The green stuff is fragrant screwpine, mixed with foodcolouring for both artificial verisimilitude and as a visual clue. At least I think that's what it is, but it might be matcha. Whatever, it's not particularly noticeable, as the toffee bits on the outside and the sweet cream within dominate. It was purchased at one of my favourite Chinatown bakeries, which was not doing very good business because people are loosing their marbles over corona virus. Several of the eateries I passed were nearly empty. Americans believe that you can catch Wuhan Pneumonia from looking at a Chinese person.
Just like you can catch syphilis from looking at a Frenchman.
Or stupidity by seeing too many North Americans.
There was also brown stuff in the pastry.
Chocolate, possibly.
朱古力班蘭瑞士卷蛋糕
The "vermillion ancient capability squad orchid auspicious gentleman rolled egg cake" ('jyu gu lik paan laan seui si kuen'). Which is delicious, and goes well with a hot beverage. Chocolate pandan Swiss roll cake.
Whatever the heck the green and brown stuff is.
I actually prefer their old wife cakes -- small flaky biscuit pastries filled with candied winter melon paste -- as well as something I haven't seen there in a long time, probably because I don't go there in the morning when all the locals are there.
The Lotus Flower Flaky Cake (荷花酥餅 'ho faa sou bing'), a round item consisting of a sweet rich doughy filling somewhat similar to boterkoek, enclosed by a flaky pastry cut to open up like a flower.
Apparently I have a new nickname there: 奶茶鬼佬 ('naai chaa kwai lo')。
Milk tea foreigner. I am not Chinese, and I have a beverage.
Same as "teapot uncle", except he's Chinese.
And he's there more often too.
茶壺啊叔。
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, February 16, 2020
Saturday, February 15, 2020
THERAPEUTICALLY COMBUSTIBLE
Friday was a day for lazily putzing about, Saturday was work. Both days were marked by pipesmoking. This evening I referred to my notes regarding some tobaccos I have enjoyed over the past decade from Sutliff, a venerable company founded in San Francisco over a century ago, back in the day and age when everybody smoked, fought over gold rush claims, sent their dirty laundry to Hawaii, and died like flies. Those various things are NOT related to each other, despite what you might have heard.
Some Sutliff tobacco is shite. Some of it is quite excellent.
Unlike many other companies, it's a crapshoot.
Many of their aromatics are listed in this post: Representative Samples but Skewed. And oof that was an "experience".
BALKAN LUXURY BLEND [Sutliff Private Stock]
Latakia, Black Cavendish, Turkish, Perique.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
Latakia forward Balkan blend, which can perform very nicely. Of moderate smoking strength, soft, with a sweet slightly rough edge. The aroma will likely trigger every vegan twat in Berkeley and San Francisco, whose children, apparently, you are killing by smoking this. Quite a decent tobacco. The Perique is not noticeable. The label art may remind you of Balkan Sobranie 759 in the black tin. Worth smoking.
Recommended.
BERKSHIRE [Sutliff Private Stock]
Latakia, Turkish, Virginia, Perique
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
A medium English blend, the Latakia, though definitely present, is not the first thing one notices when opening the tin. Very good, edging on delightful.
One of Sutliff's better blends. Complex.
Worth smoking.
Recommended.
BOSPHORUS CRUISE [Sutliff Private Stock]
Latakia, Turkish, Virginia.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
Top notch Balkan, rich, creamy, incense-like, resinous, complex, and thus completely offensive to vegan non-smokers, whom you should avoid like the plague, because their company can be toxic. This is altogether a damned good medium full blend. Rich tasting.
Well worth smoking.
Highly recommended.
BRECKINRIDGE [Sutliff Private Stock]
Burley, Kentucky.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
If you like some of the old-fashioned Burley mixtures that your grandpa smoked, you will almost certainly like this one, and I should recommend it to Nick T in Montana, who has probably already discovered it. Nutty, earthy, cool smoking, with that faint hint of cocao that good Burley often has.
Not overly strong. Worth smoking.
COURT OF ST. JAMES [Sutliff Private Stock]
Virginia and Perique; broken flake.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
It's a laudable product, but there is far too much Perique for my taste. An enjoyable wet-weather smoke. But no more than one bowl a day.
Peppery, mildly sweet.
CD BLEND [Sutliff Private Stock]
Burley, Virginia, Latakia, Perique.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
An American mixture like the local tobacconist would sell, years ago, if he knew what he was doing. Interesting, and may appeal to older gentlemen, but not my cup of tea. I do have some of it stashed away, but I never did finish the second tin. It bit. Similar to Epiphany and others of that ilk.
FIELD MASTER [Sutliff Private Stock]
Latakia, Burley, Oriental/Turkish, Virginia.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
Medium-mild English, with perhaps too much Burley. Sort of American. This is well-behaved, and quite satisfying once in a while, but it is not a blend that I personally would stockpile. Slightly sweet, slightly smoky, slightly chocolaty from the inclusion of air-cured leaf. High quality, and it sings in a corncob.
GOLDEN AGE [Sutliff Private Stock]
Virginia and Perique.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
The Virginias are hay-like, herbal, sweet, the Perique is a little subdued, one would almost say well-behaved. A fine cut ribbony blend that pleases if not smoked fast, suited to the VaPer smoker, reminiscent somewhat of Dunbar and Dorchester. Possibly an all-day smoke. Worth smoking.
Recommended.
MAN'S BEST FRIEND BLEND [Sutliff Private Stock]
Burley, Latakia, Virginia.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
A modest American blend, which will have fans, also enemies. I'm on the fence about this one. It's in imitation of the old Barking Dog Mixture, but frankly too academic. Best in small bowls.
A yippy little terrier.
R. BLEND [Sutliff Private Stock]
Burley, Latakia, Perique, Virginia.
Slightly topped with fruit extractives.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
A balanced old-fashioned American blend based on Revelation (House of Windsor), and quite enjoyable if you are on a roll. Complex, slightly sweet, mildly earthy, faintly spicy. Can be a good all day smoke, and the room note induces reveries. Dust motes suspended in the sun beams, the high quality alloys of old style drafting tools, the sound of the Victrola having finished playing a record, with the needle skipping softly at the centre.
I liked it. But many people will not.
[Several years ago I smoked this when we were counter-protesting a demonstration by people on the wrong side. It traumatised and pained them. So I had several bowls-full. "Excuse me, can you go smoke that somewhere else?!?" "No, I can't. I'm here, and I'm not moving."
Horrible of me. It was very enjoyable.]
Worth smoking.
SUNRISE SMOKE [Sutliff Private Stock]
Latakia, Turkish, Virginia.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
An excellent mild English-Balkan, imitative of Dunhill's Early Morning Pipe, but it doesn't hit the target, and is nowhere near the bullseye. If anything, this recalls Dunhill's Durbar, with a little more character. Light and dark ribbons. It's a pleasant product with sweetness and a slight Turkish edge, and exceptionally well behaved. What your maiden aunt might smoke.
Well worth smoking.
Highly recommended.
WESTMINSTER [Sutliff Private Stock]
Latakia, Turkish, Virginia.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
Medium English in style. Latakia forward, noticable Virginia, subdued Turk. Unremarkable, but satisfying enough. If you like it, you like it. If not, not.
I would smoke it again. Worth smoking.
An interesting journey, and I do feel that Sutliff is unjustly sneered at. Carl McAllister is an old-school master blender, and has produced some very interesting stuff.
It's probably a good thing that the company left San Francisco over sixty years ago. This city has lost its balls, and has been taken over by severely disapproving types. That's why there are no tobacconists of any note here, and half the people are alcoholics or dope fiends.
By the way: on the way home I smelled marijuana.
Those people are loathsome.
Big time.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Some Sutliff tobacco is shite. Some of it is quite excellent.
Unlike many other companies, it's a crapshoot.
Many of their aromatics are listed in this post: Representative Samples but Skewed. And oof that was an "experience".
BALKAN LUXURY BLEND [Sutliff Private Stock]
Latakia, Black Cavendish, Turkish, Perique.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
Latakia forward Balkan blend, which can perform very nicely. Of moderate smoking strength, soft, with a sweet slightly rough edge. The aroma will likely trigger every vegan twat in Berkeley and San Francisco, whose children, apparently, you are killing by smoking this. Quite a decent tobacco. The Perique is not noticeable. The label art may remind you of Balkan Sobranie 759 in the black tin. Worth smoking.
Recommended.
BERKSHIRE [Sutliff Private Stock]
Latakia, Turkish, Virginia, Perique
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
A medium English blend, the Latakia, though definitely present, is not the first thing one notices when opening the tin. Very good, edging on delightful.
One of Sutliff's better blends. Complex.
Worth smoking.
Recommended.
BOSPHORUS CRUISE [Sutliff Private Stock]
Latakia, Turkish, Virginia.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
Top notch Balkan, rich, creamy, incense-like, resinous, complex, and thus completely offensive to vegan non-smokers, whom you should avoid like the plague, because their company can be toxic. This is altogether a damned good medium full blend. Rich tasting.
Well worth smoking.
Highly recommended.
BRECKINRIDGE [Sutliff Private Stock]
Burley, Kentucky.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
If you like some of the old-fashioned Burley mixtures that your grandpa smoked, you will almost certainly like this one, and I should recommend it to Nick T in Montana, who has probably already discovered it. Nutty, earthy, cool smoking, with that faint hint of cocao that good Burley often has.
Not overly strong. Worth smoking.
COURT OF ST. JAMES [Sutliff Private Stock]
Virginia and Perique; broken flake.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
It's a laudable product, but there is far too much Perique for my taste. An enjoyable wet-weather smoke. But no more than one bowl a day.
Peppery, mildly sweet.
CD BLEND [Sutliff Private Stock]
Burley, Virginia, Latakia, Perique.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
An American mixture like the local tobacconist would sell, years ago, if he knew what he was doing. Interesting, and may appeal to older gentlemen, but not my cup of tea. I do have some of it stashed away, but I never did finish the second tin. It bit. Similar to Epiphany and others of that ilk.
FIELD MASTER [Sutliff Private Stock]
Latakia, Burley, Oriental/Turkish, Virginia.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
Medium-mild English, with perhaps too much Burley. Sort of American. This is well-behaved, and quite satisfying once in a while, but it is not a blend that I personally would stockpile. Slightly sweet, slightly smoky, slightly chocolaty from the inclusion of air-cured leaf. High quality, and it sings in a corncob.
GOLDEN AGE [Sutliff Private Stock]
Virginia and Perique.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
The Virginias are hay-like, herbal, sweet, the Perique is a little subdued, one would almost say well-behaved. A fine cut ribbony blend that pleases if not smoked fast, suited to the VaPer smoker, reminiscent somewhat of Dunbar and Dorchester. Possibly an all-day smoke. Worth smoking.
Recommended.
MAN'S BEST FRIEND BLEND [Sutliff Private Stock]
Burley, Latakia, Virginia.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
A modest American blend, which will have fans, also enemies. I'm on the fence about this one. It's in imitation of the old Barking Dog Mixture, but frankly too academic. Best in small bowls.
A yippy little terrier.
R. BLEND [Sutliff Private Stock]
Burley, Latakia, Perique, Virginia.
Slightly topped with fruit extractives.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
A balanced old-fashioned American blend based on Revelation (House of Windsor), and quite enjoyable if you are on a roll. Complex, slightly sweet, mildly earthy, faintly spicy. Can be a good all day smoke, and the room note induces reveries. Dust motes suspended in the sun beams, the high quality alloys of old style drafting tools, the sound of the Victrola having finished playing a record, with the needle skipping softly at the centre.
I liked it. But many people will not.
[Several years ago I smoked this when we were counter-protesting a demonstration by people on the wrong side. It traumatised and pained them. So I had several bowls-full. "Excuse me, can you go smoke that somewhere else?!?" "No, I can't. I'm here, and I'm not moving."
Horrible of me. It was very enjoyable.]
Worth smoking.
SUNRISE SMOKE [Sutliff Private Stock]
Latakia, Turkish, Virginia.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
An excellent mild English-Balkan, imitative of Dunhill's Early Morning Pipe, but it doesn't hit the target, and is nowhere near the bullseye. If anything, this recalls Dunhill's Durbar, with a little more character. Light and dark ribbons. It's a pleasant product with sweetness and a slight Turkish edge, and exceptionally well behaved. What your maiden aunt might smoke.
Well worth smoking.
Highly recommended.
WESTMINSTER [Sutliff Private Stock]
Latakia, Turkish, Virginia.
Compounded by Carl McAllister.
Medium English in style. Latakia forward, noticable Virginia, subdued Turk. Unremarkable, but satisfying enough. If you like it, you like it. If not, not.
I would smoke it again. Worth smoking.
An interesting journey, and I do feel that Sutliff is unjustly sneered at. Carl McAllister is an old-school master blender, and has produced some very interesting stuff.
It's probably a good thing that the company left San Francisco over sixty years ago. This city has lost its balls, and has been taken over by severely disapproving types. That's why there are no tobacconists of any note here, and half the people are alcoholics or dope fiends.
By the way: on the way home I smelled marijuana.
Those people are loathsome.
Big time.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Friday, February 14, 2020
XENOPHOBIA IS THE NEW NORMAL
It was probably entirely predictable that hysteria should arise over Corona virus fears, seeing as everyone in the United States is medically educated to a fare-thee-well, thanks to the internet. Examples of which are the campaign against vaccinations, as well as the thoroughly well-founded fact that if you get a flu shot, you will get the flu. For which the anecdotal evidence is overwhelming.
[Important disclaimer: I've had all my vaccinations, damned glad I did, as well as flu shots, of which I'm equally glad, that's a few strains of influenza right there I shan't be catching, thank you, and anti-vaxers are boneheads, bless their hearts. Complete effing boneheads.]
Like most Americans in the suburbs I run around in a panic because I might catch the plague, leprosy, blackness, syphilis, acquired immune deficiency syndrome, the autism, witchcraft, or the Wuhan Corona Virus, omg.
Cooties!
Quote:
"Anxiety and misinformation related to the virus have fuelled anti-Asian prejudice, Los Angeles authorities said at a press conference."
Quote:
"Flyers with counterfeit seals for the World Health Organization (WHO) -- advised residents to avoid Asian-American businesses like Panda Express because of the coronavirus."
Quote:
"In the - Alhambra area, 14,000 people have signed a petition urging school closures over the virus."
Quote:
"A Los Angeles Asian-American schoolboy accused by bullies of having the virus was taken to the hospital after being beaten."
Quote:
"And in a now-deleted Instagram post on "managing fears and anxiety", the University of California, Berkeley health services department listed xenophobia as a "normal" reaction amid a virus outbreak."
[Source: https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-51506732.]
The skills of reading and writing are wasted on a lot of people.
Your chances of contracting "Wuhan Pneumonia" are roughly the same as influenza and the common cold, if, AND ONLY IF, you are in contact with people who actually have it. And you have not taken precautions. Such as facemasks, sterilized surfaces, and regular handwashing. There are over a billion people of Chinese ancestry who are NOT from Wuhan, have not ever visited Wuhan, and have been nowhere near Wuhan. And of those, less than a miniscule fraction of one thousandth of one percent are infected. Statistically, you have a better chance of winning the lottery.
[Yes, I play the lottery, despite those chances. If you don't play, you can't win.]
If, contrary to all odds, you did get infected, you stand a very minor chance of kicking the bucket because of it anyway. Your greatest danger here is an overburdened medical establishment, such as currently exists in Wuhan, parts of Europe, and the entire friggin' Third World.
Plus Mississippi, Georgia, and the Carolinas.
In cities with large East Asian populations like Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, and Alhambra, your chance of catching Wuhan Pneumonia is far less than getting into a fight with a violent drunkard or addict, getting killed by someone experiencing a psychotic episode, being shot by the cops if you're black, or becoming involved in a pyramid scheme or anti-vax cult.
So. Get your damned flu shots, wash your hands, and stop being racist bigoted morons. And vaccinate your damned kids.
Here's some useful information: Virus survival outside a host.
Oh, and get rid of that damned 'yoni egg'.
Gloop is garbage.
Update: Another useful article here: UCSF, How the New Coronavirus Spreads and Progresses – And Why One Test May Not Be Enough.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
[Important disclaimer: I've had all my vaccinations, damned glad I did, as well as flu shots, of which I'm equally glad, that's a few strains of influenza right there I shan't be catching, thank you, and anti-vaxers are boneheads, bless their hearts. Complete effing boneheads.]
Like most Americans in the suburbs I run around in a panic because I might catch the plague, leprosy, blackness, syphilis, acquired immune deficiency syndrome, the autism, witchcraft, or the Wuhan Corona Virus, omg.
Cooties!
Quote:
"Anxiety and misinformation related to the virus have fuelled anti-Asian prejudice, Los Angeles authorities said at a press conference."
Quote:
"Flyers with counterfeit seals for the World Health Organization (WHO) -- advised residents to avoid Asian-American businesses like Panda Express because of the coronavirus."
Quote:
"In the - Alhambra area, 14,000 people have signed a petition urging school closures over the virus."
Quote:
"A Los Angeles Asian-American schoolboy accused by bullies of having the virus was taken to the hospital after being beaten."
Quote:
"And in a now-deleted Instagram post on "managing fears and anxiety", the University of California, Berkeley health services department listed xenophobia as a "normal" reaction amid a virus outbreak."
[Source: https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-51506732.]
The skills of reading and writing are wasted on a lot of people.
Your chances of contracting "Wuhan Pneumonia" are roughly the same as influenza and the common cold, if, AND ONLY IF, you are in contact with people who actually have it. And you have not taken precautions. Such as facemasks, sterilized surfaces, and regular handwashing. There are over a billion people of Chinese ancestry who are NOT from Wuhan, have not ever visited Wuhan, and have been nowhere near Wuhan. And of those, less than a miniscule fraction of one thousandth of one percent are infected. Statistically, you have a better chance of winning the lottery.
[Yes, I play the lottery, despite those chances. If you don't play, you can't win.]
If, contrary to all odds, you did get infected, you stand a very minor chance of kicking the bucket because of it anyway. Your greatest danger here is an overburdened medical establishment, such as currently exists in Wuhan, parts of Europe, and the entire friggin' Third World.
Plus Mississippi, Georgia, and the Carolinas.
In cities with large East Asian populations like Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, and Alhambra, your chance of catching Wuhan Pneumonia is far less than getting into a fight with a violent drunkard or addict, getting killed by someone experiencing a psychotic episode, being shot by the cops if you're black, or becoming involved in a pyramid scheme or anti-vax cult.
So. Get your damned flu shots, wash your hands, and stop being racist bigoted morons. And vaccinate your damned kids.
Here's some useful information: Virus survival outside a host.
Oh, and get rid of that damned 'yoni egg'.
Gloop is garbage.
Update: Another useful article here: UCSF, How the New Coronavirus Spreads and Progresses – And Why One Test May Not Be Enough.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, February 13, 2020
FILLED WITH PORKY GOODNESS!
The sandwich from the convenience store was loaded with ham, just mounded apathetically in the centre, slammed in slapdash devil may care, with no regard to spreading it around. Careless. Hurried. It was decent ham. Dinner this evening was sliced charsiu pork bits mixed into fried rice stick noodles with braised white cabbage. Minced ginger, touch of curry sauce, sploodge of chili paste. Squeeze of lime.
Dinner was prepared by me. So the pork was evenly distributed.
Ginger is healthy, right? There was enough ginger in it.
Now I'm wondering what I should have for lunch tomorrow on a day off. Pork is the default meat. I'm thinking juicy little dumplings. You can tell that I am not a Cantonese person because I don't go batsh*t over shrimp. If I were Cantonese, at least one of the three meals mentioned, possibly even all of them, would contain shrimp. Lovely fresh shrimp.
My apartment mate, who is quintessentially Cantonese, devours shrimp like it's mother's milk.
THE DUMPLINGS
If I were dating a Cantonese person, I would make sure that they were filled with shrimp tomorrow, which is Valentine's Day, a perfect day for shrimp. My apartment mate is not presently "seeing" anyone, but does seem to still have a relationship of sorts with Wheelie Boy, her Aspy Jewish boyfriend of several years; they converse telephonically. So if there are shrimp around tomorrow, it will be her indulging herself. Even if she and Wheelie Boy were still "together", it would be highly unlikely for him to gift her shrimp.
Nothing says "romance" like a bouquet of shrimp.
Perhaps with a spray of charsiu pork.
My plans for the big celebration of love or whatever do not involve shrimp or other people. I'm open to change, but as it stands it will be noshing by myself on something porky, enjoying a cup of hot milk tea, maybe a pastry, and a long walk with a pipe filled with tobacco while contemplating life's great mysteries ... like why charsiu pork is so delicious, might it go well with oysters, possibly even shrimp, and why haven't the Cantonese adopted carnitas or the Mexicans discovered charsiu. It seems so natural!
As you can tell, I'm an incurable romantic.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Dinner was prepared by me. So the pork was evenly distributed.
Ginger is healthy, right? There was enough ginger in it.
Now I'm wondering what I should have for lunch tomorrow on a day off. Pork is the default meat. I'm thinking juicy little dumplings. You can tell that I am not a Cantonese person because I don't go batsh*t over shrimp. If I were Cantonese, at least one of the three meals mentioned, possibly even all of them, would contain shrimp. Lovely fresh shrimp.
My apartment mate, who is quintessentially Cantonese, devours shrimp like it's mother's milk.
THE DUMPLINGS
If I were dating a Cantonese person, I would make sure that they were filled with shrimp tomorrow, which is Valentine's Day, a perfect day for shrimp. My apartment mate is not presently "seeing" anyone, but does seem to still have a relationship of sorts with Wheelie Boy, her Aspy Jewish boyfriend of several years; they converse telephonically. So if there are shrimp around tomorrow, it will be her indulging herself. Even if she and Wheelie Boy were still "together", it would be highly unlikely for him to gift her shrimp.
Nothing says "romance" like a bouquet of shrimp.
Perhaps with a spray of charsiu pork.
My plans for the big celebration of love or whatever do not involve shrimp or other people. I'm open to change, but as it stands it will be noshing by myself on something porky, enjoying a cup of hot milk tea, maybe a pastry, and a long walk with a pipe filled with tobacco while contemplating life's great mysteries ... like why charsiu pork is so delicious, might it go well with oysters, possibly even shrimp, and why haven't the Cantonese adopted carnitas or the Mexicans discovered charsiu. It seems so natural!
As you can tell, I'm an incurable romantic.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
MY SYMPATHETIC SIDE -- FLUTAH FLUTAH MOUTON
Most people, to the surprise of the insurance industry, have teeth which they wish to maintain. The insurance industry of course believes that only the rich should have teeth, as a visible class distinction. Tell that to your insurance agent someday while you throttle the bastard.
Two of my coworkers ALSO have teeth. Upon which work is being done this week. They have my sympathy. Which I shall express when I see them. "Good luck with those teeth", I shall say, while I snap my mandibles around a fresh farm animal carcass, "I know how you types depend upon them".
Pierce, cut, tear, crush, chew.
Chomp, chomp.
And while what passes for my face will be kindly and sympathetic, as far as anyone can tell, I shall have the short educational video below on permanent loop in my brain. Smiling internally.
Good luck with teeth.
DON HERTZFELDT: TƱƱTEN
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9W-VGUOiVDc.]
Next time you visit the dentist, be sure to bring your klaiven-schnitturs.
Things will happen there which require revenge. Horrible things.
Two people. Two sets of teeth. Two praescriptions for painkillers. Work, where at least one of us will be his familiar kindly self. One of us.
Just one.
Dental hygienists are usually sadistic Filippinas.
At least in my limited experience.
Capable, though.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Pierce, cut, tear, crush, chew.
Chomp, chomp.
And while what passes for my face will be kindly and sympathetic, as far as anyone can tell, I shall have the short educational video below on permanent loop in my brain. Smiling internally.
Good luck with teeth.
DON HERTZFELDT: TƱƱTEN
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9W-VGUOiVDc.]
Next time you visit the dentist, be sure to bring your klaiven-schnitturs.
Things will happen there which require revenge. Horrible things.
Two people. Two sets of teeth. Two praescriptions for painkillers. Work, where at least one of us will be his familiar kindly self. One of us.
Just one.
Dental hygienists are usually sadistic Filippinas.
At least in my limited experience.
Capable, though.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, February 12, 2020
CHICKENS
One of the most noticeable things about the new Corona virus (CoVid-19, 武漢肺炎) is the ignorance; people just don't do the necessary reading, but react according to preprogrammed biases. Things to remember: you cannot catch it just by proximity to Asians, eating Chinese food will not infect you, and if it was that easy to catch, we'd all be dead now.
Someone wearing a mask is not a carrier.
An article on SFGate shows the effect of stupidity:
"We have had emails from concerned volunteers, parents, citizens of the city and the Bay Area, asking, ‘Why do you insist to continue on with this parade where we’re going to gather a big group of Asians; where we could get infected?’ Those fears are unfounded – just because it’s a big Asian event doesn’t mean you’re going to get infected."
[William Gee]
And:
"Because the coronavirus is from China, and most people in Chinatown are Chinese, people are kind of afraid to come in."
[James Cheh]
And:
"Contrary to some bizarre online hearsay, though, coronavirus cannot be passed through food."
[Source: Has coronavirus scared people away from SF's Chinatown? -- SFGate.]
While on the one hand I've been enjoying a quieter and more peaceful lunch or teatime in Chinatown, on the other hand I'm rather pissed at the racism, xenophobia, and sheer dumb-assedness, that's at the root of that.
It's affecting some of my favourite places.
On the third hand, you can indeed catch syphilis from being anywhere near a bistro or a French-speaker. It's absolutely rife over there, they practically invented it, and the Paris Metro is the epicentre.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Someone wearing a mask is not a carrier.
An article on SFGate shows the effect of stupidity:
"We have had emails from concerned volunteers, parents, citizens of the city and the Bay Area, asking, ‘Why do you insist to continue on with this parade where we’re going to gather a big group of Asians; where we could get infected?’ Those fears are unfounded – just because it’s a big Asian event doesn’t mean you’re going to get infected."
[William Gee]
And:
"Because the coronavirus is from China, and most people in Chinatown are Chinese, people are kind of afraid to come in."
[James Cheh]
And:
"Contrary to some bizarre online hearsay, though, coronavirus cannot be passed through food."
[Source: Has coronavirus scared people away from SF's Chinatown? -- SFGate.]
While on the one hand I've been enjoying a quieter and more peaceful lunch or teatime in Chinatown, on the other hand I'm rather pissed at the racism, xenophobia, and sheer dumb-assedness, that's at the root of that.
It's affecting some of my favourite places.
On the third hand, you can indeed catch syphilis from being anywhere near a bistro or a French-speaker. It's absolutely rife over there, they practically invented it, and the Paris Metro is the epicentre.
==========================================================================
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All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
SOMEWHAT RELATED TO BOOKS
The three top subjects on this blog, not by number of posts but by visitor count, are Chinese New Year, dim sum, and underwear.
Kindly note that two of those subjects listed are clickable.
Not the third.
Much as I encourage my readers to wear undergarments, I do not provide instructions or a lesson plan. You'll have to figure that out on your own.
My views are quite minimal.
Yesterday evening, while on the weekly jaunt in the North East quadrant of the city, the bookseller and myself observed individuals whose underwear was clearly occupied by dysfunctional persons.
Sadly, many of them were probably unaware of that fact.
It may have had no relation to alcohol.
Not a temporary condition.
The number of dysfunctional people in this city seems more than it was years ago. There are always two or three of them at the bus stop where one catches the number one to Chinatown (where there are fewer), as well as individuals having psychotic episodes all over North Beach and Market Street. Underwear is only part of the problem, a minor issue.
The bookseller has accused me of having obsessions -- seal script, pipes, pipe tobacco, the Lumberjack Song from Monty Python, and also may have noted the frequent mentions of Hong Kong Milk Tea, or porkchops, or the sheer rotten offensiveness of rightwing cigar huffing yutzes -- but thankfully has not judged me underwear berserk.
It can be taken for granted that most booksellers in America, and almost all of my favourite authors, have had experience with underwear, and consider it a good and wholesome thing, whether they themselves wear it, or not. Inquiries have not been made, and there have not been national surveys. Their state of mind and psychological functionality do not enter into it.
I, personally, prefer baggy boxers.
And I am not dysfunctional.
Arguably sane.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Not the third.
Much as I encourage my readers to wear undergarments, I do not provide instructions or a lesson plan. You'll have to figure that out on your own.
My views are quite minimal.
Yesterday evening, while on the weekly jaunt in the North East quadrant of the city, the bookseller and myself observed individuals whose underwear was clearly occupied by dysfunctional persons.
Sadly, many of them were probably unaware of that fact.
It may have had no relation to alcohol.
Not a temporary condition.
The number of dysfunctional people in this city seems more than it was years ago. There are always two or three of them at the bus stop where one catches the number one to Chinatown (where there are fewer), as well as individuals having psychotic episodes all over North Beach and Market Street. Underwear is only part of the problem, a minor issue.
The bookseller has accused me of having obsessions -- seal script, pipes, pipe tobacco, the Lumberjack Song from Monty Python, and also may have noted the frequent mentions of Hong Kong Milk Tea, or porkchops, or the sheer rotten offensiveness of rightwing cigar huffing yutzes -- but thankfully has not judged me underwear berserk.
It can be taken for granted that most booksellers in America, and almost all of my favourite authors, have had experience with underwear, and consider it a good and wholesome thing, whether they themselves wear it, or not. Inquiries have not been made, and there have not been national surveys. Their state of mind and psychological functionality do not enter into it.
I, personally, prefer baggy boxers.
And I am not dysfunctional.
Arguably sane.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
TEQUILA, FRUITY DRINKS, AND NO TALENT
My friend the bookseller wondered how karaoke became so popular, when it's usually so bad. Well, other than Kahn Souphanousinphone and overweight drag queens doing showtunes, most practitioners of the art form are drunken twenty-somethings and people who work in marketing, so it's simple to see what the problem is. You people will be so darn blasted that unless someone makes a cellphone video we'll all laugh at tomorrow, no one will remember anyone else's rendition of Sweet Caroline, the worst song in the world, which we all know by heart.
Tequila shots, parasol drinks, and childhood emotional trauma.
That plus sheer stupidity are a recipe for torture.
Oh come on, there is NO good rendition of Sweet Caroline. And nobody wants to hear it again. Stop fooling yourself. You are not a star, your singing is rather bad, and you have the worst taste in music.
This blogger, it should come as no surprise, does not sing karaoke.
The gang boss and the dumbest waiter in Chinatown do.
Everyone else plays liar's dice.
Covering noise.
==========================================================================
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==========================================================================
Tequila shots, parasol drinks, and childhood emotional trauma.
That plus sheer stupidity are a recipe for torture.
Oh come on, there is NO good rendition of Sweet Caroline. And nobody wants to hear it again. Stop fooling yourself. You are not a star, your singing is rather bad, and you have the worst taste in music.
This blogger, it should come as no surprise, does not sing karaoke.
The gang boss and the dumbest waiter in Chinatown do.
Everyone else plays liar's dice.
Covering noise.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tuesday, February 11, 2020
THE SMELL OF DISTANT PLACES
One of the denizens of the internet mentions spending the evening with 古越龍山紹興酒 and Samuel Gawith's Full Virginia Flake in his meerschaum pipe, five hundred miles north of Wuhan. To throw that into perspective, that's as far as the benighted pit of Los Angeles is from San Francisco, or like the distance between Australia and Timbuktu (Tombouctou). He would be outside, except that where he is he would have to wear a facemask, because of the medical situation in his metropolis of residence.
My first thought was to cut holes in the facemask.
Which is contraindicated, and unwise.
Apparently he lives by himself, though, so there are no family members to chase him out to the compost heap to freeze his testes off with his pipe, unlike San Francisco or Marin County, where middle-aged gentlemen are shivering in the cold and regretting that other people exist.
It's a significant problem here.
This isn't a criticism of my apartment mate -- of whom I am quite fond, as well as of the turkey vulture which lives in her room, who complains that he hasn't eaten anything in days (he devoured over half of a cake recently, nota bene) -- nor of any of my relatives, who are mostly non-smoking Canadian health freaks, but rather an angry squawk at the type of disapproval that the world has adopted to rather unobjectionable downright civilized habits. And let's leave it at that; you lot ain't gonna change, are you?
[It was a 咖啡味瑞士卷蛋糕 from that place on Broadway. Swiss Roll Cake, coffee flavour. Delicious! Greedy bird!]
My habit on days off is to head over to Chinatown, have lunch and milk-tea, and wander about smoking a pipe. In the evening, as the cold winds pick up, that becomes a bit problematic -- you may eventually read in your newspaper about a thin dude frozen to death grasping a nice pipe who died of perfectly normal pneumonia, not the Wuhan corona virus, found dead in an alleyway, and you'll probably think "damned fool deserved it, tobacco kills children and dolphins" (and puppies!), but altogether it will have no impact on your pure vegan lifestyle, and in any case the pernicious memory effects of marijuana (now socially approved) will drive it from your mind.
A mere blip, of no consequence.
I like Chinatown. Almost no sneering white people. Who when they are there take ten minutes to decide not to purchase that pastry or rolled rice noodle (腸粉), great with hot sauce or a little soy, but instead occupy space in front of the counter wondering what those things are, then surreptitiously taking photos on their cells for the folks back home in Modesto, and asking stupid questions like "is there gluten in that" or "do you have bats?"
[Surreptitious = Stiekem, gluiperig.]
Fewer people on skateboards too. The pavement is that bad.
Spending the evening with with a pipe filled with Full Virginia Flake and a bottle of Shao Hsing rice wine sounds absolutely splendid. Unfortunately, due to the possible deletorious interactions with some of my medications, that is out of the question. And I would prefer human company and a hot cup of milk-tea in any case.
AFTER THOUGHT
Samuel Gawith's Full Virginia Flake (FVF) is a delightful hot-pressed straight Virginia. Subtle, no added flavours, slightly dark in appearance though light and summery in taste. Malty, figgy, creamy. What a tobacco should be. The room note is old-fashioned, and calls up armchairs, sofas, tea trays, bookshelves, late summer evenings, and comfy throwrugs.
It is precisely what a happy home should smell like.
Clean and pure enough for children.
Like all Sam Gawith tobaccos, it needs a bit of drying before packing it into your pipe. When aged, it displays sugar crystals on the sliced surfaces.
You really need some tea and a spot of sherry. Good quality Shao Hsing rice wine tastes remarkably like sherry, and drunk in moderation will not render you comatose.
These are recommendations.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
My first thought was to cut holes in the facemask.
Which is contraindicated, and unwise.
Apparently he lives by himself, though, so there are no family members to chase him out to the compost heap to freeze his testes off with his pipe, unlike San Francisco or Marin County, where middle-aged gentlemen are shivering in the cold and regretting that other people exist.
It's a significant problem here.
TURKEY VULTURE
This isn't a criticism of my apartment mate -- of whom I am quite fond, as well as of the turkey vulture which lives in her room, who complains that he hasn't eaten anything in days (he devoured over half of a cake recently, nota bene) -- nor of any of my relatives, who are mostly non-smoking Canadian health freaks, but rather an angry squawk at the type of disapproval that the world has adopted to rather unobjectionable downright civilized habits. And let's leave it at that; you lot ain't gonna change, are you?
[It was a 咖啡味瑞士卷蛋糕 from that place on Broadway. Swiss Roll Cake, coffee flavour. Delicious! Greedy bird!]
My habit on days off is to head over to Chinatown, have lunch and milk-tea, and wander about smoking a pipe. In the evening, as the cold winds pick up, that becomes a bit problematic -- you may eventually read in your newspaper about a thin dude frozen to death grasping a nice pipe who died of perfectly normal pneumonia, not the Wuhan corona virus, found dead in an alleyway, and you'll probably think "damned fool deserved it, tobacco kills children and dolphins" (and puppies!), but altogether it will have no impact on your pure vegan lifestyle, and in any case the pernicious memory effects of marijuana (now socially approved) will drive it from your mind.
A mere blip, of no consequence.
I like Chinatown. Almost no sneering white people. Who when they are there take ten minutes to decide not to purchase that pastry or rolled rice noodle (腸粉), great with hot sauce or a little soy, but instead occupy space in front of the counter wondering what those things are, then surreptitiously taking photos on their cells for the folks back home in Modesto, and asking stupid questions like "is there gluten in that" or "do you have bats?"
[Surreptitious = Stiekem, gluiperig.]
Fewer people on skateboards too. The pavement is that bad.
Spending the evening with with a pipe filled with Full Virginia Flake and a bottle of Shao Hsing rice wine sounds absolutely splendid. Unfortunately, due to the possible deletorious interactions with some of my medications, that is out of the question. And I would prefer human company and a hot cup of milk-tea in any case.
AFTER THOUGHT
Samuel Gawith's Full Virginia Flake (FVF) is a delightful hot-pressed straight Virginia. Subtle, no added flavours, slightly dark in appearance though light and summery in taste. Malty, figgy, creamy. What a tobacco should be. The room note is old-fashioned, and calls up armchairs, sofas, tea trays, bookshelves, late summer evenings, and comfy throwrugs.
It is precisely what a happy home should smell like.
Clean and pure enough for children.
Like all Sam Gawith tobaccos, it needs a bit of drying before packing it into your pipe. When aged, it displays sugar crystals on the sliced surfaces.
You really need some tea and a spot of sherry. Good quality Shao Hsing rice wine tastes remarkably like sherry, and drunk in moderation will not render you comatose.
These are recommendations.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
IT'S FINELY SPATIAL
What if the space aliens had multiple limbs (or tentacles) and were covered in chromatophores? They would think us rather deficient, and wonder how we expressed ourselves; surely emotional content was missing? Possibly they'd think that the disco era was our highest state of development, yet curiously depressing because, ultimately, meaningless.
Spectacular colours, but no depth.
A very superficial species, adept at moving around, but incapable of actual thought.
Not very edible either, alas.
Tastes like chicken.
I wonder about these things when I'm half awake.
Undoubtedly, they'd have a form of synesthesia: in a narrow sense, associating numbers, letters, or whole words and phrases, with colours and textures. Which might make their personal names really interesting, and help them enormously with mathematical processes.
Some letters are metalic.
[Numbers and letters relate to moods and smells too. Take my word for it, the number 5 is greenish, and smells good. And it's comforting. The name 'Padron' (a cigar company, Nicaraguan) tends to feel warm and velvety. And Balkan Sobranie (an old brand of pipe tobacco) has reds and blues, with a touch of lemon yellow, completely at odds with the tin art, which was black and white, and rather austere. The term "bitter melon" has none of the hues and textures of the actual vegetable itself, which is quite frissonatic. Perhaps that's one of the reasons I like it so much. Sopropo (its name in Sranantongo) is beautiful, ampalaya and peria are ugly colour combos. Fu gwa (苦瓜 Cantonese for bitter melon) is a harmonious juxtapositioning of raw umber and medium crimson.]
The space aliens would then also have a vast vocabulary for such things. Which means on the one hand that their finest literature would be almost incomprehensible AND untranslatable, and on several other limb terminations they'd find our writings quite gibberant.
As the essay above might seem.
But they'd probably love our tendency towards rectalinearity.
So balanced, so elegant, so Zen-like!
Spare and simple.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Spectacular colours, but no depth.
A very superficial species, adept at moving around, but incapable of actual thought.
Not very edible either, alas.
Tastes like chicken.
I wonder about these things when I'm half awake.
Undoubtedly, they'd have a form of synesthesia: in a narrow sense, associating numbers, letters, or whole words and phrases, with colours and textures. Which might make their personal names really interesting, and help them enormously with mathematical processes.
Some letters are metalic.
[Numbers and letters relate to moods and smells too. Take my word for it, the number 5 is greenish, and smells good. And it's comforting. The name 'Padron' (a cigar company, Nicaraguan) tends to feel warm and velvety. And Balkan Sobranie (an old brand of pipe tobacco) has reds and blues, with a touch of lemon yellow, completely at odds with the tin art, which was black and white, and rather austere. The term "bitter melon" has none of the hues and textures of the actual vegetable itself, which is quite frissonatic. Perhaps that's one of the reasons I like it so much. Sopropo (its name in Sranantongo) is beautiful, ampalaya and peria are ugly colour combos. Fu gwa (苦瓜 Cantonese for bitter melon) is a harmonious juxtapositioning of raw umber and medium crimson.]
The space aliens would then also have a vast vocabulary for such things. Which means on the one hand that their finest literature would be almost incomprehensible AND untranslatable, and on several other limb terminations they'd find our writings quite gibberant.
As the essay above might seem.
But they'd probably love our tendency towards rectalinearity.
So balanced, so elegant, so Zen-like!
Spare and simple.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
THREE THOUSAND YEARS OF PASTA AND MEATBALLS
In the same way that Rome is known for dysentery, Venice for the black plague, Paris for crotch rot and syphilis, Shenzhen for Sars, now Wuhan is known for the new and improved respiratory ailment similar to the common cold. A pity, really, because unlike Paris, one cannot travel to Wuhan.
And now I really want to got there.
楚菜
From Wikipedia:
"Hubei cuisine emphasises the preparation of ingredients and the matching of colours. It specialises in steaming techniques. Its style is influenced by the cooking methods of the cuisines of neighbouring provinces such as Sichuan and Hunan. As a result, Hubei cuisine also uses dried hot pepper, black pepper and other spices to enhance the flavour of dishes."
"Wuhan style, which specialises in soups. Wuhan is also known for its noodle dishes, such as hot dry noodles. Additionally, Wuhan is famous for its dry pots, which are similar to hot pot but without the soup base."
End quote.
An internet search for 武漢餐廳 ("Wuhan restaurant") pulls up a map which is, for the foreseeable future, totally useless. The images that result are mostly uninteresting, though searching for 武漢菜 ("Wuhan cuisine") is infinitely more rewarding. Several beautiful photos.
Wuchang Fish, steamed buns, steamed fish, steamed pork, steamed meatballs, steamed shrimp balls.
And many delicious looking noodle dishes.
The regionym "Chu" (楚 'cho') applies to both Hubei and Hunan (湖北 and 湖南 respectively) and dates back three millennia. It plays a prominent role in the Spring and Autumn period and Warring States period. The character means 'distinct, clear, obvious', as well as a bush that is bracken-like. Other words particularly associated with that place: 嬭 ('naai'; milk, titty, mommy) 酓 ('yim'; bitter, sip) 芈 ('me'; bleat, baa) 熊 ('hung'; bear, brilliant).
At least for the next several days, researching Wuhan cuisine through the internet may be an obsession. Particularly noodles. And steamed pork.
Results might be posted.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
And now I really want to got there.
楚菜
From Wikipedia:
"Hubei cuisine emphasises the preparation of ingredients and the matching of colours. It specialises in steaming techniques. Its style is influenced by the cooking methods of the cuisines of neighbouring provinces such as Sichuan and Hunan. As a result, Hubei cuisine also uses dried hot pepper, black pepper and other spices to enhance the flavour of dishes."
"Wuhan style, which specialises in soups. Wuhan is also known for its noodle dishes, such as hot dry noodles. Additionally, Wuhan is famous for its dry pots, which are similar to hot pot but without the soup base."
End quote.
An internet search for 武漢餐廳 ("Wuhan restaurant") pulls up a map which is, for the foreseeable future, totally useless. The images that result are mostly uninteresting, though searching for 武漢菜 ("Wuhan cuisine") is infinitely more rewarding. Several beautiful photos.
Wuchang Fish, steamed buns, steamed fish, steamed pork, steamed meatballs, steamed shrimp balls.
And many delicious looking noodle dishes.
The regionym "Chu" (楚 'cho') applies to both Hubei and Hunan (湖北 and 湖南 respectively) and dates back three millennia. It plays a prominent role in the Spring and Autumn period and Warring States period. The character means 'distinct, clear, obvious', as well as a bush that is bracken-like. Other words particularly associated with that place: 嬭 ('naai'; milk, titty, mommy) 酓 ('yim'; bitter, sip) 芈 ('me'; bleat, baa) 熊 ('hung'; bear, brilliant).
At least for the next several days, researching Wuhan cuisine through the internet may be an obsession. Particularly noodles. And steamed pork.
Results might be posted.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, February 10, 2020
SAVE THE CALAMARES!
Having the devil of a time trying to figure out why there were baby squid in my head. Were they curried? In any case they were delicious.
And probably someone was upset at the idea, because squid are adorable and must be protected.
As a food maven, the method of preparation was more important to me, and those details were missing. There is no mental picture to clue me in. Just a texture, and the realization that I ate well.
It has actually been ages since I've had squid.
Nor am I particularly fond of them.
They're good with noodles.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
As a food maven, the method of preparation was more important to me, and those details were missing. There is no mental picture to clue me in. Just a texture, and the realization that I ate well.
It has actually been ages since I've had squid.
Nor am I particularly fond of them.
They're good with noodles.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, February 09, 2020
STILL THINKING ABOUT THE OIL
In short: Malaria has a historical impact, the moon rising above the Oakland hills looks beautiful and like a salted egg yolk (月兒那麼漂亮), alligators are hard to train, and she may look like a little meatball but she knows very well where your hurty-places are. Oh, and it was pipe club day today.
Also, loukoumia benefits your squidgy bits.
I woke up this morning from a dream in which I was naked, covered in oil, in a hotel room in Hong Kong, frantically arguing with housekeeping that they should come by later as I still had not washed myself, I smelled bad.
I explained 我重未沖涼 ('ngoh chong mei chong leung') while keeping the door at just a crack. Fortunately housekeeping agreed with me. 嘩！好鹹， 臭油膉噉 ('waa', 'hou haam', 'chau yau yik gam').
There may have been an element of snark there, but I was in no position to stand on ceremony.
My dreams are somewhat influenced by blood pressure medication. I have never been covered with oil in a hotel room, anywhere. And I do feel that something is lacking, a character building experience I have missed.
if I head to Hong Kong anytime soon I'll be sure to cover myself with oil.
Waa! Hou haam! Chau yau yik gam!
Everybody at pipe club loved the Black Mallory, and Bernard also liked the Arango Balkan Supreme. There was some discussion of Wuhan Corona, sour beer, Virginias. Plus noshing on cheeses, salume, crispy crackers, Islay whisky, and port. Being an abstemious sort, I simply had cheese and drank far too much tea, and was zipped to the gills when I left.
The boys are planning another social event.
Yeah, these aren't "men only" occasions, but the number of women pipe smokers is rather small (understatement), and of the spouses that some of the members of the pipe club have, only one gladly suffers the company of the rest of us. We probably smell too much like grampa for the others.
Ngoh-tei chuen-po hou chau yau-yik.
我哋全部好臭油膉。
Naturally the regime was also mentioned. Unlike the cigar smoker infestation that normally dominates, the pipe smokers are more socially aware and politically American than a bunch of alligators, and in consequence there were no stupid comments, and Vladimir Putin was not praised in any way. So it was a peaceful and interesting meeting.
I did not mention the hotel in Hong Kong.
It would've been complicated.
好複雜。
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Also, loukoumia benefits your squidgy bits.
I woke up this morning from a dream in which I was naked, covered in oil, in a hotel room in Hong Kong, frantically arguing with housekeeping that they should come by later as I still had not washed myself, I smelled bad.
I explained 我重未沖涼 ('ngoh chong mei chong leung') while keeping the door at just a crack. Fortunately housekeeping agreed with me. 嘩！好鹹， 臭油膉噉 ('waa', 'hou haam', 'chau yau yik gam').
There may have been an element of snark there, but I was in no position to stand on ceremony.
My dreams are somewhat influenced by blood pressure medication. I have never been covered with oil in a hotel room, anywhere. And I do feel that something is lacking, a character building experience I have missed.
if I head to Hong Kong anytime soon I'll be sure to cover myself with oil.
Waa! Hou haam! Chau yau yik gam!
Everybody at pipe club loved the Black Mallory, and Bernard also liked the Arango Balkan Supreme. There was some discussion of Wuhan Corona, sour beer, Virginias. Plus noshing on cheeses, salume, crispy crackers, Islay whisky, and port. Being an abstemious sort, I simply had cheese and drank far too much tea, and was zipped to the gills when I left.
The boys are planning another social event.
Yeah, these aren't "men only" occasions, but the number of women pipe smokers is rather small (understatement), and of the spouses that some of the members of the pipe club have, only one gladly suffers the company of the rest of us. We probably smell too much like grampa for the others.
Ngoh-tei chuen-po hou chau yau-yik.
我哋全部好臭油膉。
Naturally the regime was also mentioned. Unlike the cigar smoker infestation that normally dominates, the pipe smokers are more socially aware and politically American than a bunch of alligators, and in consequence there were no stupid comments, and Vladimir Putin was not praised in any way. So it was a peaceful and interesting meeting.
I did not mention the hotel in Hong Kong.
It would've been complicated.
好複雜。
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
WUHAN PULMONARY DISEASE
So after a long delay, and with due pomp and gravitas, the World Health Organization announced a name for the Wuhan disease: "Novel Corona". Novel, as in 'new'. Yeah, guys? Everyone is calling it something else. The English-speaking world says 'Wuhan Corona Virus', the Chinese-tongued world calls it 武漢肺炎 ('mou hon fei yim'; "Wuhan pneumonia").
What part of the world do you-all live in?
Oh, yeah..... to quote from one of the people at WHO: "The main reason for this declaration is not what is happening in China but what is happening in other countries."
Dead people in China? NOT really important, internationally.
Dead people elsewhere? An emergency according to WHO.
Maybe people outside of China don't die very often.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
What part of the world do you-all live in?
Oh, yeah..... to quote from one of the people at WHO: "The main reason for this declaration is not what is happening in China but what is happening in other countries."
Dead people in China? NOT really important, internationally.
Dead people elsewhere? An emergency according to WHO.
Maybe people outside of China don't die very often.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, February 08, 2020
AUTHOR'S BLEND
There are actually several "author's blend" pipe tobaccos out there. Most of them are aromatic shite you should not be caught dead smoking, as well as mere attempts to capitalize on the fact that Mark Twain and J. R. Tolkien were famous pipe smokers (as was Rudyard Kipling), some are stuff that Josef Stalin (yet another famous pipe smoker) might have liked, and a few blends not so pretentiously named might actually have been smoked by authors (such as Tennessee Williams, Arthur Miller, or William Cuthbert Faulkner), though purchased under pedestrian handles from their local tobacco merchant.
There was a time when people smoked pipes, rather than snorting coke and whining about their childhood.
Recalling that age, though badly: Mark Twain pipe tobacco is topped with caramel and vanilla: Burleys, along with some bright Virginia, and "a slightly nutty-sweet flavor that you can enjoy at any time of day." Described by one irate reviewer as "the worst effing Danish" that he's ever tried.
Famous author Joseph Stalin would have like it.
Quod erat demonstrandum.
Fellow pipesmoker Nick T., who lives in the wilds of Colorado, and has an authoritative beard, describes a recent afternoon staying at home with a book when it was buggery cold outside: "I'm smoking a bowl of my own “Author’s Blend” -- two parts mild burley, two parts black cavendish, and one part latakia, all purchased from my area tobacconist. Perfect for reading and writing on a chilly day in the Black Hills." End quote.
If it's an unflavoured black Cavendish, that sounds really excellent. Not being a Burley Tobacco fan myself, I would naturally prefer Virginias, with a soupçon of black Virginia ribbon, and a smidge of Perique.
Nick T. is very much a Burley man; two tobaccos of which he speaks favourably are Stokkebye Toasted Burley and Amphora Burley Blend, which, and I quote, smells "scrumptiously of nuts, cinnamon, brown sugar, and cocoa". These are elements often naturally present in fine Burley.
Mark Twain smoked shoe leather, J. R. Tolkien liked Capstan, Erinmore Flake, and Gold Block, and Joseph Stalin smoked Crimean Gavniyok. Almost exclusively. And it should be mentioned that neither Donald Trump nor Vladimir Putin are pipesmokers, which tells you a lot about them.
I am not an author or Joseph Stalin. Though I also have nice facial hair.
What I'm smoking these days is four parts aged plain Virginia flake, two parts eight year old medium brown flake, and one part matured dark Virginia flake. The second tobacco listed has a touch of Perique. One could make something similar by using Cornell & Diehl's Opening Night (or Samuel Gawith's Golden Glow & Best Brown, or Orlik Golden Sliced), McConnell's Folded Flake or Rattray's Marlin Flake (much the same thing), and Dunhill Dark Flake OR any decent dark flake, perhaps stoved to deepen the flavour.
Blonde, blonde, blonde, blonde; brownish, brownish; mahagony.
Like Nick T., I too like tea when I'm smoking. At work I end up high as a kite because of all the cups, on my days off, because the last smokes of the day must be outside, I ensure that I am caffeinated ere lighting up.
I pride myself on being a bad example for kids.
Especially when I'm outdoors.
I worked today.
Kite.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
There was a time when people smoked pipes, rather than snorting coke and whining about their childhood.
Recalling that age, though badly: Mark Twain pipe tobacco is topped with caramel and vanilla: Burleys, along with some bright Virginia, and "a slightly nutty-sweet flavor that you can enjoy at any time of day." Described by one irate reviewer as "the worst effing Danish" that he's ever tried.
Famous author Joseph Stalin would have like it.
Quod erat demonstrandum.
Fellow pipesmoker Nick T., who lives in the wilds of Colorado, and has an authoritative beard, describes a recent afternoon staying at home with a book when it was buggery cold outside: "I'm smoking a bowl of my own “Author’s Blend” -- two parts mild burley, two parts black cavendish, and one part latakia, all purchased from my area tobacconist. Perfect for reading and writing on a chilly day in the Black Hills." End quote.
If it's an unflavoured black Cavendish, that sounds really excellent. Not being a Burley Tobacco fan myself, I would naturally prefer Virginias, with a soupçon of black Virginia ribbon, and a smidge of Perique.
Nick T. is very much a Burley man; two tobaccos of which he speaks favourably are Stokkebye Toasted Burley and Amphora Burley Blend, which, and I quote, smells "scrumptiously of nuts, cinnamon, brown sugar, and cocoa". These are elements often naturally present in fine Burley.
Mark Twain smoked shoe leather, J. R. Tolkien liked Capstan, Erinmore Flake, and Gold Block, and Joseph Stalin smoked Crimean Gavniyok. Almost exclusively. And it should be mentioned that neither Donald Trump nor Vladimir Putin are pipesmokers, which tells you a lot about them.
I am not an author or Joseph Stalin. Though I also have nice facial hair.
What I'm smoking these days is four parts aged plain Virginia flake, two parts eight year old medium brown flake, and one part matured dark Virginia flake. The second tobacco listed has a touch of Perique. One could make something similar by using Cornell & Diehl's Opening Night (or Samuel Gawith's Golden Glow & Best Brown, or Orlik Golden Sliced), McConnell's Folded Flake or Rattray's Marlin Flake (much the same thing), and Dunhill Dark Flake OR any decent dark flake, perhaps stoved to deepen the flavour.
Blonde, blonde, blonde, blonde; brownish, brownish; mahagony.
Like Nick T., I too like tea when I'm smoking. At work I end up high as a kite because of all the cups, on my days off, because the last smokes of the day must be outside, I ensure that I am caffeinated ere lighting up.
I pride myself on being a bad example for kids.
Especially when I'm outdoors.
I worked today.
Kite.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Friday, February 07, 2020
A SUFFICIENCY OF WALNUTS
Six prescriptions, three supplements, coffee, and a pipe. This is not a whine about my condition, as my blood pressure is excellent now and I am often so full of piss and vinegar I must be unbearable, but a celebration.
And it's breakfast.
I woke up with a sore elbow, and Little White Nipple Guy and a bittermelon omelette in my head. I can't figure out the elbow.
What did I bump yesterday?
Little White Nipple Guy has been around twice in the past week. No, it's not that he's worried about the flame adjustments on his three Dunhill lighters, which "T" has not seen-to yet; he's blowing through his lucky money from Chinese New Year. Despite the wife and fourteen year old daughter that manifested themselves three years ago, in the eyes of his parents he is undoubtedly still an unmarried son. He must've gotten piles of leisi.
The bitter melon is what I would like to have for lunch today, but the place where I usually go has already seen me once this week, and I don't want to wear out my welcome or have them start taking my patronage for granted. Though I am just one of many customers, I want to be a happy surprise.
The goofball one is glad to see, rather than a fixture.
"You cannot sit there, that's Uncle Stinky Kwailo's table!"
Yeah, um, no.
I am not a nice enough person to be a good fixture, nor interesting enough.
More likable as a rarity than a regularity.
Bittermelon omelette over rice with hot sauce is the lunch of champions, but so are any number of other things, including chicken bits and salt fish fried rice (咸魚雞粒炒飯 'haam yü gai naap chaau faan'), century egg and lean pork congee (皮蛋瘦肉粥 'pei daan sau yiuk juk'), and porkchops, which as a nod to the good advice from the nutritionist whom I made miserable before a normal person's lunchtime several months ago by describing in great and glowing detail everything bad available within three blocks of her office which would be good to eat and completely inadvisable from her point of view I should probably not have too often.
Lest I run in to someone I know from the clinic.
Who would be undoubtedly horrified.
Or themselves embarrassed.
Eating bad stuff.
The chance of encountering Little White Nipple Guy in Chinatown is slim to nil. Not only is his ability to talk Cantonese so much worse than mine, but he's unfamiliar with the neighborhood, and that cowboy hat makes him look ridiculous. The local people may be extremely tolerant of eccentrics, but they are also extremely realistic.
Besides, they see enough crazy already.
I go there.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
And it's breakfast.
I woke up with a sore elbow, and Little White Nipple Guy and a bittermelon omelette in my head. I can't figure out the elbow.
What did I bump yesterday?
Little White Nipple Guy has been around twice in the past week. No, it's not that he's worried about the flame adjustments on his three Dunhill lighters, which "T" has not seen-to yet; he's blowing through his lucky money from Chinese New Year. Despite the wife and fourteen year old daughter that manifested themselves three years ago, in the eyes of his parents he is undoubtedly still an unmarried son. He must've gotten piles of leisi.
The bitter melon is what I would like to have for lunch today, but the place where I usually go has already seen me once this week, and I don't want to wear out my welcome or have them start taking my patronage for granted. Though I am just one of many customers, I want to be a happy surprise.
The goofball one is glad to see, rather than a fixture.
"You cannot sit there, that's Uncle Stinky Kwailo's table!"
Yeah, um, no.
I am not a nice enough person to be a good fixture, nor interesting enough.
More likable as a rarity than a regularity.
Bittermelon omelette over rice with hot sauce is the lunch of champions, but so are any number of other things, including chicken bits and salt fish fried rice (咸魚雞粒炒飯 'haam yü gai naap chaau faan'), century egg and lean pork congee (皮蛋瘦肉粥 'pei daan sau yiuk juk'), and porkchops, which as a nod to the good advice from the nutritionist whom I made miserable before a normal person's lunchtime several months ago by describing in great and glowing detail everything bad available within three blocks of her office which would be good to eat and completely inadvisable from her point of view I should probably not have too often.
Lest I run in to someone I know from the clinic.
Who would be undoubtedly horrified.
Or themselves embarrassed.
Eating bad stuff.
The chance of encountering Little White Nipple Guy in Chinatown is slim to nil. Not only is his ability to talk Cantonese so much worse than mine, but he's unfamiliar with the neighborhood, and that cowboy hat makes him look ridiculous. The local people may be extremely tolerant of eccentrics, but they are also extremely realistic.
Besides, they see enough crazy already.
I go there.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
LEI MAN LEUNG KAI
Back in December a Chinese doctor noticed an alarming pattern of disease in the city where he worked, and posted a message to a medical chat group regarding those cases. December 30. Four days later public security hauled him in and forced him to sign a letter admitting that his actions had disturbed the public order.
Because, of course, public security officials know medicine better than doctors.
On 10 January he began coughing, the next day he had a fever and two days later he was himself hospitalized. One month after his public order disturbing chat group post, he was diagnosed.
30 January.
On Wednesday February 5, he passed away.
Which public security officials initially tried to deny. Because, of course, public security officials know more about death than doctors.
From December 30 till today, an increasing number of security measures have been taken. Some were firm, some were wise. There is concern that this newly discovered disease may harm the public order.
In response to the crisis, China has introduced more restrictive measures to try to control the outbreak. They are confident that they are capable of defeating the epidemic.
TRENTON ALLEY, CHINATOWN
Opposite the hospital where my doctor works is an alleyway I particularly like. When the afternoon sun hits just right, it is peacefull and pleasant to the eyes, soothing to the soul. After I see my doctor or have had medical tests done, I often end up there enjoying a quiet smoke, and observing the activity at the stores on the corner, elderly grandparents and little tykes after school, housewives hurrying home with groceries for family dinner. Currently it is named after the capital city of New Jersey (Trenton).
I have no idea why.
不如 ... 李文亮醫生如街
Sure, you may want to keep a name, which recalls the beautiful capital city of a state on the East Coast, with which it has no connection, but I think it would be rather a splendid idea to rename it as Li Wen Liang Street, so that Doctor Li will not and cannot be forgotten ... as public security officials might want to happen. Which will indeed have happened several years hence, when the authoritative account of this new medical crisis is finally written, filled with plauditory mention of the measures taken to control the outbreak. And maintain public order.
How appropriate if a street leading to a hospital were to be named after a doctor who did the right thing.
He was thirty four years old when he died.
He left behind a wife and child.
His wife is expecting.
Li Wen Liang Street.
It has a ring to it.
AFTER WORD
This is just a thought, I have no idea how to bring it to the attention of public officials. Like David Chiu, London Breed, Scott Wiener, Aaron Peskin, et al.
Other than posting it in a chat group.
A medical chat group.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Because, of course, public security officials know medicine better than doctors.
On 10 January he began coughing, the next day he had a fever and two days later he was himself hospitalized. One month after his public order disturbing chat group post, he was diagnosed.
30 January.
On Wednesday February 5, he passed away.
Which public security officials initially tried to deny. Because, of course, public security officials know more about death than doctors.
From December 30 till today, an increasing number of security measures have been taken. Some were firm, some were wise. There is concern that this newly discovered disease may harm the public order.
In response to the crisis, China has introduced more restrictive measures to try to control the outbreak. They are confident that they are capable of defeating the epidemic.
TRENTON ALLEY, CHINATOWN
Opposite the hospital where my doctor works is an alleyway I particularly like. When the afternoon sun hits just right, it is peacefull and pleasant to the eyes, soothing to the soul. After I see my doctor or have had medical tests done, I often end up there enjoying a quiet smoke, and observing the activity at the stores on the corner, elderly grandparents and little tykes after school, housewives hurrying home with groceries for family dinner. Currently it is named after the capital city of New Jersey (Trenton).
I have no idea why.
不如 ... 李文亮醫生如街
Sure, you may want to keep a name, which recalls the beautiful capital city of a state on the East Coast, with which it has no connection, but I think it would be rather a splendid idea to rename it as Li Wen Liang Street, so that Doctor Li will not and cannot be forgotten ... as public security officials might want to happen. Which will indeed have happened several years hence, when the authoritative account of this new medical crisis is finally written, filled with plauditory mention of the measures taken to control the outbreak. And maintain public order.
How appropriate if a street leading to a hospital were to be named after a doctor who did the right thing.
He was thirty four years old when he died.
He left behind a wife and child.
His wife is expecting.
Li Wen Liang Street.
It has a ring to it.
AFTER WORD
This is just a thought, I have no idea how to bring it to the attention of public officials. Like David Chiu, London Breed, Scott Wiener, Aaron Peskin, et al.
Other than posting it in a chat group.
A medical chat group.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, February 06, 2020
OUR HOPE FOR THE FUTURE
Considering the season of ire that is starting, and the repulsive candidates who will bloviate upon us for the next ten months, one wonders what the space aliens think of our civilization. Will they, after watching the so-manieth example of Republican chicanery, say "oh yes, Grlaxto-the-odious pulled that shiznit back during the last years of the Snoog Empire, and we ate him", and then start thinking fondly of the curry feasts of ancient day? Or will they turn to helpful videos as both the finest examples of human know-how and illustrations of our complex thought processes?
[Senile old white men probably don't taste like chicken, more like possum. Kind of greasy yet stringy at the same time. Long stewing, strong spices, and lots of cooking sherry are required. And a whole bottle of hot sauce.]
May I present the following video as both politically relevant as well as a splendid exemplar of all the best things in our civilization, the apex of human achievement? Watch it all the way through to the end.
THREE INFORMED VOTERS
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_clzVlkkcs.]
Let us above all cater to the intelligence of the people in the great state of Iowa. All American elections are a struggle between senile old fossils and insane criminals. As is all of human history.
Considering that I despise our current president (and his entire party), and am apathetic about all of the likely Democratic candidates, this, then, represents what I believe is the best hope for our country.
An exciting platform, a winning personality, and charisma!
I can assure you that he will bring change. America will finally be respected again, our enemies will fear us, and the Russians won't dare meddle in our affairs. Plus the Christians will love him, because he represents all their fears and ideals.
Cthulhu for president.
We deserve him.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
[Senile old white men probably don't taste like chicken, more like possum. Kind of greasy yet stringy at the same time. Long stewing, strong spices, and lots of cooking sherry are required. And a whole bottle of hot sauce.]
May I present the following video as both politically relevant as well as a splendid exemplar of all the best things in our civilization, the apex of human achievement? Watch it all the way through to the end.
THREE INFORMED VOTERS
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_clzVlkkcs.]
Let us above all cater to the intelligence of the people in the great state of Iowa. All American elections are a struggle between senile old fossils and insane criminals. As is all of human history.
Considering that I despise our current president (and his entire party), and am apathetic about all of the likely Democratic candidates, this, then, represents what I believe is the best hope for our country.
An exciting platform, a winning personality, and charisma!
I can assure you that he will bring change. America will finally be respected again, our enemies will fear us, and the Russians won't dare meddle in our affairs. Plus the Christians will love him, because he represents all their fears and ideals.
Cthulhu for president.
We deserve him.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
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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,...
