Good Morning and isn’t Everything SWELL?

Before we get to today’s moronic effort, a quick update as to my progress on “Marzuki’s Pretty Good Diet”. The diet seems to be working well. I had an additional bonus by puking 2 lbs of bile putting me ahead of schedule. Jeez.

As you’re no doubt aware by now, nearly every time I venture forth into the public domain, something odd seems to happen. I’m happy to report that while on my walk only one minor incident marred my experience, but my visual sensibilities were attacked from every side. I don’t know, but there’s something terribly wrong when one leaves one’s domicile in a tight tee-shirt and spandex shorts spilling layer upon layer of flesh over the confines of the garment bouncing to the rhythm of their plodding pace. My eyes were assaulted more times than I could have imagined. Jeez, put on some old sweats and cover it up! I beg you!

Aside from encounters with those getting advice from the mirror, I was having a nice walk. I covered close to 2 miles when the weather got ominous. The wind shifted and came straight out of the north and the temperature began a free-fall. The rain was gentle at first, but within minutes, it was comming down in buckets. I was decked out in my new sneakers, sweats, and a headband with Japanese writing on it. I was told the foreign text referred to lofty Japanese platitudes about Samurai Warlords. Themes like “die with honor”, “do the honorable thing”, and having deep respect for one’s opponent were what I imagined. I bought the headband at “Savers” and should have known better than to believe a 16 year old that couldn’t count change.

Still a mile away from home, I was soaked to the bone and began looking for shelter to dry off. It was close to lunchtime and I saw a Chinese restaurant located across the street, so I decided to have my one beer and an egg roll. As I walked inside, you could hear my cheap sneakers squish and squeak at every step. My hostess looked at me not really sure if she should seat me or get me a towel. Given the only customers there were sitting in a booth, she seated me but gave me a towel to sit on. When she returned with my beer, she paused and seemed to be studying my headband. The smile disappeared from her face and was replaced by tight-lipped concern. She immediately turned and stormed toward the kitchen. A few seconds later, she returned accompanied by two older men still in their aprons and white cafeteria hats. As they approached me, it was obvious something was wrong and I was about to get the story!

I was a little rusty with my Mandarin Chinese and couldn’t understand either of them. Both were exercised beyond their ability to communicate but kept pointing to my headband and appeared to be telling me to get out! The younger hostess had a better grip on English and explained my headband was offensive. The Japanese text had a Chinese reference to the Nanjing Massacre, often referred to as the “Rape of Nanking”. Evidently the older guy’s grandmother was brutally raped and killed by the invading Japanese in WWII. I immediately took it off and tried to make peace, but the old man was inconsolable and insisted I leave. I slugged down the last of my Tsing·tao and offered to pay for the beer, but he didn’t want my money either. To further add to my humiliation the squish, squish, squish of my wet shoes escorted me to the door. Jeez.

It was certainly a dubious beginning to my exercise program, but all in all it was a pleasant day.

zuki