The point of today's exercise in self flagellation is that I must scurry out of the house pdq for my scheduled cardiologists appointment. Why on earth did I let them set it for nine thirty?
Was I out of my mind?!?
Possibly, yes.
It's not an unusual situation.
I often end up, in retrospect, realizing that decisions were not soundly based, and actions were tinged by a mental surreality. Nine thirty A.M.? Overweening self confidence. Of course I can be there at that time! I am a confident and capable man! I can do this!
Idiot.
Afterwards, lunch in chinatown. Followed by a smoke, and various errands. I do not particularly like mornings. A doctor's appointment at SFCH would be doable, it's mere blocks away. The cardiologist works at a different institution, and an arduous trek is necessary.
Two buses, plus wait times, and walking.
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Thursday, February 10, 2022
Wednesday, February 09, 2022
CHARSIU: A SIGN OF CIVILIZATION
A while back one of my friends described heading home from school one day with a few of his classmates and, on a complete whim, stopping at a roast meats shop in Central. Then happily sitting on the curb scarfing down charsiu and rice. It was utterly delicious! Years later his parents sent him to the United States to get an education.
To an environment where there was no charsiu.
Somewhere in the vast interior.
Several years of hard work and arduous living followed.
When I came back to the United States for college, I experienced something similar. Berkeley at that time did not have much in the way of food. Oh sure, Chez Panisse, Peets, and The Cheese Board were there, and for several golden years Cocolat, but the place was already turning into a puritanical food ghetto filled with Guatamalan wheatgrass and artisanal tofu boutiques -- alleviated by fondu, Top Dog (fondly remembered), and Blondie's Pizza -- but spices where hard to come by, as the silk road ended a few thousand miles east of there.
And Venetian merchants didn't venture that far.
So, um, I can relate.
Everything I needed (except groene haring) could be found in SF Chinatown. As well as people who did not make rude comments about my accent, assume that I was British, or tell me to go back where I came from. That last is one of my most enduring memories of life in the East Bay. From my point of view, everything between Treasure Island and Manhattan is the outback and filled with howling cannibals. You may have noticed the occasional negative comment about the bush here, as well as a slight distaste. Oh, the negativity!
Sorry about all that. I love my fellow Americans.
Well, food then. Let's talk about food.
One of the things that says 'cosmopolitan' and connected in some way to the civilized world is the existence of a Chinatown, where ingredients and prepared edibles can be found that don't involve utilizing a can opener.
Cantonese roast meats, for instance. Like charsiu pork.
A nice plate of barbecued fatty meat and rice goes a long way to making a city feel like home. And pretty much every place where I can get that also has Sriracha hot sauce on the table, or sambal oelek by the same manufacturer. Nothing beats a good lunch, a hot cup of milk tea, and a copy of the New York Times (or similar liberal print media) for a civilized lazy afternoon. On a warm day with NO snow or hurricanes.
One of the other great things about San Francisco is that many Americans here know where Europe is, and can find it on a map, whereas in Berkeley people think it's somewhere in Denmark, and right next to Disney Land.
The East Bay: wheatgrass and soy milk cappuccinos.
The interior: McDonald's Mc Café.
Plus corndogs.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
To an environment where there was no charsiu.
Somewhere in the vast interior.
Several years of hard work and arduous living followed.
When I came back to the United States for college, I experienced something similar. Berkeley at that time did not have much in the way of food. Oh sure, Chez Panisse, Peets, and The Cheese Board were there, and for several golden years Cocolat, but the place was already turning into a puritanical food ghetto filled with Guatamalan wheatgrass and artisanal tofu boutiques -- alleviated by fondu, Top Dog (fondly remembered), and Blondie's Pizza -- but spices where hard to come by, as the silk road ended a few thousand miles east of there.
And Venetian merchants didn't venture that far.
So, um, I can relate.
Everything I needed (except groene haring) could be found in SF Chinatown. As well as people who did not make rude comments about my accent, assume that I was British, or tell me to go back where I came from. That last is one of my most enduring memories of life in the East Bay. From my point of view, everything between Treasure Island and Manhattan is the outback and filled with howling cannibals. You may have noticed the occasional negative comment about the bush here, as well as a slight distaste. Oh, the negativity!
Sorry about all that. I love my fellow Americans.
Well, food then. Let's talk about food.
One of the things that says 'cosmopolitan' and connected in some way to the civilized world is the existence of a Chinatown, where ingredients and prepared edibles can be found that don't involve utilizing a can opener.
A nice plate of barbecued fatty meat and rice goes a long way to making a city feel like home. And pretty much every place where I can get that also has Sriracha hot sauce on the table, or sambal oelek by the same manufacturer. Nothing beats a good lunch, a hot cup of milk tea, and a copy of the New York Times (or similar liberal print media) for a civilized lazy afternoon. On a warm day with NO snow or hurricanes.
One of the other great things about San Francisco is that many Americans here know where Europe is, and can find it on a map, whereas in Berkeley people think it's somewhere in Denmark, and right next to Disney Land.
The East Bay: wheatgrass and soy milk cappuccinos.
The interior: McDonald's Mc Café.
Plus corndogs.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
PERLOO
A friend in New Hampshire who is originally from somewhere much warmer (Georgia) decided that today would be a fine day to culinarily celebrate his cultural heritage. Given that where he lives is snow country filled with ice monsters, howling Canadian or Russian hockey players, and yetis, that is understandable. Food best expresses all manner of denialism.
That's probably the reason behind my having sambal with everything.
Well, besides the fact that Anglo food needs help.
All "Amurrekan" food is Anglo.
Probably the best part of Anglo food is Spam. Which is great on Spaghetti. Another Anglo food. Spam, mixed with cream of mushroom soup and spaghetti. All it needs is a slice of pumpkin pie with cool whip after to make it 'all-American'.
Anyhow, he posted his recipe on Facebook, and I'll cook it sometime.
Quite shamelessly, I copy-paste it below.
Gullah-Geechee Perloo
Dry Ingredients
• Spanish Paprika (Hot) – 1TBS
• Spanish Paprika (Sweet) – 1 TBS
• Cayenne Pepper – 1 TBS
• Onion Powder – 1 TBS
• Garlic Salt – 1 TBS
• Garlic Powder – 1 TSP
• Rice, long grain Jasmine is preferred, rinsed, 2 cups
Fresh Veggies/Herbs
• Garlic, minced – 6 to 8 cloves
• Celery – 1 cup, chopped (whatever size you like but not minced)
• Red Bell Pepper (or yellow or orange) – chopped
• Vidalia Onion (1 large or 2 medium) – chopped
• Tomatoes (I prefer heirloom, but any ripe will work) – 2 to 3 cups chopped (you could use canned roasted in a pinch, and I think they would be great)
• Jalapeno – 1 large, chopped (optional and you can always remove the seeds to lessen the heat)
• Green onions – 1 cup chopped, more or less
Meats
• Chicken thighs with skin on (1 to 1.5 lbs.)
• Bacon, thick cut, 8 slices, cut into bite size pieces
• Choose one:
o Ham, ½ lb., chopped
o Andouille Sausage, ½ lb., cut into ¼ lengthwise and then chopped into ¼ size
o Smoked pork, pulled or chopped
Other
• Butter, 3 TBS
• Chicken Stock, 4 cups
• 2-3 TBS Apple Cider Vinegar
Steps
1. Mix the first 6 dry ingredients
2. Coat and rub the chicken thighs with the mix from Step 1. (You will have some of the spice mixture left over, so save it for later use) 3. In a Dutch oven over medium heat, add the bacon and fry until crisp but not black, remove the bacon but leave all the rendered drippings. 4. Add the chicken thighs (skin side down) and either ham, sausage, or pork. Flip the chicken until it is a golden. Maybe 5 minutes per side. 5. Remove the chicken and meat.
6. Add the onions, celery, bell and jalapeno pepper. Cook until they begin browning, scraping up the caramelized bits. This takes about 5 – 6 minutes. Add the fresh garlic and cook for 2 more minutes. Be sure to stir to keep from burning.
7. Add the apple cider vinegar. Stir well.
8. Add the tomatoes and cook for 3 minutes.
9. Add the rice and butter and stir well.
10. Add the meat and bacon and stir well.
11. Add the thighs skin side up by pressing into the mixture.
12. Add the stock.
13. Increase the heat to bring the mixture to a boil. Cover and simmer over low until the rice is cooked. This usually takes 13-17 minutes. Check the rice for doneness at 13 and act accordingly.
14. Sprinkle the green onion over the top and serve.
Sounds quite delicious, doesn't it? It could also be made with rabbit or prawns, or even, in a pinch, iguana and turkey. The bacon is a key ingredient (appealing!), and common sense resists the irrational temptation to make a vegetarian version by leaving it out.
[Squirrel would also be good, but not possum; too oily.]
Instead of andouille I would use linguiça (because it can be easily found here, and I like it), and I would have a bowl of sambal (!) on the table.
Probably needs more jalapeno.
Please note that the copy-pasted text uses the Georgia typeface.
That seemed appropriate.
Yetis and Canadians.
Good lord.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
That's probably the reason behind my having sambal with everything.
Well, besides the fact that Anglo food needs help.
All "Amurrekan" food is Anglo.
Probably the best part of Anglo food is Spam. Which is great on Spaghetti. Another Anglo food. Spam, mixed with cream of mushroom soup and spaghetti. All it needs is a slice of pumpkin pie with cool whip after to make it 'all-American'.
Anyhow, he posted his recipe on Facebook, and I'll cook it sometime.
Quite shamelessly, I copy-paste it below.
Gullah-Geechee Perloo
Dry Ingredients
• Spanish Paprika (Hot) – 1TBS
• Spanish Paprika (Sweet) – 1 TBS
• Cayenne Pepper – 1 TBS
• Onion Powder – 1 TBS
• Garlic Salt – 1 TBS
• Garlic Powder – 1 TSP
• Rice, long grain Jasmine is preferred, rinsed, 2 cups
Fresh Veggies/Herbs
• Garlic, minced – 6 to 8 cloves
• Celery – 1 cup, chopped (whatever size you like but not minced)
• Red Bell Pepper (or yellow or orange) – chopped
• Vidalia Onion (1 large or 2 medium) – chopped
• Tomatoes (I prefer heirloom, but any ripe will work) – 2 to 3 cups chopped (you could use canned roasted in a pinch, and I think they would be great)
• Jalapeno – 1 large, chopped (optional and you can always remove the seeds to lessen the heat)
• Green onions – 1 cup chopped, more or less
Meats
• Chicken thighs with skin on (1 to 1.5 lbs.)
• Bacon, thick cut, 8 slices, cut into bite size pieces
• Choose one:
o Ham, ½ lb., chopped
o Andouille Sausage, ½ lb., cut into ¼ lengthwise and then chopped into ¼ size
o Smoked pork, pulled or chopped
Other
• Butter, 3 TBS
• Chicken Stock, 4 cups
• 2-3 TBS Apple Cider Vinegar
Steps
1. Mix the first 6 dry ingredients
2. Coat and rub the chicken thighs with the mix from Step 1. (You will have some of the spice mixture left over, so save it for later use) 3. In a Dutch oven over medium heat, add the bacon and fry until crisp but not black, remove the bacon but leave all the rendered drippings. 4. Add the chicken thighs (skin side down) and either ham, sausage, or pork. Flip the chicken until it is a golden. Maybe 5 minutes per side. 5. Remove the chicken and meat.
6. Add the onions, celery, bell and jalapeno pepper. Cook until they begin browning, scraping up the caramelized bits. This takes about 5 – 6 minutes. Add the fresh garlic and cook for 2 more minutes. Be sure to stir to keep from burning.
7. Add the apple cider vinegar. Stir well.
8. Add the tomatoes and cook for 3 minutes.
9. Add the rice and butter and stir well.
10. Add the meat and bacon and stir well.
11. Add the thighs skin side up by pressing into the mixture.
12. Add the stock.
13. Increase the heat to bring the mixture to a boil. Cover and simmer over low until the rice is cooked. This usually takes 13-17 minutes. Check the rice for doneness at 13 and act accordingly.
14. Sprinkle the green onion over the top and serve.
Sounds quite delicious, doesn't it? It could also be made with rabbit or prawns, or even, in a pinch, iguana and turkey. The bacon is a key ingredient (appealing!), and common sense resists the irrational temptation to make a vegetarian version by leaving it out.
[Squirrel would also be good, but not possum; too oily.]
Instead of andouille I would use linguiça (because it can be easily found here, and I like it), and I would have a bowl of sambal (!) on the table.
Probably needs more jalapeno.
Please note that the copy-pasted text uses the Georgia typeface.
That seemed appropriate.
Yetis and Canadians.
Good lord.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
IT WAS JUST LAST WEEK!
It turns out that the landlord next door is a grandfather of something recent enough to require an infant seat. Which suggests that when I moved into this building years ago his own offspring was still an infant. Never saw her, never even noticed that he had a family. As I was returning from my walk I saw the all of them out in front of his building unloading from a car.
One seldom thinks of people one knows as old enough. Or young enough. They just are.
I expect that any year now I'll be informed that so and so is a grandmother.
And somebody else now has children. Quite unexpectedly!
Only yesterday they were a brat!
That seems to happen more often with suburbanites. Must be something biological.
The goddess Athena sprang fully grown from her father's forehead, after he had eaten her mother. Indicating that the ancient Greeks may have had only the slimmest grasp of biology and reproduction, especially as it concerned the supernatural. Kronos' grandaughter is not known for familial devotion. Which isn't surprising, given that Kronos castrated his father with a sickle (and is therefore god or patron of the harvest). Kronos ate his children.
One suspects that the ancient Greeks had "issues".
Or a queer sense of humour.
How fortunate that we don't follow the Greeks!
I would make a great elderly male relative. I could tell the little brats all about the old days and the golden age of the ancient world. While keeping them away from sharp objects.
==========================================================================
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LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
One seldom thinks of people one knows as old enough. Or young enough. They just are.
I expect that any year now I'll be informed that so and so is a grandmother.
And somebody else now has children. Quite unexpectedly!
Only yesterday they were a brat!
That seems to happen more often with suburbanites. Must be something biological.
Kronos, from Wikipedia
The goddess Athena sprang fully grown from her father's forehead, after he had eaten her mother. Indicating that the ancient Greeks may have had only the slimmest grasp of biology and reproduction, especially as it concerned the supernatural. Kronos' grandaughter is not known for familial devotion. Which isn't surprising, given that Kronos castrated his father with a sickle (and is therefore god or patron of the harvest). Kronos ate his children.
One suspects that the ancient Greeks had "issues".
Or a queer sense of humour.
How fortunate that we don't follow the Greeks!
I would make a great elderly male relative. I could tell the little brats all about the old days and the golden age of the ancient world. While keeping them away from sharp objects.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tuesday, February 08, 2022
DID SOMEONE SAY SHRIMP?
Most Americans like bland greasy stuff for breakfast, such as donuts, bacon, hashbrowns. For a simple jiffy breakfast, fry all that together in lard the night before, then pop it in the microwave the next morning. Don't forget to garnish it with corn flakes. That, in essence, fuels the savage man within, and gives him energy for his trucker protest across the border in Canada.
As you can tell, the American breakfast does not appeal to me.
The closest I'll come is sausages, potatoes, rice.
With a bucket load of hot sauce.
If I breakfast at all.
Late.
While I am not a breakfast person, my apartment mate is, and quite often when I return from my dawn pipe smoke walk, I'll hear her in the kitchen briskly clattering about. She's Chinese American, and was raised with the idea that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Which makes her hungry upon waking. An American breakfast, the English disaster, or even a Dutch / French bready pastry thing will hit the spot. The Chinese breakfast (rice porridge and a fried dough stick) strangely does not appeal to her (I think it makes a splendid light lunch).
From my point of view, the best breakfast is something spicy with rice.
Fried chili prawns. For instance. What in Dutch we call 'sambal udang'.
Well, those of us that speak Indonesian.
As some of us do.
I still wouldn't have it for breakfast, because the day must start with coffee, pipe tobacco, and a long walk while contemplating man's inhumanity to man, and our insignificance in a cold dark universe. As represented by people walking their dogs, early joggers, dingbats heading toward a yoga studio at six thirty in the morning, wheatgrass beverages, and breakfast.
Just hot coffee. A smoke. And silence.
Precisely like the Pope.
SAMBAL UDANG
The simplest way to make it: gently fry minced shallots, garlic, and ginger, till fragrant. Add a hefty sploodge of chili paste and a splash of tamarind water or squeeze of lemon or lime, about a teaspoon of coriander powder, half a teaspoon of turmeric, a pinch of sugar, and, if you're me, a small splash coconut milk. Cook until the oil comes out again. Then add plenty of peeled shrimp and stirfry over high heat till the shrimp turns colour. Optional additions during the early cooking: chopped tomatoes, stink beans, or small chunked potato. Later optional add-ons: chives, cilantro. Some people add bruised lemon grass and or stinky fish paste.
The chilipaste should be in sufficient quantity that it dominates.
It will more often be served along with other dishes and maybe chopped cucumber for a normal meal (so not at breakfast at all, alas), or even a rijsttafel spread.
For a healthy touch, have a banana afterwards.
Not, strictly speaking, necessary.
While I myself don't hold with breakfast, I amicably tolerate other people who don't have the Spartan Calvinist physical constitution I have been blessed with, and will happily do my own thing while they replenish themselves at that time. Without saying anything unpleasant.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
As you can tell, the American breakfast does not appeal to me.
The closest I'll come is sausages, potatoes, rice.
With a bucket load of hot sauce.
If I breakfast at all.
Late.
While I am not a breakfast person, my apartment mate is, and quite often when I return from my dawn pipe smoke walk, I'll hear her in the kitchen briskly clattering about. She's Chinese American, and was raised with the idea that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Which makes her hungry upon waking. An American breakfast, the English disaster, or even a Dutch / French bready pastry thing will hit the spot. The Chinese breakfast (rice porridge and a fried dough stick) strangely does not appeal to her (I think it makes a splendid light lunch).
From my point of view, the best breakfast is something spicy with rice.
Well, those of us that speak Indonesian.
As some of us do.
I still wouldn't have it for breakfast, because the day must start with coffee, pipe tobacco, and a long walk while contemplating man's inhumanity to man, and our insignificance in a cold dark universe. As represented by people walking their dogs, early joggers, dingbats heading toward a yoga studio at six thirty in the morning, wheatgrass beverages, and breakfast.
Just hot coffee. A smoke. And silence.
Precisely like the Pope.
SAMBAL UDANG
The simplest way to make it: gently fry minced shallots, garlic, and ginger, till fragrant. Add a hefty sploodge of chili paste and a splash of tamarind water or squeeze of lemon or lime, about a teaspoon of coriander powder, half a teaspoon of turmeric, a pinch of sugar, and, if you're me, a small splash coconut milk. Cook until the oil comes out again. Then add plenty of peeled shrimp and stirfry over high heat till the shrimp turns colour. Optional additions during the early cooking: chopped tomatoes, stink beans, or small chunked potato. Later optional add-ons: chives, cilantro. Some people add bruised lemon grass and or stinky fish paste.
The chilipaste should be in sufficient quantity that it dominates.
It will more often be served along with other dishes and maybe chopped cucumber for a normal meal (so not at breakfast at all, alas), or even a rijsttafel spread.
For a healthy touch, have a banana afterwards.
Not, strictly speaking, necessary.
While I myself don't hold with breakfast, I amicably tolerate other people who don't have the Spartan Calvinist physical constitution I have been blessed with, and will happily do my own thing while they replenish themselves at that time. Without saying anything unpleasant.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
THE FALLING ANGEL IN THE DETAILS
Like everyone who veers towards the Aspy side of the spectrum, I tend to obsess over details that other people don't even know exist. Not as bad as a friend who would always answer a question explanatorily, in three different formats, so that the unlucky questioneer would be sure to understand. I learned years ago not to ask him a question. Others weren't so smart. Which meant that, if I was nearby, I would hear the convoluted and unnecessary details and minutiae THREE times. Every single time, thrice. Exhaustive triplicate.
Sadly, he passed away a while back. He had an ability to retain data.
And was capable of some quite remarkable insights.
No, he wasn't an Indian computer engineer.
I've know quite a few of those too.
I've worked with them.
In fact, a number of them live in my neighborhood now, which probably explains why there are dabbas and roti places all over this quadrant of the city. Plus one or two restaurants where one can get idli, sambar, dosa. On an entirely unrelated note, I have some achars in my pantry, in addition to the multicultural reference samples of various chilipastes.
But all of that is beside the point; the gist of this essay is that I spent way too much time fussing over the compass rose trademark on the Kriswill pipe in the painting below. A detail.
Kriswill was a manufacturer that started in 1947 and shut down shortly after I started smoking a pipe during my teenage years, though that had no connection with them ceasing commercial activities. I did not see Kriswill pipes until years afterwards that I know of. I now own two of them. They're pretty good smokers. Elegant too.
It's a good thing I had none as a teenager. The walls are thin, and I would have bollicksed them up by hot-boxing the Balkan-style blends I smoked then. Nowadays I prefer Virginias and Virginia Perique blends, aged Virginia flakes, and similar more subtle products.
I was not a very temperate man when I was younger. Overloaded on the garlic, always coffee in lieu of tea, too many spices. Now I use garlic more sparingly, often have tea throughout the day (especially at work), and cook more subdued (lighter) dishes.
The constants have been the sambal on the side.
All meals still followed by a smoke.
Still no breakfast.
I've had my first cup of coffee. Going out for a walk and a pipeful soon.
Quiet time just by myself, with sparkling details.
Apparent as dawn light penetrates.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sadly, he passed away a while back. He had an ability to retain data.
And was capable of some quite remarkable insights.
No, he wasn't an Indian computer engineer.
I've know quite a few of those too.
I've worked with them.
In fact, a number of them live in my neighborhood now, which probably explains why there are dabbas and roti places all over this quadrant of the city. Plus one or two restaurants where one can get idli, sambar, dosa. On an entirely unrelated note, I have some achars in my pantry, in addition to the multicultural reference samples of various chilipastes.
But all of that is beside the point; the gist of this essay is that I spent way too much time fussing over the compass rose trademark on the Kriswill pipe in the painting below. A detail.
It's a good thing I had none as a teenager. The walls are thin, and I would have bollicksed them up by hot-boxing the Balkan-style blends I smoked then. Nowadays I prefer Virginias and Virginia Perique blends, aged Virginia flakes, and similar more subtle products.
I was not a very temperate man when I was younger. Overloaded on the garlic, always coffee in lieu of tea, too many spices. Now I use garlic more sparingly, often have tea throughout the day (especially at work), and cook more subdued (lighter) dishes.
The constants have been the sambal on the side.
All meals still followed by a smoke.
Still no breakfast.
I've had my first cup of coffee. Going out for a walk and a pipeful soon.
Quiet time just by myself, with sparkling details.
Apparent as dawn light penetrates.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, February 07, 2022
WOMEN WITH SHARP OBJECTS
Stumbled out of the house at an ungodly hour without coffee or breakfast, to surround myself with delightful women heavily armed with needles. Reason being bloodtests (驗血 'yim huet') down at Chinese Hospital. I'm needle-phobic. That is to say, needles carefully poked in to a certain depth, and of a diameter sufficient to the task of sucking out thick viscous liquid. Which you can feel. Also needed to provide a urine sample. "Can I have coffee first? I'm a bit empty right now .... " "Yes please have coffee, anything to fill you up!" So I went and had a cup and a smoke, and returned an hour and a half later considerably more human.
The character 驗 ('yim'; inspect, check, verify), to the eye that analyses and knows seal script, reminds one of checking one's tickets at the horse races. Being on the left a horse (馬) next to two tallies held together (僉) on the right.
After dutifully peeing into a cup, I went off to visit my bank and have lunch. Then had another pipeful and returned home. So altogether, ignoring the needles and the jabbing, it was a lovely day. Coffee. Food. Milk tea. Tobacco. With plenty of walking and observing people, listening to opera from a basement music club, stepping aside for a whole passle of adorable tykes (put my mask on as soon as I noticed them approaching with their minders), watching the occasional insane individual doing what they do best, whatever that is.
Excepting one or two minor details, every day should be like this.
I might choose to pass on the needles and the cup.
Fortunately those are rare.
That first cup of coffee at eleven o'clock was one of the best ever.
Also, I'm patting myself on the back for being human.
As no doubt the blood tests will prove.
Even without caffeine.
==========================================================================
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LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
The character 驗 ('yim'; inspect, check, verify), to the eye that analyses and knows seal script, reminds one of checking one's tickets at the horse races. Being on the left a horse (馬) next to two tallies held together (僉) on the right.
SEAL SCRIPT VERSION OF 驗
After dutifully peeing into a cup, I went off to visit my bank and have lunch. Then had another pipeful and returned home. So altogether, ignoring the needles and the jabbing, it was a lovely day. Coffee. Food. Milk tea. Tobacco. With plenty of walking and observing people, listening to opera from a basement music club, stepping aside for a whole passle of adorable tykes (put my mask on as soon as I noticed them approaching with their minders), watching the occasional insane individual doing what they do best, whatever that is.
I might choose to pass on the needles and the cup.
Fortunately those are rare.
That first cup of coffee at eleven o'clock was one of the best ever.
Also, I'm patting myself on the back for being human.
As no doubt the blood tests will prove.
Even without caffeine.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, February 06, 2022
THE OPEN SECRETS
To my utter disappointment, Dan the extremely unpleasant right-wing droodge and Jeff the loud enabler of right wing droodges and Trumpite bootlicker weren't around today. So I didn't get to "console" them over their team's loss and therefore absence from the superbowl. Their team (the Santa Clara Forty Niners) sucked, and lost because of moral and ethical lapses among the fans, many of whom are degenerate pustules, but Dan and Jeff (perfect paradigms of moral and ethical weakness and decay), don't need to know that.
Pointing it out to them might upset them.
Oh wait; that's the point.
I have it on good authority, by the way, that powerful right wingers smuggle chihuahuas to use for sex and pineal gland extractives. It's what keeps Donald Trump from dying of digestive overload, adderal abuse, and brain fever.
It's all in the photos that Putin was going to release, but "they" got to him. It's also why Kennedy was assasinated. Look it up; do your own research.
That's why Mitch McConnell is rich.
And why so many pampered blondes have chihuahuas.
This something Fox and the newsmedia won't ever tell you.
Anyhow, the absence of both Dan and Jeff meant that no pooh was being loudly flung in the backroom today, and it was very peaceful. Consequently I got to work on the rims and stems of two dozen Castellos, many of which were quite old. Lovely pipes. I've owned a few Castellos over the years, but eventually got rid of them because on the whole the aesthetics don't appeal to me. But these were splendid pieces, representing one pipesmoker's lifelong obsession.
Actually, I did not miss the rabid dingos at all.
I'm glad their wives kept them leashed.
They really need choke collars.
I'll suggest it.
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Pointing it out to them might upset them.
Oh wait; that's the point.
I have it on good authority, by the way, that powerful right wingers smuggle chihuahuas to use for sex and pineal gland extractives. It's what keeps Donald Trump from dying of digestive overload, adderal abuse, and brain fever.
It's all in the photos that Putin was going to release, but "they" got to him. It's also why Kennedy was assasinated. Look it up; do your own research.
That's why Mitch McConnell is rich.
And why so many pampered blondes have chihuahuas.
This something Fox and the newsmedia won't ever tell you.
Anyhow, the absence of both Dan and Jeff meant that no pooh was being loudly flung in the backroom today, and it was very peaceful. Consequently I got to work on the rims and stems of two dozen Castellos, many of which were quite old. Lovely pipes. I've owned a few Castellos over the years, but eventually got rid of them because on the whole the aesthetics don't appeal to me. But these were splendid pieces, representing one pipesmoker's lifelong obsession.
Actually, I did not miss the rabid dingos at all.
I'm glad their wives kept them leashed.
They really need choke collars.
I'll suggest it.
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TOXIC WASTE AND PUS BAGS
After hearing Dan ragging on a liberal for over half an hour, with the gleeful enablement and encouragement of others, I truly hate Republicans. In this vast and diverse country, there are many people I hate. Such as, as just one example, nearly one hundred percent of Florida and Texas, which are the angry dripping cankers on god's backside.
Naturally I applaud them when they don't wear masks or vaccinate, as well as when they drink their own urine. Good for them!
My hatred also extends to public drunks, people who park where they shouldn't, and sportsfans.
As well as most tourists visiting the Bay Area.
Who spread disease.
If pressed, I shall explain to several rightwing Forty Niner fans today why their poisonous team represents all that is bitter and dark in the world, and why they deservedly lost and will surely end up in the fiery pit burning for all eternity.
One of whom is Dan.
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Naturally I applaud them when they don't wear masks or vaccinate, as well as when they drink their own urine. Good for them!
My hatred also extends to public drunks, people who park where they shouldn't, and sportsfans.
As well as most tourists visiting the Bay Area.
Who spread disease.
If pressed, I shall explain to several rightwing Forty Niner fans today why their poisonous team represents all that is bitter and dark in the world, and why they deservedly lost and will surely end up in the fiery pit burning for all eternity.
One of whom is Dan.
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Saturday, February 05, 2022
PUMPKIN SCHMUTZ
To a Chinese person, pumkin is associated with soup. Specifically, a rich chicken-laden soup, or a coconut broth soup, or something with black mushroom, meat stock, tonic herbs.
Even a delightful tomato and vegetable broth with pork bones.
To Americans, pumpkin is linked with candles. Pie. Frappucino. And vegans.
Vegans are connected with the words “eccentric”, “arrogant”, “preachy”, “militant”, “uptight”, “stupid”, and “sadistic”." As well as, for people with big vocabularies, "pissant Protestant dickwads". Except for snooty Gujaratis, most vegans are karens.
If you're in the United States and you smell pumpkins, run.
One of my favourite Yi-Xing teapots is shaped like a pumpkin, with some leaves. It is on the shelf with five other teapots, two incense burners, and a jar of brushes.
I do not associate pumpkins with food.
Which is probably why a good friend sent me a recipe for something he calls "mac'n cheese", containing pasta, gorgonzola cheese, applewood smoked bacon, chili flakes, a mashed salted anchovy, and pumpkin purée. Which except for that last item, looks rather good. Yummy, even.
Normally I am willing to experiment with food. And I tend to think of goofball recipiation as money well spent. So I think I'll try this, but replacing the pumpkin.
With something that is edible.
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Even a delightful tomato and vegetable broth with pork bones.
To Americans, pumpkin is linked with candles. Pie. Frappucino. And vegans.
Vegans are connected with the words “eccentric”, “arrogant”, “preachy”, “militant”, “uptight”, “stupid”, and “sadistic”." As well as, for people with big vocabularies, "pissant Protestant dickwads". Except for snooty Gujaratis, most vegans are karens.
If you're in the United States and you smell pumpkins, run.
One of my favourite Yi-Xing teapots is shaped like a pumpkin, with some leaves. It is on the shelf with five other teapots, two incense burners, and a jar of brushes.
I do not associate pumpkins with food.
Which is probably why a good friend sent me a recipe for something he calls "mac'n cheese", containing pasta, gorgonzola cheese, applewood smoked bacon, chili flakes, a mashed salted anchovy, and pumpkin purée. Which except for that last item, looks rather good. Yummy, even.
Normally I am willing to experiment with food. And I tend to think of goofball recipiation as money well spent. So I think I'll try this, but replacing the pumpkin.
With something that is edible.
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Friday, February 04, 2022
IT JUMPED OUT AT ME, I SWEAR
There is Chinese food that you will regret eating, and you know you will regret it when you order. Such as baked salmon in cream sauce (焗芝士白汁三文魚) on a bed of rice with (lots of) melted cheese. Which was never-the-less excellent, and I'll certainly have it again.
Delicious with hot sauce.
Two bowls of tobacco afterwards, hardly any heartburn.
That started on the way home, on the bus.
Roaring by tea time
A sane man would have looked at "guk ji si paak jap saam man yü" and said "oh hell no". Even though it came with soup and a cup of milk-tea. A sane man would have, knowing that it lurked in wait (which I didn't), stayed the heck home.
A sane man would have written off the entire first few days of Chinese New Year as a lost cause, given that so many eateries were closed for up to a week, to keep bad luck from walking in the door. Such as the bakery up the street from the baked cheesy salmon.
But a man sometimes needs a sit down meal at a table in a clean restaurant, with cutlery, a bowl of corn chowder, and a nice hot cuppa.
And you may have noticed that I'm slightly obsessive.
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Delicious with hot sauce.
Two bowls of tobacco afterwards, hardly any heartburn.
That started on the way home, on the bus.
Roaring by tea time
A sane man would have written off the entire first few days of Chinese New Year as a lost cause, given that so many eateries were closed for up to a week, to keep bad luck from walking in the door. Such as the bakery up the street from the baked cheesy salmon.
But a man sometimes needs a sit down meal at a table in a clean restaurant, with cutlery, a bowl of corn chowder, and a nice hot cuppa.
And you may have noticed that I'm slightly obsessive.
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Thursday, February 03, 2022
THE SECOND CUP SMELLS LIKE NAPALM
When I got up this morning my right nostril was plugged quite solid. It may have influenced my mood; normally I am sunny and bright, filled with good will towards all, and just brimming over with the milk of human kindness. At six A.M.: snot. Cement-like snot. As a smoker, besides being a liberal, that's what you'll get at six in the morning from me. Plus plumbing noises.
I am much better now.
I have realized that nearly the same amount of serotonin can be released into the system by drawing that second cup of coffee, rather than swilling it. So I drew it.
Yes, I did have a second cup. I'm not crazy.
Now I am cheery and mellow.
Time for news.
Trump fires back at Lindsey Graham? Butt boy gonna get it.
Unvaccinated man denied kidney transplant after refusing vaccine? Die, dumb-ass.
India joins Olympic Boycot after Chinese soldier injured in a deadly fight with Indian troops participates in torch relay? Monumental turd world snit.
Pastor Greg Locke holds 'witchcraft' book burning? News of the demented.
Protestor rams Mounties attempting to break up border blockade? Time for the Canadian authorities to use live ammo.
Turning point USA founder Charlie Kirk calls for Californians to be barred from Republican States? Fine. Those places are festering shitholes anyway. Californians should NOT visit OR invest in Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Indiana, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Virginia, West Virginia, and Wyoming. Let the bastards starve and freeze in the dark.
As I said: cheery and mellow. Sunny, bright, and good natured.
The milk of human kindness went into café au lait.
Time for yoga in my hot tub.
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I am much better now.
I have realized that nearly the same amount of serotonin can be released into the system by drawing that second cup of coffee, rather than swilling it. So I drew it.
Now I am cheery and mellow.
Time for news.
Trump fires back at Lindsey Graham? Butt boy gonna get it.
Unvaccinated man denied kidney transplant after refusing vaccine? Die, dumb-ass.
India joins Olympic Boycot after Chinese soldier injured in a deadly fight with Indian troops participates in torch relay? Monumental turd world snit.
Pastor Greg Locke holds 'witchcraft' book burning? News of the demented.
Protestor rams Mounties attempting to break up border blockade? Time for the Canadian authorities to use live ammo.
Turning point USA founder Charlie Kirk calls for Californians to be barred from Republican States? Fine. Those places are festering shitholes anyway. Californians should NOT visit OR invest in Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Indiana, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Virginia, West Virginia, and Wyoming. Let the bastards starve and freeze in the dark.
As I said: cheery and mellow. Sunny, bright, and good natured.
The milk of human kindness went into café au lait.
Time for yoga in my hot tub.
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SHUT UP AND TAKE YOUR MEDICINE
On the other hand, a lot of American Christians are dying entirely worm-free now, and that's a darned good thing. This was my contribution to light conversation earlier. Because upstanding Christians self-dosing with Ivermectin is, at this point, something you should just take for granted. Or, if they don't, you wonder what's wrong with them. Don't they believe?
There's a demonic spirit in your left nostril; it's trying to get out.
"Is it the Christians who are swallowing horse dewormer and aquarium chemicals, and the paranoid Republicans who are drinking their own urine and popping Valium, or the other way around?"
Well, there's an overlap there.
The first part of me that wakes up, courtesy of Java, is the part with the least tolerance toward crazy shiznit from the nutball fringe. So it's probably a good thing that I do not watch Fox News. It's what they specialize in. On average it takes me three to four hours after my coffee before I can smile blandly and say "there there, little angry old person, just take your metamucil like a nice little munchkin and suck on your prunes".
I am not considerate and social beyond grunting for that first hour or so. That's why you don't want me in charge of the old folks home or the kindergarten.
Caffeine and a smoke first, in any case.
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There's a demonic spirit in your left nostril; it's trying to get out.
"Is it the Christians who are swallowing horse dewormer and aquarium chemicals, and the paranoid Republicans who are drinking their own urine and popping Valium, or the other way around?"
Well, there's an overlap there.
The first part of me that wakes up, courtesy of Java, is the part with the least tolerance toward crazy shiznit from the nutball fringe. So it's probably a good thing that I do not watch Fox News. It's what they specialize in. On average it takes me three to four hours after my coffee before I can smile blandly and say "there there, little angry old person, just take your metamucil like a nice little munchkin and suck on your prunes".
I am not considerate and social beyond grunting for that first hour or so. That's why you don't want me in charge of the old folks home or the kindergarten.
Caffeine and a smoke first, in any case.
==========================================================================
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Wednesday, February 02, 2022
TURN RIGHT BEFORE DEEP BAY
My father was a bomber pilot, having joined the RCAF before the United States was in the war. It is something about him that I admired. Among many other things. Even with the hindsight of decades, he still seems a most exemplary man. In some ways I have unconsciously emulated him. Probably because by his example certain things seemed natural and familiar.
I did mechanical drafting for a few years, I smoke a pipe, I speak German.
And I've striven to be as much of a gentleman as possible.
But I am not an engineer, nor a pilot.
Any bombing I may do will be from ground level.
I've known a number of pilots, including several Brits. Kaitak was their most challenging airport. Approach across the peninsula, and as soon as you see the checkerboard, bank sharp right and descend, putting the plane in line for runway thirteen. It wasn't the only landing strip in Hong Kong, though. Far less challenging was the British airbase at Sek Kong.
ROYAL AIRFORCE STATION SEK KONG [石崗機場]
ICAO AIRPORTCODE:VHSK
RAF Sek Kong is now held by the mainland armed forces, though also home to civilian flight enthusiasts on weekends. Like Kaitak, it is surrounded by buildings and people. It is located in Yuen Long District, and there are still a number of formerly military connected personell residing nearby.
In the picture above, the approach is from the northwest, Kam Tin Road (錦田路) is on the left of the runway, Kam Shui North Road (金水北路) on the right. Further south and not visible is the Kam Tin River (錦田河), which flows twistily north until it joins the Shan Pui river (山貝河), and shortly thereafter drains into Deep Bay (后海灣 aka Shenzhen Bay: 深圳灣). Kam Tin Road eventually joins Route Twisk (荃錦公路), which meanders across the mountains east and southward before till it enters Tsuen Wan (荃灣.
This afternoon I put one of my father's old pipes in my coat pocket to smoke after tea.
Many of the places in Chinatown are still closed -- it's day two of the New Year Festival -- so I ended up at a place I haven't visited in two years. Not much in the display cases to choose from, but the milk tea was good and strong, the waitress quicker and more alert than I remember the staff there ever being (she must be new), and tables clean.
Some things are more important than you might think.
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I did mechanical drafting for a few years, I smoke a pipe, I speak German.
And I've striven to be as much of a gentleman as possible.
But I am not an engineer, nor a pilot.
Any bombing I may do will be from ground level.
I've known a number of pilots, including several Brits. Kaitak was their most challenging airport. Approach across the peninsula, and as soon as you see the checkerboard, bank sharp right and descend, putting the plane in line for runway thirteen. It wasn't the only landing strip in Hong Kong, though. Far less challenging was the British airbase at Sek Kong.
ROYAL AIRFORCE STATION SEK KONG [石崗機場]
ICAO AIRPORTCODE:VHSK
In the picture above, the approach is from the northwest, Kam Tin Road (錦田路) is on the left of the runway, Kam Shui North Road (金水北路) on the right. Further south and not visible is the Kam Tin River (錦田河), which flows twistily north until it joins the Shan Pui river (山貝河), and shortly thereafter drains into Deep Bay (后海灣 aka Shenzhen Bay: 深圳灣). Kam Tin Road eventually joins Route Twisk (荃錦公路), which meanders across the mountains east and southward before till it enters Tsuen Wan (荃灣.
This afternoon I put one of my father's old pipes in my coat pocket to smoke after tea.
Some things are more important than you might think.
==========================================================================
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NEXT YEAR IN SAN FRANCISCO
When you really think about it, one of the best accompaniments to a hot cup of milk tea at four o'clock in the afternoon is a barbecue pork pastry puff. Just right, and not too much. Barbecue pork (charsiu) is a splendid and versatile product that combines harmoniously with noodles, vegetables, fried rice, soup, or flaky pastry. If there isn't a decent siu mei dim (燒味店), a Chinese bakery (餅家), and a wonton noodle soup (雲吞麵家) place near you -- the first to make the charsiu, the second to incorporate it into a flaky puff and serve it with HK milk tea, and the third to offer it as a tasty serving alongside your bowl of wonton noodle soup -- you may be living in interior California, Oklahoma, or deepest Mississippi.
Somewhere far from civilization in any case.
Better move. The ICUs at your nearest hospital are overflowing with deathly ill anti-vaxxers, and that planned peripheral angioplasty might have to be postponed till next year.
Yesterday I was planning to have some wonton noodle soup in Chinatown, but because one of my favourite bakeries was actually open on new years day, I decided to postpone the combo of noodles and dumplings (doubly propitious for the start of a year) till a later date.
And it was around tea time anyway.
Most delightful teatime ever. No one at the tables, those customers that did wander in were happy to find a pastry shop open, and many of them had come to the neighborhood because for that one day of the year they wished to hear their own language and say the customary greetings -- new year is an emotionally loaded time -- and every word was cheerful.
I enjoyed tea time immensely.
The pipe filled with aged Virginia flake afterwards was icing on the cake.
Waverly Place was quiet, peacefull, serene. With red scraps.
Evidence of firecrackers earlier in the day.
Cops. Happy children.
Twilight.
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Somewhere far from civilization in any case.
Better move. The ICUs at your nearest hospital are overflowing with deathly ill anti-vaxxers, and that planned peripheral angioplasty might have to be postponed till next year.
Yesterday I was planning to have some wonton noodle soup in Chinatown, but because one of my favourite bakeries was actually open on new years day, I decided to postpone the combo of noodles and dumplings (doubly propitious for the start of a year) till a later date.
And it was around tea time anyway.
I enjoyed tea time immensely.
The pipe filled with aged Virginia flake afterwards was icing on the cake.
Waverly Place was quiet, peacefull, serene. With red scraps.
Evidence of firecrackers earlier in the day.
Cops. Happy children.
Twilight.
==========================================================================
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Tuesday, February 01, 2022
STEPHEN COLBERT'S BLACK HISTORY MONTH
Eleven years ago, Stephen Tyrone Colbert (commenting on a ridiculous Heineken commercial) opined that the best way to celebrate Black History month is "with all things Dutch". And to properly commemorate the moral leadership of Dr. Martin Luther King, he sarcastically recommended "bewren kewl stahm put met rewk wurst".
[Kale and potato mash with smoked sausage on top.]
Given that the weather in the middle of February isn't conducive to having a barbecue, and you are probably sick of turkey after the holidays, why not?
A grand new tradition.
BOERENKOOLSTAMPOT MET ROOKWORST
One pound of potatoes, peeled.
One pound of boerenkool (curly kale), coarse chopped.
One pound of smoked sausage.
Half cup milk or half'n half.
Two Tablespoons butter.
One Tablespoon vinegar.
Half a Tablespoon sharp mustard.
Salt, pepper, and a generous pinch of nutmeg.
Quarter the potatoes. Put potatoes and boerenkool in a pot with lightly salted water to cover well, bring to a boil, turn low and cook for about twenty minutes. Put the sausage on top, simmer for another ten minutes or so. Remove the sausage to a plate, keep warm.
Drain the excess moisture from the pan and coarsely mash the potatoes and boerenkool together, adding the milk, butter, pepper, nutmeg, vinegar, and mustard.
Reheat on a low flame, taste, and adjust the salt if necessary.
Serve with the smoked sausage on top.
Alternatively, brown the cooked sausage with some minced onion before putting it on top of the mash.
Serves four.
Some garlicky curried cauliflower as an accompaniment would be lovely.
Have pickles (achar) and chilipaste (sambal) on the side.
Strong coffee, a shot of oude genever, and a Glorie van Java cigar afterwards are a splendid finish to the meal. Any meal, really.
You know, there are far worse ways of commemorating things than by eating.
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[Kale and potato mash with smoked sausage on top.]
Given that the weather in the middle of February isn't conducive to having a barbecue, and you are probably sick of turkey after the holidays, why not?
A grand new tradition.
BOERENKOOLSTAMPOT MET ROOKWORST
One pound of potatoes, peeled.
One pound of boerenkool (curly kale), coarse chopped.
One pound of smoked sausage.
Half cup milk or half'n half.
Two Tablespoons butter.
One Tablespoon vinegar.
Half a Tablespoon sharp mustard.
Salt, pepper, and a generous pinch of nutmeg.
Quarter the potatoes. Put potatoes and boerenkool in a pot with lightly salted water to cover well, bring to a boil, turn low and cook for about twenty minutes. Put the sausage on top, simmer for another ten minutes or so. Remove the sausage to a plate, keep warm.
Drain the excess moisture from the pan and coarsely mash the potatoes and boerenkool together, adding the milk, butter, pepper, nutmeg, vinegar, and mustard.
Reheat on a low flame, taste, and adjust the salt if necessary.
Serve with the smoked sausage on top.
Alternatively, brown the cooked sausage with some minced onion before putting it on top of the mash.
Serves four.
Some garlicky curried cauliflower as an accompaniment would be lovely.
Have pickles (achar) and chilipaste (sambal) on the side.
Strong coffee, a shot of oude genever, and a Glorie van Java cigar afterwards are a splendid finish to the meal. Any meal, really.
You know, there are far worse ways of commemorating things than by eating.
==========================================================================
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OH YOU KNOW. PAINTING, POETRY, SLAUGHTERING GERMANS .....
Pursuant an earlier post, in which I sarcastically mentioned doing "manly" things, a reader who identified him or herself as 'Audrey Hepburn' asked "So tell me. What are "manly" things?" And you know, I've never thought about it. Having grown up mostly overseas, I've never had the benefit of football or baseball to mold my thinking. Which is in some ways a handicap, because I tend to think of sports jocks and sports fans alike as being monumental dicks, rather than "all American males".
Same goes for World of Warcraft, people who dress up like paramilitary death squad members when they go to the gun range, or Hobbit wannabees.
The more self-indulgent and enjoyable aspects of being human are often seen as the proper purview of American males, everything else is relegated to women and minorities.
And even there, how one defines "enjoyable" makes a huge difference.
Shooting things and beating up fellow athletes? Manly!
Falling asleep in your own beer? How butch!
As an interesting note, very many famous painters and poets of the past were men. Because painting and writing poetry are difficult, typical American males are taught that these are unmanly, and more properly something feminine.
As a reward for killing so many Germans in two world wars, white American men get to play football and baseball.
Instead of spending so much effort and resources on "sports medicine", we should let those football players, baseball stars, and all other jocks writhe in agony on the field, and possibly die or never walk again. Gritting their teeth for the rest of their useless lives would be the epitome of machismo. Perfect examples of awe-inspiring manliness.
And the losing team gets dragged off and shot.
Can't get any more manly than that.
I would support this.
By the way: I occasionally write sonnets in Dutch. Try it sometime, you wusses.
This essay was brought to you entirely without the input of greasy cheese snacks, watery American beer, or shitty pizza. That's what the Superbowl is for.
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Same goes for World of Warcraft, people who dress up like paramilitary death squad members when they go to the gun range, or Hobbit wannabees.
The more self-indulgent and enjoyable aspects of being human are often seen as the proper purview of American males, everything else is relegated to women and minorities.
And even there, how one defines "enjoyable" makes a huge difference.
Shooting things and beating up fellow athletes? Manly!
Falling asleep in your own beer? How butch!
As an interesting note, very many famous painters and poets of the past were men. Because painting and writing poetry are difficult, typical American males are taught that these are unmanly, and more properly something feminine.
As a reward for killing so many Germans in two world wars, white American men get to play football and baseball.
Instead of spending so much effort and resources on "sports medicine", we should let those football players, baseball stars, and all other jocks writhe in agony on the field, and possibly die or never walk again. Gritting their teeth for the rest of their useless lives would be the epitome of machismo. Perfect examples of awe-inspiring manliness.
And the losing team gets dragged off and shot.
Can't get any more manly than that.
I would support this.
By the way: I occasionally write sonnets in Dutch. Try it sometime, you wusses.
This essay was brought to you entirely without the input of greasy cheese snacks, watery American beer, or shitty pizza. That's what the Superbowl is for.
==========================================================================
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All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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OH, THE MANLITUDE!
According to several sources on the internet, there are hot singles in my area who are dying to meet me. And that, dear readers, is why you should read critically and with the necessary scepticism. Because the internet is sometimes (often) wrong. If they were really dying to meet me, they already would have, because I'm not hiding in a cave. On a regular basis my manly form can be seen striding around the neighborhood, or down in Chinatown and Northbeach, with a pipe clenched in my manly jaw, doing various manly things.
Maybe these desperate singles are very shy?
Yes, that must be it.
I'll just keep doing my manly things until they overcome their awe.
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Maybe these desperate singles are very shy?
Yes, that must be it.
I'll just keep doing my manly things until they overcome their awe.
==========================================================================
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THE LEMON EATERS
There are several internet commentators from Europe who delight in criticizing America and darn-well everybody who lives here. We are vulgar...
