Giovanni Martini wrote:

BauLuo wrote:

Giovanni Martini wrote:

BauLuo wrote:

Now let me tellya, if yer travelin on a Greyhound bus (which apparently we don't have nomores) and yer in a 7/11 bustop stop in Lloydminster at 4 am, don't go tryin to steal a cube of mozzeralla cheese, cuz you aint eaten in 3 days, cuz you will get kicked off the bus and hafta sleep in an alley way, and hafta hitchhike yer next 500 miles to Prince George.

Don't ask me how I know.

If you're in a bus stop stealing cheese, wouldn't it make more sense for them to kick you ONTO the bus? Deport your aerse, as it were. Elstwise, you might turn wraith haunting the woods out back. Dogging the steps of local school kids, "Cheezy Poooooofs! I want your Cheeeeezy Poofs!"

What happened was proprietor of said location was insistent on detaining me until the local constabulary (RCMP) arrived, which is as likely as waking up yer compounds 保安 at 4 am. Thus bus driver says `look I gots a schedule to keep, i gotsa leave' , thus bus leaves, thus shop proprietor goes inside store to call RCMP again, thus I focking bolt down the street, thus I rests my weary head (without no cheese) for a few hours, thus I hitchhike the remaining distance to Prince George, where I have a job, a hotel room, and money all guaranteed, just funking get yerself here.

Wait...WAIT! I saw this in a movie! With Charles Bronson and Lee Marvin. In the Yukon circa 1920's the movie is set. Bronson runs afoul of the law somehow. I think he was in a cheese shop and the owner, John Cleese, kept fekking with him, "No no Jarlsberg, no Winslydale, no Provolone. Riccota? Yes---oh dear, the cat's been at it." So naturally Bronson bronsons him with his gat. Then Mountie Lee Marvin chases Bronson all across the Yukon south across the Tryolean Alps into Wisconsin, land of cheddar and (I dunno, cream cheese?)

You still ain't told us. Was there cheese in Prince George?

Yeah, after crashing in a nearby alleyway, heavy duty backpack with, I skulked to the outskirts, at the crack of Dawn. Now I have done other things at the crack of Dawn, but this was the first time of mostly skulking, maybe a bit also of dejected meandering. None=the=less arrived at outskirts, stuck out my thumb, cheeseless and not having eaten since gettin on the Greyhound in St. Kitts, I donno when number of hours or days before, there I was thumb outstretched. Just then Hank Marvin and Bronson comes by in an old beatup red F150, slows down and stops. `Where ya goin son?, ya all don't look like yer from these parts, ya all got pretty pretty long hair I reckon.... we ain't got no room in the cab, ya just go lay yerself down in the back uh the truck.... doncha worry, we'll drive ya'all everywhere' Then there was a long sardonic chortle from the two uh them like i not heard before.

None-the-less, I did live to tell the tail, tho' rather not relate the tale, , till I arrived in PG (that's Prince George for all you non- natives), where I was put up by Carol (or maybe it Carole), co-owner of the tree-planting contractor i would be working for, 30 years my senior, fonked her brains out for the weekend, and made my way into the wilds of BC, there to plant trees.

(oh... i forgot.... initially in Prince George I could find no retail cheese available; how so ever I met two very nice fellows at an artist's cafe whom introduced me to my first experience of quiche!)

Look we gots the good Anglo-saxon words `adrift, afoot, asleep, alone' And for gord's sake even `ajar', and many etceteras, using `a' as a prefix. Now what in the funk ever happened to `adrunk'? Some foodie at the BJ er please fill me in. I like `adrunk' much better than `A drunk'.

Giovanni Martini wrote:

BauLuo wrote:

I useda live in a very fragrant forest. After a day and three of sousing it up, I stumbled my way to me humble shack out in the forest, just south of Brock University. Now as luck would have it, on occasion, stumbling througn the woods at 3 am without no lux, may result in pedestrian mishaps. Thereupon, fallen, but not yet dead, I may have determined that my present supines was the most wisest position to present to the board of Governers. None the less, a nocturnal coyote, out gallivanting happened upon my carcass ( not yet carcass) , nibbled a bit on my ear, decided I was unpalatable, pissed on my head and when I arisened in the heat of the morrow's noon day sun, indeed the forest was fragrant.

I learnt a new word here. Just like there's a gaggle of geese, a pod of whales, a 'mostly peaceful' of incendiary rioters, so too there's a board of Governors. TBJ: come for the foodie porn; stay for the education.

Sorry, I miswrote. shoulda bin `bored of Governers' . I fervently appologize for any misunderstanding and consequent miseducation of yer vocabulayanism, and stand completely free of indemnity for any harm I have caused, just like Ph eye sir. (by the bye, there was a `66' in my personal special code which must be entered, and just yester recently there was a `33'. I am sure ya know what that means! ba!)

Giovanni Martini wrote:

Perhaps Kipling had the answer: : "Gentleman rankers out on a spree/ Damned from here to eternity/ God have mercy on such as we/ Ba ya bagh!"

My dear friend Wendell Pye (deceased) said as much years ago a dive bar in St. Kitts.... `Paul, I am afraid you and I are doomed men'..... I don't know yet if he were right.

<u

How do you properly say ` ni xiang zuo ai'? I have tried perfecting my tones, but all I ever get is first a blank look, then a slap in the face and a kick in the shin. Sometimes, after the kick in the shin, and I am subsuquently earthbound, I recieve a supplementay kick in the jowls. Yep, right in the jowls. Help a poor whitey out, ba!

You'll note that we are asking people for their opinion about their favorite spicy cuisine -- we haven't asked people to name the world's spiciest cuisine.

It's very possible that for some people, particularly pasty British Brummies who have rarely explored world cuisines and have sensitive palates, a nice Balti (invented in Birmingham) is their favorite spicy food ... or maybe for some of these folks their favorite dish is a spicy horseradish spread on a Sunday roast. Whatever, England didn't crack the Top 30 in the poll anyhow

It's also interesting to think: How long before something is truly recognized as part of a national cuisine? Fish and Chips dates back to the 1860s and was originally also an immigrant cuisine, but we would all recognize is as British. Same with burgers in the US, which have an even shorter history in America.

 

Giovanni Martini wrote:

admin wrote:

Giovanni Martini wrote:

What English food is "hot"? Transplanting vindaloo from India don't make it "English." Inclusivity stops at the palate. 

Hmm. Tell that to the Indians, Koreans, Thai and Chinese, whose traditional foods never contained chili peppers until they were imported into their cultures in the 1600s via Portguese traders who brought it from the Americas.

So I guess we should categorize them all as varieties of Native American cuisine

My point is that food that is purveyed from"ethnic restaurants" in a country is, for that reason, not representative of the host country's cuisine. It takes a good long while for foods to be naturalized.  Truly spicy food has not become anything like a part of mainstream cuisine in any European culture. Hot peppers transformed a broad swathe of Asian cookery. In Europe, it remains a niche item. Hell, look at Hungary. They mainstreamed peppers, but at a price. The noble hot pepper has been effectively emasculated into paprika. I love Hungarian food. "Spicy hot" is plain AIN'T. (With the exception of "Eros" variety paprika which is scarcely ubiquitous.) Your point reaches the level of inanity of those who ascribe to the literal truth of the History Channel. "Oooooh, I saw where peppers were originally from the Western Hemisphere! That makes me soooo much more aware." My point stands: pepper-laden foods purveyed from ethnic restaurants do not represent the host's cuisine. Maybe the best chili in the world is made in Kamchatka, Russia by a transplanted Mexican cook. Great. That don't make Russian cuisine the world's spiciest. My initial post pretty well spelled that out with my Estonian parable.

Giovanni Martini wrote:

BauLuo wrote:

Giovanni Martini wrote:

BauLuo wrote:

Giovanni Martini wrote:

BauLuo wrote:

Giovanni Martini wrote:

"The Jing"? So what does one call someone from there? A "jinger"? Sounds too much like them nasty mites called chiggers. Plus it'd swiftly morph into a woke trigger word, this being that month and all. "Jingese"? Sounds too unctuous. Like some kind of cheese product, mebbe stinky tofu put into tubes like Velveeta. "Jingites"? Sounds too much like something mineral. As in "Butt-Scratch Gulch" was founded as a boom town shortly after the Civil War by miners seeking nearby jingite lodes. "Jing-a-boo"? Sounds like another Jusse Smollet hoax. "Jingian" sounds like a food. You know, Kentucky Fried Jingian. "Jings"? Sounds like "jinx." Face it, no oe wants to be from a place called "the Jing." Might I suggest instead, "The Bei"? Then you could call your feature, 'Bei Watch."

·`Jinger' sounds like `Chigger'??! Who teached you yer scansion and a rhymin business? Ezra Kilogram, down the back alley? Mayhap in the Suzhou dialect, with a sore tongue.

The one suggests the other: short-i and -er ending. I was playing word-association, not frustrated-English-prof-who -can't-get-published-and- takes-it-out-by-savaging-naive-freshman-girls-till-they-attempt-suicide. Sadism swathed in erudition is still sadism. Like a donkey-dick in a French tickler, I still ain't gonna hold still and take it.

You however are. Sit down right there and let Dr. Gio swab your ears so you hears better. Q-tips go QAnon and if tyou wants to snivel about "aural rape," so be it. I don't give no trigger warnings till after I drop the hammer.

Yikesah! I think Gio done gone sat his arse down on a cockleburr. That may perturb his lovemaking.

Hell hath no fury like a poet pissed-on.

I think that I shall never see

A poem as lovely as your 'auto de fe'*

That's what you get for dissing on me

Burnt at the stake, and hung on a tree

yikes a doodle, Gio done gone hefted his vorpal blade, snicker snacking to the east and to the south. Let the war of words commence.

"Prose is for poofters and pussies," quote mine love Lenore,

Valiant Sir Gio hath prevailed in poetry's mellifluous war."

There! That's gotta be right up there with "The Song of Roland," and "Parzifal" all twisted intertranslated into one big Gordian knot of purest poetics. I'm throwing down the gauntlet to be the U.S. Poet-Lori-Ate.

Yikes! you ate Lori too? She told me I was the first! This wasn't August 15th, 1984 by any chance? At the park around 2:30 am? After we got the bums rush outa the after hours basement bar down the back alleyway?

Giovanni Martini wrote:

BauLuo wrote:

Giovanni Martini wrote:

While most essential items like body care products and tissues were in good supply at both locations, shelves were almost completely devoid of fresh produce such as vegetables and fruits, as well as meat products.(UNQUOTE)

So...body care products are "essential"; veggies and meat are not? Um...tell me, what color is the sky on your planet?

Helpful hint, too: just say "meat." Saying "meat product" makes you come off as a wanker trying to sound intelligent. Like the wonk mama telling her kid, "At this point in time, it's bedtime."

yeah, I know. `at that point in time= then' `at this point in time' = now. Good old Anglo-Saxon words, no fuckin around. But there are people with too much to say, but nothing to say. I value precision and succinctness in speech; not all the the time though, cuz sometimes yer just goofin off.

Um...shouldn't we be calling words "lexiographical products"? Be careful, too. The Smithsonianmag.com talks about how "Anglo-Saxon" is linked to hate speech since the peoples of early England did not use the word.

Well on the one hand, ya gots the Angles, direct descendants of Pythhagoras, good at geometry and such. Then ya gots the Saxophonists, .... they liked singing an artsy stuff and so on. Now on the boats outa northern Germany an Denmark, sometimes people would lose ther' ticket, a boat would sink and etc. So turns out these people would be all commingled , Angles funking Saxaphonist, Saxaphonists funkin with any thing with a hole. That kep the ships afloat all the way to Londinium. Hence the English race.

Now the Jutes, thass another story. They had to turn themselves inta mollusks and hope they wunt get scraped offa the bow.

Giovanni Martini wrote:

While most essential items like body care products and tissues were in good supply at both locations, shelves were almost completely devoid of fresh produce such as vegetables and fruits, as well as meat products.(UNQUOTE)

So...body care products are "essential"; veggies and meat are not? Um...tell me, what color is the sky on your planet?

Helpful hint, too: just say "meat." Saying "meat product" makes you come off as a wanker trying to sound intelligent. Like the wonk mama telling her kid, "At this point in time, it's bedtime."

yeah, I know. `at that point in time= then' `at this point in time' = now. Good old Anglo-Saxon words, no fuckin around. But there are people with too much to say, but nothing to say. I value precision and succinctness in speech; not all the the time though, cuz sometimes yer just goofin off.