Yeah, you know all those obstinately unvaccinated adults swamping the emergency rooms and intensive care units? Screw them. Seriously. Screw them. They could have gotten vaxxed by now, they didn't, they are displacing other patients.
[Plus envision piles of rotting cadavers clogging the Mississippi, bulldozed there by rational people sick and tired of the Magaite nonsense and obduracy. They are returning to nature and feeding the vultures and worms. It's a beautiful thing.]
Someone tried to tell me recently that the Omicron variant is a plot to take power away from the people and give it to the ultra rich, AND that the vaccine was designed to lessen fertility in order that there will be fewer of us and we can't take over.
I do not have any sympathy for idiots like that.
He can take his Jesus and shove it.
Oh, and wear your mask.
Also over the nose.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, December 22, 2021
Tuesday, December 21, 2021
NOT JUST THE FROGS
As you probably realize, pipesmokers desperately need pockets. Favourable attention too, but primarily pockets. So that we don't have to ponce around with a handbag to carry our two or three pipes, a tin of tobacco, tampers, cleaners, matches, battered copy of James Joyce's Ulysses, and identification in case we get cited for battery at a riotous demonstration.
Some tobacco brands came in tins too large for standard pockets. Solani is one still available, McClelland was one that ceased production nearly four years ago, and there was a time when the Dunhill mixtures also came in hundred gramme tins.
The regular McClelland tins were only a little too large, but the hundred grammes at twice that size might excite curiosity. And require what is affectionately known as a 'Flasher Mac', that being a skeevy-looking overcoat suitable for perverts. Which I used to wear.
Nowadays I have backpack with a Japanese anime heroine.
It's far, far less disturbing.
At one time, most pipesmokers probably looked like scrawny cousins of Ignatius O'Reilly, with considerably larger 'pockets' of stale air. Probably because instead of too many wine cakes they indulged in fine tobacco.
[At one time I seriously considered majoring in Mediaeval Studies, like Ignatz mentioned above. But I came to my senses. I would not have contributed anything significant or meaningful, unlike my phd cousin who is a genius.]
McCLELLAND TOBACO
When that respected Missouri company closed its doors after forty years of making remarkable tobaccos, I counted the tins of it I had left. There was enough to smoke it regularly for almost four years, but since then I have not opened a single tin. Some of it has been aging for over two decades. It should be good now.
STUFF WITH LATAKIA
Three great English / Balkan mixtures they made were Three Oaks Syrian, Wilderness, and Legends. The first was formulated by Tad Gage and is a brilliant masterpiece.
The latter two are Fred Hanna's recipes and are stellar.
And they were very nice old fashioned tobaccos. Lighting up a bowlful was a contemplative act. Perfect for a long rainy afternoon in Autumn or Winter, with a book, hot tea, and a decanter of sherry that your nearest and dearest knew nothing about because they understood that you were "that way" again, fully occupied, and not to be bothered with a to-do list.
[Or liberate the bottle of cooking plonk from the kitchen. If chosen well, it will do nicely.]
For the sherry, you could substitute 绍酒酒 ('siu heng jau'; Shaoxing rice wine). Just inform the Cantonese American woman in the other room that you are conducting experiments, and that drunken chicken is not on the menu tonight. She doesn't drink, so she won't focus on the fact that you're spending four hours in the garage. With her bottle.
By the way: I seldom imbibe, and there is no garage.
We've never cooked drunken chicken either.
My friend Martin is particularly fond of Oriental Mixture No. 14., which is medium full Latakia with tangy Turkish on a base of red and black Virginias. It's Oriental forward, tangy and creamy, wine-like. A very rewarding and extremely old-style product. The Turkish note is top-notch. Terms like 'woodsy', 'cedar', 'myrtle', and 'oak' can be flung about; there is a tannic hint there, as well as the faintest whisper of the famous / notorious McClelland "ketchup".
But for many this would be a go-to all day smoke.
They also had a whole series of Frog Morton blends -- Frog Morton (full English), Frog Morton Across The Pond (more English, with Syrian Latakia), Frog Morton On The Bayou (English, but with some Louisiana Perique), Frog Morton On The Town (lighter English, with more Oriental leaf), Frog Morton Cellar (Virginias, Latakia, and one or two largeish chunks of charred bourbon barrel for "flavour", probably what Edgar Allen Poe smoked while bricking up his friend) -- of which I have some, but I'm not a fan. They're decent. But by no means worth going nuts over.
FLUE-CURED LEAF
What McClelland remains most known for, however, are pressed matured Virginias, and Mary McNiel's lovely label art. The row of tins on any tobacconist's shelves stated that you had just entered an establishment that took pipe tobacco seriously and aspired to something higher than grotty skidrow headshop. This was something worth appreciating.
Many people were extremely fond of their 5100 Red Cake (Virginia tobacco, high natural sugar content, primarily a blending tobacco), which was sold straight or mixed with some black by a number of tobacconists. It was excellent. The kidney specialist who took up counter space with his one half pint and the Wall Street Journal of an evening became desolate, desperate, utterly heartbroken, and bereft, when it disappeared. Whatever was he to do, what was this world coming to, had the communists finally taken over? Woe! Woe!
Yeah, um.
[And that gentleman on the interwebs gloating, at the time, that he was safe, he did not smoke McClellands, he smoked McCranie's, hah, losers, was delicious in his despair when he found out that, erm, eh, it was actually McClelland tobacco, and there would be no more. Sorry, dude.]
In the bookcase behind me there are tins of No. 24 Virginia, various iterations of Christmas Cheer, and Dominican Glory Maduro. Perhaps one of them would be a good tobacco to smoke in January, when the nonsense of the holiday season is behind us, and several weeks of bleak weather lie ahead. This requires careful consideration. Perhaps I need to light up a pipe to help me think.
Later today: Bank, lunch, vegetables, ointment.
Another smoke after eating at Yat Pan Mei.
Then freezing my tuchus with a pipe.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Some tobacco brands came in tins too large for standard pockets. Solani is one still available, McClelland was one that ceased production nearly four years ago, and there was a time when the Dunhill mixtures also came in hundred gramme tins.
Nowadays I have backpack with a Japanese anime heroine.
It's far, far less disturbing.
At one time, most pipesmokers probably looked like scrawny cousins of Ignatius O'Reilly, with considerably larger 'pockets' of stale air. Probably because instead of too many wine cakes they indulged in fine tobacco.
[At one time I seriously considered majoring in Mediaeval Studies, like Ignatz mentioned above. But I came to my senses. I would not have contributed anything significant or meaningful, unlike my phd cousin who is a genius.]
McCLELLAND TOBACO
When that respected Missouri company closed its doors after forty years of making remarkable tobaccos, I counted the tins of it I had left. There was enough to smoke it regularly for almost four years, but since then I have not opened a single tin. Some of it has been aging for over two decades. It should be good now.
STUFF WITH LATAKIA
Three great English / Balkan mixtures they made were Three Oaks Syrian, Wilderness, and Legends. The first was formulated by Tad Gage and is a brilliant masterpiece.
The latter two are Fred Hanna's recipes and are stellar.
And they were very nice old fashioned tobaccos. Lighting up a bowlful was a contemplative act. Perfect for a long rainy afternoon in Autumn or Winter, with a book, hot tea, and a decanter of sherry that your nearest and dearest knew nothing about because they understood that you were "that way" again, fully occupied, and not to be bothered with a to-do list.
[Or liberate the bottle of cooking plonk from the kitchen. If chosen well, it will do nicely.]
For the sherry, you could substitute 绍酒酒 ('siu heng jau'; Shaoxing rice wine). Just inform the Cantonese American woman in the other room that you are conducting experiments, and that drunken chicken is not on the menu tonight. She doesn't drink, so she won't focus on the fact that you're spending four hours in the garage. With her bottle.
By the way: I seldom imbibe, and there is no garage.
We've never cooked drunken chicken either.
My friend Martin is particularly fond of Oriental Mixture No. 14., which is medium full Latakia with tangy Turkish on a base of red and black Virginias. It's Oriental forward, tangy and creamy, wine-like. A very rewarding and extremely old-style product. The Turkish note is top-notch. Terms like 'woodsy', 'cedar', 'myrtle', and 'oak' can be flung about; there is a tannic hint there, as well as the faintest whisper of the famous / notorious McClelland "ketchup".
But for many this would be a go-to all day smoke.
They also had a whole series of Frog Morton blends -- Frog Morton (full English), Frog Morton Across The Pond (more English, with Syrian Latakia), Frog Morton On The Bayou (English, but with some Louisiana Perique), Frog Morton On The Town (lighter English, with more Oriental leaf), Frog Morton Cellar (Virginias, Latakia, and one or two largeish chunks of charred bourbon barrel for "flavour", probably what Edgar Allen Poe smoked while bricking up his friend) -- of which I have some, but I'm not a fan. They're decent. But by no means worth going nuts over.
FLUE-CURED LEAF
What McClelland remains most known for, however, are pressed matured Virginias, and Mary McNiel's lovely label art. The row of tins on any tobacconist's shelves stated that you had just entered an establishment that took pipe tobacco seriously and aspired to something higher than grotty skidrow headshop. This was something worth appreciating.
Many people were extremely fond of their 5100 Red Cake (Virginia tobacco, high natural sugar content, primarily a blending tobacco), which was sold straight or mixed with some black by a number of tobacconists. It was excellent. The kidney specialist who took up counter space with his one half pint and the Wall Street Journal of an evening became desolate, desperate, utterly heartbroken, and bereft, when it disappeared. Whatever was he to do, what was this world coming to, had the communists finally taken over? Woe! Woe!
Yeah, um.
[And that gentleman on the interwebs gloating, at the time, that he was safe, he did not smoke McClellands, he smoked McCranie's, hah, losers, was delicious in his despair when he found out that, erm, eh, it was actually McClelland tobacco, and there would be no more. Sorry, dude.]
In the bookcase behind me there are tins of No. 24 Virginia, various iterations of Christmas Cheer, and Dominican Glory Maduro. Perhaps one of them would be a good tobacco to smoke in January, when the nonsense of the holiday season is behind us, and several weeks of bleak weather lie ahead. This requires careful consideration. Perhaps I need to light up a pipe to help me think.
Another smoke after eating at Yat Pan Mei.
Then freezing my tuchus with a pipe.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
THOSE DAYS, THESE TIMES
The bakery where I went for tea first opened when I still lived nearby, they're on the edge of Chinatown just before the rowdy part of North Beach. It was bright and new then, slightly faded now. There were still two active movie theatres in the neighborhood. For many years I did not know that they also cooked lunch; I couldn't read Chinese yet, and never even asked if they had a menu. Also, I wasn't really paying attention.
Several years ago I started having a meal there two or three times per month. Roughly at the same time as I developed a liking for Hong Kong Milk Tea, which they also serve.
Their version is very nice. Silken-velvety on the tongue.
I had already discovered that they also do very nice lo po beng.
A lo po beng is a small flat biscuit-pastry filled with wintermelon paste. What makes it better than a linyong beng is that the crust is composed of two doughs; one made with water, the other made with shortening. Rolled and folded together, then wrapped around the filling.
When baked, the two substances separate, yielding a light flaky crust.
Some of the foods are strictly Chinatown, for a less-monied crowd. Insta noodles with luncheon meat, fried egg, and a little bokchoi, for instance. Affordable for an aged auntie on a limited income. Or light fluffy paper wrapped cupcakes (紙包蛋糕 'ji bau daan gou'), which little children love and their parents can afford to treat them to.
They used to be quite busy before the pandemic. Nowadays fewer customers drop by for late afternoon snacking and caffeine, and I have not seen any tourists wander in to ask if they have a bathroom in several months. For your information, bathrooms become magically available in this city if you spend a little. That's why many places have opened their doors; they want to do business. You having a powder is not business. Well, it's your business, but doesn't pay bills.
[In Europe public washrooms have a little saucer for you to put some money on. It helps keep them open, and clean.]
In all honesty, I do not mind if the tourists can't find a loo. And I like them not coming in anymore. They were a waste of time before, they are a public health hazard now.
For entirely goofy reasons, I associate this bakery with two pipes.
One of which I smoked after tea time.
A recollective fragrance.
Very nice.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Several years ago I started having a meal there two or three times per month. Roughly at the same time as I developed a liking for Hong Kong Milk Tea, which they also serve.
Their version is very nice. Silken-velvety on the tongue.
I had already discovered that they also do very nice lo po beng.
When baked, the two substances separate, yielding a light flaky crust.
Some of the foods are strictly Chinatown, for a less-monied crowd. Insta noodles with luncheon meat, fried egg, and a little bokchoi, for instance. Affordable for an aged auntie on a limited income. Or light fluffy paper wrapped cupcakes (紙包蛋糕 'ji bau daan gou'), which little children love and their parents can afford to treat them to.
They used to be quite busy before the pandemic. Nowadays fewer customers drop by for late afternoon snacking and caffeine, and I have not seen any tourists wander in to ask if they have a bathroom in several months. For your information, bathrooms become magically available in this city if you spend a little. That's why many places have opened their doors; they want to do business. You having a powder is not business. Well, it's your business, but doesn't pay bills.
[In Europe public washrooms have a little saucer for you to put some money on. It helps keep them open, and clean.]
In all honesty, I do not mind if the tourists can't find a loo. And I like them not coming in anymore. They were a waste of time before, they are a public health hazard now.
For entirely goofy reasons, I associate this bakery with two pipes.
A recollective fragrance.
Very nice.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, December 20, 2021
THE HEADLINES PAINT PICTURES
As you probably know, I follow current affairs keenly. I like to think that I am better informed than many people, and conversations I have overheard among cigar smokers (I'm a pipe smoker) confirm that; they're all solid lead in the middle gold plated idiots.
Sometimes the news is not, necessarily, the news.
Not all news is created equal.
HEADLINES THIS EVENING ON WHICH I WILL NOT CLICK.
Monkeys captured after killing 250 in revenge killings in Indian town
Girl flew abroad despite knowing she had Covid
Unvaxed Texas man first to die in U.S. from Omicron variant
Suspect arrested in machete attack near San Jose homeless encampment
Flyers blaming Jewish people for Covid circulate in California, Northern Carolina Areas
Marjorie Taylor Greene's Polio vaccine comment gets scorched
Marjorie Taylor Greene Refers to 'Yellow People' in Speech on GOP Diversity
Marjorie Taylor Greene Falsely Claims New York Passed Bill to Forcibly Vaccinate People
Why Trump just can't stop himself from leveraging antisemitic stereotypes
Sarah Palin gave a speech opposing vaccination, and said she would get a shot 'over my dead body'
Many of these headlines are not surprising; of course they did that, they're idiots.
Let's see. That's one subcontinental weirdness, one entitled Karen, one violent loony, and a whole slew of Republican loathsomeness. All very predictable.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sometimes the news is not, necessarily, the news.
Not all news is created equal.
HEADLINES THIS EVENING ON WHICH I WILL NOT CLICK.
Monkeys captured after killing 250 in revenge killings in Indian town
Girl flew abroad despite knowing she had Covid
Unvaxed Texas man first to die in U.S. from Omicron variant
Suspect arrested in machete attack near San Jose homeless encampment
Flyers blaming Jewish people for Covid circulate in California, Northern Carolina Areas
Marjorie Taylor Greene's Polio vaccine comment gets scorched
Marjorie Taylor Greene Refers to 'Yellow People' in Speech on GOP Diversity
Marjorie Taylor Greene Falsely Claims New York Passed Bill to Forcibly Vaccinate People
Why Trump just can't stop himself from leveraging antisemitic stereotypes
Sarah Palin gave a speech opposing vaccination, and said she would get a shot 'over my dead body'
Many of these headlines are not surprising; of course they did that, they're idiots.
Let's see. That's one subcontinental weirdness, one entitled Karen, one violent loony, and a whole slew of Republican loathsomeness. All very predictable.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
DON'T CALL 911!
When you call 911, the fire department arrives. Then, if they judge that a medical emergency is actually happening (which might take a few minutes), they will call for one of their ambulances, and transport you to the designated facility (in SF that's General Hospital), where professionals are assisting overdoses, people having psychotic episodes, bleeding gunshot or stab victims, and disoriented individuals having seizures or hallucinating. If you are still sentient, NOT bleeding, and reasonably rational, you will be put on the backburner.
To be dealt with in the fullness of time.
A friend accross the country recently called his doctor and was told to get to the emergency room stat. He did, and waited two days while they processed COVID cases. Then he left, untreated. Cardiac palpitations, a heart attack less than a month ago.
Last year another friend had a stroke. Then had a few more in the emergency room, because they were flooded with COVID cases in an area of this country where most of the citizens still refuse to acknowledge that there is a pandemic, mask-wearers were sneered at and threatened, and where fewer people are vaccinated than the national average.
Four years ago a different friend was hauled into the emergency room. After delayed treatment (rushed and therefore less than fully competent), he ended up with infected bladder and kidneys and in far worse health than he should have been.
Most of his organs were affected.
When my appendix ruptured, and after hours of excruciating pain I decided that I would not be able to head to to work that morning, instead of calling 911, I took a taxi to the nearest hospital (not General), got there in less than five minutes (the taxi driver did not take my vitals and try to ascertain whether I needed to get treatment, but stepped on the gas prontpo) and was promptly admitted and on a gurney within a very short time indeed.
I was the only person requiring attention at five A.M..
That was over two years ago.
In San Bernardino County, a resident at a care facility which had called emergency services was very carefully and attentively NOT assisted by the fire department; they would not enter despite urgency, desperate measures, and cardiac arrest. They stood outside refusing to do anything at all, because they had been told to avoid such situations during Covid by their superiors, with an imperfectly remembered or understood memo).
Naturally no firefighter got infected.
The subject died.
'An outdated April 2020 coronavirus memo from the San Bernardino County Fire Chiefs' Association which noted that "personnel responding to long-term care facilities" should take steps to "minimize any potential risk for exposure," -- One solution was for the dispatch centers to request the facility bring the patient outside. But the memo also said that if a patient cannot be moved, a first responder can enter and "interact with the patient." '
SOURCE: Cardiac Arrest -- Paramedics Refused To Enter
[Link: https://www.sfgate.com/news/article/A-patient-at-a-care-facility-was-in-cardiac-16715079.php]
The main points of this are don't call 911, and avoid the main emergency room in your city at all costs. Especially during this pandemic. Also, an ambulance -- if one actually is summoned AFTER the fire department has made sure you are dying -- will cost you several hundred dollars. You don't need fire fighters or the police if you are having a cardiac arrest.
That's not their competence or main skillset.
Further note: a few weeks ago an elderly Cantonese gentleman fell and hurt his head slightly less than one block away from San Francisco Chinese Hospital. The emergency responders (Fire Department) called an ambulance, which nearly half an hour after he stumbled took him to SF General Hospital, all the way across the city, where there are fewer Cantonese speaking staff, despite there being an emergency room one block away. And SF General tends to bill at exorbitant rates to make up for the many non-payment capables who end up there (that being the previously mentioned overdoses, people having psychotic episodes, bleeding gunshot or stab victims, and disoriented individuals having seizures or hallucinating).
If that happens to me, I'll fight off the emergency responders with my stick and stumble my ass up the block to SF Chinese Hospital. I happen to know that they're extremely competent there.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
To be dealt with in the fullness of time.
A friend accross the country recently called his doctor and was told to get to the emergency room stat. He did, and waited two days while they processed COVID cases. Then he left, untreated. Cardiac palpitations, a heart attack less than a month ago.
Last year another friend had a stroke. Then had a few more in the emergency room, because they were flooded with COVID cases in an area of this country where most of the citizens still refuse to acknowledge that there is a pandemic, mask-wearers were sneered at and threatened, and where fewer people are vaccinated than the national average.
Four years ago a different friend was hauled into the emergency room. After delayed treatment (rushed and therefore less than fully competent), he ended up with infected bladder and kidneys and in far worse health than he should have been.
Most of his organs were affected.
When my appendix ruptured, and after hours of excruciating pain I decided that I would not be able to head to to work that morning, instead of calling 911, I took a taxi to the nearest hospital (not General), got there in less than five minutes (the taxi driver did not take my vitals and try to ascertain whether I needed to get treatment, but stepped on the gas prontpo) and was promptly admitted and on a gurney within a very short time indeed.
I was the only person requiring attention at five A.M..
That was over two years ago.
In San Bernardino County, a resident at a care facility which had called emergency services was very carefully and attentively NOT assisted by the fire department; they would not enter despite urgency, desperate measures, and cardiac arrest. They stood outside refusing to do anything at all, because they had been told to avoid such situations during Covid by their superiors, with an imperfectly remembered or understood memo).
Naturally no firefighter got infected.
The subject died.
'An outdated April 2020 coronavirus memo from the San Bernardino County Fire Chiefs' Association which noted that "personnel responding to long-term care facilities" should take steps to "minimize any potential risk for exposure," -- One solution was for the dispatch centers to request the facility bring the patient outside. But the memo also said that if a patient cannot be moved, a first responder can enter and "interact with the patient." '
SOURCE: Cardiac Arrest -- Paramedics Refused To Enter
[Link: https://www.sfgate.com/news/article/A-patient-at-a-care-facility-was-in-cardiac-16715079.php]
The main points of this are don't call 911, and avoid the main emergency room in your city at all costs. Especially during this pandemic. Also, an ambulance -- if one actually is summoned AFTER the fire department has made sure you are dying -- will cost you several hundred dollars. You don't need fire fighters or the police if you are having a cardiac arrest.
That's not their competence or main skillset.
Further note: a few weeks ago an elderly Cantonese gentleman fell and hurt his head slightly less than one block away from San Francisco Chinese Hospital. The emergency responders (Fire Department) called an ambulance, which nearly half an hour after he stumbled took him to SF General Hospital, all the way across the city, where there are fewer Cantonese speaking staff, despite there being an emergency room one block away. And SF General tends to bill at exorbitant rates to make up for the many non-payment capables who end up there (that being the previously mentioned overdoses, people having psychotic episodes, bleeding gunshot or stab victims, and disoriented individuals having seizures or hallucinating).
If that happens to me, I'll fight off the emergency responders with my stick and stumble my ass up the block to SF Chinese Hospital. I happen to know that they're extremely competent there.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
DON'T WAKE UP
When I woke up it was with the bleakness of a more northern place in my head: the 'kleine markt' in Valkenswaard, on a dry winter day. Leafless trees, treeless leaves, solid small-town gentry residences, the insurance office and the old postal facility, city hall to the right, the protestant church for the carpetbaggers from "boven de rivieren" off to the left.
So, facing south. Grey. Very Edward Gorey-esque. And ages ago.
[Boven de rivieren: Above the rivers; the northern provinces, where life is fast, filled with Protestant attitudes, and less mannerly.]
What built the town was the cigar industry. It started when the place was mired in poverty and malnutrition and people died young. Nearly five generations worked there, rolling cigars, selling products to all of Europe, sending representatives abroad to learn about the world in addition to sourcing leaf from South America and the Indies, bringing back ideas about electricity, running water, modern medicine, and education.
Nowadays those cigar factories are all gone, of course, because traditional tobacco processing (fermenting and aging of Varinas and Besuki leaf) for the product that raised the place out of grinding poverty, while useful in its time (it took well over a century), is no longer part of the urban Netherlands. Gravid middle class citizens and educated doctors don't thoughtfully puff on their short elegant perfectos while considering which horses to bet on at the races anymore, small shopkeepers don't enjoy a corona over a glass of amber-hued firewater and a coffee at the café-billard before heading back for dinner. They no longer live above their businesses, but out in the residential neighborhoods; the cramped space upstairs or behind is rented out to a nice professional couple fleeing the denser cities and the crowds of the coastal provinces.
College kids home from Nijmegen or Utrecht for a few weeks don't purchase bundles of cheap smokes (the cigars with imperfect wrapper leaves sold at a low price, unbanded and without a brand to boast); I believe their current sinful indulgence might be having fried foods that contain meat instead of the pure vegetarian chow they eat when among their saintly classmates, or wearing socially irresponsible fabrics that require third world misery to make.
You understand of course that the Netherlands have changed. The postwar generations have completed what the Germans started; the old society and most of its grotty damp buildings and spaces have been removed, and brand new modern architecture with sharp corners and clean surfaces have been built instead. Except, of course, for picturesque inner city areas which were always photogenic. Amsterdam and Utrecht still look much the same.
But the suburbs are more modern and efficient.
Rotterdam is, as you know, a well-thought out sensibly built ultra urban hellhole filled with angry rioting yobbos and Feijenoord supporters. Not worth visiting, as fits the biggest port in Europe. Tourists never go there. The Germans flattened it, afterwards the Dutch rebuilt it differently.
Tobacco is so Old-World. Unhealthy, icky, and filled with colonial guilt.
Unlike coffee, which the Dutch still passionately love.
Which I'm drinking at the moment.
[The Dutch consume over twice as much coffee as Americans. I could sneer at us Yanks about that. A hazelnut caramel low fat frosty swirl is NOT a beverage that any adult should consume. Not even a Texan.]
The last two cigar factories in the entire Kempen, out of the hundreds that once flourished there, closed over a year ago. No, the pandemic had nothing to do with that, the economy and society changed. The formerly famous houses have changed hands, still extant brands and trademarks are produced elsewhere by large concerns which own them as investments.
The Dutch no longer smoke in cafes, restaurants, bars, and social clubs.
The stinky old way of life has permanently disappeared.
They've become rather boringly American.
I blame Coca Cola and jazz.
Plus Elvis.
Smoked a Charatan with my first and second cup this morning.
Filled with a lovely flake from Cornell & Diehl.
A blend of red and bright Virginias.
It helped the memories.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
So, facing south. Grey. Very Edward Gorey-esque. And ages ago.
[Boven de rivieren: Above the rivers; the northern provinces, where life is fast, filled with Protestant attitudes, and less mannerly.]
What built the town was the cigar industry. It started when the place was mired in poverty and malnutrition and people died young. Nearly five generations worked there, rolling cigars, selling products to all of Europe, sending representatives abroad to learn about the world in addition to sourcing leaf from South America and the Indies, bringing back ideas about electricity, running water, modern medicine, and education.
Nowadays those cigar factories are all gone, of course, because traditional tobacco processing (fermenting and aging of Varinas and Besuki leaf) for the product that raised the place out of grinding poverty, while useful in its time (it took well over a century), is no longer part of the urban Netherlands. Gravid middle class citizens and educated doctors don't thoughtfully puff on their short elegant perfectos while considering which horses to bet on at the races anymore, small shopkeepers don't enjoy a corona over a glass of amber-hued firewater and a coffee at the café-billard before heading back for dinner. They no longer live above their businesses, but out in the residential neighborhoods; the cramped space upstairs or behind is rented out to a nice professional couple fleeing the denser cities and the crowds of the coastal provinces.
College kids home from Nijmegen or Utrecht for a few weeks don't purchase bundles of cheap smokes (the cigars with imperfect wrapper leaves sold at a low price, unbanded and without a brand to boast); I believe their current sinful indulgence might be having fried foods that contain meat instead of the pure vegetarian chow they eat when among their saintly classmates, or wearing socially irresponsible fabrics that require third world misery to make.
You understand of course that the Netherlands have changed. The postwar generations have completed what the Germans started; the old society and most of its grotty damp buildings and spaces have been removed, and brand new modern architecture with sharp corners and clean surfaces have been built instead. Except, of course, for picturesque inner city areas which were always photogenic. Amsterdam and Utrecht still look much the same.
But the suburbs are more modern and efficient.
Rotterdam is, as you know, a well-thought out sensibly built ultra urban hellhole filled with angry rioting yobbos and Feijenoord supporters. Not worth visiting, as fits the biggest port in Europe. Tourists never go there. The Germans flattened it, afterwards the Dutch rebuilt it differently.
Tobacco is so Old-World. Unhealthy, icky, and filled with colonial guilt.
Unlike coffee, which the Dutch still passionately love.
[The Dutch consume over twice as much coffee as Americans. I could sneer at us Yanks about that. A hazelnut caramel low fat frosty swirl is NOT a beverage that any adult should consume. Not even a Texan.]
The last two cigar factories in the entire Kempen, out of the hundreds that once flourished there, closed over a year ago. No, the pandemic had nothing to do with that, the economy and society changed. The formerly famous houses have changed hands, still extant brands and trademarks are produced elsewhere by large concerns which own them as investments.
The Dutch no longer smoke in cafes, restaurants, bars, and social clubs.
The stinky old way of life has permanently disappeared.
They've become rather boringly American.
I blame Coca Cola and jazz.
Plus Elvis.
Smoked a Charatan with my first and second cup this morning.
A blend of red and bright Virginias.
It helped the memories.
TOBACCO INDEX
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Sunday, December 19, 2021
RIGHTWING WEASEL ORGY
The boys in the backroom first spent an hour chivying the lone liberal, then happily howled and cheered while watching the local team do something utterly stupendous. It was very noisy. The retired member of the judicial branch must have wet his lucky boxers which he hsn't washed in ten years repeatedly. His wife had let him out, and he was determined to enjoy his freedom.
I have no skin in the game, am repulsed by their company, and never use those chairs anyhow, so they can stain them all they want.
Instead, I quietly puttered around elsewhere, and got a lot done.
I'm good at ignoring savages.
Quite frankly, the obscene fascination that many cigar smokers have for "the game" is quite as baffling as the obsession with Lord Of The Rings trivia and story that a number of pipesmokers have. There's probably an overlap somewhere, but as a very occasional cigar smoker and fairly regular pipesmoker, I very much wish that fetishists on either side would kindly stuff a sock in it. Hurling pigskins is twaddle. Casting rings into fiery pits is twaddle. Men wearing helmets are not worth losing control of your precious bowels over.
On the other hand, the Saturday zombie who is addicted to watching women playing tennis (while huffing a cheap cheroot) is also out of his mind.
I am a co-enabler. I make it easier for boring old buggers to be unbearable.
As well as poison themselves.
You will be glad to know that no beer was consumed, nor mystery meat chili made in an electric crockpot shaped like a football. They're not dying of acid reflux on my watch.
I wouldn't want to clean that mess up if they did.
Fat-head-shame the lot of them.
Bloated twats.
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I have no skin in the game, am repulsed by their company, and never use those chairs anyhow, so they can stain them all they want.
Instead, I quietly puttered around elsewhere, and got a lot done.
I'm good at ignoring savages.
Quite frankly, the obscene fascination that many cigar smokers have for "the game" is quite as baffling as the obsession with Lord Of The Rings trivia and story that a number of pipesmokers have. There's probably an overlap somewhere, but as a very occasional cigar smoker and fairly regular pipesmoker, I very much wish that fetishists on either side would kindly stuff a sock in it. Hurling pigskins is twaddle. Casting rings into fiery pits is twaddle. Men wearing helmets are not worth losing control of your precious bowels over.
On the other hand, the Saturday zombie who is addicted to watching women playing tennis (while huffing a cheap cheroot) is also out of his mind.
I am a co-enabler. I make it easier for boring old buggers to be unbearable.
As well as poison themselves.
You will be glad to know that no beer was consumed, nor mystery meat chili made in an electric crockpot shaped like a football. They're not dying of acid reflux on my watch.
I wouldn't want to clean that mess up if they did.
Fat-head-shame the lot of them.
Bloated twats.
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METHODOLOGY IS A CONCERN
For some reason I remembered the time a woman at a bar pulled out her breast and started massaging it at me, asking "does my femininity threaten you?" No, I cannot remember what the breast looked like or which one of two possibles it was. I'm sure it was more or less breast-like, and situated somewhere on her body. I can remember the environment in which it happened much more clearly. I haven't been there in over two decades.
I find the existence of breasts to be both intellectually and numerically stimulating.
Variables: surface texture, temperature, resistance, hue(s), dimensions, and size.
But her feminity did not threaten me. Until that moment I didn't realize that the subject was up for discussion, although I was aware that she was female or at least had the correct general characteristics to qualify in that regard. And because I was in a relationship at that time I felt the need to cut the conversation short and disassociate myself perhaps more pressingly then than at present. I am not in a relationship now, and have not seen an actual breast in years.
I would still cut the conversation short and disassociate myself given similar circumstances such as those under which the breast was presented. There are better times and places for breast presentation. More suitable and appropriate times and places.
For some strange reason I think a measure of privacy might be good.
Plus well-meaning positive or reassuring chit-chat beforehand.
The issue is deserving of thought.
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I find the existence of breasts to be both intellectually and numerically stimulating.
Roadmap
Variables: surface texture, temperature, resistance, hue(s), dimensions, and size.
But her feminity did not threaten me. Until that moment I didn't realize that the subject was up for discussion, although I was aware that she was female or at least had the correct general characteristics to qualify in that regard. And because I was in a relationship at that time I felt the need to cut the conversation short and disassociate myself perhaps more pressingly then than at present. I am not in a relationship now, and have not seen an actual breast in years.
I would still cut the conversation short and disassociate myself given similar circumstances such as those under which the breast was presented. There are better times and places for breast presentation. More suitable and appropriate times and places.
For some strange reason I think a measure of privacy might be good.
Plus well-meaning positive or reassuring chit-chat beforehand.
The issue is deserving of thought.
==========================================================================
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Saturday, December 18, 2021
FUN FOR THE ENTIRE FAMILY
It's the season for Christmas movies. I would like to nominate The Wasp Woman as an appropriate film for the yuletide. Per Wikipedia: "The Wasp Woman (also known as The Bee Girl and Insect Woman) is a 1959 American independent science-fiction horror film produced and directed by Roger Corman. Filmed in black-and-white, it stars Susan Cabot, Anthony Eisley, Michael Mark, and Barboura Morris. The film was originally released by Filmgroup as a double feature with Beast from Haunted Cave."End cite.
I have not seen the movie. My apartment mate watched it over several nights. It's about a youth restorative serum with an unfortunate side effect. And it sounded thrilling.
Just the ticket for a dull holiday season. Screaming.
You may have heard the music before.
My illustration above had nothing to do with The Wasp Woman, I drew it after murder hornets were discovered in Washington State a while back. Which, according to some people was a nefarious commie plot. Why was not explained.
Fab youth serum takes twenty years off your appearance.
You'll have to eat your coworkers, though.
It may be a small price to pay.
Acid reflux.
Most Christmas movies stink. This one doesn't.
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I have not seen the movie. My apartment mate watched it over several nights. It's about a youth restorative serum with an unfortunate side effect. And it sounded thrilling.
Just the ticket for a dull holiday season. Screaming.
You may have heard the music before.
My illustration above had nothing to do with The Wasp Woman, I drew it after murder hornets were discovered in Washington State a while back. Which, according to some people was a nefarious commie plot. Why was not explained.
Fab youth serum takes twenty years off your appearance.
You'll have to eat your coworkers, though.
It may be a small price to pay.
Acid reflux.
Most Christmas movies stink. This one doesn't.
==========================================================================
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Friday, December 17, 2021
ENCOURAGING DIDACTIVE BEHAVIOUR
Covid 19 couldn't have shown up at a better time. At least, for me personally. Healthwise, 2017, 18, and 19 were horrible years. At present I am mostly recovered from that, though I may have lost a few friends who couldn't understand that ill-health does not make Jack a happy camper, and is not conducive to the little miss Sunshine positivity and validation that they craved.
I am, almost unreservedly, positively impressed by modern medical care.
As represented by the excellent staff as SF Chinese Hospital.
Who saved my hash a number of times.
They also provided Covid vaxxes to the locals. I got both of my shots there. The booster was at a CVC on California Street. But because breakthroughs are possible, AND because I do not want to be part of anyone's chain of transmission, I wear a mask when out of the house.
Which a number of stupid people mostly white don't do.
That's why this isn't anywhere near over.
Another one of my friends, fully vaxxed and boostered too, has Covid. Much closer to home, one of my apartment mate's coworkers has been suspended for refusing to get vaccinated.
I hope it's not indefinite. A termination is required, BEFORE he catches it and croaks.
I have no tolerance for anti-vaxxers, and little patience for anti-maskers.
In particular, the white tourists wandering around a neighborhood where there are plenty of little children (Chinatown), vulnerable old people (Chinatown), and people living in packed quarters (Chinatown), should probably be smacked upside the head when they go mask-free.
Tourism brought Covid to the United States.
If you are a tourist during a pandemic, you are a dumbass.
Can we put a barbed wire fence around the airport?
And electrify it for good measure?
If not, why not?
In other news, little girl, if someone from the Mid-West licks the top of your head feigning friendship, you are quite justified in stabbing him.
Or her.
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I am, almost unreservedly, positively impressed by modern medical care.
As represented by the excellent staff as SF Chinese Hospital.
Who saved my hash a number of times.
They also provided Covid vaxxes to the locals. I got both of my shots there. The booster was at a CVC on California Street. But because breakthroughs are possible, AND because I do not want to be part of anyone's chain of transmission, I wear a mask when out of the house.
Which a number of stupid people mostly white don't do.
That's why this isn't anywhere near over.
Another one of my friends, fully vaxxed and boostered too, has Covid. Much closer to home, one of my apartment mate's coworkers has been suspended for refusing to get vaccinated.
I hope it's not indefinite. A termination is required, BEFORE he catches it and croaks.
I have no tolerance for anti-vaxxers, and little patience for anti-maskers.
In particular, the white tourists wandering around a neighborhood where there are plenty of little children (Chinatown), vulnerable old people (Chinatown), and people living in packed quarters (Chinatown), should probably be smacked upside the head when they go mask-free.
Tourism brought Covid to the United States.
If you are a tourist during a pandemic, you are a dumbass.
Can we put a barbed wire fence around the airport?
And electrify it for good measure?
If not, why not?
In other news, little girl, if someone from the Mid-West licks the top of your head feigning friendship, you are quite justified in stabbing him.
Or her.
==========================================================================
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Thursday, December 16, 2021
SUSTENANCE FOR WOMEN, MEDICAL PERSONS, AND STUFFED ANIMALS
A printed flyer in my mailbox tells me of a brand new service that will provide me with food, groceries, and necessities within minutes. All I have to do is download the app and enter in my first order. Twenty dollars off! A fully stocked grocery van or truck will come whizzing up to my door. It's easy and convenient.
On the other hand, I'm looking at a box of double chocolate lava biscuits ("biskut berinti krim coklat") made by a Japanese company in Malaysia ("buatan Malaysia"), purchased at my favourite Chinatown provisioners which is staffed by several real people, which besides a large selection of dry nibblesome bits also has rice, noodles, throat lozenges, pocky sticks.
Plus diverse hot sauces and chilipastes.
As well as smokes. The brand that all old geezers like: lok to pai yin chai.
A real flesh and blood retail establishment just minutes away.
Double chocolate! "Elegant crispy cookies filled with soft choco". Until I found them while happily browsing, I did not know that I needed them. I was looking for sambal.
I'm fairly certain that there is no downloadable app for sambal.
Regarding those Camel cigarettes, I should mention that more doctors smoke Camels than any other cigarette. Yes, in a repeated national survey, doctors in all branches of medicine, in all parts of the country, when asked "what cigarette do YOU smoke", unsurprisingly answered Camels. Why don't you try Camels for an entire month, to see what a smooth rich tasting cigarette can do for your smoking enjoyment?
It's professionally recommended.
Here's a Christmas idea: instead of panetone, give people on your list a carton of smokes (fine Turkish and domestic blend) and a box of biskut berinti krim coklat.
They'll be pleasantly surprised.
Normally I have a cup of tea and a snackie poo after shopping in Chinatown. But I had had lunch, a full bowl of tobacco, and finished visiting the shops way before tea time. So after watching a street person getting rousted from doorway where he had already repeatedly been told not to plonk himself and fester, I simply came home and fixed myself a hot cup milk tea here.
No, I didn't open the box of Double Chocos. Waiting for my apartment mate to come home.
So that she can share them with the stuffed animals.
The ciggies are in case I bump into a doctor.
Who doesn't like chocolate lava cookies.
Some of them are weird that way.
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On the other hand, I'm looking at a box of double chocolate lava biscuits ("biskut berinti krim coklat") made by a Japanese company in Malaysia ("buatan Malaysia"), purchased at my favourite Chinatown provisioners which is staffed by several real people, which besides a large selection of dry nibblesome bits also has rice, noodles, throat lozenges, pocky sticks.
Plus diverse hot sauces and chilipastes.
As well as smokes. The brand that all old geezers like: lok to pai yin chai.
駱駝牌煙仔
A real flesh and blood retail establishment just minutes away.
Double chocolate! "Elegant crispy cookies filled with soft choco". Until I found them while happily browsing, I did not know that I needed them. I was looking for sambal.
I'm fairly certain that there is no downloadable app for sambal.
Regarding those Camel cigarettes, I should mention that more doctors smoke Camels than any other cigarette. Yes, in a repeated national survey, doctors in all branches of medicine, in all parts of the country, when asked "what cigarette do YOU smoke", unsurprisingly answered Camels. Why don't you try Camels for an entire month, to see what a smooth rich tasting cigarette can do for your smoking enjoyment?
It's professionally recommended.
Here's a Christmas idea: instead of panetone, give people on your list a carton of smokes (fine Turkish and domestic blend) and a box of biskut berinti krim coklat.
They'll be pleasantly surprised.
Normally I have a cup of tea and a snackie poo after shopping in Chinatown. But I had had lunch, a full bowl of tobacco, and finished visiting the shops way before tea time. So after watching a street person getting rousted from doorway where he had already repeatedly been told not to plonk himself and fester, I simply came home and fixed myself a hot cup milk tea here.
No, I didn't open the box of Double Chocos. Waiting for my apartment mate to come home.
So that she can share them with the stuffed animals.
The ciggies are in case I bump into a doctor.
Who doesn't like chocolate lava cookies.
Some of them are weird that way.
==========================================================================
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A SHINY NEW IDEA!
It's been a fortnight since I got out of Facebook Jail. I've been careful to not offend folks on Facebook (delicate blades of grass), despite now having a fallback position with a kinder and sweeter personality -- who has only 32 friends, unlike my vicious bitchy five hundred plus friend self -- because, as you must realise, being able to post on Facebook assures our nearest and dearest (all five hundred plus of them) that we are still alive, haven't croaked in our sleep surrounded by years of hoarded newspapers and Danish butter cookie tins.
And are not feeding our desperate dogs who can't escape.
Especially my relatives in Canada.
I have not joined the choir invisible.
The other things is that I've become addicted to having two "like" buttons.
What Mark Zuckerberg and his droogs need to understand is that they should cease catering to the oversensitive and easily triggered vegans out there, who are incapable of tolerance and joy anyhow, and that there must be an alternative to thin ice for mature individuals who really don't give a flying interourse if wheatgerm freaks get bent out a bit.
Or, to put it differently, Fart Book.
A social media platform for crusty old eccentrics. A place for pipesmoking men, many of whom are childless or divorced, have no family living within a hundred miles, avoid all sportsbars and vegetarian restaurants, and wear plaid shirts and rumpled slacks over baggy underwear that they have washed and sterilised till it's falling apart since the Great Depression.
Fart Book.
Make it happen.
A place where everything is taken out of context.
Where the emoticons are rabid.
Fart Book.
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And are not feeding our desperate dogs who can't escape.
Especially my relatives in Canada.
I have not joined the choir invisible.
What Mark Zuckerberg and his droogs need to understand is that they should cease catering to the oversensitive and easily triggered vegans out there, who are incapable of tolerance and joy anyhow, and that there must be an alternative to thin ice for mature individuals who really don't give a flying interourse if wheatgerm freaks get bent out a bit.
Or, to put it differently, Fart Book.
A social media platform for crusty old eccentrics. A place for pipesmoking men, many of whom are childless or divorced, have no family living within a hundred miles, avoid all sportsbars and vegetarian restaurants, and wear plaid shirts and rumpled slacks over baggy underwear that they have washed and sterilised till it's falling apart since the Great Depression.
Fart Book.
Make it happen.
Where the emoticons are rabid.
Fart Book.
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EVERYTHING EAST OF YERBA BUENA
Not that it was ever even likely, but I'm never moving to New York, and have little inkling to visit. It gets freezing cold in winter and hot in summer, and as a pipe smoker the idea of spending time outside there has no appeal. Plus there's restaurant rats, rowdy cheese cake antivax protests, and violent subway attacks.
Also, their lousy pizza does not appeal to me.
Final nail: it's near New Jersey.
In other news, the road leading from Oregon to San Francisco was blocked by a blizzard over the past day or so, so Portland is cut off from civilization. Sad.
I rather wish that were the East Bay.
The main reasons why San Franciscans seldom take BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit; an urban train service) is because the cars smell bad and the first stops on the other side of the Bay are in Oakland, Berkeley, and Fremont. Did I already make reference to temperatures, transit incidents, and crappy pizza? Remarkably relevant.
Florida, Texas, and Mississippi start a few miles beyond that.
It's like raw sewage all the way to the Atlantic.
Often called "the real America".
Bucket country.
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Also, their lousy pizza does not appeal to me.
Final nail: it's near New Jersey.
In other news, the road leading from Oregon to San Francisco was blocked by a blizzard over the past day or so, so Portland is cut off from civilization. Sad.
I rather wish that were the East Bay.
Florida, Texas, and Mississippi start a few miles beyond that.
It's like raw sewage all the way to the Atlantic.
Often called "the real America".
Bucket country.
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FELIX NATALIS
Yesterday was my apartment mate's birthday. And I like that woman, so I bought a cake and some foody substances. As well as gifting her with action figures. Two admirable people. Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Anthony Fauci. As well as a spider monkey. Who will join the other small roomies that infest this apartment and often say outrageous things. Or tell me that I should eat more, so that eventually when I croak I will have nice fatty thighs upon which to feast (that's the turkey vulture), unlike the wiry pins I have now, which are undoubtedly too tough and stringy to enjoyably beak apart. Not as scrumptious as a raptor (scavenger) would like.
Sorry, little buzzard dude, I eat enough. Plenty.
My thighs are fine the way they are.
As was the Dungeness crab which I brought home.
Unlike the gentle exemplar in the picture, this one was belligerent and fierce because he was missing a limb or two, probably lost when arm wrestling with the others in the tank. I named him Septimus while he scuttled around the sink blowing bubbles, then tossed him into boiling water with some ginger chunks and scallion to meet his maker. He was juicy and delicious.
Having seen the internet meme of the crab with the steak knife, I did not place sharp objects anywhere near him. Yes, it would have evened the playing field, made the confrontation more equitable, but that was not something I desired. Headline: "Jury sides with crab who stabbed kwailo in kitchen stand off, justifiable self defense verdict".
I would never trust a jury of my peers in this city.
Too many bleeding hearts and vegans.
There was also charsiu (我鍾意好肥嘅), of which there is plenty left over.
She concentrated on the crab.
I think she had a good birthday.
In afterthought, Septimus should have been Septemembra or Septemartus. But I wasn't concentrating on what little remains of my high school Latin. I cannot remember what brachiures are called. They don't play a part in the Gallic wars or Suetonius.
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Sorry, little buzzard dude, I eat enough. Plenty.
My thighs are fine the way they are.
As was the Dungeness crab which I brought home.
Having seen the internet meme of the crab with the steak knife, I did not place sharp objects anywhere near him. Yes, it would have evened the playing field, made the confrontation more equitable, but that was not something I desired. Headline: "Jury sides with crab who stabbed kwailo in kitchen stand off, justifiable self defense verdict".
I would never trust a jury of my peers in this city.
Too many bleeding hearts and vegans.
There was also charsiu (我鍾意好肥嘅), of which there is plenty left over.
She concentrated on the crab.
I think she had a good birthday.
In afterthought, Septimus should have been Septemembra or Septemartus. But I wasn't concentrating on what little remains of my high school Latin. I cannot remember what brachiures are called. They don't play a part in the Gallic wars or Suetonius.
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Wednesday, December 15, 2021
THE CAPTAIN HAS A HEAD COLD ...
Yesterday evening I should have been heading over to North Beach, as per tradition of many years standing. But I still had a cold, and my nose was horribly uncivilised. And it's not good to sneeze in a mask. I wonder how medical people do it. I can well imagine surgeons calling out frantically "nurse, hold my mask down, lest it lift off while I've got him opened up and we have to sterilize the incisions as well as all surfaces!"
Because, of course, the force of the eruption would, if strong enough, send the little scrap of pale blue or green cloth flying.
Maybe no operations are done while he or she is sick.
That would make sense, I suppose.
So the patient might wake up after surgery, only to be told "we nearly lost you, his hand jumped when he sneezed. Oh, and you're on five different antivirals and antibiotics right now, because you were directly in the line of fire."
Then the nurse asks the standard four questions: "have you had a bowel movement?" "Have you micturated?" "Have you passed gas?" 嘿，聽講你識講廣東話，係唔係真嘅？Because no matter what, one must find out if the patient's organs are starting to function again.
Is limp John or Mary going to make it, or are drastic measures required?
Between sneezing, leaking, and being plugged up, my nose was a pain in the ...
啟德機場13跑道
So to pass the time before going to bed, I drew Runway 13 at Kaitak Airport again.
By the way: Runway 13 is 31 when taking off. Compass bearings.
If a pilot sneezed violently while banking right, things would go wrong. Something to think about retrospectively while having a sternutatory nose. Several times.
The plane would land with a bump and slide into water.
Because, as you might remember, the runaway is in the middle of the harbour, and the approach was always a bit tricky.
Yes, planes landed there even during the cold and flu season.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we're in a holding pattern above the South China Sea until the pilot's antihistamines kick in, there's something in the cabin to which he is highly allergic. You will just have to be patient. Might take an hour or two. Suck it up, babies. And thank you."
Does anyone ever ask whether the pilot has a cold or there's pollen in the cockpit? No? Perhaps you should.
Here's the airstrip from a different angle.
Not much 'wiggle room' there.
Taking off (bank left sharply to avoid hills) was easier than landing. Either way, there were a number of accidents over the years, despite pilots needing special training for Kaitak.
It is not known how many of those were caused by sneezing.
Bad allergies kicking in. Psychogenic disorders.
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Maybe no operations are done while he or she is sick.
That would make sense, I suppose.
So the patient might wake up after surgery, only to be told "we nearly lost you, his hand jumped when he sneezed. Oh, and you're on five different antivirals and antibiotics right now, because you were directly in the line of fire."
Then the nurse asks the standard four questions: "have you had a bowel movement?" "Have you micturated?" "Have you passed gas?" 嘿，聽講你識講廣東話，係唔係真嘅？Because no matter what, one must find out if the patient's organs are starting to function again.
Is limp John or Mary going to make it, or are drastic measures required?
Between sneezing, leaking, and being plugged up, my nose was a pain in the ...
啟德機場13跑道
So to pass the time before going to bed, I drew Runway 13 at Kaitak Airport again.
By the way: Runway 13 is 31 when taking off. Compass bearings.
If a pilot sneezed violently while banking right, things would go wrong. Something to think about retrospectively while having a sternutatory nose. Several times.
Yes, planes landed there even during the cold and flu season.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we're in a holding pattern above the South China Sea until the pilot's antihistamines kick in, there's something in the cabin to which he is highly allergic. You will just have to be patient. Might take an hour or two. Suck it up, babies. And thank you."
Does anyone ever ask whether the pilot has a cold or there's pollen in the cockpit? No? Perhaps you should.
Here's the airstrip from a different angle.
Taking off (bank left sharply to avoid hills) was easier than landing. Either way, there were a number of accidents over the years, despite pilots needing special training for Kaitak.
It is not known how many of those were caused by sneezing.
Bad allergies kicking in. Psychogenic disorders.
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Tuesday, December 14, 2021
YELLOW BAMBOO PIT
The parade ground at Wong Chuk Hang (黃竹坑) was where graduates of the Hong Kong Police Training School (黃竹坑警察訓練學校 'wong juk haang king chat fan lin hok haau') had their passing out parade, at the southern end of the island. It is across Sham Wan (深灣 "deep bay") from Ap Lei Chau (鴨脷洲 "duck tongue island"). Nam Long Shan (南朗山 "south brightness mountain"; Brick Hill) is directly south of there.
Spectators, often, had umbrellas to shield themselves from the sun.
Hot and blazing in that climate at that time of year.
Old Lang Syne as a military tune.
A quick march, British style.
Played on bagpipes.
Clear skies, open space, forested hills in the background.
An old friend who has a bookstore on Kowloon lives and has her home office on Ap Lei Chau. One of the last smokers of Erinmore Flake in Marin County remembered that area, as well as Stanley Fort nearby, where he was imprisoned during World War Two. He passed away a few years ago. On the other hand, one of the other occasional smokers of Erinmore resurfaced about a week ago -- he had quit for a few years. He's walking with difficulty, and dodders, though seems well-preserved besides that. Erinmore Flake keeps you hale. QED
To the best of my knowledge Adrian never smoked Erinmore Flake habitually. And his stamping grounds were the Central District and the peak. 中環，維多利亞山(太平山)。
Because of those bagpipes I am now imagining the Cantonese language pronounced with a heavy highlands accent in the early years of the Crown Colony. By drill sergeants.
And I cannot imagine it; it would be entirely beyond unintelligible.
Worse than Cantonese spoken by Shanghainese.
Or Dutch by Americans.
You ought to be familiar with my trains of thought by now.
They often get hijacked by what's in my head.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Spectators, often, had umbrellas to shield themselves from the sun.
Hot and blazing in that climate at that time of year.
Old Lang Syne as a military tune.
A quick march, British style.
Played on bagpipes.
南朗山
Clear skies, open space, forested hills in the background.
An old friend who has a bookstore on Kowloon lives and has her home office on Ap Lei Chau. One of the last smokers of Erinmore Flake in Marin County remembered that area, as well as Stanley Fort nearby, where he was imprisoned during World War Two. He passed away a few years ago. On the other hand, one of the other occasional smokers of Erinmore resurfaced about a week ago -- he had quit for a few years. He's walking with difficulty, and dodders, though seems well-preserved besides that. Erinmore Flake keeps you hale. QED
To the best of my knowledge Adrian never smoked Erinmore Flake habitually. And his stamping grounds were the Central District and the peak. 中環，維多利亞山(太平山)。
Because of those bagpipes I am now imagining the Cantonese language pronounced with a heavy highlands accent in the early years of the Crown Colony. By drill sergeants.
And I cannot imagine it; it would be entirely beyond unintelligible.
Worse than Cantonese spoken by Shanghainese.
Or Dutch by Americans.
You ought to be familiar with my trains of thought by now.
They often get hijacked by what's in my head.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
THE WINTER OF OUR SOGGINESS
Summer is definitely over, so is the short, silly pretense of Autumn. It rained most of the day yesterday. And during the night. It's cold, shivery weather. Yes I know that isn't so bad when other places have snow, ice drifts, and people freezing in unheated apartments. But this is California. We're all about perpetual sunshine. Watch those Baywatch episodes again.
Slow motion running by tanned people in red swim wear.
The light, the heat, the passion. Oh!
Instead: dark and wet.
At this time of year my apartment mate fixes herself cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream. Which has an appeal, to be sure, but I prefer bratwurst and potato salad, globs of sambal, and buckets of strong milk tea.
I'm rather a man of habit. Today I'll go over to San Pan Mei for bittermelon omelette over rice, then head over to the grocery store on Washington and buy a bag or two of Northern style chive and pork dumplings.
A pipe afterwards smoked under an awning somewhere.
Then home again and back to bed.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Slow motion running by tanned people in red swim wear.
The light, the heat, the passion. Oh!
Instead: dark and wet.
The turkey vultures are circling overhead.
At this time of year my apartment mate fixes herself cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream. Which has an appeal, to be sure, but I prefer bratwurst and potato salad, globs of sambal, and buckets of strong milk tea.
I'm rather a man of habit. Today I'll go over to San Pan Mei for bittermelon omelette over rice, then head over to the grocery store on Washington and buy a bag or two of Northern style chive and pork dumplings.
A pipe afterwards smoked under an awning somewhere.
Then home again and back to bed.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, December 13, 2021
HOT RUNNING LIQUIDS
You know your nose is buggered up when you get mucus on your spectacles. Then you start plotting the chain of transmission from the period when you were pre-symptomatic to when you will be snot-free. Which I'm guessing is probably the next day I work, that being a few days hence. I'm right-handed, so my right nostril fittingly is a flowing sewer at the moment.
Not that there is any possible causal or logical linkage.
I hate my right nostril right now.
If two thirds of one's sense of taste is smell, and fully one half of one's smelling organ is entirely out of commission, and the other half is working at likely less than sixty percent capacity, then logically what is called for is a stronger tobacco than normal, but given that the nasal terrain is also somewhat stressed, that won't work, and a weaker tobacco might be better coupled with fewer pipes today than normal.
Perhaps something earthy and sweet.
Today will suck bollocks.
Lots of weak tea.
Everything I touch today will be smeared (and will need to be sterilized). Rather like the pipe stems of a deceased gentleman which I cleaned up over the weekend; he passed quite a while back, but every single one of his Castello briars (which are lovely pieces) showed evidence that he was wet-mouthed. Abundant evidence. All of them also needed a bit of mortise cleaning, as aggragation and minor swelling prevented full insertion of the mouthpiece into the shank.
Which had naught to do with his slobbering. That may have simply been old age, far too much salt in the diet, and the sheer lip-smacking goodness of Latakia blends.
No, I did not catch the runny nose from his smoking equipment.
Cold viruses can survive for slightly over a week on surfaces. He passed away quite a while back. His pipes may have been in unused for longer than that, and should find a new tobacco maven who can appreciate them. If it's John O. who fled Georgia for some place more civilized recently, he will have to use alcohol inside the bowls and shanks to remove all traces of the Latakia stank, as he has a quite unreasonable dislike of that substance.
The late aficionado possessed several 'Collection' and 'Fiammata' Castellos. Very handsome pieces, but too large for my taste, and I have never been particularly ennamoured of Castellos, though I will gladly acknowledge that they are stellar smokes and exceptionally well made.
They just don't appeal to me.
Castello website: CASTELLO - MADE IN CANTÙ
When someone else is smoking a Latakia blend I love the aroma. For very many years such mixtures were my regular indulgence. But quite a while back ago I switched over to Virginias and Virginia - Perique compounds, which I thoroughly enjoy. These appeal, at least I think they do, to calmer and more mature individuals. The fragrance is more old-school, almost antique.
My coworker has fallen into the Virginia trap recently.
He's currently ennamoured of Three Nuns.
It smells very charming.
If you're going to smoke Latakia, try Arango's Balkan Supreme.
For Virginia - Perique, Luxury Bullseye by Stokkebye.
Both are available as "house blends".
They're fine products.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Not that there is any possible causal or logical linkage.
I hate my right nostril right now.
If two thirds of one's sense of taste is smell, and fully one half of one's smelling organ is entirely out of commission, and the other half is working at likely less than sixty percent capacity, then logically what is called for is a stronger tobacco than normal, but given that the nasal terrain is also somewhat stressed, that won't work, and a weaker tobacco might be better coupled with fewer pipes today than normal.
Perhaps something earthy and sweet.
Today will suck bollocks.
Lots of weak tea.
Which had naught to do with his slobbering. That may have simply been old age, far too much salt in the diet, and the sheer lip-smacking goodness of Latakia blends.
No, I did not catch the runny nose from his smoking equipment.
Cold viruses can survive for slightly over a week on surfaces. He passed away quite a while back. His pipes may have been in unused for longer than that, and should find a new tobacco maven who can appreciate them. If it's John O. who fled Georgia for some place more civilized recently, he will have to use alcohol inside the bowls and shanks to remove all traces of the Latakia stank, as he has a quite unreasonable dislike of that substance.
The late aficionado possessed several 'Collection' and 'Fiammata' Castellos. Very handsome pieces, but too large for my taste, and I have never been particularly ennamoured of Castellos, though I will gladly acknowledge that they are stellar smokes and exceptionally well made.
They just don't appeal to me.
Castello website: CASTELLO - MADE IN CANTÙ
When someone else is smoking a Latakia blend I love the aroma. For very many years such mixtures were my regular indulgence. But quite a while back ago I switched over to Virginias and Virginia - Perique compounds, which I thoroughly enjoy. These appeal, at least I think they do, to calmer and more mature individuals. The fragrance is more old-school, almost antique.
My coworker has fallen into the Virginia trap recently.
He's currently ennamoured of Three Nuns.
It smells very charming.
If you're going to smoke Latakia, try Arango's Balkan Supreme.
For Virginia - Perique, Luxury Bullseye by Stokkebye.
Both are available as "house blends".
They're fine products.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
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