Years ago he moved to Sweden because of a pretty little Swedish girl. Today he is briefly back in the land of his birth, enjoying our fine climate while risking his life in a society with no adequate medical system. But he's going back to Sweden soon. And surely I can understand?
Well, actually, no.
Swedes are decent people and all that, but that climate, and the dang trolls, are enough to prevent me from ever moving there. And, as far as I know, Swedish girls are a lot like Dutch girls, except with drippy Abbaesque personalities.
And then there's what they do to herring.
Which is absolutely barbaric.
Surströmming.
No amount of socialized medicine is enough to make a man put up with Abba and rotten fish. Or köttbullar on Knäckebröd. Every single day.
The only two places in Europe with less inspiring food are Iceland and Ireland.
Iceland has fermented shark, conveniently pre-vomited.
Ireland has Spice Burgers.
==========================================================================
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LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, April 11, 2019
DON'T START THE DAY THAT WAY
My cardiologist speaks English as his first language, and, like many locally born San Franciscans of a certain type, does not understand the language of Hong Kong and Canton City, being only slightly familiar with his parents' dialect of Cantonese. Evenso, his idea of what many Americans eat is a bit skewed, although in the case of his clientele (mostly overweight Blacks and Whites) probably dangerously and painfully accurate.
Like him, I am not entirely familiar with what most Americans eat. So his recitation of all the evil things that I should avoid was a marvelous litany, and had a fun ritualistic ring to it. Bacon. Sausages. Fried eggs. Ham.
Pancakes.
Pancakes? Good lord. Can't stand the American flapjack. A thick doughy greasy fried bread-like substance, round and gooey, which my apartment mate often has for breakfast. Like all Anglo morning food, it's nasty.
Can't quite figure out how she developed an affection for the short stack, as she's of Cantonese ancestry. Must be her older brothers. One of them was a football player, in college, in the Midwest. That'll corrupt you.
A pancake should be like a crêpe. Perhaps with slices of apple in the batter. It's a snack-type thing, good in winter.
Largely I have avoided breakfast since returning to the States years ago. Cup and a half of strong coffee, cigarillo, then off to the shower. On workdays, a baked thing, three and half hours after I get up.
The "American Breakfast" is a nightmare.
Yesterday I rolled out of bed at eight, saw my cardiologist at two, got back to Chinatown just before teatime, and then broke my fast with battered and deepfried chops and curry sauce over rice. It was delicious!
First meal since coffee at eight.
So. Breakfast.
日式咖哩豬排飯
['yat sik gaa lei chyu paai fan']
It needed Sriracha, of course. Whenever Hong Kong people do "curry", it tends to be flavourful, but very low on heat. And this glow-in-the-dark big-nosed white person likes a piquancy. The breaded and fried porkchop is a relatively new item on the menu, and the "Japanese style" curry gravy is considerably nicer than the old-style Canto curry. Yeah, my cardiologist, the dietitian I saw last week, and my regular doctor could all be quite disturbed, as there was not a single vegetable there. But on the other hand, both members of the nursing staff I see at the hospital might approve.
Tasty, exciting, the perfect meal!
When I'm at work nowadays, I eat salad for lunch.
Lordy, but salads are vicious.
Even with Sriracha.
Smoked my pipe on the sidewalk alongside the park afterwards. The two filthy naked crazies from the previous day weren't there -- perhaps men with butterfly nets took them away -- and there were more children and old people, fewer bums. Maybe somebody complained.
The black female loonie who wears dirty towels is back.
Grant Avenue and Wentworth Place. Usually.
Sometimes she has a sheet.
APPENDIX
Cardio-vascular disease: 心血管疾病 ('sam huet kun jat beng'; "heart blood-tubes illness ailment/sickness"). Cardiology: 心臟病學 ('sam jong beng hok'; "heart-organ disease study"). Also 心臟內科 ('sam jong noi fo'; "heart-organ internal science"). Cardiologist: 心臟病醫生 ('sam jong beng yi saang'; "heart disease doctor"). Also 心臟病專家 ('sam jong beng juen gaa'; "heart disease specialist"). Note that 臟病 ('jong beng'; "organ disease") sounds very similar to 髒病 ('jong beng'; "venereal disease").
Context is everything, the more the better. Include 血液循環 ('huet yat cheun waan'; or 循環系統 'cheun waan hai tung' in your discussion; circulation and circulatory system respectively.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Like him, I am not entirely familiar with what most Americans eat. So his recitation of all the evil things that I should avoid was a marvelous litany, and had a fun ritualistic ring to it. Bacon. Sausages. Fried eggs. Ham.
Pancakes.
Pancakes? Good lord. Can't stand the American flapjack. A thick doughy greasy fried bread-like substance, round and gooey, which my apartment mate often has for breakfast. Like all Anglo morning food, it's nasty.
Can't quite figure out how she developed an affection for the short stack, as she's of Cantonese ancestry. Must be her older brothers. One of them was a football player, in college, in the Midwest. That'll corrupt you.
A pancake should be like a crêpe. Perhaps with slices of apple in the batter. It's a snack-type thing, good in winter.
Largely I have avoided breakfast since returning to the States years ago. Cup and a half of strong coffee, cigarillo, then off to the shower. On workdays, a baked thing, three and half hours after I get up.
The "American Breakfast" is a nightmare.
Yesterday I rolled out of bed at eight, saw my cardiologist at two, got back to Chinatown just before teatime, and then broke my fast with battered and deepfried chops and curry sauce over rice. It was delicious!
First meal since coffee at eight.
So. Breakfast.
日式咖哩豬排飯
['yat sik gaa lei chyu paai fan']
It needed Sriracha, of course. Whenever Hong Kong people do "curry", it tends to be flavourful, but very low on heat. And this glow-in-the-dark big-nosed white person likes a piquancy. The breaded and fried porkchop is a relatively new item on the menu, and the "Japanese style" curry gravy is considerably nicer than the old-style Canto curry. Yeah, my cardiologist, the dietitian I saw last week, and my regular doctor could all be quite disturbed, as there was not a single vegetable there. But on the other hand, both members of the nursing staff I see at the hospital might approve.
Tasty, exciting, the perfect meal!
When I'm at work nowadays, I eat salad for lunch.
Lordy, but salads are vicious.
Even with Sriracha.
Smoked my pipe on the sidewalk alongside the park afterwards. The two filthy naked crazies from the previous day weren't there -- perhaps men with butterfly nets took them away -- and there were more children and old people, fewer bums. Maybe somebody complained.
The black female loonie who wears dirty towels is back.
Grant Avenue and Wentworth Place. Usually.
Sometimes she has a sheet.
APPENDIX
Cardio-vascular disease: 心血管疾病 ('sam huet kun jat beng'; "heart blood-tubes illness ailment/sickness"). Cardiology: 心臟病學 ('sam jong beng hok'; "heart-organ disease study"). Also 心臟內科 ('sam jong noi fo'; "heart-organ internal science"). Cardiologist: 心臟病醫生 ('sam jong beng yi saang'; "heart disease doctor"). Also 心臟病專家 ('sam jong beng juen gaa'; "heart disease specialist"). Note that 臟病 ('jong beng'; "organ disease") sounds very similar to 髒病 ('jong beng'; "venereal disease").
Context is everything, the more the better. Include 血液循環 ('huet yat cheun waan'; or 循環系統 'cheun waan hai tung' in your discussion; circulation and circulatory system respectively.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, April 10, 2019
YESTERDAY SHOULD BE REPEATED
The old man with a cheat sheet for filling out forms (age, address, date of birth). The middle-aged impatient woman (medical tests just take up so much precious time!). The baffled fellow who didn't know why he OR his daughter were there. A sweet old lady. And two middle-aged Caucasian dudes. I still don't know why the other one was there, he was still waiting when my procedures were done.
Having arrived twenty minutes early, I was there for a good long while in between, but still got out well before lunch. So I wandered around -- scoped out the dim sum restaurant where I had originally planned to eat, they were booming, went to Walgreens to have my transit card upped -- before finally deciding on a bánh mì (燒豬肉麵包 'siu chyu yiuk min baau') and cà phê sữa (越南咖啡無多冰 'yuet naam gaa fei mou do bing').
There were two pipes and tobacco in my coat pocket. One briar was an elegant little number my grandmother had given my dad when he returned from the war, so it was considerably older than myself. The other pipe was a squatty thing I had acquired 15 years ago. The first for after lunch.
The second for after tea.
Purchased a fun reference book in between.
Coldish, but sunny, a slight breeze. Stockton Street bustling, the alleyways quiet and windless. Outside mr. Wong's shop I listened to the sixties music he had on. There were only a few tourists, or people of any type. Too early for grandparents to pick up their kids.
I just realized that from the hospital, to Walgreens, to the Vietnamese place, the bookstore, and even at the bakery where I went for milk tea and a pastry, every person I dealt with was female. That doesn't usually happen.
Stimulating beverages. Textural things. Savoury or flaky edibles. New book. Smoke. Touchy-feelies (two pipes, both sandblasted). Aged Virginia leaf and memories of my father. Sunlight recalled from long ago, and in real world time. People I remembered, and people in the present.
Yesterday should always be repeated.
Slanting silver rays, black holes in the shadows.
The way the pipe was held in his mouth.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Having arrived twenty minutes early, I was there for a good long while in between, but still got out well before lunch. So I wandered around -- scoped out the dim sum restaurant where I had originally planned to eat, they were booming, went to Walgreens to have my transit card upped -- before finally deciding on a bánh mì (燒豬肉麵包 'siu chyu yiuk min baau') and cà phê sữa (越南咖啡無多冰 'yuet naam gaa fei mou do bing').
There were two pipes and tobacco in my coat pocket. One briar was an elegant little number my grandmother had given my dad when he returned from the war, so it was considerably older than myself. The other pipe was a squatty thing I had acquired 15 years ago. The first for after lunch.
The second for after tea.
Purchased a fun reference book in between.
Coldish, but sunny, a slight breeze. Stockton Street bustling, the alleyways quiet and windless. Outside mr. Wong's shop I listened to the sixties music he had on. There were only a few tourists, or people of any type. Too early for grandparents to pick up their kids.
I just realized that from the hospital, to Walgreens, to the Vietnamese place, the bookstore, and even at the bakery where I went for milk tea and a pastry, every person I dealt with was female. That doesn't usually happen.
Stimulating beverages. Textural things. Savoury or flaky edibles. New book. Smoke. Touchy-feelies (two pipes, both sandblasted). Aged Virginia leaf and memories of my father. Sunlight recalled from long ago, and in real world time. People I remembered, and people in the present.
Yesterday should always be repeated.
Slanting silver rays, black holes in the shadows.
The way the pipe was held in his mouth.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tuesday, April 09, 2019
OH, THEY ARE JUST SO SWEET!
Some people shouldn't have kids. Those two troll-like creatures looked like they could've been living under a bridge instead of riding public transit and acting spoiled. Yeah, I know. Mean thing to say. All children are precious.
Those two brats were alien mutants.
And behaved repulsively.
Monsters.
Of course, one little old woman thought they were just darling.
There's always one who goes gaga for nasty kids.
The more loathsome, the better.
That's the problem, you see. SF Muni buses convey icky little turdlings, their parents, elderly psychopaths and demented people, and office workers from the Embarcadero Centers. Plus random individuals overdosing.
And folks needing a warm place to crap.
A smorgasbord.
We need more lizards in San Francisco, and fewer humans.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Those two brats were alien mutants.
And behaved repulsively.
Monsters.
Of course, one little old woman thought they were just darling.
There's always one who goes gaga for nasty kids.
The more loathsome, the better.
That's the problem, you see. SF Muni buses convey icky little turdlings, their parents, elderly psychopaths and demented people, and office workers from the Embarcadero Centers. Plus random individuals overdosing.
And folks needing a warm place to crap.
A smorgasbord.
We need more lizards in San Francisco, and fewer humans.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
YOU DOCTOR ME NURSE
Off to the hospital for two more appointments (screening in radiology dept.) in a few minutes. Which, once completed, will be followed by lunch, a pipeful of tobacco, snackipoo and milktea, and another smoke.
A rich full day, in other words.
Tomorrow I am seeing my cardiologist at a different hospital.
So it's a good thing I did laundry last Friday. One doesn't want to show up at the hospital smelling all stanky. There are people there who one would want to think of one as a decent civilized self-disciplined dude, despite the habit one has of having unhealthy food. And enjoying tobacco. And disco-dancing while on vacation in Ibiza.
Lunch, three days in a row, was salad.
I hate salad now.
You know, there are VERY good reasons dim sum restaurants and chachanteng in C'town do not have salad on their menus.
==========================================================================
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LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
A rich full day, in other words.
Tomorrow I am seeing my cardiologist at a different hospital.
So it's a good thing I did laundry last Friday. One doesn't want to show up at the hospital smelling all stanky. There are people there who one would want to think of one as a decent civilized self-disciplined dude, despite the habit one has of having unhealthy food. And enjoying tobacco. And disco-dancing while on vacation in Ibiza.
Lunch, three days in a row, was salad.
I hate salad now.
You know, there are VERY good reasons dim sum restaurants and chachanteng in C'town do not have salad on their menus.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, April 08, 2019
THANK YOU, PLEASE CALL AGAIN!
There are times when you can still tell that the call is not an actual live human to whom you wish to talk. Prerecorded, robotic, or a subcontinental scam artist trying to get into your bank account, your computer, or your boxer shorts.
Calls telling you that you are in danger of losing your approval for a student loan, or telling you amazing things about Dan's Airduct Service. Or asking, brightly, "hi, is the lady of the house there?" With an expectant pause.
Other than saying 'no', or asking 'why', or even slamming the phone down, there is only ONE possible response to that.
"WE ARE AN ANARCHO-SYNDICALIST COLLECTIVE!"
"We take it in turns to be the Lady of the House. Supreme femininity derives from a mandate from the masses!"
As far as actual gender goes, my apartment mate is the Lady of the House. We are not a couple, neither of us make decisions that would involve both of us, there is nothing to see here. So just move along.
She is the small Cantonese womyn resident. Of the apartment.
I am the smelly Dutch resident. Of the apartment.
The senior roomie is a teddy bear.
We share the kitchen, crapper, shower, and a landline. We have separate beds, rooms, bank accounts, computers, and love lives.
That is to say, she may have broken up with Wheelie Boy (I should know?), but they are still on good terms.
I haven't had a love life since like before Jayzus.
There is no 'Lady of the House'.
Instead, two grumpy adults.
And a dour teddy bear.
We will not buy the garbage on the other end of the line.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Calls telling you that you are in danger of losing your approval for a student loan, or telling you amazing things about Dan's Airduct Service. Or asking, brightly, "hi, is the lady of the house there?" With an expectant pause.
Other than saying 'no', or asking 'why', or even slamming the phone down, there is only ONE possible response to that.
"WE ARE AN ANARCHO-SYNDICALIST COLLECTIVE!"
"We take it in turns to be the Lady of the House. Supreme femininity derives from a mandate from the masses!"
As far as actual gender goes, my apartment mate is the Lady of the House. We are not a couple, neither of us make decisions that would involve both of us, there is nothing to see here. So just move along.
She is the small Cantonese womyn resident. Of the apartment.
I am the smelly Dutch resident. Of the apartment.
The senior roomie is a teddy bear.
We share the kitchen, crapper, shower, and a landline. We have separate beds, rooms, bank accounts, computers, and love lives.
That is to say, she may have broken up with Wheelie Boy (I should know?), but they are still on good terms.
I haven't had a love life since like before Jayzus.
There is no 'Lady of the House'.
Instead, two grumpy adults.
And a dour teddy bear.
We will not buy the garbage on the other end of the line.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, April 07, 2019
WORDS OF WELL BEING
Like everybody, I take my medical advice from random know-it-alls on a daily basis. Because you just can't pay for that kind of life experience. This in connection with serious input from people who entirely unbeknownst to me have diagnosed my health issues precisely, and "really" possess so much more wisdom and medical science that they are just burbling over with helpful suggestions and authoritative facts.
Either that or they want to kill me.
Special diets! Avoid red meat, gluten, carrots, corn, soy, and gmos.
Instead: cucumbers, kale, beets, organic apple cider vinegar.
Native American tobacco ceremonies, and burning sage.
Modern fabrics give you cancer.
Not only am I still upset at all the unwanted medical advice I received last week, but a few people have added to that by their dingbat theories, which, if taken seriously, might cause some real damage. Why is it that so many people who have not a shred of medical expertise feel obligated to lay their supertstitious suburban voodoo on people?
Screw sage, gluten-free, organic, macrobiotic, paleo, and buggery apple cider vinegar. The reason why you folks aren't dead yet is A) you were vaccinated as kids, and B) you are incredibly and undeservedly lucky.
If neither I nor any rational one else would take style, investment, car buying, cigar, or culinary advice from you all, why should we even listen to your crackpot health advice? You're Gwyneth buggery Paltrow perhaps?
Vani the food-booby Hari?
Snake-oil Oz?
By the way: vaccines do NOT give you autism.
Or any kind of damaging inflammation.
There is NO conspiracy.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Either that or they want to kill me.
Special diets! Avoid red meat, gluten, carrots, corn, soy, and gmos.
Instead: cucumbers, kale, beets, organic apple cider vinegar.
Native American tobacco ceremonies, and burning sage.
Modern fabrics give you cancer.
Not only am I still upset at all the unwanted medical advice I received last week, but a few people have added to that by their dingbat theories, which, if taken seriously, might cause some real damage. Why is it that so many people who have not a shred of medical expertise feel obligated to lay their supertstitious suburban voodoo on people?
Screw sage, gluten-free, organic, macrobiotic, paleo, and buggery apple cider vinegar. The reason why you folks aren't dead yet is A) you were vaccinated as kids, and B) you are incredibly and undeservedly lucky.
If neither I nor any rational one else would take style, investment, car buying, cigar, or culinary advice from you all, why should we even listen to your crackpot health advice? You're Gwyneth buggery Paltrow perhaps?
Vani the food-booby Hari?
Snake-oil Oz?
By the way: vaccines do NOT give you autism.
Or any kind of damaging inflammation.
There is NO conspiracy.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
STAY HEALTHY
Several Vietnamese bloggers appear keen that I investigate gynecology. Mind you, I am not averse to that, heavens no, but I strongly suspect that the comments they left in my letterbox may have been self-serving spam. Because I have not dwelt overmuch on the gyne, and cannot have thus attracted their attention. So their comments will not be approved.
I filter for Spam, approve of gyne, and break for ferrets.
It's too early in the day for gynecology, though.
So the link to what may very well be the very best little clinic in Hanoi for your private parts will not be published. Sorry, Keeley, Stacy, Indra, Johnson, and others.
Please keep your squidgy bits healthy.
And don't smoke bad tobacco.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I filter for Spam, approve of gyne, and break for ferrets.
It's too early in the day for gynecology, though.
So the link to what may very well be the very best little clinic in Hanoi for your private parts will not be published. Sorry, Keeley, Stacy, Indra, Johnson, and others.
Please keep your squidgy bits healthy.
And don't smoke bad tobacco.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, April 06, 2019
HOLY CRAP, IT'S A SLEAZE PARTY!
Coming home from Marin this blogger wasn't looking forward to having the Real Housewives on teevee. But my apartment mate likes watching white or black wimmins from the rest of the country acting trashy. As an innocent little Cantonese girl from SF, she's used to temperate and very restrained styles of behaviour -- except for people loosing their nut in public, of course, because Cantonese just LOVE street theatre -- and the Real Housewives franchise has nothing but unadulterated gold-plated trash.
So okay, that's on the telly while I am preparing my dinner.
Curried potato and okra, with sausages and chiles.
I'm eating healthy nowadays.
Let the food cool on the stove, return to the television room (that's where the computers are) and there's a sleazoid fashion show playing, featuring big breasted trashbags. She has a big smile all over her face.
Sometimes her eyeballs glow.
If I was a sensitive man, her viewing preferences might give me gastric distress. But that isn't the case.
Should've added more chilies. The chourice isn't very spicy.
I had salad for lunch. Bland and Waspy.
Even with Sriracha.
A person's food and entertainments should be zesty. Else what's the point?
Nobody except middle-of-the-country White People are going to watch a solid hour of well-behaved Christians experiencing another mild day at the daffodil farm with their meek little rabbits and lambs. Or eat lettuce and baloney sammiches on spongy white bread while doing so.
Well, maybe some nice black people might. After all, they do consider macaroni and cheese a side dish, rather than intestinal glue.
Spa and elevator music were invented for them.
Along with Lutefisk.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
So okay, that's on the telly while I am preparing my dinner.
Curried potato and okra, with sausages and chiles.
I'm eating healthy nowadays.
Let the food cool on the stove, return to the television room (that's where the computers are) and there's a sleazoid fashion show playing, featuring big breasted trashbags. She has a big smile all over her face.
Sometimes her eyeballs glow.
If I was a sensitive man, her viewing preferences might give me gastric distress. But that isn't the case.
Should've added more chilies. The chourice isn't very spicy.
I had salad for lunch. Bland and Waspy.
Even with Sriracha.
A person's food and entertainments should be zesty. Else what's the point?
Nobody except middle-of-the-country White People are going to watch a solid hour of well-behaved Christians experiencing another mild day at the daffodil farm with their meek little rabbits and lambs. Or eat lettuce and baloney sammiches on spongy white bread while doing so.
Well, maybe some nice black people might. After all, they do consider macaroni and cheese a side dish, rather than intestinal glue.
Spa and elevator music were invented for them.
Along with Lutefisk.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Friday, April 05, 2019
WHERE THERE ARE LIZARDS
Last night, a few hours after twelve o'clock, I was in Amsterdam. But it was only a dream. Naturally there were parts that were quite foreign to me, as well as Autumn leaves, coffee, and small cigars. My dreaming is more intense and urgent now. It's a side effect of my medication.
Unlike most tech-job yuppies, I rely on perfectly legal substances for slight psycho-active effect. All around me, Midwesterners and sub-continentals have to use cocaine, weed, meth, plus Red Bull or Monster and vodka.
Which are more intense, and less controllable.
There's weird stuff going on inside their tiny minds.
The minor effect on my occipital lobe pales considerably when compared to the waitstaff from a popular nearby restaurant screaming their empty heads off on Fernet Branca, cheap beer, and cocaine.
It's cheaper and more user-friendly too.
Amlodipine, Clopidogrel, Losartan, Metoprolol.
More intense dreams, and an imagination somewhat more vivid than before (that could just be the result of better circulation and more oxygen because of the blood-pressure medications) is quite a bit more manageable and socially smooth than their late night psychotic episodes at the two bars that they go to after work. They are nice enough people, and probably quite as competent as their e-commerce customers at whatever it is that they do.
But gracious, they are loud.
My favourite evening haunts have always been bars, restaurants, and coffee shops with fewer, calmer, and quieter, customers. Places where one can read, or smoke a pipe outside without strange conversations or extremes of behaviour.
North Beach is filled with techo-pond-scum, crack heads, coke fiends, and meth heads after dark. Polk Street has cocaine, heroine, and both designer drugs and too much energy beverage consumption. No, I do not know what marks the South of Market clubs or the Mission District, but it's probably Marinites and Oaklanders with enough hip substances to sink a fleet.
Alcohol, of course, releases the monster in many people.
We need fewer karaoke bars, more pizzerias.
And places to have coffee.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Unlike most tech-job yuppies, I rely on perfectly legal substances for slight psycho-active effect. All around me, Midwesterners and sub-continentals have to use cocaine, weed, meth, plus Red Bull or Monster and vodka.
Which are more intense, and less controllable.
There's weird stuff going on inside their tiny minds.
The minor effect on my occipital lobe pales considerably when compared to the waitstaff from a popular nearby restaurant screaming their empty heads off on Fernet Branca, cheap beer, and cocaine.
It's cheaper and more user-friendly too.
Amlodipine, Clopidogrel, Losartan, Metoprolol.
More intense dreams, and an imagination somewhat more vivid than before (that could just be the result of better circulation and more oxygen because of the blood-pressure medications) is quite a bit more manageable and socially smooth than their late night psychotic episodes at the two bars that they go to after work. They are nice enough people, and probably quite as competent as their e-commerce customers at whatever it is that they do.
But gracious, they are loud.
My favourite evening haunts have always been bars, restaurants, and coffee shops with fewer, calmer, and quieter, customers. Places where one can read, or smoke a pipe outside without strange conversations or extremes of behaviour.
North Beach is filled with techo-pond-scum, crack heads, coke fiends, and meth heads after dark. Polk Street has cocaine, heroine, and both designer drugs and too much energy beverage consumption. No, I do not know what marks the South of Market clubs or the Mission District, but it's probably Marinites and Oaklanders with enough hip substances to sink a fleet.
Alcohol, of course, releases the monster in many people.
We need fewer karaoke bars, more pizzerias.
And places to have coffee.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, April 04, 2019
SALT, SUGAR, DAIRY ... AND CRUNCHY BITS
Perfect fried rice contains egg, potato, a little chopped lemon, chilies, and curry paste; prove me wrong. This evening I fried up some scrips and scraps, with pre-cooked rice, a shrimp-paste compound, curry paste, and a pinch of nutmeg. I suppose the nutritionist I saw on Tuesday as per the advice of my doctor might be a little appalled -- more on culinary than on dietary grounds, despite being of Chinese ancestry and therefore more adventurous than Wasps from the East Coast (which is everything between the Central Valley and the Atlantic) -- but the superlative taste and satisfaction would have convinced her.
Fried peanuts would have been a nice touch.
Gonna hafta purchase more peanuts.
Besides, I've been good. No cookies. Salad for lunch (and I hate salad). The delicious and gooey looking cinnamon rolls my coworker left in the kitchen at work for all of us tempted me, oh boy golly yes, but I resisted.
Reason being that I do not wish to become diabetic.
Despite the amusing name of that ailment.
In Cantonese.
糖尿病
Tong (糖) means 'sugar', and frequently also 'candies'. So 糖尿病 ('tong niu beng') could well be translated as "candy pee sickness". Which in a way is charming as all git-out, but belies the gravity. Additionally, my doctor says my cholesterol is verging on too high too.
My apartment mate celebrates her good cholesterol results every year with a lobster and a bucket of butter.
Despite not being much of a lobster fan, I envy her.
She's an old friend, but for several reasons we don't eat together, though we may dine at the same time. Which is better than her and her on-again off-again boyfriend (not sure how that relationship is going, they might be just good friends by now, which would reflect well on him, he may be a decent bloke after all), who is food-wise a mighty queer fish. Because of which, eating with him proved nearly impossible early in their relationship.
I have no actual food hang-ups.
Vegetables are among my favourite meat substitutes. But most commercial prepackaged salads benefit immensely from the addition of chili sauce, and ideally, vegetables are blanched rather than raw.
Add some chili sauce.
Being a man means dining alone, alas, and substituting chilies for salt, sugar, pork fat, and high-cholesterol foods.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Fried peanuts would have been a nice touch.
Gonna hafta purchase more peanuts.
Besides, I've been good. No cookies. Salad for lunch (and I hate salad). The delicious and gooey looking cinnamon rolls my coworker left in the kitchen at work for all of us tempted me, oh boy golly yes, but I resisted.
Reason being that I do not wish to become diabetic.
Despite the amusing name of that ailment.
In Cantonese.
糖尿病
Tong (糖) means 'sugar', and frequently also 'candies'. So 糖尿病 ('tong niu beng') could well be translated as "candy pee sickness". Which in a way is charming as all git-out, but belies the gravity. Additionally, my doctor says my cholesterol is verging on too high too.
My apartment mate celebrates her good cholesterol results every year with a lobster and a bucket of butter.
Despite not being much of a lobster fan, I envy her.
She's an old friend, but for several reasons we don't eat together, though we may dine at the same time. Which is better than her and her on-again off-again boyfriend (not sure how that relationship is going, they might be just good friends by now, which would reflect well on him, he may be a decent bloke after all), who is food-wise a mighty queer fish. Because of which, eating with him proved nearly impossible early in their relationship.
I have no actual food hang-ups.
Vegetables are among my favourite meat substitutes. But most commercial prepackaged salads benefit immensely from the addition of chili sauce, and ideally, vegetables are blanched rather than raw.
Add some chili sauce.
Being a man means dining alone, alas, and substituting chilies for salt, sugar, pork fat, and high-cholesterol foods.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
GOOD EGG
In conversation somebody brought up street food in various cities around the world, possibly as a means of showcasing how well travelled she was.
I was not part of this conversation -- not knowing the people involved, and too busy snarfing down lean pork and skin-egg congee (皮蛋瘦肉粥), plus a fried oil stick (油條) to even grunt -- but I listened in while they apathetically forked over some damned fine steamed rice sheet noodle rolls (腸粉), and pork siu mai (豬肉燒賣).
Unless its crocodile or kangaroo, Australians don't get excited.
And unlike everybody else, they need Vegemite.
It's their soulfood of choice.
[Lean pork and skin-egg congee (皮蛋瘦肉粥): 'pei daan sau yiuk juk'. Fried oil stick (油條): 'yau tiu'. Steamed rice sheet noodle rolls (腸粉): 'cheung fan'. Pork siu mai (豬肉燒賣): 'chyu yiuk siu maai'. How did I know it was pork? There's a little yellow dab of preserved egg yolk on top.]
One of them had been to Yogyakarta. Where gudeg is from. A stew made of unripe jackfruit simmered a long time with coconut milk, palm sugar, and spices. Often served with opor ayam on a banana leaf. Both of which, unsurprisingly, can be vastly improved by the addition of Vegemite.
In addition to the inevitable sambal (chili paste).
I have never tasted gudeg in Djokya. But when I travelled, I never got smashed either, unlike most Australians or Britons.
When white people get drunk in the tropics, they smell like Vegemite.
If you are travelling in South East Asia, you do well to avoid the Caucasians there. They are almost always drunk.
Gudeg is good stuff.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I was not part of this conversation -- not knowing the people involved, and too busy snarfing down lean pork and skin-egg congee (皮蛋瘦肉粥), plus a fried oil stick (油條) to even grunt -- but I listened in while they apathetically forked over some damned fine steamed rice sheet noodle rolls (腸粉), and pork siu mai (豬肉燒賣).
Unless its crocodile or kangaroo, Australians don't get excited.
And unlike everybody else, they need Vegemite.
It's their soulfood of choice.
[Lean pork and skin-egg congee (皮蛋瘦肉粥): 'pei daan sau yiuk juk'. Fried oil stick (油條): 'yau tiu'. Steamed rice sheet noodle rolls (腸粉): 'cheung fan'. Pork siu mai (豬肉燒賣): 'chyu yiuk siu maai'. How did I know it was pork? There's a little yellow dab of preserved egg yolk on top.]
One of them had been to Yogyakarta. Where gudeg is from. A stew made of unripe jackfruit simmered a long time with coconut milk, palm sugar, and spices. Often served with opor ayam on a banana leaf. Both of which, unsurprisingly, can be vastly improved by the addition of Vegemite.
In addition to the inevitable sambal (chili paste).
I have never tasted gudeg in Djokya. But when I travelled, I never got smashed either, unlike most Australians or Britons.
When white people get drunk in the tropics, they smell like Vegemite.
If you are travelling in South East Asia, you do well to avoid the Caucasians there. They are almost always drunk.
Gudeg is good stuff.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, April 03, 2019
ROAST MEAT, TEA DINING HALLS, AND GARBAGE NOODLES
A conversation yesterday with a nutritionist may have left her hungry, and me slightly depressed. Largely because I had very good ammunition. We were speaking about ways I should eat better. No, we didn't even touch on the helpful advice of various self-acknowledged experts that apple cider vinegar and turmeric would solve all my problems and cleanse the world, or the recommendation that I should cut gluten and doing so would make me radiantly healthy. Damned well saintly, glowing aura and sh*t.
Or that Vegans are spiritually superior.
We settled on cookies.
Baby steps.
The cookies are between my apartment mate's laptop on mine on the table in the television room. At present there are three different delicious kinds there. Sometimes there's up to ten different kinds of cookie, just sitting there in their containers, whispering "liberate me, big boy, you know you want to", and shaking a chocolate chip suggestively.
Cookies.
甜餅乾
['tim beng gon']
We Dutch invented cookies. Both my apartment mate and the nutritionist are Chinese. They invented Cantonese Roast Duck, which is delicious and tender and juicy and has both a sweetness and a savoury quality and is wonderful by itself or over rice.
Cookies, sweet or savoury dry biscuits, flaky stuff, and crunchy snack things, are a presence in every Cantonese home. Because, you know.
You might be peckish. The grandkids could visit. Someone returned from a long journey. Angst.
香港飲食
['Heung Kong yam-sik']
My conversational input included all the ways things could go somewhat astray. Tea Dining Halls and Garbage Noodles, plus bakeries, coffee shops, snackiepoos, and what have you. Seeing as it was close to lunch time, and not having had breakfast all of this was at the top on my mind.
茶餐廳
['chaa chaan teng']
What I'm calling a 'Tea Dining Hall' is the chachanteng, a typical Hong Kong institution, where the emphasis is on a cup of strong black tea with sweet condensed milk, and a menu rich in easy to make high calorie foods that may send your cholesterol through the roof. Stuff with cheese and butter and white sauce. Fried noodles, casseroles, pork chops.
Or "French Toast". Thick, battered, fried. With sweet drizzles over.
垃圾麵
['laap saap min']
Garbage Noodles are pasta plus whatevers. Which may include fish balls, curry, various vegetables, soup stock, roast or preserved meats, and maybe a fried egg on top. And other fried things.
Garbage Noodles used to be what people threw together late at night while watching a sixty part soap opera with lots of weeping, lots of relatives of the main characters experiencing all kinds of drama and hardship, and lots of tender moments involving people who would never get to marry each other or achieve happiness. They were done commercially by street side culinary experts who often did not have the necessary permits for food preparation.
Over the past few decades those cooks have been forced indoors, and the number of optional things you can add has increased enormously. Various cuts of already cooked meat or offal. Sausage. Pork balls. Fish balls.
Several different vegetables. Hot sauce, curry sauce, oyster sauce.
Garbage Noodles are, of course, an affectionate nickname.
營養學
['ying yeung hok']
The nutritionist (營養師 'ying yeung si') works at Chinese Hospital (東華醫院 'tung waa yi yuen'), my doctor suggested that I talk to her. She has her work cut out for her. Most of her clientele may very well be elderly and stubborn, and within several blocks of her office the opportunities for backsliding or lapsing are legion, flamboyantly tempting!
Bakeries, chachanteng, lunch counters, Chinese bakeries, and shops with a huge variety of cookies and biscuits imported from Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore, and Shanghai.
燒味
['siu mei']
Even within a mere two blocks, there are four places where delicious Cantonese roast duck (燒鴨 'siu ngaap'), barbecue pork (叉燒 'chaa siu'), and roast meat (燒肉 'siu yiuk') may be had. Plus soy sauce chicken (豉油雞 'si yau gai') or poached chicken perhaps lightly flavoured with sesame oil and ginger (白切雞 'paak chit gai'). Four blocks, and you also have roast goose (燒鵝 'siu ngoh'') and marinated "stuff" (滷味 'lo mei').
身體保健
['san tai bou gin']
Osteoporosis (骨質疏鬆症 'gwat jat so sung jing'; "bone substance loss and loosened ailment"), high cholesterol (高膽固醇 'gou daam go seun'), and sugar pee disease (糖尿病 'tong niu beng'; diabetes) are of course major concerns of old folks eating unwisely.
And, in America, young people living on fastfood, chips, and soda.
It is getting towards lunch time. Chinatown is only a few blocks away.
Two of the places where I like to eat are closed on Wednesday, but at least a dozen others are open for business, and I can think of at least ten places which have Hong Kong Milk Tea.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Or that Vegans are spiritually superior.
We settled on cookies.
Baby steps.
The cookies are between my apartment mate's laptop on mine on the table in the television room. At present there are three different delicious kinds there. Sometimes there's up to ten different kinds of cookie, just sitting there in their containers, whispering "liberate me, big boy, you know you want to", and shaking a chocolate chip suggestively.
Cookies.
甜餅乾
['tim beng gon']
We Dutch invented cookies. Both my apartment mate and the nutritionist are Chinese. They invented Cantonese Roast Duck, which is delicious and tender and juicy and has both a sweetness and a savoury quality and is wonderful by itself or over rice.
Cookies, sweet or savoury dry biscuits, flaky stuff, and crunchy snack things, are a presence in every Cantonese home. Because, you know.
You might be peckish. The grandkids could visit. Someone returned from a long journey. Angst.
香港飲食
['Heung Kong yam-sik']
My conversational input included all the ways things could go somewhat astray. Tea Dining Halls and Garbage Noodles, plus bakeries, coffee shops, snackiepoos, and what have you. Seeing as it was close to lunch time, and not having had breakfast all of this was at the top on my mind.
茶餐廳
['chaa chaan teng']
What I'm calling a 'Tea Dining Hall' is the chachanteng, a typical Hong Kong institution, where the emphasis is on a cup of strong black tea with sweet condensed milk, and a menu rich in easy to make high calorie foods that may send your cholesterol through the roof. Stuff with cheese and butter and white sauce. Fried noodles, casseroles, pork chops.
Or "French Toast". Thick, battered, fried. With sweet drizzles over.
垃圾麵
['laap saap min']
Garbage Noodles are pasta plus whatevers. Which may include fish balls, curry, various vegetables, soup stock, roast or preserved meats, and maybe a fried egg on top. And other fried things.
Garbage Noodles used to be what people threw together late at night while watching a sixty part soap opera with lots of weeping, lots of relatives of the main characters experiencing all kinds of drama and hardship, and lots of tender moments involving people who would never get to marry each other or achieve happiness. They were done commercially by street side culinary experts who often did not have the necessary permits for food preparation.
Over the past few decades those cooks have been forced indoors, and the number of optional things you can add has increased enormously. Various cuts of already cooked meat or offal. Sausage. Pork balls. Fish balls.
Several different vegetables. Hot sauce, curry sauce, oyster sauce.
Garbage Noodles are, of course, an affectionate nickname.
營養學
['ying yeung hok']
The nutritionist (營養師 'ying yeung si') works at Chinese Hospital (東華醫院 'tung waa yi yuen'), my doctor suggested that I talk to her. She has her work cut out for her. Most of her clientele may very well be elderly and stubborn, and within several blocks of her office the opportunities for backsliding or lapsing are legion, flamboyantly tempting!
Bakeries, chachanteng, lunch counters, Chinese bakeries, and shops with a huge variety of cookies and biscuits imported from Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore, and Shanghai.
燒味
['siu mei']
Even within a mere two blocks, there are four places where delicious Cantonese roast duck (燒鴨 'siu ngaap'), barbecue pork (叉燒 'chaa siu'), and roast meat (燒肉 'siu yiuk') may be had. Plus soy sauce chicken (豉油雞 'si yau gai') or poached chicken perhaps lightly flavoured with sesame oil and ginger (白切雞 'paak chit gai'). Four blocks, and you also have roast goose (燒鵝 'siu ngoh'') and marinated "stuff" (滷味 'lo mei').
身體保健
['san tai bou gin']
Osteoporosis (骨質疏鬆症 'gwat jat so sung jing'; "bone substance loss and loosened ailment"), high cholesterol (高膽固醇 'gou daam go seun'), and sugar pee disease (糖尿病 'tong niu beng'; diabetes) are of course major concerns of old folks eating unwisely.
And, in America, young people living on fastfood, chips, and soda.
It is getting towards lunch time. Chinatown is only a few blocks away.
Two of the places where I like to eat are closed on Wednesday, but at least a dozen others are open for business, and I can think of at least ten places which have Hong Kong Milk Tea.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
IT'S A TALENT
It's not that the singing gets any better as you drink, it might only seem that way. But karaoke does keep the most foolish members of your party occupied. So it's kind of how Dungeons and Dragons works in nerd life.
You can fantasize about being Elvis. Or a wizard.
It's your bad choice.
Several angst-filled song later we departed. Bear in mind that my beverages all evening had been mixed soda (Coca Cola and Fanta Orange), Earl Grey tea, and two glasses of hot water. So from my point of view, the singing was damned well miserable. The bookseller still drinks. And because he's a temperate man, he's still collected and rational after whiskeys.
No, he doesn't sing. Neither do I, except for that time years ago when I did a Teresa Teng number, about which we should not speak.
The video for one number, in gloomy colours, was an advertisement for artistic drug use. Another number had Andy Lau being imaginative and precious. Neither video fully showed the splendid possibilities of karaoke, but that was largely because of the person actually singing.
Which was an experience.
There were, fortunately, very few white folks in the place.
So no hip hop, or John Denver.
Good.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
You can fantasize about being Elvis. Or a wizard.
It's your bad choice.
Several angst-filled song later we departed. Bear in mind that my beverages all evening had been mixed soda (Coca Cola and Fanta Orange), Earl Grey tea, and two glasses of hot water. So from my point of view, the singing was damned well miserable. The bookseller still drinks. And because he's a temperate man, he's still collected and rational after whiskeys.
No, he doesn't sing. Neither do I, except for that time years ago when I did a Teresa Teng number, about which we should not speak.
The video for one number, in gloomy colours, was an advertisement for artistic drug use. Another number had Andy Lau being imaginative and precious. Neither video fully showed the splendid possibilities of karaoke, but that was largely because of the person actually singing.
Which was an experience.
There were, fortunately, very few white folks in the place.
So no hip hop, or John Denver.
Good.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tuesday, April 02, 2019
THE PATIENT MAN
Another trip down to Chinese Hospital for appointments, for which I had the time wrong, so an hour and a half early, and Miss Mak helpfully managed to combine one appointment with a new consultation, seeing as my blood pressure is still too high.
Result: One more vaccination (unrelated to my actual physical condition), and a prescription for twice the strength of Amlodipine Besylate as last week's prescription. But honestly, I haven't felt so good in a long time.
I won't try to convince you that I've got vim or vigour.
But I am full of piss and vinegar.
Miss Mak is a smallish elfin person. I wonder how she stays warm wearing nurses scrubs. And she's charming when she wields a hypodermic syringe. Actually, everybody there is so nice, and miraculously maintain their sanity.
Especially upstairs in the pharmacy. It's not self-flattery when I say I am the calmest and least pushy old fart needing attention they see. Quite Possibly. Having dealt with "customers" much of my life, I realize that sometimes things cannot be instantaneous.
How long will I need to wait? Oh, in that case, I should go out and buy some vegetables on Stockton Street in the meantime. I shall return.
Yeah, I'm pretty happy with the level of care and attention I'm getting as a patient. And because they are so sweet and capable, I actually enjoy going down there for more needle-jabs and lectures about the evils of smoking.
Oh by the way, Miss Mak, did I mention I'm needle-phobic?
After dealing with my blood pressure, lab results, and my horrible diet which must change, I went to my bank, had lunch at a chachanteng (bitter melon omelette and rice, with hot sauce, and a cup of milk tea), tobacco in a briar pipe older than I am (my grandmother gave it to my father when he was at Berkeley after the war), and went back to have my prescription filled.
Vegetable shopping, pick up new medicine, then off to purchase a new back pack, because the Hello Kitty one is starting to wear out. This one is blue, and has Minions on it. It's perfect for carrying my smoking supplies and several pipes on working days. Styling, dude!
Followed by milk tea and a snacky poo.
Another pipefull. Second bowl.
Finished that smoke on the front steps in early evening, after the bus home. Ah, the goodness of tobacco, aged Virginia! A faint rain filled the street with a golden mist, the slanting light shining through the droplets, the glowing hued haze obscuring the trees a few blocks away. Glorious.
Puff. Puff. Puff. Contemplation.
Um, yeah. So I'm going to have to cut down on fried food, pastries, cookies, milk tea, and snacky things. That should be a piece of cake.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Result: One more vaccination (unrelated to my actual physical condition), and a prescription for twice the strength of Amlodipine Besylate as last week's prescription. But honestly, I haven't felt so good in a long time.
I won't try to convince you that I've got vim or vigour.
But I am full of piss and vinegar.
Miss Mak is a smallish elfin person. I wonder how she stays warm wearing nurses scrubs. And she's charming when she wields a hypodermic syringe. Actually, everybody there is so nice, and miraculously maintain their sanity.
Especially upstairs in the pharmacy. It's not self-flattery when I say I am the calmest and least pushy old fart needing attention they see. Quite Possibly. Having dealt with "customers" much of my life, I realize that sometimes things cannot be instantaneous.
How long will I need to wait? Oh, in that case, I should go out and buy some vegetables on Stockton Street in the meantime. I shall return.
Yeah, I'm pretty happy with the level of care and attention I'm getting as a patient. And because they are so sweet and capable, I actually enjoy going down there for more needle-jabs and lectures about the evils of smoking.
Oh by the way, Miss Mak, did I mention I'm needle-phobic?
After dealing with my blood pressure, lab results, and my horrible diet which must change, I went to my bank, had lunch at a chachanteng (bitter melon omelette and rice, with hot sauce, and a cup of milk tea), tobacco in a briar pipe older than I am (my grandmother gave it to my father when he was at Berkeley after the war), and went back to have my prescription filled.
Vegetable shopping, pick up new medicine, then off to purchase a new back pack, because the Hello Kitty one is starting to wear out. This one is blue, and has Minions on it. It's perfect for carrying my smoking supplies and several pipes on working days. Styling, dude!
Followed by milk tea and a snacky poo.
Another pipefull. Second bowl.
Finished that smoke on the front steps in early evening, after the bus home. Ah, the goodness of tobacco, aged Virginia! A faint rain filled the street with a golden mist, the slanting light shining through the droplets, the glowing hued haze obscuring the trees a few blocks away. Glorious.
Puff. Puff. Puff. Contemplation.
Um, yeah. So I'm going to have to cut down on fried food, pastries, cookies, milk tea, and snacky things. That should be a piece of cake.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
GREEN FESTIVITY
If the president does shut the United States - Mexico border, the greatest positive effect of that move will be that most Anglos will finally realize where Mexico is. It's that place where guacamole and Corona Beer come from.
Celebrating Cinco De Mayo will be difficult without those.
I suggest substituting grits'n gravy, plus Coors.
Y'all can replace spice with Tabasco.
And replay episodes of Duck Dynasty instead of La Cucaracha on permanent loop at your Latin-themed frat parties.
I can, honestly, think of no better way to commemorate the victory of native forces over a foreign imperialist power than bankrupting the United States economy on the anniversary of that battle. Especially because Mexico is Texas' largest trading partner. Bigly!
Suffering frat boys and Texans.
What could be better?
Per Houston Public Media: "Mexico accounted for 37% of Texas’s exports worldwide in 2017, worth $98 billion to the state economy, according to U.S. Department of Commerce data. Trade with Mexico supports more than 382,000 jobs statewide."
Don't cry into your ten-gallon hats, boys, it's unmanly. Just bend over and take it like true Christians. Machismo!
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Celebrating Cinco De Mayo will be difficult without those.
I suggest substituting grits'n gravy, plus Coors.
Y'all can replace spice with Tabasco.
And replay episodes of Duck Dynasty instead of La Cucaracha on permanent loop at your Latin-themed frat parties.
I can, honestly, think of no better way to commemorate the victory of native forces over a foreign imperialist power than bankrupting the United States economy on the anniversary of that battle. Especially because Mexico is Texas' largest trading partner. Bigly!
Suffering frat boys and Texans.
What could be better?
Per Houston Public Media: "Mexico accounted for 37% of Texas’s exports worldwide in 2017, worth $98 billion to the state economy, according to U.S. Department of Commerce data. Trade with Mexico supports more than 382,000 jobs statewide."
Don't cry into your ten-gallon hats, boys, it's unmanly. Just bend over and take it like true Christians. Machismo!
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, April 01, 2019
DON'T PROTECT THEIR BRAINS, JUST JAR THEM
Unless your bottom is blue, you aren't a Scotsman. So no fair acting like William Wallace. And claiming that cold enough weather will make your cheeks change colour is NOT something I wish to know. Anyway, we'll turn up the heat; that way your glutei maximi won't be Celtic.
And I hope you enjoy that cigar.
Sometimes the regular lizards in the back are too weird to be from Marin County, and one necessarily doubts that they're even from this planet.
There's trailer parks all over America where this goes like hotcakes.
One of those individuals now has the marvelous idea to remake the movie 'King Kong', only this time with a happy ending for the monkey.
That way the animal rights people will love it and be quiet.
He wants to cast Angelina Jolie as the female lead.
And, consequently, I heard a lot about her.
By (reversibly) blocking the neurotransmitter adenosine's receptors and increasing general alertness and excitability, caffeine has a profound effect on the brain. It is mildly protective or preventive against Parkinsons disease, and when you throw nicotine into the mix -- which may quite possibly have slowing or protective effects against the onset of Alzheimers -- you have a potent cocktail that sparks those with fragile minds. These two substances are the most popular psychoactive substances in America.
Both can have mild benefits in certain cognetive disorders.
We need to somehow limit their use among retired people.
I prefer the old farts in back to be somnolescent.
Instead of alert, and wired to the tits.
With freezing flabby arses.
Adding cookies or pizza is a recipe for disaster.
I am not interested in Angelina Jolie's cup size.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
And I hope you enjoy that cigar.
Sometimes the regular lizards in the back are too weird to be from Marin County, and one necessarily doubts that they're even from this planet.
There's trailer parks all over America where this goes like hotcakes.
One of those individuals now has the marvelous idea to remake the movie 'King Kong', only this time with a happy ending for the monkey.
That way the animal rights people will love it and be quiet.
He wants to cast Angelina Jolie as the female lead.
And, consequently, I heard a lot about her.
By (reversibly) blocking the neurotransmitter adenosine's receptors and increasing general alertness and excitability, caffeine has a profound effect on the brain. It is mildly protective or preventive against Parkinsons disease, and when you throw nicotine into the mix -- which may quite possibly have slowing or protective effects against the onset of Alzheimers -- you have a potent cocktail that sparks those with fragile minds. These two substances are the most popular psychoactive substances in America.
Both can have mild benefits in certain cognetive disorders.
We need to somehow limit their use among retired people.
I prefer the old farts in back to be somnolescent.
Instead of alert, and wired to the tits.
With freezing flabby arses.
Adding cookies or pizza is a recipe for disaster.
I am not interested in Angelina Jolie's cup size.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
NOT JUST CLOTHING, CONSTIPATION!
Actually, I do not know if she's constipated. But I couldn't resist bringing it up. Seeing as the substance she was drinking contained a product know to be healthy and constipation-relieving. Linseed. Also known as flaxseed.
Having been told that I could read Chinese, and that I had been helpful a few months ago in giving correct translations of the establishment's offerings, she put me to the test. Okay, that's either a dau saa beng (豆沙餅) Or a lo poh beng (老婆餅). Those are sea cucumbers (海參 'hoi sam').
And I haven't a clue what the heck those things are in English.
Hemp seeds?
亞麻籽
Had to look that up.
Linseed is more familiar to white people as a crunchy nutty addition to hippie granola. We seldom actually consider it useful for anything else. But it's apparently quite healthy. And helps alleviate plugged-uppedness.
What she may have been drinking was a variation on 蜂蜜檸檬亞麻籽水。
Pronounced 'fung mat ning mung ngaa maa ji seui'.
Honey and lemon flax water.
One Tablespoon flaxseed (linseed).
One Teaspoon honey.
One Teaspoon lemon juice.
Soak the seeds in a cup of boiled and cooled water overnight, then add the honey and lemon juice and stir. The soaking will have softened the outer skin of the seeds to a jelly-like state, and the resultant beverage is both cooling and peristalsis promoting. Healthy! Your guts will thank you.
The seeds are also ground up with almond kernels (杏仁) to produce 亞麻籽杏仁粉 ('ngaa maa ji hang yan fan'), a powder that with boiling water can be made into a healthy drink just packed with good stuff. I'm more likely to try this before the earlier mentioned beverage.
My peristalsis is just fine.
Thank you for asking.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Having been told that I could read Chinese, and that I had been helpful a few months ago in giving correct translations of the establishment's offerings, she put me to the test. Okay, that's either a dau saa beng (豆沙餅) Or a lo poh beng (老婆餅). Those are sea cucumbers (海參 'hoi sam').
And I haven't a clue what the heck those things are in English.
Hemp seeds?
亞麻籽
Had to look that up.
Linseed is more familiar to white people as a crunchy nutty addition to hippie granola. We seldom actually consider it useful for anything else. But it's apparently quite healthy. And helps alleviate plugged-uppedness.
What she may have been drinking was a variation on 蜂蜜檸檬亞麻籽水。
Pronounced 'fung mat ning mung ngaa maa ji seui'.
Honey and lemon flax water.
One Tablespoon flaxseed (linseed).
One Teaspoon honey.
One Teaspoon lemon juice.
Soak the seeds in a cup of boiled and cooled water overnight, then add the honey and lemon juice and stir. The soaking will have softened the outer skin of the seeds to a jelly-like state, and the resultant beverage is both cooling and peristalsis promoting. Healthy! Your guts will thank you.
The seeds are also ground up with almond kernels (杏仁) to produce 亞麻籽杏仁粉 ('ngaa maa ji hang yan fan'), a powder that with boiling water can be made into a healthy drink just packed with good stuff. I'm more likely to try this before the earlier mentioned beverage.
My peristalsis is just fine.
Thank you for asking.
==========================================================================
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,...
