Our Lost Tribe!

Hosted by gunter|gunter's page

olt! is a way station and oasis on the ancient road from Bedlam to Bellevue, dedicated to free and open discussion of topics moving heart and spirit.

  • 6953
  • 13917
  • 0


about the author ...   currents

Started 3/30/22 by gunter; 29976 views.

From: gunter


I was about to add that I did not drop acid.

how about ETFs?

thanks ...


From: bshmr


What does EquityTradedFunds have to do with it?

Acid?? Not likely from what remember of research on its effects on alcoholic treatment/therapy. OTTOMH, more Expressionist (of some sort) is what comes to mind.

In reply toRe: msg 139

From: gunter


popup pot shops

Say that fast three times.

Smacked Village is the second legal pot shop to open in the City, also just off Washington Square. It's a popup shop because this is only a beta run. The plan is to close at the end of the month and organize a permanent presence some time later.

So I take a walk to check them out. This time around the Housing Works Dispensary has no line, I get ushered right in and there are only a couple of customers. I guess the novelty has worn off. ID check. Place seems makeshift, a bit cool in a big space. Everyone is helpful but Sorry, we don't allow pictures here.

At Smacked Village the guy there by the door sees me coming, fiddles with those black boxes on the right to unlock the door and lets me in. ID check. Also mostly empty, just a few customers, but it feels warm and welcome inside, the music is not too loud and everyone is friendly. Discrete security lets me take pix of the ware.

But wait, there's more! Crossing Washington Square ... what's this? ... a popup pot shop is open for business right in the middle of the Square by the fountain, guarded by a Ninja Warrior and I'm guessing the guy sitting is the boss? They were a bit uncomfortable with the pix. Flower in the jars goes for $40 an eighth, much the same as the legal stuff. And no tax! Also no ID check. [boss's facemask edited in]

In reply toRe: msg 162

From: gunter


Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end ...

Cruising Gulf Coast beaches in skimpy trunks.

A guy tows a canister, somewhat like an oxygen tank. For a few cents he sprays hot bodies with a mixture of baby oil and iodine to produce that perfect tan. Cover your eyes he says as he soaks me head to toes, front and back.

Days on the nude section of Jones Beach, roasting in the sun with only grapefruit juice to keep hydrated.

Endless Summers on Fire Island baking in the dunes.

Little did we know or care back then.

[Back then the fad was to mix baby oil and iodine together and smear it on. Research into Australian, U.S. and Swedish attitudes to tanning predicts people born between 1900-1960 will be at highest risk of dying from melanoma than any other generations.]

Not to alarm you, it's nothing that dire, just some skin growths, but here I am visiting my Dermatologist yet again. The receptionist behind the barricade directs me to a newfangled device, a pad, to sign in with. I enter my name, it knows who I am! Next item shows my Ethnicity: African-American. Well, that's not right. [Insert inappropriate quip about excessive tanning?] How about Congolese ... Ethiopian ... St. Vincentian?

I'm stymied. The receptionist comes out from behind her barricade to help this older guy who has no idea how to deal with computers, clicks some buttons and gets ASIAN ... Burmese ... Thai ... Vietnamese. BLACK. I'm African-American again.

She's lost as well.

I notice a small arrow bottom right and keep keep pressing it, reasoning there must be a W down there somewhere as it scrolls on forever ... NATIVE HAWAIIAN ... listing every tribe known to mankind and in galaxies beyond . . Cambodian ... Chinese ... Hmong .... what's a YAPESE and why? All those Spaniards ... Andalusian ... I like the sound of that ... or maybe Valencian, they have great oranges?

And there it is, all the way at the bottom! WHITE! So much for White Privilege. No mention of Aryan so WHITE will have to do.

A bit later in the Doctor's office after multiple zappings with his ray gun: You wouldn't do all that sun again, would you he says. No cancer. See you in a couple of months.

A PDF of Races and Ethnicity is attached below, seems it's standard for medical services. Future research project: what did the Nazi's chart looked like?

  • Edited February 26, 2023 3:31 pm  by  gunter
In reply toRe: msg 149

From: gunter


new york new york


In reply toRe: msg 164

From: gunter


Marilyn Merlot

The 2004 Marilyn Merlot is out. I hoof it north for a mile or so to a likker store which may be the only joint in town having that bottle for just around $20. A small winery in California has made the wine a cult item since getting rights to use the name in 1985, featuring a different image of Marilyn Monroe each year. Remaining bottles of the 1985 vintage are $3,800 and a collection of one bottle from each vintage is closing in on $10,000 now. The latest, 2004, has a photo from the movie "How to Marry a Millionaire."

I overcome my initial hesitation at having to ask someone for a bottle of Marilyn Merlot? and casually sidle up to the a shop person kneeling there on the floor. "Where can I get Marilyn ..." I stop. He is stacking bottles of just what we're looking for. "Oh, there it is." "No," he says, "this is Norma Jeane, Marilyn is there," pointing to the next bin. Shortly thereafter I head back south guarding a bag containing one of each.

We come to taste not to collect, ergo tonight it's Marilyn Merlot. They don't say anything about being good with pizza and hot wings, but what the heck, it's real Americana, just like Marilyn. I improve two frozen Celeste Sausage Pizzas with anchovies, sliced tomatoes and a dusting of Romano and bake them alongside a package of Weaver's Hot Wings. The wings turn out to be a mistake, causing us to miss out on the full flavor of the Merlot until the heat dies down. Still, it's a satisfying dinner.

The wine is dark ruby in the glass, a standard California Merlot, smooth and rich with black cherries and chocolate and I do get vanilla lingering on the palate.

Now the question is what to do with the bottle, even empty it may be a hot collector's item in a year a two? I can't quite deal with that and suggest I'll simply spread the joy by placing the bottle outside on top of the garbage, leaving it for a passing connoisseur, but then Roomie calls a neighbor who collects things and who gratefully accepts the treasure.

moving on to jello chocolate pudding now ...

[That was back in 2006. Checking the online now I see where a bottle goes for a paltry $130 (unopened) and even some hits for less.]

[Can't find anything about what I did with Norma Jeane back then.]


In reply toRe: msg 165

From: gunter


los miserables


From: bshmr


Can you tell me more? If so, creator, location, owner, ... ? 


From: gunter


I took a snippet of a recent big news story and multiplied it.

Could be a rug design for a tyrant's throne room.

In reply toRe: msg 168

From: gunter


Chinatown Brasserie

My computer shows a vicious storm cell approaching the City but timing should work out just right and we'll be able to get in dinner al fresco at Chinatown Brasserie, a new restaurant not far from home on Lafayette, specializing in dim sum and BBQ. We're the only ones outside, the beautiful people are all inside in air-conditoned comfort, but we get to see East Village hotties parade by and participate in the excitement of two separate alarms at the nearby fire station, engines pulling out, screaming sirens, while we sip our wine, a bottle of an Australian Rhone-style blend: Three Gardens Langmeil, syrah, grenache and mouvedre. It's actually a very nice peppery syrah even at a premium restaurant price; the same can be said of the food which is somewhere between standard and good Chinese fare. Tasty, but at a premium. Someone has to pay for comfortable wicker chairs and huge umbrellas guarding the tables, the sumptuous lacquered interior, not to mention the large, fat and obviously happy koi in a basement pool.

We'll have to take a closer look inside some other time, the clouds thicken as we finish our mere tastes of Pork Tenderloin - your ordinary tender slices of Chinese restaurant pork - Seafood Dumplings, Duck and Shrimp Dumplings, and Pork Potstickers - standard gyoza actually - all served appetizingly decorated with various sauces.

There are chocolate fortune cookies on top of the bill. Note: Langmail syrah and chocolate fortune cookies are a match. I think I managed to decipher the deep meaning of my fortune:

Ask your child what he wants for dinner only if he is buying. Fran Lebowitz.

On the way home we stop at a market for Banana Split Häagen-Dazs and make it almost to our front steps where a sudden blast of hot air full of city grit is followed by rolling thunder and lightning. The first big drops start falling as we open the door. Excellent timing.

it's cool inside, ice cream coming up shortly ...