusions. Especially as regards the 'underlying desirable progression'.
Bad monkey - no banana.
Again, net thirty is a privilege. Purchasing merchandise on a prepaid basis is always an option.
Please have your credit card ready.
Monday, October 05, 2009
Friday, October 02, 2009
HOBBIT SMOKE - VIRGINIA WOODS
Three days ago I purchased some tins of a tobacco which I had never tasted before, but did not intend to smoke for quite a while, seeing as I have a sufficiency of already opened tins that need to be diminished first.
And I stated so in this post:
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/09/nasty-hot-twiggy-bizarre-nauseating.html
The tobacco was described by various reviewers in the most unflattering terms. Bizarre, head-ache inducing, tasting like pencil eraser, and leaving your tongue feeling like it had been napalmed.
[Per some of the cognoscenti here: http://www.tobaccoreviews.com/ in this section:
http://www.tobaccoreviews.com/blend_detail.cfm?ALPHA=V&TID=785 ]
Their horrid statements perked my curiosity no end, but I was firm in my resolve; I would wait several months ere trying it myself.
Ummm.
Bought an extra tin, for sampling, two days ago. So much for firm resolve.
Yes.
VIRGINIA WOODS
McClelland Tobacco Company
"Formulated for a smooth, rich flavor with an incomparable woodsy aroma. Blended from matured Red Cake, Stoved Black Virginia, wide-cut Bright Virginia and other premium tobaccos."
Trust me, the idiots who panned it didn't know what they were talking about.
It's not bad at all.
Virginia Woods is a variegated mixture of ribbon-cut leaf, that once aired (to get rid of the excess moisture) yields a pleasant and not particularly complicated smoke. There is a note of natural sweetness.
Anyone familiar with the Baai Tabak (ribbon-cut mixtures of aircured and fluecured tobaccos) once commonly available in the Netherlands will recognize much here that is charming. No, it isn't something you can hot-box; inveterate smokers of Oriental mixtures should probably avoid it, along with people who only understand flakes. This tobacco is not for you.
I am very pleased with this product, and will probably finish the tin well before the end of the month. Normally I am not too impressed with McClelland, but this is one product that in my estimation has much virtue.
1974 - 1978
McClelland's Virginia Woods reminds me pleasurably of my mis-spent youth (mid-teens in Valkenswaard, North Brabant, Netherlands).
Summer afternoons in the upstairs living room, dust motes dancing in the sunbeams, a soughing in the leaves of the apple tree in the courtyard. Few other sounds: the rustling of a page being turned, a clink of a teacup.
My nose again recalls the faint aromas in the vicinity of my dad's desk - a smoke echo, the pale metallic perfume of the alloys formerly used in drafting equipment, inks, and the armpitty tang of sharpened pencils.
This tobacco may leave you a little light-headed. Virginias tend towards nicotine. But you will be of good cheer. Have some tea.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
And I stated so in this post:
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/09/nasty-hot-twiggy-bizarre-nauseating.html
The tobacco was described by various reviewers in the most unflattering terms. Bizarre, head-ache inducing, tasting like pencil eraser, and leaving your tongue feeling like it had been napalmed.
[Per some of the cognoscenti here: http://www.tobaccoreviews.com/ in this section:
http://www.tobaccoreviews.com/blend_detail.cfm?ALPHA=V&TID=785 ]
Their horrid statements perked my curiosity no end, but I was firm in my resolve; I would wait several months ere trying it myself.
Ummm.
Bought an extra tin, for sampling, two days ago. So much for firm resolve.
Yes.
VIRGINIA WOODS
McClelland Tobacco Company
"Formulated for a smooth, rich flavor with an incomparable woodsy aroma. Blended from matured Red Cake, Stoved Black Virginia, wide-cut Bright Virginia and other premium tobaccos."
Trust me, the idiots who panned it didn't know what they were talking about.
It's not bad at all.
Virginia Woods is a variegated mixture of ribbon-cut leaf, that once aired (to get rid of the excess moisture) yields a pleasant and not particularly complicated smoke. There is a note of natural sweetness.
Anyone familiar with the Baai Tabak (ribbon-cut mixtures of aircured and fluecured tobaccos) once commonly available in the Netherlands will recognize much here that is charming. No, it isn't something you can hot-box; inveterate smokers of Oriental mixtures should probably avoid it, along with people who only understand flakes. This tobacco is not for you.
I am very pleased with this product, and will probably finish the tin well before the end of the month. Normally I am not too impressed with McClelland, but this is one product that in my estimation has much virtue.
1974 - 1978
McClelland's Virginia Woods reminds me pleasurably of my mis-spent youth (mid-teens in Valkenswaard, North Brabant, Netherlands).
Summer afternoons in the upstairs living room, dust motes dancing in the sunbeams, a soughing in the leaves of the apple tree in the courtyard. Few other sounds: the rustling of a page being turned, a clink of a teacup.
My nose again recalls the faint aromas in the vicinity of my dad's desk - a smoke echo, the pale metallic perfume of the alloys formerly used in drafting equipment, inks, and the armpitty tang of sharpened pencils.
This tobacco may leave you a little light-headed. Virginias tend towards nicotine. But you will be of good cheer. Have some tea.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
AND NOW FOR SOME BESTIALITY!
This blog is always fascinated by all manner of sexual shenanigans. Including several juicy perversions. It's an intellectual thing.
But this is a first for us: BESTIALITY.
Actually, it should be called ANTHROPIALITY ....... given that the poor human is the victim, and the beast is the perpetrator.
http://www.break.com/index/rare-bird-humps-photographers-head.html
OR:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNAkdHKx9SM
A kakapo ('Night Parrot') decides that a videographer's head looks tempting, hops on his neck and starts, errrrrm, eh, mmmmm.... .... .... .... acting romantic. Yeah, that's it..... 'romantic'.
QUOTE:
"Kakapo are critically endangered; as of April 2009, only 125 living individuals are known, most of which have been given names."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kakapo
"Kakapo are a curious species and have been known to interact with humans. Conservation staff and volunteers have engaged extensively with some Kakapo, and they are known to have distinct personalities."
END QUOTE.
The hapless victim was able to identify his assailant. By name.
Sirroco.
Don't say I never show you a good time.
But this is a first for us: BESTIALITY.
Actually, it should be called ANTHROPIALITY ....... given that the poor human is the victim, and the beast is the perpetrator.
http://www.break.com/index/rare-bird-humps-photographers-head.html
OR:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNAkdHKx9SM
A kakapo ('Night Parrot') decides that a videographer's head looks tempting, hops on his neck and starts, errrrrm, eh, mmmmm.... .... .... .... acting romantic. Yeah, that's it..... 'romantic'.
QUOTE:
"Kakapo are critically endangered; as of April 2009, only 125 living individuals are known, most of which have been given names."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kakapo
"Kakapo are a curious species and have been known to interact with humans. Conservation staff and volunteers have engaged extensively with some Kakapo, and they are known to have distinct personalities."
END QUOTE.
The hapless victim was able to identify his assailant. By name.
Sirroco.
Don't say I never show you a good time.
Thursday, October 01, 2009
RENDANG
An incomplete list of Padang food, followed by a recipe for the most well-known Padang dish.
The names are in Indonesian, not Minangkabau. This blogger is familiar with Indonesian and a few other languages in the East Indies, but not the Minangkabau tongue.
Ayam panggang = chicken simmered in coconut milk, then grilled.
Dendeng balado = grilled beef strips with lots of red chilies.
Gulai ayam = coconut milk curry chicken with hardboiled eggs.
Gulai cumi cumi = coconut milk squid curry.
Gulai daun paku = fern tips curry.
Gulai hati = coconut milk curry beef heart.
Gulai ikan = coconut milk curry fish.
Gulai itik = curried duck.
Gulai kacang panjang = long bean curry.
Gulai kambing = goat curry.
Gulai otak = curried calf's brain.
Gulai rabung = bamboo shoot curry.
Gulai tahu telur = tofu and hardboiled egg curry.
Ikan goreng = fried fish.
Kripik kentang balado = crispy fried potato with chilies.
Kurma = spicy meat curry.
Lemang = pressed glutinous rice cooked in coconut milk.
Nasi goreng = fried rice with green chilies, shallots, fish.
Rendang = meat stewed in coconut milk with ginger, turmeric, and chilies.
Sambal balado = very hot Padang-style chili paste.
RENDANG
3 lbs beef, large cubes.
3 onions, chopped.
3 - 5 cloves of garlic, chopped.
Equal measure minced galangal, ginger.
One cup of Sambal Ulek - or less, if you glow in the dark.
6 stems of lemongrass.
1 Tbs coriander.
1½ tsp turmeric.
1 tsp ground cumin.
3 lime leaves (djeruk perut).
3 cups of coconut milk.
1 tsp of tamarind mooshed in a quarter cup of hot water.
Salt.
In your food processor whir onion, garlic, galangal, ginger, sambal, and spices till smooth. Use a little of the coconut milk or some water to facilitate.
Coat the meat with this and let stand a while before cooking.
To cook, dump meat and gloop into the cooking pot, add the remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Turn heat low and simmer till the liquid has been entirely taken up by the meat - about an hour and a half. Remove the lemon grass. Then raise heat and gild the chunks in the oily paste - not too much, don't burn anything.
This recipe is sufficient for a family, and there will be leftovers.
Suggested accompaniments: rice, chopped cucumber, chicken broth with a squeeze of lime, various raw and cooked vegetables, plus sambals and toasted dry condiments.
Grilled chicken and steamed fish additionally will make it a feast.
Please note: Rendang is best made with either water buffalo or super-annuated moo-cow. Your butcher may be unfamiliar with either. The meat has to have a certain density.
You would typically make it after a village sacrifice, that being also when those who have left return and feasts are held.
The names are in Indonesian, not Minangkabau. This blogger is familiar with Indonesian and a few other languages in the East Indies, but not the Minangkabau tongue.
Ayam panggang = chicken simmered in coconut milk, then grilled.
Dendeng balado = grilled beef strips with lots of red chilies.
Gulai ayam = coconut milk curry chicken with hardboiled eggs.
Gulai cumi cumi = coconut milk squid curry.
Gulai daun paku = fern tips curry.
Gulai hati = coconut milk curry beef heart.
Gulai ikan = coconut milk curry fish.
Gulai itik = curried duck.
Gulai kacang panjang = long bean curry.
Gulai kambing = goat curry.
Gulai otak = curried calf's brain.
Gulai rabung = bamboo shoot curry.
Gulai tahu telur = tofu and hardboiled egg curry.
Ikan goreng = fried fish.
Kripik kentang balado = crispy fried potato with chilies.
Kurma = spicy meat curry.
Lemang = pressed glutinous rice cooked in coconut milk.
Nasi goreng = fried rice with green chilies, shallots, fish.
Rendang = meat stewed in coconut milk with ginger, turmeric, and chilies.
Sambal balado = very hot Padang-style chili paste.
RENDANG
3 lbs beef, large cubes.
3 onions, chopped.
3 - 5 cloves of garlic, chopped.
Equal measure minced galangal, ginger.
One cup of Sambal Ulek - or less, if you glow in the dark.
6 stems of lemongrass.
1 Tbs coriander.
1½ tsp turmeric.
1 tsp ground cumin.
3 lime leaves (djeruk perut).
3 cups of coconut milk.
1 tsp of tamarind mooshed in a quarter cup of hot water.
Salt.
In your food processor whir onion, garlic, galangal, ginger, sambal, and spices till smooth. Use a little of the coconut milk or some water to facilitate.
Coat the meat with this and let stand a while before cooking.
To cook, dump meat and gloop into the cooking pot, add the remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Turn heat low and simmer till the liquid has been entirely taken up by the meat - about an hour and a half. Remove the lemon grass. Then raise heat and gild the chunks in the oily paste - not too much, don't burn anything.
This recipe is sufficient for a family, and there will be leftovers.
Suggested accompaniments: rice, chopped cucumber, chicken broth with a squeeze of lime, various raw and cooked vegetables, plus sambals and toasted dry condiments.
Grilled chicken and steamed fish additionally will make it a feast.
Please note: Rendang is best made with either water buffalo or super-annuated moo-cow. Your butcher may be unfamiliar with either. The meat has to have a certain density.
You would typically make it after a village sacrifice, that being also when those who have left return and feasts are held.
GET ME A BUCKET!
File this under 'unfavourable reviews', even though I have not read the book.
Nor do I have any intention of doing so.
Life is too short.
I am not a masochist.
Quote:
"Palin, in collaboration with author Lynn Vincent, completed her 400-page book just four months ... "
SOURCE:
http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/33110765/ns/today-today_books/?GT1=43001
From Wikipedia:
"Lynn Vincent is features editor at World Magazine where she covers news, politics and current events. Vincent is a U.S. Navy veteran. She lives in San Diego, California with her husband Danny and their two children.
Vincent is the co-author of a number of books, including Going Rogue with Sarah Palin and Donkey Cons along with Robert Stacy McCain. Her third book, Same Kind of Different as Me was released in June 2006 by W Publishing."
From Wikipedia:
"WORLD Magazine is a biweekly Christian news magazine, published in the United States of America, and based in Asheville, North Carolina. WORLD differs from most other news magazines in that its declared perspective is one of conservative evangelical Protestantism. Its mission statement is "To report, interpret, and illustrate the news in a timely, accurate, enjoyable, and arresting fashion from a perspective committed to the Bible as the inerrant Word of God." "
Oh cheeses!
Nor do I have any intention of doing so.
Life is too short.
I am not a masochist.
Quote:
"Palin, in collaboration with author Lynn Vincent, completed her 400-page book just four months ... "
SOURCE:
http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/33110765/ns/today-today_books/?GT1=43001
From Wikipedia:
"Lynn Vincent is features editor at World Magazine where she covers news, politics and current events. Vincent is a U.S. Navy veteran. She lives in San Diego, California with her husband Danny and their two children.
Vincent is the co-author of a number of books, including Going Rogue with Sarah Palin and Donkey Cons along with Robert Stacy McCain. Her third book, Same Kind of Different as Me was released in June 2006 by W Publishing."
From Wikipedia:
"WORLD Magazine is a biweekly Christian news magazine, published in the United States of America, and based in Asheville, North Carolina. WORLD differs from most other news magazines in that its declared perspective is one of conservative evangelical Protestantism. Its mission statement is "To report, interpret, and illustrate the news in a timely, accurate, enjoyable, and arresting fashion from a perspective committed to the Bible as the inerrant Word of God." "
Oh cheeses!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
STATUTORY RAPE - NOT JUST THOSE CRAZY AMERICANS
France has finally conceded, albeit grudgingly, that committing statutory rape on an American girl is a crime. Even if the girl is very American (wow, naked Hollywood teenager!), and even if the rapist is a respected European artist.
This will no doubt come as a shock to many Europeans.
QUOTE: The French government has dropped its public support for Roman Polanski, saying the 76-year-old director "is neither above nor beneath the law".
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/8283707.stm
"Darn," I can already hear you saying, "now what am I going to do on my American vacation?"
It's a good question. You had plans. I understand that. Now you have to rethink things. Very inconvenient.
Perhaps you could leave your penis at home?
We do have plenty of European pricks over here already. More aren't required.
Roman Polanski, a notable European artist and intellectual, had apparently first gotten the girl drunk, then ignoring her pleas and no's raped and sodomized her. After which he found sanctuary in France against the idiotic American justice system, which just didn't understand that he was an important European artist and intellectual, and the victim merely an American teenager - a throw-away lustobject by any rational measure.
For over thirty years the French loyally protected Roman Polanski.
Despite saying no and pleading with him, by French standards the girl must have wanted it or deserved it, because she was an American.
Roman Polanski is an admired European artist and intellectual.
NO equals NON equals NEIN equals ...... NO!
Sex with a thirteen year old, even if she is an American (ergo, not a European) is a crime.
While we gladly admit that thirteen year-olds may actually be delicious sexual beings, and are entitled to pursue their zesty urges con mucho brio, we do NOT accept that an adult may have sexual relations with a thirteen year old. Legally, she is not of an age at which she can be assumed to make rational and well thought out decisions. She is not part of the adult world, she is not a full member of responsible society.
An adult conjugating a minor is taking advantage of the minor.
Liquor and sexual assault - these are not, strictly speaking, part of a normal sex-life.
Even if the girl is an American teenager and the man is a European.
No means no. If she isn't of permissible age, sane, and sober, yes also means no. Always.
Even if you are a European, and she is an American.
Sorry, that's just the way it is.
This will no doubt come as a shock to many Europeans.
QUOTE: The French government has dropped its public support for Roman Polanski, saying the 76-year-old director "is neither above nor beneath the law".
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/8283707.stm
"Darn," I can already hear you saying, "now what am I going to do on my American vacation?"
It's a good question. You had plans. I understand that. Now you have to rethink things. Very inconvenient.
Perhaps you could leave your penis at home?
We do have plenty of European pricks over here already. More aren't required.
Roman Polanski, a notable European artist and intellectual, had apparently first gotten the girl drunk, then ignoring her pleas and no's raped and sodomized her. After which he found sanctuary in France against the idiotic American justice system, which just didn't understand that he was an important European artist and intellectual, and the victim merely an American teenager - a throw-away lustobject by any rational measure.
For over thirty years the French loyally protected Roman Polanski.
Despite saying no and pleading with him, by French standards the girl must have wanted it or deserved it, because she was an American.
Roman Polanski is an admired European artist and intellectual.
NO equals NON equals NEIN equals ...... NO!
Sex with a thirteen year old, even if she is an American (ergo, not a European) is a crime.
While we gladly admit that thirteen year-olds may actually be delicious sexual beings, and are entitled to pursue their zesty urges con mucho brio, we do NOT accept that an adult may have sexual relations with a thirteen year old. Legally, she is not of an age at which she can be assumed to make rational and well thought out decisions. She is not part of the adult world, she is not a full member of responsible society.
An adult conjugating a minor is taking advantage of the minor.
Liquor and sexual assault - these are not, strictly speaking, part of a normal sex-life.
Even if the girl is an American teenager and the man is a European.
No means no. If she isn't of permissible age, sane, and sober, yes also means no. Always.
Even if you are a European, and she is an American.
Sorry, that's just the way it is.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
WINE FOR WHORES AND MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS
A friend has taken the plunge. No, I am not talking about marriage to a most unsuitable girl, though that may indeed lie in his future. I'm not judging.
Actually, I know far too little of his private life to judge in any case. There may be a note of frustration there. An emptiness, or a yearning, if you will. Something suggests it.
He has taken the plunge and entered the wine name/label "Tawdry Cellars" in a Naked Wines competition, and he would love it if you would take a second to vote for it!
You can vote here at this link:
http://www.nakedwines.com/competition/entry_detail.htm?competitionEntryId=1962&hasVoted=false
Don't worry, Naked Wines won't e-mail or spam you! They only accept online votes and the person that gets the most wins.
This is democracy in action, folks, a real grass roots effort. Go vote! Your local trollops and ecdysiasts will be grateful.
May all your infections clear up with only a modicum of penicillin.
Actually, I know far too little of his private life to judge in any case. There may be a note of frustration there. An emptiness, or a yearning, if you will. Something suggests it.
He has taken the plunge and entered the wine name/label "Tawdry Cellars" in a Naked Wines competition, and he would love it if you would take a second to vote for it!
You can vote here at this link:
http://www.nakedwines.com/competition/entry_detail.htm?competitionEntryId=1962&hasVoted=false
Don't worry, Naked Wines won't e-mail or spam you! They only accept online votes and the person that gets the most wins.
This is democracy in action, folks, a real grass roots effort. Go vote! Your local trollops and ecdysiasts will be grateful.
May all your infections clear up with only a modicum of penicillin.
NASTY, HOT, TWIGGY, BIZARRE, NAUSEATING
Picked up a tin of a particular tobacco at the store the other day. Haven't opened it yet. And probably won't for a year or two - it's a Virginia from a well-known manufacturer, and I don't smoke a lot of Virginia blends.
It has a nice label. I'm a sucker for nice labels. This one really looks like a hobbit would smoke the product.
Regarding it's salient characteristics, the angry trogs at Tobacco Reviews dot com leave no bones unturned:
"The stuff made a hissing sound in the bowl."
"There is a very sweet and artificial element that abounds."
"It tasted like it had a strange topping."
"Bizarre, I think."
"I tossed it in the trash because I simply had no use for it."
"Concentrated tomato paste, white vinegar, brown sugar, dried figs, pencil eraser."
"Will smoke some more when the summer heat subsides."
"A cloying note that gave me a headache and made me vaguely nauseated."
"Very strange."
"There is some weird topping added; very discreet, and very foul."
"It burns like a sunny day in hell."
"I will smoke it if offered, but most likely will not purchase another."
"I found when packing the pipe I had to remove some of the tree limbs, other than that it packed very well. If it weren't for the gaminess of the dingitude, this would be an excellent product."
"The taste (if you can find one) is bland and you'll burn your tongue so bad you'll be looking for the number to the Shriner's burn center."
After reading all that, I am very tempted to try it immediately. It sounds like a fascinating new friend.
But I will force myself to wait for at least a year. I just have too many open tins floating around the wallow right now.
================================================
Open tins:
Astleys No. 99 Royal Tudor, Cornell & Diehl Old College, Cornell & Diehl Yale Mixture, GLPease Maltese Falcon, GLPease Odyssey, Samuel Gawith Balkan Flake, Samuel Gawith Perfection, various MacBarens and Orlik products.
Plus several jars containing my own blends - two English style, one Scotch-style Balkan mixture, one Scotch-style Latakia mixture, one Scotch-style Perique mixture.
And something I call Dawg.
TOBACCO INDEX
It has a nice label. I'm a sucker for nice labels. This one really looks like a hobbit would smoke the product.
Regarding it's salient characteristics, the angry trogs at Tobacco Reviews dot com leave no bones unturned:
"The stuff made a hissing sound in the bowl."
"There is a very sweet and artificial element that abounds."
"It tasted like it had a strange topping."
"Bizarre, I think."
"I tossed it in the trash because I simply had no use for it."
"Concentrated tomato paste, white vinegar, brown sugar, dried figs, pencil eraser."
"Will smoke some more when the summer heat subsides."
"A cloying note that gave me a headache and made me vaguely nauseated."
"Very strange."
"There is some weird topping added; very discreet, and very foul."
"It burns like a sunny day in hell."
"I will smoke it if offered, but most likely will not purchase another."
"I found when packing the pipe I had to remove some of the tree limbs, other than that it packed very well. If it weren't for the gaminess of the dingitude, this would be an excellent product."
"The taste (if you can find one) is bland and you'll burn your tongue so bad you'll be looking for the number to the Shriner's burn center."
After reading all that, I am very tempted to try it immediately. It sounds like a fascinating new friend.
But I will force myself to wait for at least a year. I just have too many open tins floating around the wallow right now.
================================================
Open tins:
Astleys No. 99 Royal Tudor, Cornell & Diehl Old College, Cornell & Diehl Yale Mixture, GLPease Maltese Falcon, GLPease Odyssey, Samuel Gawith Balkan Flake, Samuel Gawith Perfection, various MacBarens and Orlik products.
Plus several jars containing my own blends - two English style, one Scotch-style Balkan mixture, one Scotch-style Latakia mixture, one Scotch-style Perique mixture.
And something I call Dawg.
TOBACCO INDEX
Monday, September 28, 2009
PROMOTING CRUSTACEAN ABUSE
Normally I do not speak much of food on Mondays. Not because I do not eat, but because after a busy weekend it is not the first thing that pops into mind to blog about.
But today, I wish to speak of shrimp.
Apparently eating shrimp is an unbearably mean thing to do. Totally vicious and inhuman. It causes multiple suffering and bad karma from many lives snuffed out.
"You're eating shrimp!!!!! How cruel!!!!!"
The young person who squealed those words at her friend was aghast.
She explained that the consumption of shrimp showed a heartless disregard for the pain of so many small crustaceans, not just one individual animal. A vast assembly of suffering shrimp. Because in order to get even one pound of shrimp to market, several pounds of murdered shrimp are sacrificed - not presentable, missing limbs, too small, ugly......
Her friend continued eating with gusto. Apparently the collective agony (and bad karma) of shrimp did not move her in the slightest. Adding insult to injury, she audibly smacked her lips and dashed on some more hot sauce. And a squeeze of lime juice. Tasty!
"AND it ROBS other animals that DEPEND upon shrimp for food, so it has reverberations like you could not image!!!!!!""""
The harvesting of shrimp is an industrial affair, in which untold millions of small crustacean lives are snuffed out in unbearable agony.........
Huge piles, thousands of poor poor shrimp, gasping and convulsing on the cold cold deck of a large factory ship.......
HUMANE-NINNITY
Of course, the logical conclusion here is that it is far more merciful to eat large quadrupeds that have been quickly killed, skinned, and butchered. Just one death, with speed, rather than thousands dying, slowly.
Bullet through the brain - whamm! Now clean the carcass and pack it in plastic.
Or ship it in a refrigerated truck to Chinatown.
Often, after a night on the town, I would return home along the quiet thoroughfares of C'Town in early morning, and observe the white-smocked butchers shlepping huge oink carcasses into their shops.
Ah, pale dawn, fresh pink flesh, and a lifeless trotter hanging down!
It's poetry!
The Chinese do fabulous things with pork. It is, from their perspective, a miraculous beast.
One of the very best dishes is chunks of fatty pork steamed with ginger and .... shrimp paste.
But today, I wish to speak of shrimp.
Apparently eating shrimp is an unbearably mean thing to do. Totally vicious and inhuman. It causes multiple suffering and bad karma from many lives snuffed out.
"You're eating shrimp!!!!! How cruel!!!!!"
The young person who squealed those words at her friend was aghast.
She explained that the consumption of shrimp showed a heartless disregard for the pain of so many small crustaceans, not just one individual animal. A vast assembly of suffering shrimp. Because in order to get even one pound of shrimp to market, several pounds of murdered shrimp are sacrificed - not presentable, missing limbs, too small, ugly......
Her friend continued eating with gusto. Apparently the collective agony (and bad karma) of shrimp did not move her in the slightest. Adding insult to injury, she audibly smacked her lips and dashed on some more hot sauce. And a squeeze of lime juice. Tasty!
"AND it ROBS other animals that DEPEND upon shrimp for food, so it has reverberations like you could not image!!!!!!""""
The harvesting of shrimp is an industrial affair, in which untold millions of small crustacean lives are snuffed out in unbearable agony.........
Huge piles, thousands of poor poor shrimp, gasping and convulsing on the cold cold deck of a large factory ship.......
HUMANE-NINNITY
Of course, the logical conclusion here is that it is far more merciful to eat large quadrupeds that have been quickly killed, skinned, and butchered. Just one death, with speed, rather than thousands dying, slowly.
Bullet through the brain - whamm! Now clean the carcass and pack it in plastic.
Or ship it in a refrigerated truck to Chinatown.
Often, after a night on the town, I would return home along the quiet thoroughfares of C'Town in early morning, and observe the white-smocked butchers shlepping huge oink carcasses into their shops.
Ah, pale dawn, fresh pink flesh, and a lifeless trotter hanging down!
It's poetry!
The Chinese do fabulous things with pork. It is, from their perspective, a miraculous beast.
One of the very best dishes is chunks of fatty pork steamed with ginger and .... shrimp paste.
Friday, September 25, 2009
INTERNATIONAL TOBACCONIST CONSPIRACY
A correspondent who is newly posted to the barbaric hinterlands sent a plea that speaks volumes of the primitive hickville swamp-burg where he is in exile.
Well, actually, that is not quite correct.
It really indicates that he is seriously buckling down and working, rather than off gallivanting around town with the hot hot hot shiksas.
Oh, those zesty native girls. A hardship.
He asked "how does one order a 50g tin of Dunhill London Mixture via the intertubes?"
The question establishes three things.
He is spending much time at his desk with the books.
He is running out of stuff to smoke.
He has good taste.
"How does one order a 50g tin of Dunhill London Mixture via the intertubes?"
With an excess of faith.
That's how one orders London Mixture.
Seriously, good luck. It may no longer be available.
There are several stores that do business over the internet.
I have dealt with these two:
Cup O` Joes: http://www.cupojoes.com/
PipesandCigars.com: http://www.pipesandcigars.com/
ALTERNATIVES
In lieu of Dunhill London Mixture, you might like Cornell & Diehl's Red Odessa. It has less Turkish, but is a profoundly old-fashioned style English blend.
Of course there's also the GLPease stuff - Westminster comes to mind - but that may not be what you are looking for.
[I say this because I know that you have been exposed to much of the Dark Lord's domain. If it satisfied you, you would not need to consult me.]
Other good medium-range English mixtures with a Turkish overtone are Peterson's Old Dublin, Esoterica (actually Germain's) Margate, and J. F. Germain & Sons Latakia Mixture or King Charles Mixture.
All are deliciously degenerate.
There's also Samuel Gawith's Squadron Leader - a perfect Balkan style blend, very old fashioned, nicely reeky. Bit of a broad cut, which makes it a little hard to get used to, but once you've got the rhythm of it, delightful.
ADVICE TO EVERYONE, NOT JUST TOBACCO MAIVENS
In regards to "read-testing" a blend before you buy it, tobacco reviews dot com (http://www.tobaccoreviews.com/browse_all.cfm) is a good resource, and can be very amusing, as a pipe smoker who realizes he just spent fifteen dollars on a tin of boggy sphagnum he would never touch again, even if it were the last tobacco on earth, becomes a very angry, very venomous, very eloquently foaming at the mouth critic. Such a man's review will spill out in lyric sputtering rage exactly how he feels about the heart-wrenching loss of fifteen bucks. The heavens will tremble, the earth will shake, and all the world will know of his agony, despair, and righteous indignation, by gum. He has been robbed, and he seeks justice!
Many of such reviews are seriously good reading.
You will really feel for the bereaved cheapskate.
Or resolve to rib him without mercy if ever you meet him.
==============================================
On a different note, I think I have succeeded in blending Arcadia. Arcadia is properly called the Craven A Mixture, which was formerly produced by Carrerras, and has long been unavailable.
ARCADIA
The writer J. M. Barrie was a customer of Carrerras at Wardour Street during the 1890s. His book 'My Lady Nicotine' mentions the Arcadia Mixture, which he later admitted was actually Craven A. With Barrie's approval Carrerras featured this in his advertising, thus cementing the association of Craven A with Arcadia - which Arthur Conan Doyle subsequently drove home in 'The Crooked Man': "Hum! You still smoke the Arcadia mixture of your bachelor days, then!" (Holmes to Watson upon entering the latter's bachelor digs).
[See: http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Crooked_Man
From 'The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes', by Arthur Conan Doyle, published in 1894.]
Arcadia was heavier on the Orientals than a regular English blend, though lighter on Latakia than you would assume. It had a range of Virginias for several different notes of flavour, and a touch of Kentucky ("Toasted Cavendish") to accentuate the Turkish.
Drucquer & Sons had a blend called Arcadia when I worked there in the seventies and eighties. It was quite good - very Oriental, though with a smidge too much Kentucky.
McClelland acquired a decades-old tin of the Craven A Mixture in the late nineties or early two-thousands, and analyzed it meticulously, eventually producing 'Arcadia' as part of their Sherlock Holmes series. It is decent, but it has that well-known McClelland characteristic, and to my mind far too heavy a Virginia taste.
Craig Tarler of Cornell & Diehl avers that his Yale Mixture is in fact the nearest approximation of the famous blend. I will gladly admit that I am fond of it, and will attest that it is a very fine product indeed.
But personally, I think they're all wrong. Of course.
What I have comes closest to Arcadia.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Well, actually, that is not quite correct.
It really indicates that he is seriously buckling down and working, rather than off gallivanting around town with the hot hot hot shiksas.
Oh, those zesty native girls. A hardship.
He asked "how does one order a 50g tin of Dunhill London Mixture via the intertubes?"
The question establishes three things.
He is spending much time at his desk with the books.
He is running out of stuff to smoke.
He has good taste.
"How does one order a 50g tin of Dunhill London Mixture via the intertubes?"
With an excess of faith.
That's how one orders London Mixture.
Seriously, good luck. It may no longer be available.
There are several stores that do business over the internet.
I have dealt with these two:
Cup O` Joes: http://www.cupojoes.com/
PipesandCigars.com: http://www.pipesandcigars.com/
ALTERNATIVES
In lieu of Dunhill London Mixture, you might like Cornell & Diehl's Red Odessa. It has less Turkish, but is a profoundly old-fashioned style English blend.
Of course there's also the GLPease stuff - Westminster comes to mind - but that may not be what you are looking for.
[I say this because I know that you have been exposed to much of the Dark Lord's domain. If it satisfied you, you would not need to consult me.]
Other good medium-range English mixtures with a Turkish overtone are Peterson's Old Dublin, Esoterica (actually Germain's) Margate, and J. F. Germain & Sons Latakia Mixture or King Charles Mixture.
All are deliciously degenerate.
There's also Samuel Gawith's Squadron Leader - a perfect Balkan style blend, very old fashioned, nicely reeky. Bit of a broad cut, which makes it a little hard to get used to, but once you've got the rhythm of it, delightful.
ADVICE TO EVERYONE, NOT JUST TOBACCO MAIVENS
In regards to "read-testing" a blend before you buy it, tobacco reviews dot com (http://www.tobaccoreviews.com/browse_all.cfm) is a good resource, and can be very amusing, as a pipe smoker who realizes he just spent fifteen dollars on a tin of boggy sphagnum he would never touch again, even if it were the last tobacco on earth, becomes a very angry, very venomous, very eloquently foaming at the mouth critic. Such a man's review will spill out in lyric sputtering rage exactly how he feels about the heart-wrenching loss of fifteen bucks. The heavens will tremble, the earth will shake, and all the world will know of his agony, despair, and righteous indignation, by gum. He has been robbed, and he seeks justice!
Many of such reviews are seriously good reading.
You will really feel for the bereaved cheapskate.
Or resolve to rib him without mercy if ever you meet him.
==============================================
On a different note, I think I have succeeded in blending Arcadia. Arcadia is properly called the Craven A Mixture, which was formerly produced by Carrerras, and has long been unavailable.
ARCADIA
The writer J. M. Barrie was a customer of Carrerras at Wardour Street during the 1890s. His book 'My Lady Nicotine' mentions the Arcadia Mixture, which he later admitted was actually Craven A. With Barrie's approval Carrerras featured this in his advertising, thus cementing the association of Craven A with Arcadia - which Arthur Conan Doyle subsequently drove home in 'The Crooked Man': "Hum! You still smoke the Arcadia mixture of your bachelor days, then!" (Holmes to Watson upon entering the latter's bachelor digs).
[See: http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Crooked_Man
From 'The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes', by Arthur Conan Doyle, published in 1894.]
Arcadia was heavier on the Orientals than a regular English blend, though lighter on Latakia than you would assume. It had a range of Virginias for several different notes of flavour, and a touch of Kentucky ("Toasted Cavendish") to accentuate the Turkish.
Drucquer & Sons had a blend called Arcadia when I worked there in the seventies and eighties. It was quite good - very Oriental, though with a smidge too much Kentucky.
McClelland acquired a decades-old tin of the Craven A Mixture in the late nineties or early two-thousands, and analyzed it meticulously, eventually producing 'Arcadia' as part of their Sherlock Holmes series. It is decent, but it has that well-known McClelland characteristic, and to my mind far too heavy a Virginia taste.
Craig Tarler of Cornell & Diehl avers that his Yale Mixture is in fact the nearest approximation of the famous blend. I will gladly admit that I am fond of it, and will attest that it is a very fine product indeed.
But personally, I think they're all wrong. Of course.
What I have comes closest to Arcadia.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, September 24, 2009
WESTBORO BAPTIST CHURCH PLANNING ANTI-YID STREET ACTION
As if their hatefilled anti-Gay demonstrations, and repulsive protests at the funerals of soldiers killed in Afghanistan and Iraq weren't enough, the Westboro Baptist Church now intends to holler obscenities at Jews.
This coming Saturday, the inbred kin of pastor Fred Phelps will be bringing profound dishonour to the Christian Religion by holding up signs that say "God hates Jews" outside Congregation Beth Elohim in Brooklyn.
See this post:
http://adamholland.blogspot.com/2009/09/hate-group-to-demonstrate-at-brooklyn.html
Congratulations, mister Phelps, you stand in the company of such luminaries as Torquemada, Pope Pius VII, Martin Luther, Hitler, Stalin, Ahmedinejad, David Duke, and Mahmoud Abbas.
Blogger Adam Holland has promised to post a follow-up to the visit by those wacky Baptists. Please visit his blog (http://adamholland.blogspot.com/) to see what happens next.
I promise you, the most interesting behaviour will not be demonstrated by the members of Congregation Beth Elohim. After all, they are civilized. Which is something that Fred Phelps and his inbred brood manifestly are not.
More of Pastor "I hate everybody" Phelps and his family's zany antics can be read here:
http://adamholland.blogspot.com/2009/09/westboro-baptist-church-protest-rosh.html
From the Daily Oklahoman: "Shirley Phelps-Roper, leader of the Westboro protest, said the church stopped at OU as part of a love campaign across the country ... "
Love campaign?
Harry's Place will probably also cover the event.
http://www.hurryupharry.org/2009/09/23/haters-plan-to-demonstrate-outside-brooklyn-synagogue/
I strongly doubt that Harry's Place (or anybody else) will be favourably inclined to these Topekan yutzes.
This coming Saturday, the inbred kin of pastor Fred Phelps will be bringing profound dishonour to the Christian Religion by holding up signs that say "God hates Jews" outside Congregation Beth Elohim in Brooklyn.
See this post:
http://adamholland.blogspot.com/2009/09/hate-group-to-demonstrate-at-brooklyn.html
Congratulations, mister Phelps, you stand in the company of such luminaries as Torquemada, Pope Pius VII, Martin Luther, Hitler, Stalin, Ahmedinejad, David Duke, and Mahmoud Abbas.
Blogger Adam Holland has promised to post a follow-up to the visit by those wacky Baptists. Please visit his blog (http://adamholland.blogspot.com/) to see what happens next.
I promise you, the most interesting behaviour will not be demonstrated by the members of Congregation Beth Elohim. After all, they are civilized. Which is something that Fred Phelps and his inbred brood manifestly are not.
More of Pastor "I hate everybody" Phelps and his family's zany antics can be read here:
http://adamholland.blogspot.com/2009/09/westboro-baptist-church-protest-rosh.html
From the Daily Oklahoman: "Shirley Phelps-Roper, leader of the Westboro protest, said the church stopped at OU as part of a love campaign across the country ... "
Love campaign?
Harry's Place will probably also cover the event.
http://www.hurryupharry.org/2009/09/23/haters-plan-to-demonstrate-outside-brooklyn-synagogue/
I strongly doubt that Harry's Place (or anybody else) will be favourably inclined to these Topekan yutzes.
EXEMPLARY ACTIONS, EXAMPLES TO THE WORLD
Yesterday eleven rabbis got arrested. No, not because of anti-Semitism in some backward country, but because of a principled stand against Ahmedinejad and the Iranian threat.
Read about it:
http://boroparkpyro.blogspot.com/2009/09/mass-rabbinic-arrest-2.html
Fellow blogger Steg (dos iz nit der Šteg) was there.
He writes: "The police threatened them with arrest, and most of the protestors moved aside, but 11 stood (sat?) their ground and went all the way in order to highlight dramatically the danger that Pres. Ahmadinejad of Iran poses to his own people, to America, to Israel and to the rest of the world."
He posts several dramatic photos.
Please visit his blog and comment.
By protesting, by being there when there was a need to be there, they increased good in the world.
Bravo, gentlemen.
Read about it:
http://boroparkpyro.blogspot.com/2009/09/mass-rabbinic-arrest-2.html
Fellow blogger Steg (dos iz nit der Šteg) was there.
He writes: "The police threatened them with arrest, and most of the protestors moved aside, but 11 stood (sat?) their ground and went all the way in order to highlight dramatically the danger that Pres. Ahmadinejad of Iran poses to his own people, to America, to Israel and to the rest of the world."
He posts several dramatic photos.
Please visit his blog and comment.
By protesting, by being there when there was a need to be there, they increased good in the world.
Bravo, gentlemen.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
ALICE WALKER PANDERS TO THE TROLLS
White men are guilty of everything. And, in Alice Walker's cramped field of vision, you can't hardly get any whiter than the Jews. That, more than anything else, seems to be the message of her dark womb-o-centric harangue in Tikkun Magazine, delivered as a note of guilt-inducement before Yom Kippur.
Seldom have I read so loathsome, so appalling, so utterly black-hearted a screed as the turgid overblown pile of pro-Hamas propaganda that Ms. Walker sees fit to dish up for Michael Lerner's spirituality-starved acolytes, in her recent essay "Overcoming Speechlessness: A Poet Encounters ‘the Horror’ in Rwanda, Eastern Congo, and Palestine/Israel".
Here is Uriel Hellman of JTA describing the execrable thing:
"In her Tikkun essay, "Overcoming Speechlessness: A Poet Encounters ‘the Horror’ in Rwanda, Eastern Congo, and Palestine/Israel," Walker calls suicide bombings "last-ditch resistance," and says it’s dishonest to engage in "blaming the oppressed for using their bodies where the Israeli army uses armored tanks."
She also is under the mistaken impression that the Palestinians are descendants of the ancient Philistines and that Rachel Corrie was Jewish and was killed by a tank."
End cite.
Source:http://blogs.jta.org/telegraph/article/2009/09/22/1008054/defender-of-terrorism-against-jews-to-spea
What he avoids describing in any great detail is Ms. Walker's tendency to posit the conflict in stark terms of 'good' (women equals non-white equals victim equals just equals Palestinian) versus 'evil' (white imperialist equals America equals murder, bloodshed, rape equals the West equals racism equals Israel).
Quote:"These whites who tormented us daily were like Israelis who have cut down millions of trees planted by Arab Palestinians and stolen Palestinian water, even topsoil. They have bulldozed innumerable villages, houses, and mosques, and in their place built settlements for strangers who have no connection whatsoever with Palestine."
End quote.
There are other equally simplistic statements in her very long dull essay.
I have to believe that either Ms. Walker is extremely evil, or horrendously stupid.
As it seems unlikely that she is indeed so stupendously ignorant, though no doubt hardly well-informed, the assumption of evil, sheer vicious evil, hate-filled spiteful petty evil, is far more likely.
You may judge for yourself.
Her jejune and unimaginative manifesto can be viewed here:
http://www.alicewalkersblog.com/2009/07/overcoming-speechlessness-poet.html
Please drench your handkerchief with perfume before stepping into her puddle.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
AFTERTHOUGHT
This may be a preamble to an in-depth critique of Ms. Alice Walker's assault on Israel, on Jews with a love for Israel, and on Jews who refuse to think exactly like her and her odious and despicable fellow-travelers.
I am not at all certain that I wish to subject myself to the nausea-inducing torture of rereading her essay over and over again - I have already reread it several times, you should see my notes!
It becomes more objectionable with each reading.
If I ever participate in a book-burning, It will be one of Ms. Walker's tomes that I will cast into the flames. Heretofore I had not imagined that I would even consider incinerating literature - I am not considering it now.
Do not buy Tikkun magazine. Michael Lerner and his disgusting publication do not need your money, and real toilet paper will not plug up the plumbing.
Seldom have I read so loathsome, so appalling, so utterly black-hearted a screed as the turgid overblown pile of pro-Hamas propaganda that Ms. Walker sees fit to dish up for Michael Lerner's spirituality-starved acolytes, in her recent essay "Overcoming Speechlessness: A Poet Encounters ‘the Horror’ in Rwanda, Eastern Congo, and Palestine/Israel".
Here is Uriel Hellman of JTA describing the execrable thing:
"In her Tikkun essay, "Overcoming Speechlessness: A Poet Encounters ‘the Horror’ in Rwanda, Eastern Congo, and Palestine/Israel," Walker calls suicide bombings "last-ditch resistance," and says it’s dishonest to engage in "blaming the oppressed for using their bodies where the Israeli army uses armored tanks."
She also is under the mistaken impression that the Palestinians are descendants of the ancient Philistines and that Rachel Corrie was Jewish and was killed by a tank."
End cite.
Source:http://blogs.jta.org/telegraph/article/2009/09/22/1008054/defender-of-terrorism-against-jews-to-spea
What he avoids describing in any great detail is Ms. Walker's tendency to posit the conflict in stark terms of 'good' (women equals non-white equals victim equals just equals Palestinian) versus 'evil' (white imperialist equals America equals murder, bloodshed, rape equals the West equals racism equals Israel).
Quote:"These whites who tormented us daily were like Israelis who have cut down millions of trees planted by Arab Palestinians and stolen Palestinian water, even topsoil. They have bulldozed innumerable villages, houses, and mosques, and in their place built settlements for strangers who have no connection whatsoever with Palestine."
End quote.
There are other equally simplistic statements in her very long dull essay.
I have to believe that either Ms. Walker is extremely evil, or horrendously stupid.
As it seems unlikely that she is indeed so stupendously ignorant, though no doubt hardly well-informed, the assumption of evil, sheer vicious evil, hate-filled spiteful petty evil, is far more likely.
You may judge for yourself.
Her jejune and unimaginative manifesto can be viewed here:
http://www.alicewalkersblog.com/2009/07/overcoming-speechlessness-poet.html
Please drench your handkerchief with perfume before stepping into her puddle.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
AFTERTHOUGHT
This may be a preamble to an in-depth critique of Ms. Alice Walker's assault on Israel, on Jews with a love for Israel, and on Jews who refuse to think exactly like her and her odious and despicable fellow-travelers.
I am not at all certain that I wish to subject myself to the nausea-inducing torture of rereading her essay over and over again - I have already reread it several times, you should see my notes!
It becomes more objectionable with each reading.
If I ever participate in a book-burning, It will be one of Ms. Walker's tomes that I will cast into the flames. Heretofore I had not imagined that I would even consider incinerating literature - I am not considering it now.
Do not buy Tikkun magazine. Michael Lerner and his disgusting publication do not need your money, and real toilet paper will not plug up the plumbing.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
UNWASHED FLATULENT PEASANT, WITH A HINT OF CITRUS
We carry scars from the past in our souls. What hurt many decades ago still floats to the surface in the quiet of the night; we must have pacifiers to distract us from unwelcome memories.
Books, entertainments, and pretty things - these are the baubles that lead the mind away from minefields.
Oh, and pipes and tobacco. Of course! What would life be like without pipes and tobacco?
During my childhood I developed a taste for good quality pipe tobacco, which cost four or five times as much as the pouched dreck common to the hordes. It was a profound hardship. There were many times when I did not know if I would be able to buy that precious tin of Balkan Sobranie or Dunhill London Mixture and I often worried that the tobacconist would raise the prices, or not order any more...... being seemingly the only person in Valkenswaard with a Latakia fetish was the full extent of my teenage angst.
Yes, you sympathize. I can tell.
[Balkan Sobranie Mixture: Somewhat less than half smoky Syrian (Latakia), nearly a quarter resinous Oriental (Yenidje from Thrace or Macedonia), and for the rest, charming flue-cured leaves (Virginia). It stank. But tasted very very nice indeed.
Dunhill London Mixture: More than forty percent Latakia, twenty four percent Turkish (Smyrna, Samsoun, etcetera), plus Virginia Cavendish, with perhaps a smidge of something else. It stank. But the taste was quite appealing.]
I am scarred - I got kicked out of a bar once for smoking Dunhill Nightcap.
[Dunhill Nightcap: Fifty percent plus of Latakia, on a base of dark Virginias and Cavendish. Need I mention that it stank? It was delicious!]
SOMETHING ABOUT APPLES, TREES, AND DISTANCE
Recently I was at the local tobacconist, observing a transaction while I smoked. An elderly gentleman was buying a pipe for his son. Between the two of them they carefully examined most of the good quality briar in the store, before carefully choosing the specimen that pleased them both. After paying the father asked about certain tobaccos - he fondly remembered Balkan Sobranie.
Alas, Balkan Sobranie is no longer available, hasn't been for years. The Dunhill he asked about can no longer be found either. The fragrance of remembering has been diminished.
The son, being of a more recent vintage, was perfectly happy with Greg Pease's Westminster, and also smoked Abingdon - both are English style mixtures of Latakia, Oriental, and Virginias. His dad had brought him up well.
Evenso, he lacked some of the crucial background data necessary to fully participate in the conversation. His stinky memories are not the same as our stinky memories.
Our stinky memories are better. Much much better. Positively putrid.
After they left I purchased four tins of Germains - two Tilbury, two Dorchester.
I cannot remember which one of the two has been described as having a pronounced odeur of unwashed flatulent peasant, with a hint of citrus - both blends are aged Virginias mixed with other substances, so it could be either. At some point I shall find out.
It will be delightful.
==================================================
THE PEFUMED IMAGINATION
Currently working on a tin of Cornell & Diehl's 'Old College' (#530), which is a robust and flavourful interpretation of full English with a touch of air-cured leaf among the Virginias, darkly fragrant. The tin has been aged for two years. It is very good.
Other English blends by Cornell & Diehl which smokers of English mixtures would like are Red Odessa (#968R) and Yale Mixture (#531). Red Odessa is quite enchanting, Yale reflects a less Oriental persona admirably. Both have substrata of some very lovely Virginias.
Craig Tarler has champions with these three products.
They are the past recaptured, in several wonderful ways.
As always, age first, then air a bit.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Books, entertainments, and pretty things - these are the baubles that lead the mind away from minefields.
Oh, and pipes and tobacco. Of course! What would life be like without pipes and tobacco?
During my childhood I developed a taste for good quality pipe tobacco, which cost four or five times as much as the pouched dreck common to the hordes. It was a profound hardship. There were many times when I did not know if I would be able to buy that precious tin of Balkan Sobranie or Dunhill London Mixture and I often worried that the tobacconist would raise the prices, or not order any more...... being seemingly the only person in Valkenswaard with a Latakia fetish was the full extent of my teenage angst.
Yes, you sympathize. I can tell.
[Balkan Sobranie Mixture: Somewhat less than half smoky Syrian (Latakia), nearly a quarter resinous Oriental (Yenidje from Thrace or Macedonia), and for the rest, charming flue-cured leaves (Virginia). It stank. But tasted very very nice indeed.
Dunhill London Mixture: More than forty percent Latakia, twenty four percent Turkish (Smyrna, Samsoun, etcetera), plus Virginia Cavendish, with perhaps a smidge of something else. It stank. But the taste was quite appealing.]
I am scarred - I got kicked out of a bar once for smoking Dunhill Nightcap.
[Dunhill Nightcap: Fifty percent plus of Latakia, on a base of dark Virginias and Cavendish. Need I mention that it stank? It was delicious!]
SOMETHING ABOUT APPLES, TREES, AND DISTANCE
Recently I was at the local tobacconist, observing a transaction while I smoked. An elderly gentleman was buying a pipe for his son. Between the two of them they carefully examined most of the good quality briar in the store, before carefully choosing the specimen that pleased them both. After paying the father asked about certain tobaccos - he fondly remembered Balkan Sobranie.
Alas, Balkan Sobranie is no longer available, hasn't been for years. The Dunhill he asked about can no longer be found either. The fragrance of remembering has been diminished.
The son, being of a more recent vintage, was perfectly happy with Greg Pease's Westminster, and also smoked Abingdon - both are English style mixtures of Latakia, Oriental, and Virginias. His dad had brought him up well.
Evenso, he lacked some of the crucial background data necessary to fully participate in the conversation. His stinky memories are not the same as our stinky memories.
Our stinky memories are better. Much much better. Positively putrid.
After they left I purchased four tins of Germains - two Tilbury, two Dorchester.
I cannot remember which one of the two has been described as having a pronounced odeur of unwashed flatulent peasant, with a hint of citrus - both blends are aged Virginias mixed with other substances, so it could be either. At some point I shall find out.
It will be delightful.
==================================================
THE PEFUMED IMAGINATION
Currently working on a tin of Cornell & Diehl's 'Old College' (#530), which is a robust and flavourful interpretation of full English with a touch of air-cured leaf among the Virginias, darkly fragrant. The tin has been aged for two years. It is very good.
Other English blends by Cornell & Diehl which smokers of English mixtures would like are Red Odessa (#968R) and Yale Mixture (#531). Red Odessa is quite enchanting, Yale reflects a less Oriental persona admirably. Both have substrata of some very lovely Virginias.
Craig Tarler has champions with these three products.
They are the past recaptured, in several wonderful ways.
As always, age first, then air a bit.
TOBACCO INDEX
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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, September 21, 2009
LIFE IN THE BUFFET LANE
Having worked in an Indian restaurant, I am somewhat familiar with Indian food. Well, Indian restaurant food. Specifically, the food served at Indian restaurants in the United States.
Which is not the same as Indian food.
I have been told that REAL Indian food can only be found in England. At restaurants run by Sylhetis in London which stay open late at night so that pub-departees who do not wish to dine on Spam fritter or deepfried Snickersbar may enjoy their vindaloo or chicken tikka masala - the British national dishes of the working class and middle class respectively.
The English, as is well known, are experts on all matters Indian. Apparently they invented the place. Much like the Dutch invented civilization, and the French invented bread.
But anyhow.
FEED US GHEE
I enjoy a nice bit of khana, and so does Savage Kitten. We regularly go up the road to an Indian restaurant to partake of their buffet, which contains the usual staples - various types of sabjee, including palak ka saag, as well as murgh makhni, a nice oily kheema matar, and tandoori chicken.
The naan is excellent, when just out of the kitchen.
It is interesting watching other people's behaviour at Indian buffet restaurants.
Type: WASP.
Overloads plate, glopping rich saucy food ontop of a mound of rice and other rich saucy food, precariously balancing naan and papad on top of the unstable pyramid. Seems afraid that if he doesn't grab as much as possible now, someone else will eat everything!
Type: EURY.
Approaches this strange foreign food with a combination of serious intellectual gravitas and paranoid caution. Will slowly, hesitantly, masticate alternating forkfulls of lettuce, gulab jamun, chicken, lamb, and samosa, before pronouncing it good and going for more exploratory pecking.
Type: TATTOO.
Needs as many arms as an Indian statue, due to habit of clearing out the vegetables, each on its own plate or in its own bowl. Takes great care not to combine foods - the lentil puree might disagree with the exquisite garbanzos. Is there dairy in this? Then I cannot eat it! Engages the staff in spiritually uplifting conversation - the words 'ashram', 'swami', 'devadassi', and 'Ooticamund' are likely to be heard.
Smiles blissfully.
Type: ALLERGIC.
Really, she only came along for the company, she has no intention of absorbing anything threatening. Cannot eat bread (gluten!), Indian vegetable preparations (peanut oil!), meat (meat!), fried foods (evil!), or anything with dairy in it (lactose intolerance). Dislikes rice. Is there any tofu on the premises? Fruit? Canned tempeh?
Oh but never mind me, I'm perfectly content with my glass of water!
Really, I am!!!!!
Type: DESI.
May or may not partake of the buffet - but will desperately order basket upon basket of naan, as only goralog eat cold breads turned spongy. Moves fingers of the right hand in careful gestures over the surface of the plate, forming little mounds of sabjee which are then swiftly and without spilling one iota conveyed to the mouth. Can usually do this without getting any food on the palm of the hand - unless they're from the south, in which case their enthusiasm will get gravies and rice up to the elbow.
If they are Sindhis, the hand descends swoopingly upon the food, like a carrion bird on a corpse. There is a grace to the speed with which such folk rip the flesh from fowl, then bite a crisp green chili - they will calmly break off a piece of papad, then return their fingers to the fray.
Punjabis, on the other hand, sensually digitize the food - yet without much fuss. They like feeling it, because the finger tips give forwarning of the luscious textures awaiting the mouth. Lots of buttered naan, lots of green chilies, lots of pickle. Onion!
Accha!
WE SHALL HAVE MORE ROTI
I have no idea where the family at the other table was from. Grandma wore a dark blue sari and had her hair in a long braid. The father sat at the head, his wife to his left, his little daughter to his right. The little girl was the most interesting person at the table.
She may have been three years old already, but I suspect not - far too small.
But she was very capable for her age - she did not stick her fingers in her mouth while eating, and did not drop any of the food she picked up with her fingers. She ate very neatly, and unlike many infants did not wail or chatter or screech during dinner.
After the plates were cleared, she said brightly "oh look, everyone has finished". Perfect diction, and nicely modulated, a voice neither childish or yelpy.
She and her grandmother had a conversation which was too soft to understand, finished by her telling her grandmother firmly "oh but you really must come with us!"
There should be many more parents like hers. Normally I can't stand other people's infants. Judging by their daughter, these parents are examples worth emulating, especially by the types Wasp, Eury, Tattoo, and Allergic.
Who far too often have children without knowing what to do with them.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Which is not the same as Indian food.
I have been told that REAL Indian food can only be found in England. At restaurants run by Sylhetis in London which stay open late at night so that pub-departees who do not wish to dine on Spam fritter or deepfried Snickersbar may enjoy their vindaloo or chicken tikka masala - the British national dishes of the working class and middle class respectively.
The English, as is well known, are experts on all matters Indian. Apparently they invented the place. Much like the Dutch invented civilization, and the French invented bread.
But anyhow.
FEED US GHEE
I enjoy a nice bit of khana, and so does Savage Kitten. We regularly go up the road to an Indian restaurant to partake of their buffet, which contains the usual staples - various types of sabjee, including palak ka saag, as well as murgh makhni, a nice oily kheema matar, and tandoori chicken.
The naan is excellent, when just out of the kitchen.
It is interesting watching other people's behaviour at Indian buffet restaurants.
Type: WASP.
Overloads plate, glopping rich saucy food ontop of a mound of rice and other rich saucy food, precariously balancing naan and papad on top of the unstable pyramid. Seems afraid that if he doesn't grab as much as possible now, someone else will eat everything!
Type: EURY.
Approaches this strange foreign food with a combination of serious intellectual gravitas and paranoid caution. Will slowly, hesitantly, masticate alternating forkfulls of lettuce, gulab jamun, chicken, lamb, and samosa, before pronouncing it good and going for more exploratory pecking.
Type: TATTOO.
Needs as many arms as an Indian statue, due to habit of clearing out the vegetables, each on its own plate or in its own bowl. Takes great care not to combine foods - the lentil puree might disagree with the exquisite garbanzos. Is there dairy in this? Then I cannot eat it! Engages the staff in spiritually uplifting conversation - the words 'ashram', 'swami', 'devadassi', and 'Ooticamund' are likely to be heard.
Smiles blissfully.
Type: ALLERGIC.
Really, she only came along for the company, she has no intention of absorbing anything threatening. Cannot eat bread (gluten!), Indian vegetable preparations (peanut oil!), meat (meat!), fried foods (evil!), or anything with dairy in it (lactose intolerance). Dislikes rice. Is there any tofu on the premises? Fruit? Canned tempeh?
Oh but never mind me, I'm perfectly content with my glass of water!
Really, I am!!!!!
Type: DESI.
May or may not partake of the buffet - but will desperately order basket upon basket of naan, as only goralog eat cold breads turned spongy. Moves fingers of the right hand in careful gestures over the surface of the plate, forming little mounds of sabjee which are then swiftly and without spilling one iota conveyed to the mouth. Can usually do this without getting any food on the palm of the hand - unless they're from the south, in which case their enthusiasm will get gravies and rice up to the elbow.
If they are Sindhis, the hand descends swoopingly upon the food, like a carrion bird on a corpse. There is a grace to the speed with which such folk rip the flesh from fowl, then bite a crisp green chili - they will calmly break off a piece of papad, then return their fingers to the fray.
Punjabis, on the other hand, sensually digitize the food - yet without much fuss. They like feeling it, because the finger tips give forwarning of the luscious textures awaiting the mouth. Lots of buttered naan, lots of green chilies, lots of pickle. Onion!
Accha!
WE SHALL HAVE MORE ROTI
I have no idea where the family at the other table was from. Grandma wore a dark blue sari and had her hair in a long braid. The father sat at the head, his wife to his left, his little daughter to his right. The little girl was the most interesting person at the table.
She may have been three years old already, but I suspect not - far too small.
But she was very capable for her age - she did not stick her fingers in her mouth while eating, and did not drop any of the food she picked up with her fingers. She ate very neatly, and unlike many infants did not wail or chatter or screech during dinner.
After the plates were cleared, she said brightly "oh look, everyone has finished". Perfect diction, and nicely modulated, a voice neither childish or yelpy.
She and her grandmother had a conversation which was too soft to understand, finished by her telling her grandmother firmly "oh but you really must come with us!"
There should be many more parents like hers. Normally I can't stand other people's infants. Judging by their daughter, these parents are examples worth emulating, especially by the types Wasp, Eury, Tattoo, and Allergic.
Who far too often have children without knowing what to do with them.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Friday, September 18, 2009
PEACHY OBSESSION
Two days ago I mentioned, in passing, "I prefer not to discard underwear, or ignore it. Ever. Some underwear is in fact worthy of obsession, especially if nicely ruffled, with a bit of lace, tight, and of a pleasing fruity hue.
Such as I might be wearing right now. Maybe."
Please note the word 'maybe'. It really means 'very unlikely, extremely so, so unlikely as to be hardly even imaginable'. Not likely at all.
Unfortunately some readers may believe otherwise.
Spiros remarked: "Patel Sahib will be so grateful that you are not discarding underwear."
The next commenter under that post wrote: "Please, describe it more. I am all ears", followed by "It sounds heavenly".
I am not entirely clear what sounds heavenly - is that what you imagine nicely taut fruity panties with lace edging to sound like?
If so, I cannot help you. I do not own any panties with lace.
FOUR
I do, however, posses one pair of raspberry pink panties, one pair of pale pistachio hued panties with white trim, a pale peach panty, and something rather naughty. They are different sizes, they do not fit me.
They are what you might call 'laundromat trophies'.
I would not be surprised if most men in this city have similar collections - if you use a laundromat, you tend to find such things when you return home.
Never any other garment, just panties. Women seem to be very careless about their panties at times. Just discarding them hither and thither, as the mood strikes. Quite gay and casual.
It's very strange. We men are NEVER casual about panties. From our point of view, they are probably the loveliest of garments - we often wish the attractive women in our lives would wear them.
And little else.
We men love panties.
FOUR SCORE OR MORE
Grant Patel will be keenly disappointed, I'm sure, to hear that for a brief shining moment I owned several hundred lovely cotton panties, in a variety of hues, cuts, and patterns. All of them petite.
In 1983 when I first visited the Philippines, I arrived with hardly any clothes, intending to have several items made while I was there. Except for forty cartons of American cigarettes, a crate of walnuts, pajamas, a conservative English tie, a blazer, and a phrase book, my luggage was pretty empty.
Somehow, I had forgotten to pack any underwear.
So I went to a department store in Makati. I had been up for close to forty hours, and I was tired, grumpy, and grotty. But I realized that I would need some clean items the next day, while I was being measured for slacks, shirts, and suits, at King Philip Tailors in the Quad.
Philippine cotton is very nice. I first bought briefs. Then wife-beaters. Then some tee-shirts. Then, without noticing, I veered towards the display case with women's panties.
Oooooooh, THAT looks nice! So does that one! And those! Oooooh!
Please remember, I had been awake for nearly forty hours. It may have affected my judgment.
I had NO intention of wearing the panties. But they were VERY lovely, and at the time I may have considered them a nice souvenir for everyone back in the Bay Area.
'Here's one for you, and one for you, and one for you! And this lovely one ...... is for you!!!'
I was thinking of keeping some for myself. There were plenty of them.
I knew hardly any women at that time. Probably a good thing, as I now realize that gifting panties to one's friends and colleagues might be considered odd. Possibly eccentric. By the women, if not by the men.
We men love panties.
In addition to the panties neatly folded in plastic among my regular luggage, I had supplies of panties stashed in three different places in Manila. Carefully folded, in tissue, in gaily striped carrybags.
For quite a while I dragged a very full box of spotlessly clean and crisp, never been worn but oh so soft and femmy panties, all over the Philippines. Took it back to the airport with me on the way home. Checked it in.
Then forgot to pick it up from the luggage carousel at San Francisco Airport.
I had plenty of panties, so I didn't even think about it till two weeks later.
You don't remember such things untill you NEED them.
[What's that under the seat? Why, it's a huge woven carrybag - and it too got panties!
Samples, I tell you, these are just 'samples'. Heh.]
I decided not to pursue the matter - asking around the airport for a missing crate of feminine undergoodies might have proven a little embarrassing.
Somewhere a very petite little missy, probably a Philippina, is still wearing MY underwear.
It must feel good.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Such as I might be wearing right now. Maybe."
Please note the word 'maybe'. It really means 'very unlikely, extremely so, so unlikely as to be hardly even imaginable'. Not likely at all.
Unfortunately some readers may believe otherwise.
Spiros remarked: "Patel Sahib will be so grateful that you are not discarding underwear."
The next commenter under that post wrote: "Please, describe it more. I am all ears", followed by "It sounds heavenly".
I am not entirely clear what sounds heavenly - is that what you imagine nicely taut fruity panties with lace edging to sound like?
If so, I cannot help you. I do not own any panties with lace.
FOUR
I do, however, posses one pair of raspberry pink panties, one pair of pale pistachio hued panties with white trim, a pale peach panty, and something rather naughty. They are different sizes, they do not fit me.
They are what you might call 'laundromat trophies'.
I would not be surprised if most men in this city have similar collections - if you use a laundromat, you tend to find such things when you return home.
Never any other garment, just panties. Women seem to be very careless about their panties at times. Just discarding them hither and thither, as the mood strikes. Quite gay and casual.
It's very strange. We men are NEVER casual about panties. From our point of view, they are probably the loveliest of garments - we often wish the attractive women in our lives would wear them.
And little else.
We men love panties.
FOUR SCORE OR MORE
Grant Patel will be keenly disappointed, I'm sure, to hear that for a brief shining moment I owned several hundred lovely cotton panties, in a variety of hues, cuts, and patterns. All of them petite.
In 1983 when I first visited the Philippines, I arrived with hardly any clothes, intending to have several items made while I was there. Except for forty cartons of American cigarettes, a crate of walnuts, pajamas, a conservative English tie, a blazer, and a phrase book, my luggage was pretty empty.
Somehow, I had forgotten to pack any underwear.
So I went to a department store in Makati. I had been up for close to forty hours, and I was tired, grumpy, and grotty. But I realized that I would need some clean items the next day, while I was being measured for slacks, shirts, and suits, at King Philip Tailors in the Quad.
Philippine cotton is very nice. I first bought briefs. Then wife-beaters. Then some tee-shirts. Then, without noticing, I veered towards the display case with women's panties.
Oooooooh, THAT looks nice! So does that one! And those! Oooooh!
Please remember, I had been awake for nearly forty hours. It may have affected my judgment.
I had NO intention of wearing the panties. But they were VERY lovely, and at the time I may have considered them a nice souvenir for everyone back in the Bay Area.
'Here's one for you, and one for you, and one for you! And this lovely one ...... is for you!!!'
I was thinking of keeping some for myself. There were plenty of them.
I knew hardly any women at that time. Probably a good thing, as I now realize that gifting panties to one's friends and colleagues might be considered odd. Possibly eccentric. By the women, if not by the men.
We men love panties.
In addition to the panties neatly folded in plastic among my regular luggage, I had supplies of panties stashed in three different places in Manila. Carefully folded, in tissue, in gaily striped carrybags.
For quite a while I dragged a very full box of spotlessly clean and crisp, never been worn but oh so soft and femmy panties, all over the Philippines. Took it back to the airport with me on the way home. Checked it in.
Then forgot to pick it up from the luggage carousel at San Francisco Airport.
I had plenty of panties, so I didn't even think about it till two weeks later.
You don't remember such things untill you NEED them.
[What's that under the seat? Why, it's a huge woven carrybag - and it too got panties!
Samples, I tell you, these are just 'samples'. Heh.]
I decided not to pursue the matter - asking around the airport for a missing crate of feminine undergoodies might have proven a little embarrassing.
Somewhere a very petite little missy, probably a Philippina, is still wearing MY underwear.
It must feel good.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, September 17, 2009
VEGETABLE MAGNETISM
If it's chocolate, the correct brand name yields a chezkas kashrus - a presumption of trustworthiness and edibility. You know what brands you like already, and you trust them, even without looking at the fine print. You refuse to eat the muck from that OTHER company, feh, they don't know what they're doing! You wouldn't be caught DEAD eating their drecky treif! That other company produces spiritual pork, karmic shellfish - probably FILLED with shrotzim, too - but the brand you like is good stuff. You trust them completely
I say this, because I tried finding a hechsher on the bar I just ate (second one today), and where it should have a triangle K, or an UO, or a circle-bar-slash-backspace-obscure glyph, it instead says "sugar, cocoa butter, milk, chocolate, butter, brown sugar, baking soda, salt, soy lecithin (an emulsifier) vanillin (an artificial flavor). May contain traces of tree nuts and peanuts."
No hechsher. Kosher only by faith alone, not by supervision. I never noticed that.
Who cares?
I wasn't planning to eat it during peysach anyhow.
Third bar - Dark Chocolate with Almonds. Starting to feel a little queased at this point. Just a nibble, but somehow the entire bar disappeared.
I still have three whole bars left. Classic Milk Chocolate, Milk Chocolate with Almonds, and Milk Chocolate with Toffee Nuggets.
I bought them because a coworker's tyke needs to sell them for his school.
She only works halfdays, and I've only got two bars left. I must buy more tomorrow.
I never noticed before, that wrapping actually looks kinda classy. Did they always have that? Rich vibrant colours, and gold lettering?
Good thing there's a protective layer of foil - the fancy printing on the outer wrapper smells slightly industrial, because of the glossy stock and coloured printing ink.
What the heck is lecithin? The article says it's a yellowish brown fatty substance composed of fatty acids, glycolipids, triglycerides, phospholipids, and other stuff. Not very soluble in water (because of all those lipids).
It is used as an emulsifier, and can be entirely metabolized.
I wonder if the fact that it is yellowish brown and waxy makes it suitable for inclusion in chocolate bars? It wouldn't affect the appearance, would it? Except to make it more glossy.
I'll research that in detail tomorrow. I've got to make this bar last till then.
Gotta get some coffee. My stomach is bubbling.
I say this, because I tried finding a hechsher on the bar I just ate (second one today), and where it should have a triangle K, or an UO, or a circle-bar-slash-backspace-obscure glyph, it instead says "sugar, cocoa butter, milk, chocolate, butter, brown sugar, baking soda, salt, soy lecithin (an emulsifier) vanillin (an artificial flavor). May contain traces of tree nuts and peanuts."
No hechsher. Kosher only by faith alone, not by supervision. I never noticed that.
Who cares?
I wasn't planning to eat it during peysach anyhow.
Third bar - Dark Chocolate with Almonds. Starting to feel a little queased at this point. Just a nibble, but somehow the entire bar disappeared.
I still have three whole bars left. Classic Milk Chocolate, Milk Chocolate with Almonds, and Milk Chocolate with Toffee Nuggets.
I bought them because a coworker's tyke needs to sell them for his school.
She only works halfdays, and I've only got two bars left. I must buy more tomorrow.
I never noticed before, that wrapping actually looks kinda classy. Did they always have that? Rich vibrant colours, and gold lettering?
Good thing there's a protective layer of foil - the fancy printing on the outer wrapper smells slightly industrial, because of the glossy stock and coloured printing ink.
What the heck is lecithin? The article says it's a yellowish brown fatty substance composed of fatty acids, glycolipids, triglycerides, phospholipids, and other stuff. Not very soluble in water (because of all those lipids).
It is used as an emulsifier, and can be entirely metabolized.
I wonder if the fact that it is yellowish brown and waxy makes it suitable for inclusion in chocolate bars? It wouldn't affect the appearance, would it? Except to make it more glossy.
I'll research that in detail tomorrow. I've got to make this bar last till then.
Gotta get some coffee. My stomach is bubbling.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
OH NO! HE'S HEADING FOR THE TOILET!
Yesterday's post seems to have struck a nerve. Perhaps it was the subject (a delicate young fellow from the hinterlands of New York City, painfully exposed to the manners of a grown-up metropolis while living in San Francisco), but more than likely, it was several colourful mental images conjured up by the descriptions.
Magic words such as 'mouth polyps', 'anatomy', 'dog', and 'juicy'.
As well as 'guts', 'underwear', and 'garbage can'.
Apparently some of my tender readers are also delicate souls from more innocent places. Such as New York.
An anonymous commenter wrote:
"I am now heaving into my garbage can. At work."
Oh dear.
I do not know what, precisely, caused him (or her) to become ill. Normally heaving into a garbage can at work testifies to bad eating habits. Perhaps food poisoning.
I suspect that Micky's or Bü-King had more to do with the heave-ho than my modest offering, no matter how indigestible it may have been. This blog is not food.
But I am sorry, I apologize. I shall henceforth try to avoid such dangerous terms as 'mouth polyps', 'anatomy', 'dog', 'juicy', 'guts', and 'garbage can'.
The word underwear, of course, is unavoidable. It is in more ways than one a daily subject.
I prefer not to discard underwear, or ignore it. Ever. Some underwear is in fact worthy of obsession, especially if nicely ruffled, with a bit of lace, tight, and of a pleasing fruity hue.
Such as I might be wearing right now. Maybe.
As a peace offering, and to provide you with at least some entertainment, I would ask you to click on this link:
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/05/warning_tmi.html
It will lead you to a classic post by another blogger, one which you are sure to enjoy.
I hope this makes everything all right between us again.
Magic words such as 'mouth polyps', 'anatomy', 'dog', and 'juicy'.
As well as 'guts', 'underwear', and 'garbage can'.
Apparently some of my tender readers are also delicate souls from more innocent places. Such as New York.
An anonymous commenter wrote:
"I am now heaving into my garbage can. At work."
Oh dear.
I do not know what, precisely, caused him (or her) to become ill. Normally heaving into a garbage can at work testifies to bad eating habits. Perhaps food poisoning.
I suspect that Micky's or Bü-King had more to do with the heave-ho than my modest offering, no matter how indigestible it may have been. This blog is not food.
But I am sorry, I apologize. I shall henceforth try to avoid such dangerous terms as 'mouth polyps', 'anatomy', 'dog', 'juicy', 'guts', and 'garbage can'.
The word underwear, of course, is unavoidable. It is in more ways than one a daily subject.
I prefer not to discard underwear, or ignore it. Ever. Some underwear is in fact worthy of obsession, especially if nicely ruffled, with a bit of lace, tight, and of a pleasing fruity hue.
Such as I might be wearing right now. Maybe.
As a peace offering, and to provide you with at least some entertainment, I would ask you to click on this link:
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/05/warning_tmi.html
It will lead you to a classic post by another blogger, one which you are sure to enjoy.
I hope this makes everything all right between us again.
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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,...
