[Don Sang, 4/5/23] Over two visits, I have spent six weeks in Laos, Land of a Million Elephants. By vans and buses, I’ve criss crossed this country. Of course, I’ve seen no elephants, not even during my two days on Elephant Island [Don Sang]. At Vietnamese temples, there’s often a large depiction of
Having gained this sow's confidence, I was told, in very clear, succinct language, that pigs are quite at peace with their genitals. "Only you stupid humans," she spat, "would voluntarily butcher them!"
I think that Cato knows that, but whether it’s because he owns considerable acreage of swine farms, or whether he has other proclivities, I cannot say.
I’m no great fan of the slobbering, stinky-breathed, shit-eating, shit-rolling,shitting-all-over-the-place barking best friend of the human being. But eating him? A thousand times no, she whimpers. But one never knows oneself until the day of great duress. Hunger lets loose hordes of ghosts from a screaming stomach. Have people not eaten their own children to pacify them?
But it’s a true proverb that a piece of meat is a piece of shame. It’s a piece of participating in killing, in shedding blood. Earth is one big killing field. There is not enough red ink in the world to illustrate the horrible history of humankind. We’re up to our eyeballs in blood. And now it’s Easter. Again, shedding blood. Kill to live. I don’t know why it’s like that, this rule of life.
By the way, I eat meat. And another by the way, I would have given that boy killing the little yellow bird a fat kick if no one was watching.
The only dogs with smelly breath are dogs that do not have healthy guts. My dogs have always had the sweetest-smelling breath imaginable, far better than most humans.
Think of your body transforming that piece of meat into another piece of meat, YOU. It's just life, it's just nature, it's just that endless circle in which if I am lucky I will end up as a meal for worms and all the amazing life contained in a spoonful of soil.
I ate dog outside of Hanoi in 2001. I thought it was fine. They brought out beer in buckets. (Bottles of beer in buckets of ice) I noticed some of the patrons were blue collar workers taking their families out for a treat. It was all okay until the beer made me find the necessary. There was no WC. There was a wall in the basement that was a sort of trough. Okay fine, no problem, just please don’t stare at my equipment, comrades. The problem was when I was done and turned around to go back upstairs. And saw the cages with the puppies. And the smell! These puppies were steeped in urine. Maybe that’s a trade secret. Dog eat dog.
Most Vietnamese don't eat dogmeat, with many quite contemptuous of those who do. Dogmeat is more popular in the north and rural areas.
That said, a classic Vietnamese essay is Vũ Bằng's 1952 piece on dogmeat. It's included in his Miếng ngon Hà Nội [Hanoi Delicacies], with its 17 chapters, each devoted to a Hanoi dish.
When Kim Il-sung visited North Vietnam in 1964, he was treated to a dogmeat dinner by general Phùng Thế Thài. So impressed by how it's prepared, he asked to bring the cook back to North Korea, so this was arranged. This cook had to borrow a suit for publicity photos, and to look presentable as he accompanied the "Great Leader" to North Korea.
"......I saw Seattle at 11, Portland at 12, Los Angeles, Houston and New Orleans at 13, San Francisco and San Jose at 15, then Washington, New York, Chicago and Saint Louis at 16...." Ah ha. That was the Dead Tour in '74. Linh was a prepubescent Dead Head. LOL. Looking forward to your next update, as always. You're flying very close to the ground of late it appears. I like to think I could handle the one star hotels with water and electricity even if the AC is a bit loud. A hut in a Mekong swamp is a bridge to far for me, I admit. That said, commenting on the specific of your travels, as gloriously detailed as they are, is rather trite and not the real point of your blog. I get it. The West is in an inexorable slow motion collapse, I'm saddened to say, but there is life at the other end. At 65, I just hope they can keep the lights on another 20 years. As to the 75% or so of living humans beings not under the thumb of the Global American Empire? The dogs bark but the caravan moves on.
the dogs bark but the caravan moves on reminds me of a near-quote of that saying in a something by the late surrealist poet james tate
Behind The Green Door
Thaddeus had said he wanted to get together, but,
then, when we met in town, he didn’t seem to have anything
on his mind. “I’d like to get myself one of those remote-
controlled airplanes, and chase pigeons in the park,” he
said. “That will show them who’s boss,” I said. “Of course,
some people might think I’m a little old for that,” he said.
“For terrorizing innocent birds? You’re never too old for
that, Thad,” I said. We sipped at our beers. It was still
before noon, and Mary’s was almost empty, except for an elderly
couple at the bar drinking martinis. “They’re pretty expensive,”
Thad said. “Martinis?” I said. “No, stupid, remote-controlled
airplanes,” he said. “Think of it as an investment in your
lost childhood,” I said. He thought that over for a while.
The couple at the bar toasted one another, and laughed. The
bartender brought us another round. It was a Saturday, and
I had many errands and chores on my list. “You know all about
my ‘lost childhood,’ so I don’t need to remind you,” he said.
“I can recite what you got and what you didn’t get for all
your birthdays,” I said. “Then, why do you put up with me?”
he said. “I need to suffer, Thaddeus. It makes me a better
person. So, you see, indulging you is completely selfish
on my part. It doesn’t make any sense, but that’s how the
world is, and that’s why some great good may come out of
making those birds suffer. I don’t know what it is, but something
tells me it’s so,” I said. The woman at the bar was tickling
the man’s ribs, and he was about to fall off his stool. “Then,
you think there really is a plan?” Thad said. “Absolutely,
right down to the last drop of beer spilled on this floor
every night, to the ant you killed walking out your door,
and the plane crash in the Andes,” I said. Thaddeus seemed
stunned, while I was just saying anything that came into my
head. I took it as my job to give him something to think
about. The couple at the bar ordered another round. Then,
Thaddeus said, “If that’s true, then I’ve never really done
anything wrong. I had no choice, I’m off the hook.” I looked
at my watch. We were right on schedule for that conclusion.
“And soon the earth will open up, and a ten-thousand-year-old
giant squid will strangle us all,” I said. “I’m hungry,” Thaddeus
said, “do you want to get some lunch? There’s a new place
across the street.” “That’s not new. They just painted the
door a different color. The owner, Herb, had a midlife crisis
or something,” I said. “Well, then, it’s sort of new, I mean,
you don’t know what you’re going to get after something like
that,” he said. “I see your point. I suppose it could get
kind of ugly. Or maybe not. It could be better than ever.
Still, I have these errands,” I said. “You’re afraid to lose
even an hour, George, afraid what you might find in its place,
something truly unknown, without a name, no visible shape.
There’s nothing wrong with that, George. You know I’ve always
admired you, so go on your way, get your dishwashing detergent
or whatever it is. I’m going to find out what’s behind that green
door,” Thaddeus said. “No doubt there will be an ambrosia burger,”
I said, “and you’ll order one.” “I will have no choice,” he
said. When we stepped outside, the sunlight blinded me. “Good-bye,
Thaddeus,” I said, “wherever you are.” A dog barked, and, then,
a siren sped by. I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my
face.
-- From "Ghost Soldiers" (2008)
these jocular remarks at a suburban america bar about free will, and destiny, and small pleasures, point obliquely to the mystery of life - may all sentient beings be enlightened, however long it takes
The RC aircraft is now an armed drone with AI. It shoots injections sponsored by Pfizer. Any mid-life crisis that results in a new paint job, is a win.
Thank you sincerely for pointing out that Lewis and Clark wrote about eating dog meat. Timely because Americans today can’t imagine being so low. Of course, if they looked at the homeless people who live on the streets, they could, but Americans are adept at tuning things out and making others into un-persons. Empire is so bad for ordinary people. “Uncle Reggie’s got his empire mug and spoon, and a small pension, so he’s alright.” When I read Postcards I thought about de Tocqueville, him and Linh Dinh, early Americans of a new Republic, vs sad blitzed out denizens of a rotting empire. Free idea: Zombie de Tocqueville wanders America interviewing semi coherent street people. He gets his own social media channels, he goes viral, gets his own talk show, runs for President, but of course the whole controversy over his death certificate ensues…
Another nice offering, Linh. I'm curious--if you don't understand the local dialect, how were you able to recognize the village idiot? If he had a wedding ring on, I guess there is someone that doesn't think he's a complete idiot. Unless he's married to the village "idiotess"!
He looked pretty stupid and couldn't talk. He pointed and made odd sounds. Still, he was well put together physically. That, and a good enough work ethic has landed him a wife.
In Stung Treng, Cambodia, I noticed two men and a boy who were homeless and clearly not mentally sound. The boy, though, could sometimes be seen eating a sandwich or a styrofoam container of rice with meat, so people were feeding him.
One of Vietnam's best known short stories has a semi deranged fool impregnating the ugliest woman around. It's written by Nam Cao in 1941. A decade later, the author as a guerilla against the French was killed at age 36.
The good news is that this village still HAS an idiot and apparently is taking care of him. I've read of many such small places that have someone like this, and it seems that even with their problems, they are still tacitly accepted as part of the community and looked after.
I had heard that quite a few villages were missing their idiots, but it seems not all of them have made their way to Washington DC yet.
a nova scotia village along the cumberland strait had a downs syndrome citizen a couple years older than i, whom i encountered as a child when visiting relatives there, and saw again half a century later when i was 60 - he was involved in the lobster fishery then - he was included, he could work to his capacity, he had relatives, they had known him all his life - so much better a life than being warehoused at taxpayers' expense - a better life than being terminated as a fetus? well, that's hard to know
Steer clear of the uncooked fish larb, very toxic to your kidney. Some NE Thais still eat it in spite of knowing the dangers. Larb is addictive, I ate the uncooked pork version in the evenings for nearly 3 years, yum!
A fine piece. I don't know why the West has dissolved into madness, but it's interesting to see how there is another life to be lived somewhere else. Shocking about that poor teacher!
Hi everyone,
Emailing the article, I had the pig as a he, then I remembered it was actually a she, so I had to revise. Here's a photo of this lovely lady:
http://linhdinhphotos.blogspot.com/2023/04/pig-on-4-5-23-don-sang-copy.html
Having gained this sow's confidence, I was told, in very clear, succinct language, that pigs are quite at peace with their genitals. "Only you stupid humans," she spat, "would voluntarily butcher them!"
Linh
She’s a sexy beast
Did you know, BTC, that a female pig's clitoris is INSIDE her vagina? My god, I have a head full of weird and useless information!
I think that Cato knows that, but whether it’s because he owns considerable acreage of swine farms, or whether he has other proclivities, I cannot say.
Nicely spoken, Linh. You're looking good and sounding good! Write more, but feel no burden. It's always nice hearing from you, wherever you are.
I’m no great fan of the slobbering, stinky-breathed, shit-eating, shit-rolling,shitting-all-over-the-place barking best friend of the human being. But eating him? A thousand times no, she whimpers. But one never knows oneself until the day of great duress. Hunger lets loose hordes of ghosts from a screaming stomach. Have people not eaten their own children to pacify them?
But it’s a true proverb that a piece of meat is a piece of shame. It’s a piece of participating in killing, in shedding blood. Earth is one big killing field. There is not enough red ink in the world to illustrate the horrible history of humankind. We’re up to our eyeballs in blood. And now it’s Easter. Again, shedding blood. Kill to live. I don’t know why it’s like that, this rule of life.
By the way, I eat meat. And another by the way, I would have given that boy killing the little yellow bird a fat kick if no one was watching.
The only dogs with smelly breath are dogs that do not have healthy guts. My dogs have always had the sweetest-smelling breath imaginable, far better than most humans.
Think of your body transforming that piece of meat into another piece of meat, YOU. It's just life, it's just nature, it's just that endless circle in which if I am lucky I will end up as a meal for worms and all the amazing life contained in a spoonful of soil.
I ate dog outside of Hanoi in 2001. I thought it was fine. They brought out beer in buckets. (Bottles of beer in buckets of ice) I noticed some of the patrons were blue collar workers taking their families out for a treat. It was all okay until the beer made me find the necessary. There was no WC. There was a wall in the basement that was a sort of trough. Okay fine, no problem, just please don’t stare at my equipment, comrades. The problem was when I was done and turned around to go back upstairs. And saw the cages with the puppies. And the smell! These puppies were steeped in urine. Maybe that’s a trade secret. Dog eat dog.
Hi Ben,
Most Vietnamese don't eat dogmeat, with many quite contemptuous of those who do. Dogmeat is more popular in the north and rural areas.
That said, a classic Vietnamese essay is Vũ Bằng's 1952 piece on dogmeat. It's included in his Miếng ngon Hà Nội [Hanoi Delicacies], with its 17 chapters, each devoted to a Hanoi dish.
When Kim Il-sung visited North Vietnam in 1964, he was treated to a dogmeat dinner by general Phùng Thế Thài. So impressed by how it's prepared, he asked to bring the cook back to North Korea, so this was arranged. This cook had to borrow a suit for publicity photos, and to look presentable as he accompanied the "Great Leader" to North Korea.
Linh
Why are your followers also subscribing to me? 🤔https://thorstenjpattberg.substack.com/ We should meet, when in Tokyo. 🇯🇵👊🏻
"......I saw Seattle at 11, Portland at 12, Los Angeles, Houston and New Orleans at 13, San Francisco and San Jose at 15, then Washington, New York, Chicago and Saint Louis at 16...." Ah ha. That was the Dead Tour in '74. Linh was a prepubescent Dead Head. LOL. Looking forward to your next update, as always. You're flying very close to the ground of late it appears. I like to think I could handle the one star hotels with water and electricity even if the AC is a bit loud. A hut in a Mekong swamp is a bridge to far for me, I admit. That said, commenting on the specific of your travels, as gloriously detailed as they are, is rather trite and not the real point of your blog. I get it. The West is in an inexorable slow motion collapse, I'm saddened to say, but there is life at the other end. At 65, I just hope they can keep the lights on another 20 years. As to the 75% or so of living humans beings not under the thumb of the Global American Empire? The dogs bark but the caravan moves on.
the dogs bark but the caravan moves on reminds me of a near-quote of that saying in a something by the late surrealist poet james tate
Behind The Green Door
Thaddeus had said he wanted to get together, but,
then, when we met in town, he didn’t seem to have anything
on his mind. “I’d like to get myself one of those remote-
controlled airplanes, and chase pigeons in the park,” he
said. “That will show them who’s boss,” I said. “Of course,
some people might think I’m a little old for that,” he said.
“For terrorizing innocent birds? You’re never too old for
that, Thad,” I said. We sipped at our beers. It was still
before noon, and Mary’s was almost empty, except for an elderly
couple at the bar drinking martinis. “They’re pretty expensive,”
Thad said. “Martinis?” I said. “No, stupid, remote-controlled
airplanes,” he said. “Think of it as an investment in your
lost childhood,” I said. He thought that over for a while.
The couple at the bar toasted one another, and laughed. The
bartender brought us another round. It was a Saturday, and
I had many errands and chores on my list. “You know all about
my ‘lost childhood,’ so I don’t need to remind you,” he said.
“I can recite what you got and what you didn’t get for all
your birthdays,” I said. “Then, why do you put up with me?”
he said. “I need to suffer, Thaddeus. It makes me a better
person. So, you see, indulging you is completely selfish
on my part. It doesn’t make any sense, but that’s how the
world is, and that’s why some great good may come out of
making those birds suffer. I don’t know what it is, but something
tells me it’s so,” I said. The woman at the bar was tickling
the man’s ribs, and he was about to fall off his stool. “Then,
you think there really is a plan?” Thad said. “Absolutely,
right down to the last drop of beer spilled on this floor
every night, to the ant you killed walking out your door,
and the plane crash in the Andes,” I said. Thaddeus seemed
stunned, while I was just saying anything that came into my
head. I took it as my job to give him something to think
about. The couple at the bar ordered another round. Then,
Thaddeus said, “If that’s true, then I’ve never really done
anything wrong. I had no choice, I’m off the hook.” I looked
at my watch. We were right on schedule for that conclusion.
“And soon the earth will open up, and a ten-thousand-year-old
giant squid will strangle us all,” I said. “I’m hungry,” Thaddeus
said, “do you want to get some lunch? There’s a new place
across the street.” “That’s not new. They just painted the
door a different color. The owner, Herb, had a midlife crisis
or something,” I said. “Well, then, it’s sort of new, I mean,
you don’t know what you’re going to get after something like
that,” he said. “I see your point. I suppose it could get
kind of ugly. Or maybe not. It could be better than ever.
Still, I have these errands,” I said. “You’re afraid to lose
even an hour, George, afraid what you might find in its place,
something truly unknown, without a name, no visible shape.
There’s nothing wrong with that, George. You know I’ve always
admired you, so go on your way, get your dishwashing detergent
or whatever it is. I’m going to find out what’s behind that green
door,” Thaddeus said. “No doubt there will be an ambrosia burger,”
I said, “and you’ll order one.” “I will have no choice,” he
said. When we stepped outside, the sunlight blinded me. “Good-bye,
Thaddeus,” I said, “wherever you are.” A dog barked, and, then,
a siren sped by. I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my
face.
-- From "Ghost Soldiers" (2008)
these jocular remarks at a suburban america bar about free will, and destiny, and small pleasures, point obliquely to the mystery of life - may all sentient beings be enlightened, however long it takes
The RC aircraft is now an armed drone with AI. It shoots injections sponsored by Pfizer. Any mid-life crisis that results in a new paint job, is a win.
Thank you sincerely for pointing out that Lewis and Clark wrote about eating dog meat. Timely because Americans today can’t imagine being so low. Of course, if they looked at the homeless people who live on the streets, they could, but Americans are adept at tuning things out and making others into un-persons. Empire is so bad for ordinary people. “Uncle Reggie’s got his empire mug and spoon, and a small pension, so he’s alright.” When I read Postcards I thought about de Tocqueville, him and Linh Dinh, early Americans of a new Republic, vs sad blitzed out denizens of a rotting empire. Free idea: Zombie de Tocqueville wanders America interviewing semi coherent street people. He gets his own social media channels, he goes viral, gets his own talk show, runs for President, but of course the whole controversy over his death certificate ensues…
Thanks for taking me into corners of the world we never hear about
Another nice offering, Linh. I'm curious--if you don't understand the local dialect, how were you able to recognize the village idiot? If he had a wedding ring on, I guess there is someone that doesn't think he's a complete idiot. Unless he's married to the village "idiotess"!
Hi JustPlainBill,
He looked pretty stupid and couldn't talk. He pointed and made odd sounds. Still, he was well put together physically. That, and a good enough work ethic has landed him a wife.
In Stung Treng, Cambodia, I noticed two men and a boy who were homeless and clearly not mentally sound. The boy, though, could sometimes be seen eating a sandwich or a styrofoam container of rice with meat, so people were feeding him.
One of Vietnam's best known short stories has a semi deranged fool impregnating the ugliest woman around. It's written by Nam Cao in 1941. A decade later, the author as a guerilla against the French was killed at age 36.
Linh
The good news is that this village still HAS an idiot and apparently is taking care of him. I've read of many such small places that have someone like this, and it seems that even with their problems, they are still tacitly accepted as part of the community and looked after.
I had heard that quite a few villages were missing their idiots, but it seems not all of them have made their way to Washington DC yet.
a nova scotia village along the cumberland strait had a downs syndrome citizen a couple years older than i, whom i encountered as a child when visiting relatives there, and saw again half a century later when i was 60 - he was involved in the lobster fishery then - he was included, he could work to his capacity, he had relatives, they had known him all his life - so much better a life than being warehoused at taxpayers' expense - a better life than being terminated as a fetus? well, that's hard to know
Steer clear of the uncooked fish larb, very toxic to your kidney. Some NE Thais still eat it in spite of knowing the dangers. Larb is addictive, I ate the uncooked pork version in the evenings for nearly 3 years, yum!
A fine piece. I don't know why the West has dissolved into madness, but it's interesting to see how there is another life to be lived somewhere else. Shocking about that poor teacher!