FBI RAIDS MAR-A-LAGO -- IS NOTHING SACRED?

Marjorie Taylor Greene thought it was a real prisoner when she went into that cell to comfort him as he wept. The crying was real. Onions or allergies. The prayer was real. The emotions were real. Oh, the humanity.

The imaginary universe was real. Lovecraftian and dysfunctional.
These are the benefits of psychosis.
And cheap Bourbon.

This morning Trumpworld has full diapers.


Yesterday the FBI visited Mar-A-Lago. Like the peaceful tourists that they actually were. And because of that, fervent Magaites are now praying at some cult shrines -- the winter palace itself, plus Trump Tower in New York, and in front of FBI headquarters -- waving religious banners and defiant signage, and promising that there will be sacrifices.

They will slay the virgin and save the dragon.

"OH! THE HUMANITY!"

Clearly, law enforcement is tyranny, and Americans will not stand for that!

Marjorie Taylor Greene et amis want the FBI defunded.

"Trump failed to return classified docs requested by the National Archives. A federal judge issued a search warrant for probable cause of a crime. This is not some rando move by the FBI so you shitforbrains Republicans calling for 'defunding the FBI' for once try to be less stupid."
--- Michael Steele, former chairman of the Republican National Committee


Michael, Michael, Michael, they're NOT stupid, they're f&*king nuts. Reverend Jim Jones style whacko. Absolutely batshit. Out of their minds bonkers from before the first conspiracy theories that Obama was going to take away their guns and the black helicopters arrest god-fearing Christians, paranoid hysteria over Jade Helm, and that farrago 'Operation American Spring' organized by certifiable shit-fer-brains retired colonel Harry Riley in 2014.


Clearly civilization has gotten out of hand whent things happen.

What is this world coming too?

Tsk tsk.



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HOT WEATHER NOODLES AT THE END

There's an anime clip out there which is both comedic and extremely perverted. The term "artistic degeneracy" comes to mind. Tsubaki is not coming with them, as she claims to be busy that evening. The cynical Kaede asserts conversationally that Tsubaki is just a weirdo with an extreme sister complex, whereupon, in hurt innocence, Tsubaki starts weeping. Into what at first glance looks like a nice lacy handkerchief, but one of the girls immediately recognizes is one of her own panties, which she reclaims. No worries, Tsubaki has another stolen pantie in reserve, as well as Nadeshiko's brassiere. Which she carries around just in case. The scene ends with the two young ladies frantically trying to get back their undergarments which Tsubaki is holding aloft, out of their reach.

In life, sometimes your underwear remains out of reach.
So does everyone else's.


"THIS IS MY PANTSU!"


Keep reaching for the unobtainable. It's good to have goals.

Um. While I can sympathize with them both, victimised by Tsubaki's perversity, these are not fully developed characters with much depth. Another youtube clip distracted me.

[Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xNmUNlJZtE.]

In which the relationship between Japanese females and canines is fully explored. Be prepared for dramatic developments, shocking details, and shark chocolate.

"Don't give up! If you give up, it's over!"

That's sage advice. On the other hand, you might get shark chocolate. 日常 (nichijou, 'yat seung') is a complex and densely layered slice of regular Japanese daily life.

Also, if you surprise friends by doing your homework, you too can be struck by falling objects when you seek shelter from torrential rain at a neigborhood shrine. Serious life lesson!

Although I now know about nagashi somen, I am not keen to try it.
It's festival food that seems a bit too gimmicky.


Life in Japan might be exciting.
Oddly underwear centred.



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INTERNATIONAL CAT DAY

Quite unsurprisingly, very many of my Facebook friends are in relationships with felines. It is unclear who the dominant player is in those relationships. It seems to be the non-opposable thumb person. And how marvelous to have a creature that opens your cans, types up your social media interactions, and answers the door fully dressed.

It takes a certain skill and intelligence to be a cat person. That's why American presidents are often dog people instead.

A cat person is a perfect personal assistant. Never hire a dog person for the job.


There is an overlap between a cat person and a pile of warm laundry.
Warmth, comfort, a clean smell, and immobility.
Dog people just twitch.

Two of the local dog people I know are reactionary old fudgers roughly my age whose most sentient act every day is lighting their cigars accurately instead of simply waving their three burner torch lighter in the vicinity of their face and hoping for lift off. They habituate the back room in Marin, with their smells, and I suspect that their animals sniff around their nethers to make sure they haven't fouled themselves. Nice dog.

Their dogs probably suspect that that is something all humans do. That accounts for the sniffing. Go away, Rover, I do not need a wet nose in my crotch.
You have me confused with someone.

Cats do not wonder whether you have filled your Depends™. They assume that you have self-control. And you damned well better have, because it takes attention and alertness to cater to them.

Within half an hour of posting the picture above on Facebook there were a dozen positive reactions. The only other pictures that get such responses -- and it takes several days for that -- are drawings of pipes I've done with some semi-narrative over on the philosophers pipe page. My stellar illustrations of warm caffeinated beverages NEVER get much feedback. Apparently hot coffee and or tea do not resonate, from which one must conclude that my FB friends are not early thirties yuppie office workers keen to yack for two hours every day about sports and the latest episodes of Twilight, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, and Two Naked Men In The Wilderness With a Tiger And A Chainsaw. While the adults in the office grimace and try to get some work done.

Today the world celebrates International Cat Day.

Because cats don't get enough attention.

I presently am not with a cat.

There is no cat here.



But I could be a cat person. Again.

As you can tell from my pipe and hot beverage pictures I have the neurotic attention to detail that it would take. And unlike many cigar smokers I do not foul my garments.
I am capable, and fully sentient.



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HUMANITY AT ITS BEST

Social media can be a wonderful thing. Or not. The three short paragraphs below are sequential in reverse order, and linked only by authorship -- my thoughts at various stages of coffee since coming home -- not by narrative connection, place, or logical consequence. Please feel free to read them as three different gentlemen, possibly deaf old coots, sitting in the drafty smoking room of a private club waiting for someone to bring them their sherry.

They say things because they saw someone's mouth moving, and don't wish to seem impolite by not reacting. But the content of the other person's utterance escaped them.

A.
"Sometimes Cornell & Diehl hit it out of the ballpark. I have made sure that I have enough Anthology to enjoy it in the future, stashing eight sealed tins besides dipping into an open one. But the tin note of Limburger cheese still hits me when I rub out a bowl. I guess that's what everyone else calls 'bready' or 'yeasty'. Maybe bakers need to use Lotrimin and Desenex more often?"

B.
"Apparently those were either "spreading civilization and culture to the natives, the benefits of the modern world and all that", OR "sound business decisions" (and the extermination of the population of Banda in 1621 DID NOT HAPPEN! Neither did the puputans of Badung and Klungkung! Stop listening to those anti-Dutch speakers! They're all Belgian!). And I've been reliably told by fellow Dutch speakers who weren't American citizens that what we Yanks did to Hiroshima and Nagasaki and Vietnam and the Native Americans was so much worse that, as a 'jenkie' I should keep my mouth shut and slink away quietly. Never-the-less, Dutch is an eloquent and mellifluous language, which as A.Y.W. would surely agree, is precisely like pure whispers of God's angels (geheel gelijk de pure fluisteringen van God's engeltjes)."


C.
"Everytime I return from Marin, the turkey vulture demands to know why I haven't brought back some fatty inner thighs for him to feast on. I have explained that all the thighs there are scrawny and lean, the bony athletic legs of fit, trim bicyclists and runners, not a yoga practitioner in the bunch."

In actual fact, the conversation in the back room today consisted of Arizona Slim and R. The Subcontinental arguing pointlessly for well over in hour about gender dysphoria, gender reassignment, and Alex Jones. It's a "conversation" they've had three times in the past few days, while watching paint dry on teevee (golf). R. The Subcontinental is Punjabi. This is relevant because when Punjabis are bored, they'll start some sh*t or stir up a hornets' nest. Nothing like a good pointless screaming match to get the ghee in their veins going again, or the stomach juices flowing. It's good for digestion, makes them feel alive.
I worked with Punjabis for several years at a local restaurant.

That whole ghastly mess at partition with five million dead? Probably a fellow from Jullunder told another fellow "sab Lahawr-main bakri-chot hain" (something about goats - you probably have to a Punjabi or a Rotterdammer to 'get it').

All elements in their exchange were repetitions of things they've expressed hundreds of times, nearly everytime they've been in the same room. Both of them are, often, like one imagines a dose of the clap to be if untreated. Constant burning and intense irritation.


I am an extremely tolerant man. Patient and forbearing.
Damned well saintly. A veritable paragon.
An embodiment of civilization.



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THE BROMINE

The sensitive man has a cat. The sensible man doesn't; he has a mental concept of a cat. The net result is the same. Things break. Hairballs get hacked up noisily.
Boxes get occupied.


Oh wait. That's just a physical coordination issue.
Either that or this place is haunted.

Sleep last night was fitfull, and interrupted by long bouts of non-sleep. I suspect that this may have been due to having chocolate for dinner instead of food.

Perhaps in consequence, there have been flitting shadows in the corners of my eyes throughout the day. If I were a paranoid type, I'd be all ajangle by now.
Like someone on too much coffee.

Instead, I am calm and composed. Rational.

I had considerably less chocolate today.

Did something just move?



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HEARTLESSLY RIPPING A FAMILY APART

The turkey vulture watches her eat with avid avian fasination. He had some of her food earlier -- it was beak smackingly good and he made loud appreciative noises -- now his eyes follow her deft hand lifting the fried chicken wing flavour potato chips to her mouth.
He liked the chicken people; they were delicious!

Periodically throughout the night I heard hungry sounds.
Sydney Fylbert is always hungry.
Instinct.

The only time when the beast is silent, surreptitious even, is when he's stealing my wallet. Which, he's convinced, will yield an offspring if he sits on it long enough.

He's not a female, he cannot hatch.
We've repeatedly told him so.
And that's not an egg.

He did not give birth to it.

That leather object did NOT issue from his loins. There was no straining to pass the ovoid. It is, please note, not smooth, rounded, oval. He'd rip something if he had it in his infundibulum, before it exited into the cloaca. There was, in fact, no effort other than a snatch.

I shall seize it before heading off to work. It contains my transit card.
It is mine.


We've been through all this before.
I am cruel and despotic.
A brute.



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EAT THE POTSTICKER, COMRADE

In an editorial that places him squarely in the same camp as the Chinese Foreign Ministry, the local editor at SF Gate lambasts Nancy Pelosi for visiting Taiwan. One would suspect him as being a paid foreign agent. Or at least hand-in-glove/turd-in-pants with the chaps at the consulate and spy nest down at 1450 Laguna Street, San Francisco, CA 94115.
Out of touch with the sentiment of real people in any case.

He's sure to be wined and dined royally if he ever visits the mainland.

As if his obsequious pandering to the regime in Peking wasn't enough, he also takes a swipe at one of our major allies, writing "South Korea, which is still in the infancy of an attempted democracy because, for decades, America propped up the country's murderous slate of dictators." Slavoj Szizek could have written that. One suspects that he may have friends in Moscow, Belgrado, or Pyongyang. Might want a position there.

Several cheap jabs, and casual acceptance that China is monumentally tyranical ("Of course, China is committing human rights violations. The country's treatment of the Uyghur people, for instance, is broadly considered to be a genocide") do not speak well, or at all, of his perspective and impartiality.

A review of previous essays shows that he tends to cavalierly piss on everything he can, and should never have been promoted from the sports desk. But he's hip and with it. So he'll go far. Especially with his friends.

I did not know that SF Gate so valued readership at the consulate, or was in partnership with "local" Chinese newspapers pandering to Peking.


Our local news organizations are keen to hear your feedback. Please write to them at: 1450 Laguna Street, San Francisco, CA 94115.




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THEY ARE BECOMING JESUS

As it turns out, conservatives in the United States object to many things.
And they take decisive action.

Quote:
"Voters in the Jamestown Township voted against a millage that was used to fund the Patmos Library in the town. The tax was rejected in a vote of 62 percent to 37 percent"
And:
"The vote to remove funding from the library came shortly after many voters criticized the library for the graphic novel Gender Queer: A Memoir that was in the adult section. In the spring, many of the town's residents attended board meetings to demand the book be removed from shelves, but instead the library placed it behind the counter so it wasn't accessible to children."
End quotes.

[Source: Bridge Michigan, as cited in Newsweek.]

Most of their problems would be solved if they had no libraries, no schools, and no medical facilities either, seeing as they're now gunning for the medical profession. Removing access to all these things in the hinterland would reduce friction in this country as well as, and this is crucial, save everyone a lot of money. Let the church take up the slack.

The American churches have a sterling record regarding literacy, honesty, education, fiduciary responsibility, faith healing, casting out daemons, speaking in foreign tongues, tolerance, and preventing all kinds of sexual shenanigans. Plus beautiful thoughts and prayers. Which is why Mississippi, for instance, is such a wonderful place. It seems to me that most conservative parts of our great country are striving to become like Mississippi. Mississippi is a conservative paradise.

Just look at Texas and Florida; they're well on their way to becoming Mississippi.
And we should not stop them. Healthcare and education.
The world respects Mississippi.

I have the greatest possible respect for America's Christians.
And for the great state of Mississippi.
A modern Rome.


Better red than read.



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MANIC, IRRESPONSIBLE, IRRATIONAL

According to the gangster regime in Peking, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi's visit to Taiwan was "manic, irresponsible, (and) irrational". One rather wishes those fools would shut up, as they apparently have nothing meaningful to say, and are an embarrassment to more mature people. "What's that horrid noise?" "Oh, that's just communist China having a tantrum, pay it no mind."

It's like a baby throwing spaghetti over the floor.

Pooh should remember that in one sense full diplomatic relations mean extremely little; the people's republic is a source of trade, and a regrettable infiltrator on most college campuses, whereas The Republic Of China (On Taiwan) is a strategic partner and a long-time ally with whom we have deep ties and a meaningful friendship.


Many of the princelings of the red second generation have full stomachs and nothing better to do than point fingers and cause headaches. Maybe it's high time to send them back to the countryside?

 

It is not likely that there will be any significant changes during the next party conference (中國共產黨第二十次全國代表大會; 『 二十大』). The entrenched corrupt old guard has 'interests' to protect. They're kind of like the Republic Party bigwigs coddling Trump.



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AWAKE WITH A PRICKLE BURR

As an illustration of stupidity, there have been over fourteen thousand covid deaths in the United States since a month ago. These were mostly preventable. Statistically they were overwhelmingly among watchers of Duck Dynasty, so there is no problem, and we've improved as a nation. A remarkable number of them were drinkers of Frappucinos.

I mention this for readers who find my negativity about Caucasians, Republicans, and Christians recently objectionable. Good luck disputing the statement.

Think about it as long as you want.

You know it's true.


In other news, the algorithms seem to think that people like me are likely to buy tickets to watch Roger Waters perform live in San Francisco. Do I look like I'd want anything to do with that stinking anti-Semite? Well?!? Screw him and his repulsive fan base.
I've naturally reported that advertisement as "offensive".


So far, tentative plans for later in the day involve duck.

Nothing is firm yet. We'll see what happens.
First a smoke after coffee.
And a walk.



The reason why duck is that the straight shooting shorthaired waitress is working today. I like her, and I want that place to survive. The pandemic has not been kind to the neighborhood, and I've made it a point to patronize the businesses there as much as possible.
And I'm nothing if not self-interested in my spending.
I like roast duck very much.



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A DAY WITHOUT CAUCASIANS

Have you ever wondered what life would be like without White People? Well, today I found out. The only time I had to deal with them was while shaving (there was one in the mirror), at Walgreens upping my transit card and buying Russell Stover chocolates, and on the bus back home. The people who cooked my lunch (pepper sauce porkchops with brown gravy over rice; 黑椒豬扒飯), the people who served it to me with soup and milk tea, the other customers in the restaurant while I ate, the cashier and stockwoman at the grocery store and everybody else in the place, the staff at Walgreens, the counter ladies at the bakery and their customers, and the people I actually spoke to or dealt with, were all San Francisco's largest ethnic group. Except while eating or drinking at designated places, they all wore masks.

There were several maskless sociopaths on the bus. White. Of course.

[Many Caucasians ("white people") are infection-spreading cretins like you wouldn't believe. Especially tourists, Midwesterners, and yuppies working in the Financial District. Don't allow them near children and old people.]

So I didn't really need to deal with my fellow white people, except for swearing under my breath in Dutch and Cantonese. It was wonderful. Let me repeat that: wonderful.

I think Russell William Stover may have been white.
Good man. He invented the Eskimo Pie.
I'm fond of his choccies.

The walk through the alleyways with a pipe full of Red Virginia and Perique was quiet and contemplative. Chinatown off the beaten track is a safe peaceful place, where one can be oneself. Having a stout walking stick (blackthorn) for clobbering all-American idiots adds a further sense of confidence. Over the past two plus years, since the pandemic started, I have become significantly less tolerant of all-American stupidity, and the behaviour of the Euries does not inspire me with any positive thoughts either. Surely you remember all those videos of Italian officials screaming that if the populus did not exercise common sense, things would go south very rapidly? They didn't, and it did. From Treasure Island all the way to Constantinople many people acted like idiots.
Many people still do.


Two of my very good friends, who had taken all precautions, had to wait for hours in hospital emergency rooms because of covid-denying unmasked cretins. And it isn't over yet.


If you sense a certain frustration and anger, you are correct.
White people.


At this point I'm perfectly okay with the Red States intercoursing themselves.
Along with the people in the less populated parts of California.
As well as Los Angeles and Orange county.



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PAINED OFFENSE

Why don't we pronounce country names like the natives of those places? Well, it's difficult. Koninkrijk Der Nederlanden. Say it slow: 'Co.ning.kraik. Dehr. Nay.dur. Lahn.dun.' The ei (ij) combo is ay like egg drawn out a bit. Eyyyy. Oh for crap's sake, it's okay, we speak English, and your pronounciation puts our teeth on edge. Total cringe. Please DON'T try to speak Dutch, stomme vreemdeling.

And I'm quite okay with the local Cantonese thinking of me as a 荷蘭人 ("lotus elegance person"; 'ho laan yan') rather than anything else (actually: 荷蘭裔美國人).


So no, I see no reason to for instance think of the Egyptians as the Miserables. Les Masrables. Whatever. Al Jumhuriyat Masr Al Arabiya does not, for obvious reasons, roll glibly off the tongue of a Holaanyeuimeigwokyan. Neither does 'Kemet'. In English, it's Egypt. Not only because it always has been, but because in writing and in print that has been what we called the place, and that term has consequently reference and resonance.

As a consequence of someone's petulant internet whine that we should strive to call places what the locals call them I ended up reading about the Mikado by Gilbert and Sullivan, and listening to Three Little Maids From School Are We. Which, I've been given to believe, totally triggers Vegans and Radical Lesbian Femininists everywhere. Especially in Berkeley. It's imperialist cultural appropriation or sumpin'. Simplistic orientalist stereotypes, very hurtful.

Which poncy British men dressed up as women inevitably must be.

A jolly pleasing noise leaves me horribly offended. Forsooth.

I think I need to soothe my bruised sensibilities with tofu and a cup of jasmine tea. Imported worshipfully from Jungwaayanman gung wogwok (中華人民共和國). Prepared in a spirit of reverent appreciation of five thousand years of history, and mindful of the great contributions of ancient sages such as Confucius, Mencius, Laotze, and glorious mass murderer Mao.

If you mentally hear a loud raspberry here, that's your problem. And bear in mind that the raspberry was invented in the Bronx by repressed Eastern European refugees.
So you're disrespecting somebody unless you're from New York.


Actually, piss on all that; I'm heading off to a chachanteng for dragon tongue fish and a cup of milk tea. If I see anyone there wearing Guatamalan hippie rags I shall probably spew.


I do not live in Berkeley.
There are reasons.



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IT WAS WHAT IT IS

Lunch today was lovely in a way, surrounded by Germans. At a chachanteng. Where the Germans admitted they needed help, seeing as a chachanteng menu does not compute. Unless you're from Hong Kong or Taiwan, where such cuisine is not uncommon. All of them ended up with fried rice, fried noodles, egg rolls, and multiple glasses of cold lemon tea.
Now I know what to feed Germans, in case I ever have to host them.

What I had was a club sandwich and fries. Because that's what you do. In a Hong Kong style chachanteng when you're feeling unorthodox.

Gangster uncle came in halfway through my lunch, without any henchmen, and dined by himself. It's probably unfair and inaccurate to call him 'gangster', as he's more a fixer and an honest broker, but some of his associates are undoubtedly walking on the shady side.


Less than five hours after I left with a pipe clenched between my teeth I was back in the neighborhood, which inexplicably seemed jampacked with non-Chinese, some of whom looked at my pipe quizzically. Perhaps where they come from people don't have briar and use rolled-up newspapers. Possibly the Süddeutsche Zeitung.
Or the Salzburger Nachrichten.

SPOFFORD ALLEY SMOKE

Foggy. Nice. Not particularly cold. White woman with an accidentally naked breast walks by. Stubbornly look in a different direction, don't need any distraction from my smoke. Later in the burger joint, two darling young women with bouncy black, black pigtails and white boyfriends come in. I note that the height differential is not too great.

The beer hall was crowded, so was the karaoke joint, but the Caucasian music fans did not misbehave too badly, and other than some inane Spice Girls number did not inflict much suffering. You know sonny boy, in my day we didn't have Spice Girls garbage; we had good tunes at the karaoke bar. Marlene Dietrich, Bing Crosby, the Pointer Sisters. That was real music! And the videos were still black and white! None of this modern stuff!

The young lady from Peking leafing through the song lists standing next to the bookseller had pleasing roundnesses. He couldn't see that, but my vantage point was perfect. A bit crazy, as many mainlanders from the north are, but she seemed pleasant enough.

 

The ROC flag features in this essay only because I would far rather have had something by 鄧麗君 sung than that pointless and jejune crap from the Spice Girls.

Perhaps next week there will be more Chinese there.



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PEKING TANTRUM

A few years ago China put up even more defenses against the internet, in response to articles and essays critical of their reaction to the Hong Kong protests. This became evident when mainland visitors to this site, per my blog stats, went down to zero. So if I have any readers from the PRC they are government employees tasked with keeping an eye on foreign running dogs, and evenso it's quite unlikely that they're paying attention.

I flatter myself that my erudition and subtle wit might keep them enthralled, but the reality is that I am a very crude man, and nothing here is of any importance.

So I can go ahead and say what I think.


Which is that Winnie the Pooh must have soiled his diapers when Nancy Pelosi arrived in Taiwan. It highlighted the complete inconsequentiality of his regime to American politics. We could take down his diplomatic representation several notches -- shut down that spy mission consulate at 1450 Laguna Street, San Francisco, CA 94115 and several others across the country -- as well as reduce staff at our own offices in that country, and while it might have economic consequences, we would be better off. Might as well also impose extremely severe limitations on the local Chinese press, because in the main those are Peking mouthpieces controlled from overseas. One or two exceptions, but mostly garbage.

佩洛西

Per China's Foreign Minstry, Pelosi's visit to Taiwan is "a serious violation of the One-China principle that will have a severe impact on the political foundation of China-US relations" and "seriously infringes upon China's sovereignty and territorial integrity". The One China principle was deepsixed by their own crackdown on Hong Kong, proving that they are unreliable (which was never in doubt) and that they need to be curbed.


"It gravely undermines peace and stability across the Taiwan Strait, and sends a seriously wrong signal to the separatist forces for Taiwan independence"
-----China's Foreign ministry (中華人民共和國外交部)


"China has been compelled to act in self-defence. Any countermeasure to be taken by China would be a justified & necessary response to the US oblivion to China's repeated démarches and the US's unscrupulous behaviour".
-----Foreign Ministry Spokeswoman Hua Chunying (華春瑩同志)


Hong Kong's leader (李家超) has also strongly condemned Nancy Pelosi's visit to Taiwan, but no one takes that clown seriously anyhow. Shut up you dogs.

It always irritates me when I see the flag of the People's Republic flying on buildings in Chinatown. They should burn that damned rag instead. Lord knows I can understand ethnic and cultural pride, but there should be no place in this country for any banners representing brutal repression and cavalier disregard for civilized norms. Communist China's rulers make even the corrupt and despotic last imperial dynasty look clean. 反共复民。


I am suprised that Donald Trump didn't kiss up to them.
That they're gangsters can't have been a problem.



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POWER AND MEANING

Thanks to the miraculous workings of Facebook, I am reminded of 'Star Virgin', a Japanese movie. Quote: "A super heroine dressed in an atomic bikini sets out to save a friend from monsters, aliens, robots and a villain who wants to destroy Japan." She's probably hepped on Aramin V, an energy drink from Takeda Chemical Industries that Arnold Schwarzenegger advertised forty years ago. In Japanese. Which he doesn't speak. But it's magic and gives you powers. It doesn't give you wings. Bugger wings, you don't need wings. Wings, feh!
You star virgin you. You need a pink atomic bikini.

I am wearing an atomic bikini right now. Oh wait, I didn't have Aramin V, just coffee, my bikini is missing. I am wearing pajama bottoms and a bright yellow cigar brand tee-shirt. Under a grungy bathrobe. Coffee is an old man's drink. I am not a star virgin.

Please imagine Arnie in a pink atomic bikini.

Japan can do that.

Sadly, I have never seen the movie 'Star Virgin'. Despite the undoubted appeal of moe, chibi, and a Japanese girliepooh in a set of pink scanties with metal-grey trim, I feel that character development-wise there may be something missing there, and there are reasons to doubt that anything meaningful is said about the human condition.

Possibly they should have hired a Scandinavian or German director.
Then there would be angst und ein tiefe aussagekraft.

As it is, it has precisely the same intellectual appeal as Lord Of The Rings. Oh jayzus, would ya look at all the purdy purdy!


They really should've cast Arnie in LOTR.



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AMERICA: STELLAR OVER ACHIEVERS

Reading the news in the morning can lead to a weird mental state. A white man in New York killed a Chinese food delivery driver over duck sauce, black teenagers in San Francisco beat up a Chinese grandmother living in the projects and robbed her, burglars robbed half a dozen shops in Oakland's Vietnamese district, and several communities in the hinterlands of California are going up in flames.

Duck sauce? What the hell is duck sauce? Are you New Yorkers insane?

Crime is out of hand. Shoot juvenile delinquents.

And regarding those hinterland communities, yeah um that's where all the asshole righteous Republican Christians are, so like whatever, dudes, enjoy the heat, bye. Boondock California starts at the Bay Bridge and simply gets worse the further East you go. By the time you hit the Cumberland Gap it's been nothing but Deliverance, Duck Dynasty, Dukes of Hazard, Nascar fans, and toxic waste dump mutants for hundreds of miles.

[Plus the World's Biggest Ball of Twine (two of them), and the biggest EPA Superfund sites (all of Texas and Louisiana). Plus the largest teapot and the largest predatory freshwater pike. In West Virginia and Wisconsin, respectively.]


There are too many criminals and Christians in this country.

De-louse and deport the lot of them to Australia.
.

I think I'll head out for my morning walk with a pipe.
Maybe the world will be better when I return.



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A CASE OF THE NIMRODS

Last week he was supposed to return from Arizona, and I worried that he'd be all fired up with the whacko™ from an entire month of submersion among the Trumpite batshit. I dreaded him spending a few hours in the backroom again during my shifts. But it was not to be; he caught covid. So he's been all alone by himself with no one but the internet to talk to.
This may have tipped the poor spam-brained idiot over the edge.
The full Arizona PLUS the dark corners of the web?
A middle-aged Republican from Marin.
Oh dear Jesus!


His dim and distant view of reality may be so distorted that even electro-shock can't cure him, it would be humane to put a bullet through his head. Body bag, nearest bio-hazard landfill.


Anyway, I'm glad he wasn't around. There was enough craziness from those people without him adding hot raw sewage to the mix. And the one rational Republican, smoker of Davidoff Winston Churchill After Hours (black banded) toros and churchills, as well as the occasional Winston Churchill Limited Edition fat figurado that looks like a Daddy Warbucks stogie wasn't there. A lone voice of wit and intelligence since the retired member of the judicial branch got remarried and swallowed a full dose of his wife's family's rabid Viet-exile paranoid facism.
The backroom was filled with floating turds.

"HOW REPUBLICANS REPRODUCE"

BIOLOGY ILLUSTRATION, H. BOSCH

As you can no doubt imagine, I am glad to have time off. I need to step away from the ooze.

I intend to spend my free days smoking Cornell & Diehl's Anthology in my pipes, swilling tea, and avoiding tourists, Midwesterners, Southern Californians, people from the interior (many of them visiting civilization to get away from their weather), Southerners, East-Coasters, Alaskans, and missionaries.

Life is too short to spend all of it among the missing links.

I'll hear everything about Arizona when I return.

A pox upon them. Monkeys.



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All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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RABBIT RABBIT

One of the most ridiculous public service announcement lines has to be "I learned that heart failure ... means you have to talk a doctor". Either the tense is wrong (as is the verb) or the noun. Please clean that up, lousy copy writer. Coroner. See a coroner. "Doctor, what's the matter with this patient?" "He's dead, son."

He's passed on! This man is no more! He has ceased to be! He's expired and gone to meet his maker! He's a stiff! Bereft of life, he rests in peace! His metabolic processes are history, he's off the twig, has kicked the bucket, shuffled off his mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleeding choir invisible!

That's going to be an interesting entry to the patient's file.
First line: "Should have talked to a doctor".
Second line: "Entry deleted".


I've got both a doctor's appointment and a cardiologist's appointment next week. As part of the regular routine to make sure that I'm still hopping about and full of piss and vinegar.

I am not a zombie.

As usual, I am looking forward to this, because I like this fact to be professionally confirmed.
By people who are experts in such matters. It's better than just anecdotal evidence.



The illustration above has nothing to do with this; it's there because as a personal variation on the custom of saying "rabbit rabbit" first thing in the morning on the first day of a new month, I've gotten into the habit of posting a picture of the beast.




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