VIM AND VIGOUR

Now that a number of places have legalized marijuana, it makes sense to seriously consider relaxing the regulations on many other powerful medicinal substances in recognition of their usefulness.

One of which is methamphetamine.


This blog feels that overlooking the value of this tonic is something our country cannot afford to do any longer, especially with huge numbers of jobs soon returning to America. People who haven't done farmwork in decades will need all the help they can get, as well as pharmaceutical encouragement. Methamphetamine soothes tired muscles and enables long hours of productive work, and the newly employed will be surprised by how much they can accomplish as well as their improved efficiency.

Methamphetamine is miraculous, we dare not deny ourselves its benefits. The new agricultural class will surely experience a surge of pride when they see the results of their labour, their drive and enthusiasm will lead them to new heights of achievement. We must unleash that potential.
Methamphetamine is the boost we need.


IT'S LIKE RED BULL ON STEROIDS!


Methamphetamine's usefulness is attested by the experience of several nations which took bold steps and employed methamphetamine to very great effect -- both Germany and Japan made methamphetamine available to workers during the forties, the Soviets provided it to their gulags and factories, and even today North Korea boosts production and soothes their workers with it -- and pharmaceutics have improved considerably since the diet-pill fad; it is time to invite this beneficial substance back out of the closet and return it to its role in American life.

Why do foreign students consistently outperform Americans academically?
It is because they have the help of methamphetamines. It would be an injustice to continue denying our own people that tool.
Just coffee alone is not enough.
Bah, Starbucks!


Creativity and inventiveness have made small scale methamphetamine production a cottage industry in many parts of this country; with proper encouragement this wondrous all-American chemical can become a great new enterprise, and improve the lives of millions of citizens.
As well as legal residents.

A leaner, trimmer, and more energetic America awaits.


When we legalize methamphetamine, we will return America to its rightful place as leader of the Free World, restore her greatness, and together stride forward with renewed confidence toward a brave new world.


Re-energize the U.S.A.!




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A CHANGE OF SUBJECT: THE SPITTOON

In order to take your mind off the recent disaster, here's a list of expressive terms that you might enjoy learning.


痰罐話

傻仔 'so jai': idiot, fool, dunderhead, severely defective person, such as somebody from Texas or Florida. Mostly, Texans.
木嘴 'muk jeui': an idiot, an addle pate; Republican.
一嚿飯 'yat gau faan': lump of rice; a brainless twat, somebody without shape, form, definition, or ideas; Louis Gomert.
墨魚頭 'mok yü tau': a cuttlefish head, which is empty and useless. For instance a typical voter. In Texas. Or Florida. Or Louisiana. Or all of the South, the Midwest, and the montane wastelands.

麻甩佬 'maa lat lou': sexual harasser, sexist pig.
壞蛋 'waai daan': rotten egg; a thoroughly despicable person. Rudolph Giuliani, et aliis.
龜蛋 'gwai daan': turtle egg; a fool and a cad.
爛仔 'laan chai': a thoroughly rotten scoundrel.

鴇 'pou': aging procuress, harpy, but also a Cossack slut. Bustard (bird).
Anne Coulter, Pamela Geller, Debbie Schlussel, Carrie Almond.
蠢人 'cheun yan': dunderhead. Imbecile. Geert Wilders.
貪污腐敗 'taam wu fu pai': "greedy filthy rotten and declining". Hence 貪污腐敗幫 ('taam wu fu pai pong'), a corrupt gang or clique within the government or society (many destructive fundie and political cliques, such as the NRA, the Family Research Council, the Eagle Forum, the Heritage Foundation, the Teaparty Movement, Christian Apocalyptics, Fox News, and Michele Bachman), and 貪污腐敗幫黨 ('taam wu fu pai tong'), the Republican Party (痰罐黨 for short).
燈紅酒綠 'tang hung jau luk': "lanterns red (and) liquor green", meaning debauched and licentious, depraved, like Jeffrey Epstein


共和黨人這些卑鄙的貪惏混蛋！
['gung wo tong yan je se bei-pei dik taam-laam wan-daan']


Please note that NONE of these terms are obscene or unprintable.
That vocabulary is not really something you need to know. Yet.




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BUILD A WALL

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I'M NOT SUGGESTING A DAMNED THING

Several items:

"The Consulate-General of Russia in San Francisco is a diplomatic mission in the 2790 Green Street building in Pacific Heights, San Francisco. It is operated by the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs."
Address: 2790 Green St, San Francisco, CA 94123
Phone: (415) 928-6878

"Next SFGOP Meeting
Wednesday, November 16, 2016 at 6:30 PM
​Runway Incubators: 1355 Market Street, San Francisco, CA ​"



Also:
We are the West Coast. We can survive four years of the rest of the country being destroyed. We don't need Texas. We will ignore as best we can what the inbreds in flyoverstan have wrought. And we will sabotage everything that carrot-faced shit-gibbon tries to do.





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AMERICA AND HER ORANGE-FACED BUFFOON

Well, I voted. There was no line, there were no trolls, and it took all of ten minutes or less. Several candidates, several propositions. The poll volunteers consisted of a perfect cross-section of the San Francisco population. A full spectrum of ages: one African American, one Hispanic American, one Asian American, and a white guy.
Excuse me, White Guy American.

As of this writing, the Deplorable American is taking the south.
Which was predictable. The North-East is Clinton country.

Some time this evening the Trump Nation will throw a hissy.

With a bit of luck, several of them will get shot.



From BBC:

"Trump is winning in Texas, Kansas, North Dakota, South Dakota and Wyoming, according to ABC News."

Screw Texas, Kansas, North Dakota, South Dakota and Wyoming.
Let's put our toxic waste dumps there and wall the f*ckers off.

These are the ignorant slime who gave us Reagan, Bush Sr., and Bush Junior. Twenty years of misguided policies, disastrous legislation, and worsening relations with the rest of the world. The last "government" they elected drove us into a horrific war on completely false pretexts, bankrupting the country and destroying Iraq in the process.


Also un-American: Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississipi, and Arkansas. Screw them too. And Louisiana.

And West Virginia, which is a hell hole.

7:12 PM: And Missouri.

8:33 Pm: Utah.



Here's a promise: If Clinton wins, I will gloat venomously, viciously, and irritatingly long and loud. If that bastard wins, I'm going to be a complete son-of-a-bitch to Republicans for four years, going out of my way to screw them or hurt them at any opportunity.

It nauseates me almost unbearably that so many "Americans" want an egomaniac mean-spirited, coarse-mouthed, racist, pussy-grabbing sociopath as the most powerful person in the world.

Loathsome carrot-faced dingo.

Damned Christians.




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TAKING YOU BACK TO A KINDER GENTLER TIME ...

Yes, this is election related. Sorry. You probably want to kill a Republican or two right now, don't you? Slaughter them in their churches and send the Union Armies back into the Old South errm, Red States, to pound the damned primitives back into civilization. And who can blame you?
I likewise feel murderously inclined toward our more backward brethren, and thank the good lord we can still own guns and shoot Texans errm, exercise our second amendment rights!

Some suitable music.


WE HAVE A GENERAL


[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4vbdZUaDms.]


CIVIL WAR TUNE


[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0U9hidLkqc.]


In both Texas and North Carolina vigorous vote suppression is under way. If you wish to inflict violence on a Trumpite that's your own affair, just make sure none of the bystanders have a camera.
Make the damage permanent.

No, I still haven't seen any proof or even indication that Donald Trump's father isn't an Orangutan, or that his darling dingbat wife isn't a two-bit golddigging Balkan slut.


Me, partisan?

Damned right.


By the way, Giuliani is a rancid smear of festering crap, Priebus should be defenestrated, and Katrina Pierson needs a straightjacket.
A very tight straightjacket.

Kelly Anne Conway? A strident foul-tempered harpy from the fiery pit.
A few cans of Black Flag™ would do her right.
It's all-American.



If you don't vote for Hillary Rodham Clinton, I hope somebody sets fire to your crapper with you in it.




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I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK, I THINK.

Earlier today somebody said that it was typically Dutch of me, in fact to be expected, and a good characteristic. What he meant was my ex-girlfriend, about whom I boasted that she got two degrees and put herself through college. He praised me because she was Chinese, and as a Dutchman naturally I valued such things.
Her hard work. And putting herself through college.
Such exemplary Chineseness is very Dutch.
He wasn't surprised at all.

Wow.


By the same token, I suppose that her having a bearded pipe-smoking Dutchman as an ex-boyfriend is very Chinese of her. In fact, many Chinese females appreciate the sheer Dutchness of being valued for hard work and studiousness by bearded pipe-smokers, which is a very Dutch thing.

Leastways something the Dutch excel at.
That valuing bit, to be precise.

There must be sheer oodles of Chinese American women with Dutch American ex-boyfriends. And surely that has to mean that here in the San Francisco Bay Area there are any number of Dutch American men.
Pipesmoking unattached Dutch American men.

If not presently ex, soon to be.


No wonder I never have a date for Friday night.
It's all that competition out there.
Other Dutchmen.


I am a Dutch American. She is a Chinese American.
I esteem her stubborn perseverance.
Together we are ex.




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JUST TRYING TO HELP

Apparently I have a filthy mind. My apartment mate asked if it was true that men went bananas whenever they saw big naked breasts. Please note that she neither has large mammaries, nor was in way the subject of an event that involved the fullest of full frontal. But she had heard.

I explained that many men did not have the capacity to resist zeppelins, possibly because it reminded them of their mothers or Carol Doda, but because I live in San Francisco and I have already seen lots of large real estate, heck I've even seen Carol Doda, big boobalicious mammaries, of any and every tint and texture, have totally no effect on me.
I do not have an inner caveman to coddle.


And I could prove it. Go ahead, show me breasts of ANY size. From terror-inducing humongousness, quivering like wet concrete, to golf ball sized, whether freckled or plain. Why, make sure that there's a full spectrum, several score, of every possible hue and size.
I am up for the challenge.


She told me to fercrapsakes stop patting myself on the back.
It was far too suspicious when I did that.
Rather obscene, in fact.
Disgusting.



Honestly, random naked breasts don't do anything for me.




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OH AUNTIE, YOU ARE SO REFINED!

Frequently, when I am outside minding my own business and smoking, Chinese women pass by and clap their hands to their delicate little noses so as to not have to smell my fumes. Not all of them do -- some don't even notice that consumption of tobacco is going on right under their noses, so to speak -- but enough that it has become irritating.

[To clarify: Pipes and the occasional cigarillo. No ciggies.]

Less so in Chinatown, where folks are brash and devil-may-care.
But even there it happens. It's very white behaviour.


When the breeze blows the wisps in an opposite direction, the non-smoker is halfway down the block, and there are multiple lanes of traffic nearby, it is remarkably stuck-up to feign distaste the moment you become visually aware of tobacco being burned.

The other day a woman did not do anything at all until she saw the pipe, when she was almost right in front of me. From that moment on she kept her bony claw clapped to her beak, for almost the entire next block.

Six lanes of traffic. Dog poo sidewalk.
Plus unwashed crazy people.

But my tobacco.

Oh!

Nearly one third of all Chinese smoke, and China produces almost half of the cigarettes in the world. Which are smoked mostly by Chinese folks.

Ma'am, many if not quite all of your male relatives huff like chimneys, you need not act so pained.


煙

Both Deng Xiaoping (鄧小平 'dang siu-peng') and Mao Zedong (毛澤東 'mou jaak-tung') liked Panda Brand (熊猫牌 'hung maau paai') cigarettes.



Deng Xiaoping is known to have favoured the green label, which is extremely expensive, and possessed of a refined and mellow saveur.
It is exquisite; flue-cured leaf, aged tobacco.

雙喜

Many Cantonese smoke Double Happiness (雙喜 'seung hei'), which is the status brand in the south, and available at many fine grocery stores in the neighborhood. Empty packs litter every sidewalk.




Surely you've seen Huang He Lou (黃鶴樓 'wong hok lau') smokes?



They are exceedingly nice!

故人西辭黃鶴樓

煙花三月下揚州

孤帆遠影碧空盡

唯見長江天際流

All of the cigarettes shown above are available from Mr. Muhamad Ali at Oriental General Trading in the Jebel Ali FreeZone in Dubai, and at tax-free airport stores world-wide, if you wish to gift your male relatives.

Brands I could also mention: 利群 ('lei kwan'), 中華 ('jung waa'), 蘭州 ('laan jau'), 紅塔山 ('hung taap saan'), 中南海 ('jung naam hoi'), 北京 ('baak king'), 紅燈籠 ('hung dang lung'), 獅牌 ('si paai'), 聖草 ('sing tsou'), 白沙煙 ('paak saa yin'), 大紅鷹 ('taai hong ying'), 紅河 ('hung ho'), 紅梅 ('hung mui'), 99, 好貓 ('hou maau'), 真龍 ('jan lung'), 鑽石 ('juen sek'), 玉溪 ('yuk kai'), 紫氣東來 ('ji hei tung loi'), 好日子 ('hou yat ji'), ......

Even, just for the Chinese market, the legendary 壽百年黑俄羅斯 ('sau paak nin hak ngo-lo-si'; Sobranie Black Russians).


And Long Life Brand (長壽牌 'cheung sau paai'). Such an auspicious name!

In fact, there are over a thousand charming varieties to choose from, most made in the mainland and much beloved by the Chinese, young and old, male and female, rich and poor. From the coughing infant in her crib to the superannuated old geezer hacking on the edge of the precipice, Chinese people smoke like bacon, and gift each other cigarettes.

If you are not aware of this, or always feel the need to show how repulsed you are by smokers, maybe your relatives all avoid you.

You haven't seen them in like, forever.

It's a possibility.

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THESE ARE REPUBLICANS

Earlier this week I was standing next to three inbred syphilitic savages from Texas, who were disparaging Black Lives Matter, minorities, and liberals. Of course I did not say anything, because dumb rednecks have a tendency to get abusive, and cannot be educated in any case. But I seriously wished that their wives and daughters would leave them for a human being, and taken the tire hanging from the tree out back with them.

Henceforth I am boycotting as much of the red states and whatever they produce as possible. Which ain't difficult, as I do not drink Bourbon and don't date cheerleaders.

Some statistics:

"Polling conducted earlier this year found that 65 percent of Trump supporters believe Obama is a Muslim; 59 percent believe Obama wasn’t born in the United States; 40 percent believe blacks are more “lazy” than whites; 31 percent support banning homosexuals from the country; 16 percent believe whites are a superior race; and 20 percent disagree with Lincoln’s signing of the Emancipation Proclamation, which freed Southern slaves."


[SOURCE: John Sununu pisses all over hisself and Hillary is right about Trumpites.]


These folks aren't ready for the modern age.

In fact, most Republicans aren't.

They are deplorable.




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YOUR WRINKLED WATTLES

As I was crossing the intersection I passed a grey-haired gentleman being helped across by what may have been a granddaughter but might have been a nurse. A care taker type person. At the moment when he reached the curb, he uttered something that says it all about the aging of America.
We are a society gradually losing our spring.
His statement expresses it well.

So plaintive, so touching!


"My legs hurt, and I'm tired and fat!"


Seriously, I can empathize. I'm not fat, but I'm tired, and my legs hurt too. It's part of getting older. I wish I could still chase the young does through the fields of tall grass, but there are burs and ticks there, and the damned things keep getting away.

Of course, running is in any case undignified. The young does had better amble in a leisurely and dignified way if they wish me to ever catch them. And, now that I think about it, they had better also say something, and give some clear indications of their desire, because in addition to being older than I once was, I am somewhat oblivious, as I have always been.


Yesterday a nice young fellow tried to give me his seat on the bus. Upon refusing, I informed him that I am not that old. What I did not mention was that I hoped he would hold that seat for twenty or thirty years, by which time I shall really need it. Of course by then he'll be thirty five or forty five, and may be so weighed down by cares and kiddies that he should deserve the seat himself. Please sit, young fellow. It's going to be tough.

My legs hurt and I'm tired because I've been running around all day, doing stuff that the pudgy soda drinkers cannot do.

I've also been swilling tea all day.

I'm tired but wired.



Perhaps a young doe can sit here beside me while I contemplatively smoke my pipe. She can provide consoling company while I massage the calves.




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THERE WILL BE PUDDING!

The internet is a fascinating place. While scrolling though facebook what met my eye was this stellar phrase: "But, alas, cat urination on your mattress is one of those dilemmas that some pet parents deal with."
It was written by someone from PetMD. Remove just two words, and it describes the quandary many people have vis-à-vis their repulsive brood.
It is a metaphor for why your relatives should never have had kids.

I like children, I really do. Sometimes the little monsters can be quite charming, fascinating even. While I was in line at Walgreens on Stockton Street, I heard a little Chinese girl happily singing out "mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!"
She had a cup of hermetically sealed pudding in her hands.
She wasn't loud, she wasn't obnoxious.
Just incredibly focused.
Glowing.


Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!


Maybe she does pee in the mattress. Statistically, it is a possibilty. Not necessarily probable, and probably not likely even. But children are somewhat more apt to wet the bed than (most) grown-ups.
This is something you should keep in mind if you ever decide to breed.
Can you afford a frequent change of bed?

Rewarding you kid with pudding occasionally is a small price to pay for dry sheets, domestic harmony, and peace of mind.
Always budget for pudding.


Most people never think of that.




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I CANNOT OUT-ARGUE THAT WOMAN

This morning over coffee I stated that at the French, Chinese, Italians, and Indians had a culinary heritage. Probably the only thing my people (the Dutch, specifically the sixteenth century Dutch and their descendants) would be remembered for was eating the Dodo. To extinction.

My apartment mate, who was much more awake than myself at that point, ventured the novel theory that that was simply a rumour the predecessor to the SPCA had put out.

In fact, she said brightly, there still were Dodos, they had simply been given nose-jobs and sunglasses to cleverly disguise them, and many of them were shaking little tin cups for spare change in first-world cities.
Didn't I ever look around and wonder at all street-people?
Surely I could not deny it was the best disguise ever?
The Dutch had failed! They meant to eat them all.
It was by no means the success I claimed.

In her opinion, the Dutch didn't have a culinary heritage at all.
They hadn't even finished eating the Dodos.
Jolly poor show, what.


I did not protest her assertion. I was too busy remembering the various street people I had seen.


Yep. Some of them did look Dodoish.
Or even quite Dodoesque.
Remarkable.


Both of us give money to local Dodos, in case you were wondering.


That first cup of coffee in the morning is a blast.




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CUBS AND A GOAT

This blogger is NOT ecstatic over the World Series results. Instead, please understand my near-total apathy. No, I did not know about the goat curse before -- this World Series has expanded my knowledge-set by at least that much -- but that datum does not enrich me, and it is doubtful that I'll ever have to interject details about Billy Sianis, the Billy Goat Tavern, and his pet goat Murphy, into any conversation.

THE GOAT STINKS!

Personally, I have never found goats to have much of an objectionable odour, but apparently the male goat does have a distinct and problematic whiff, which is another thing that heretofore I did not know.
This is a marginally more useful bit of information.
They're rather like Scotsmen.
My total exposure to goats has been petting zoos and the occasional hippie commune, besides cute internet videos.

Bar owners are a peculiar lot, so it isn't surprising that one of them kept a pet male goat around him. It must have enriched his life.

Some bar owners are antisocial alcoholics.
Goats are very therapeutic.


I am not interested in baseball. But I like goats.

I did not watch any part of the game.

None of the games.

Meh.




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YOU HAVE TO SPEAK ENGLISH TO READ THIS

A few years ago, after Savage Kitten and I broke up, I would spend my weekends at the office doing my own thing in the peace and quiet of the thirteenth floor. Mostly reading, sometimes going out for smoke and a walk around the financial district, heading over to Chinatown for lunch or dinner, and delaying the return home till night time. Savage Kitten and I still lived together. The break-up had been rough -- though by no means mean or hate-filled -- and neither one of us wanted to find another place to live.
Especially not in San Francisco, where if you don't have an apartment mate you can trust, you are very likely living with a drugged-out dingbat or a psycho. Who may actually be blood kin, but far more often than not is some stranger who shares your economic niche and nothing else.

Besides, we're both a bit Aspy. Which means not perfectly socialized, and likely to put off dealing with friends and contacting people who are dear to us for indefinite periods.
Unless work or a bus-accident forces us to interact, we might not do so.
Or do it in imperfect ways.

Living together prevents non-contact.


On my days off nowadays I will often wander around North Beach, Nob Hill, and Chinatown, and enjoy pastries and a cup of milk-tea while people watching, before a solitary and extended smoke break.
Chinatown Chinese don't pry, and the closest most people I know there have ever come is wondering at my tobacco and praising my minor ability to speak their language.

Or asking me whether I want another cup of tea.
Which, when you think about it, is enough.

I deal with people all day long.
At work. They're there.

The reason I bring this up is because of seal script. I mentioned seal script in a conversation with an old friend yesterday (not actually face-to-face, but message contra message), and showed some examples.

With which I shall now illustrate this essay.

卷 'guen', 'kuen': scroll, roll up, curl; return.

篆書 'suen syu': seal script.

書 'syu': book, missive, writing; to write, to document.

Like my ability to speak Cantonese, my skill with a brush is very minor.

Still, I flatter myself that it is better than average, and not altogether miserable.

The Chinese written language three millenia ago derived from symbols and pictures carved into hard surfaces; by the time a kind of felt-tipped pen was used there were already a few thousand characters.

A few hundred of these are straightforward representation, showing the item or concept. They are mnemonically sharp. The next group consists of borrowings, where there wasn't a script symbol, but there was a word with the same or a similar pronunciation that could be used. The majority of the dictionary will consist of compounds, with one element being a phonetic, the other showing to which category the world belongs.
There are around two thousand phonetics, of which a few hundred are very common.

All characters beyond the basic 214 consist of simpler parts, which by themselves always have a meaning, but which are not all still part of the regular vocabulary. It is by these that words are arranged in a dictionary, from simplest character through stroke count in that section, by stroke order, to the most complex.

Most characters you will ever need to know are fewer than fifteen strokes. Some characters almost entirely without function but easy to remember, because they show the same part three times arranged in a pyramid.

For example:

鑫、龘、麤 。

Trust me, these three characters (鑫、龘、麤) are pretty much useless. Don't bother looking them up, but simply recognize the construction.
Gold, a mine schematically illustrated, or metal (金 'kam') stacked up; a dragon (龍 'lung') triplicated; and three deer (鹿 'luk') possibly running.

Even they had a common use, they are too complicated to write in normal script size, being 24 strokes, 48 strokes, and 33 strokes respectively.
In a word, they are ink blobs.

One character should be mentioned here, because it is overwhelmingly complicated but will not show up in the majority of dictionaries, being well-nigh ridiculous, and simply a restaurateur's conceit:

Biáng

This character is absurd. In Shaanxi, it is a type of noodle, and shows up on signboards. Sometimes with sixty four strokes, as in this illustration, sometimes only as few as fifty eight.


Chinese is often easier to learn how to write, as an outsider, than speak. And context counts for a lot. But without at least a few hundred words, most menus become opaque, and daily specials might not be for you.

The reason for that is that English is not very much more simple, and has as absurd a vocabulary and set of rules, and you will kindly note that context, likewise, makes much clear.


There are, in each language, expressions and colloquialisms that make no sense if taken literally. Darn tooting.


Biáng. Good grief.




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AT WAR WITH AMERICA

Today's actions by the Federal Bureau of Investigation fairly conclusively prove that some Federal Officials are at war with the American people.

If Trump wins the election, you know who to blame.

Say "hello" to your new masters.





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DURIAN TUESDAY

A good friend and his lovely lady wish to institute the new tradition of 'durian Tuesday'. And I think that's a splendid idea! After all, the old saying "a durian each day keeps the doctor away" tells you something. Medical men know that a family that consumes durian is a happy household, and manifestly a healthy place.
They will stay away in droves.

Next week at the polling place we should celebrate democracy with durian. It's guaranteed to make voting a fondly festive occasion.
This will be HUGE!

It will be so happy.


My friend's wife forwards and article from The South China Morning post:

Durian on pizza, in curry crab and clay pot chicken: Hong Kong chefs get creative with ‘king of fruits’

Cite:
"Thai Yuen, a Thai seafood restaurant in Tsim Sha Tsui, came up with several new dishes in May including durian curry fried crabs, durian cheese baked big-head shrimp, durian cheese deep-fried spring roll and Thai durian fried rice."

"Thai Yuen’s chef Yodchai Sribuaban says the creamy and soft flesh of durian makes the fruit an ideal ingredient in various dishes."

"In Thai Yuen’s version of deep-fried spring roll, cheese is mixed with durian. In one bite, diners get crunch (from the fried wrapper), melting, stretchy cheese and soft and creamy durian."

[SOURCE: http://www.scmp.com/lifestyle/food-drink/article/1978564/durian-pizza-curry-crab-and-clay-pot-chicken-hong-kong-chefs.]


For several years running, I staged a durian event once a year. The first year it was at the South Philly Cheesesteak, where they asked me to leave, whereupon I went to an Indonesian restaurant, where the Chinese owner's teenage American-born daughter promptly left and waited for three hours in the car for the restaurant to close. I particularly remember that, because leotard tops were fashionable that year, and she looked very nice.

The time at the computer company was also memorable. The Facilities Manager got a lot of exercise running. At Sam's on Broadway, Louisiana Tony abstained from beer because of durian.
Mr. Naguib was bowled over.

At an Italian Restaurant out in the avenues they were so impressed they entirely forgot to charge me for my pizza (I went back the next day to square the bill), and the Bart ride with durian was "enormous".
Durian is the Donald Trump of fruits.



Sid and Kristen: good luck with that proposal.
It's a wonderful concept, it will succeed.
Tuesday will never be the same.

It is lovely.




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A VERY SPECIAL PLACE

A gentleman in Marin assured us that the DNC was asking Hillary Clinton to withdraw from the race. No, he wasn't pulling a joke on us, he was completely serious. He really believed that this was factual.
I know him, and know his sense of humour.

And now I know a little more about him.

The assurance that Ms. Clinton would be asked to step down came from a message board favoured by Alt Right sexual deviants and perverts.
Who got it from an editorial in a piece-of-shit print newspaper in Chicago (The Tribune), which spews a radical mix of ultra-right poofle, libertarian propaganda, and sensationalist balderdash.


The humourless cretin who categorically swore the Hillary was out of the race may be spending too much time in the twilight zone, somewhere in between nasty Thai vacation pix and boa-constrictor penises. Yes, Marin is mostly liberal, but underneath that veneer of modern civilization there are many who merely mask their unreconstructed savagery.

You probably know that I am not fond of Marin.

There is precious little reason to be.

It's an alternative world.

Bleaagh.




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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================