Ok, Saturday morning, stingy snow in the air, crunchy snow on the ground, I mean like a lindor truffle, hard on top creamy in the middle. In the infancy of anthropology, which began sort of as a gentleman’s hobby, when the nomadic northern tribes were called eskimauxs, though given the British propensity to pronounce silent letters in French words (I think they do that on purpose) they might have been called Ess Key Moxs, some hairpin or the other thought it profound to suggest the Ess Key Moxs had forty seven different names for snow. Curious that, they also had several names for themselves, ess key mox or moo or moe not being among them.
I’m sure there’s a name in a language that doesn’t exist for a tribes with a variety of names for Lindor Truffle snow, perhaps the same phrase as “That’s good eating” or for them whose igloos were in trailer parks in SW tundra climes “Thems good eating”.
I really should be writing a flash. I mean I’d rather be writing a flash, the whole should part does nothing for me, though I have a feeling that having some sense of obligation would not be completely untoward. As the Ess Key Moxs might say at the North Pole KFC “Fuck it, get a bucket”.
Once on a gray blustery wildish day on the Oregon Coast, Herschel, I and whatshername were walking along an all but empty beach, north to south all points up until devoured by mist were empty but one; a small family of tourists. How can you tell a tourist on the Oregon coast? Mostly because they aren’t wearing a winter coat, but, you know, a local could have been mugged. Tourists, however, dress as one might for a warm beach. The mommy and daddy and two wee ones (the boychild shirtless and a resplendent shade of blue) were down by the water probably floating toy ships into icebergs (I kid, the pacific is too harsh on that coastline, it would smash an iceberg into little cubes).
They had left two day glo beach buckets up near the winter burm; one green and one pink, I reckon to distinguish gender when the ME found the corpsicles. Herschel ran right up to the green bucket and peed in it. Ever a dog for parity he saved some Herschel pee for the pink one. The family couldn’t exactly see from there, so he ran down to them, squatted in the cold pacific and marked the ocean as his in the absolute least arbitrary of all mammalian waste products. Near Tillamook the Oregonimauxs have forty seven different names for Herschel shit.
Hmmmm, oh, yeah, I remember the association. Part of my terminal prosaic mood involves bad beta beagle baiting. I made them up their own song, not just paraphrased beagle tailored songs (e.g. … If you give this beagle a ride sweet family will die OR There’s a beagle who knows all that glitters is gold OR by de rivers of beaglelon where he squat down and there he peed when he remembered Zion). It goes something like “Trot trot trot like the beagle do, trot trot trot in the beagle poo. It’s the tune that’s catchy. Oh, you also grab a paw or two and dance them to the beat of the song. No, they like it, it’s good.
I have gone completely e-cig bat shit. There are all sorts of arguments and shit regarding e-cigs. That one company a few years back got their pants sued off and shut down for suggestion e-cigs were a smoking cessation program. Splitting hairs if you ask me. Like the patches or the gum it’s not really a cessation program if you are using the same poison, more like change of venue, a change of delivery system, like crushing up an aspirin and snorting it, you aren’t really breaking the aspirin habit. I have noticed, however, both the gum and the patches are no longer prescription only. That’s the biggest hubba ba loo about e-cigs, no clear cut regulations or sin tax.
What all three have over cigs though is no tar or weird ass chemical shit.
So, I’ve been trying to figure out how to make my own e-juice. There are a lot of sites on this topic. Most of them say it’s very dangerous and I shouldn’t do it. Some of them are like recipes for making Kahlua --- Take coffee flavored syrup and add vodka, mix well. In sticking with that analogy what I’d really like to know is how to distill coffee, sugar and yeast into making Kahlua and not how to flavor vodka with coffee syrup which I could figure out on my own. I think if you’re using vegetable glycerin as your base the only danger would be getting nicotine juice on your hands or in your eyes; rubber gloves and safety goggles seem as easy to type as “It’s very dangerous, do not try this at home”.
I have a terrible admission to make. I like the baked apple pie flavored e-juice. I told the guy at the brick and mortar store that it tasted just like baked apple pie the way mom used to smoke. He didn’t laugh. I suspect he didn’t laugh more in a “what?” way than a “that’s not funny way” though it’s entirely possible that once he gets it it won’t be funny. They all seem a little stoned at that store. I don’t think they are I think they find it conducive to their business. I would never smoke an apple flavored cigarette. I smoke a pipe; I have no flavored tobacco and apple is a pretty common tobacco flavoring.
Jesus, I’m boring myself.
I swear I will do a flash and leave prompts sometime soonish.
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