Let's interview Nazi housewives

 I got in last night, ate two huge avocados for dinner (some cheese and olives later) and packed 15 things to take to the post office. 

Drank wine and watched YouTube and went to bed. 

I woke up around 2, did a few exercises while listening to the radio - NPR is pretty much the sound track around here. Well, there were not one but two, count 'em two, interviews with Hamas housewives who were allowed to kvetch at length about how hard things are for them. 

Now, firstly, assuming there is actual starvation in "Gaza", which is highly debatable, if these were Jewish people, they'd cooperate and coordinate and make sure everyone's fed. The area'd become one big kibbutz. But instead among the "Palestinians" it's pretty much the same as it is for Americans - dog-eat-dog and everyone for themselves. So one lady is complaining about the price of frozen meat, while her neighbors can't afford to buy the food-aid they've commandeered, and so much for charity being one of the pillars of Islam.

But why, why in hell, are "Palestinian" housewives being interviewed and given air time at all? Did we interview Nazi housewives in WWII and ask about how the war, brought on by the party they voted for, is making their life hard? Or Japanese/Korean/Afghani/Iraqi housewives? 

No, but we have tears and radio time for the group whose raison d'etre is the wiping out of Da Jooz(tm). What's going on is the equivalent of when the Allies had the Nazis chased back to within German borders or a bit in from there, then a lot of people pushing for a cease-fire, let the Nazis stay in power in Germany, make peacy-weacy etc. 

I left here around 4, feeling, awful. I'm sure I drank a liter of wine last night, plus I'd had that tall beer. Lagunitas "Lil' sumpin'" used to be lower alcohol but I've noticed it's higher now. It's really time I get onto the Dilute and Delay regime and taper back. 

I stopped at Nijiya and used change to buy a can of Doutor coffee, which I stashed in the bike bag. I rode over to the post office and dropped off my 15 packages, and now I was free to lollygag a bit. It was windy, but the sun was out, the sky a beautiful blue, and it felt good being out. 

I was amazed to see Leroy playing at his old location in front of the erstwhile Johnny Rockets. San Jose is becoming a town of "there this used to be" and "where that was". There was a guy filming him with a phone, and I stood clear while he did that and Roy played a medley of "Do You Know The Way To San Jose" and some other things I could not identify. His sax is looking, um, greener than ever. 

When Roy took a break we had a good old talk, catching up on things.  He's out playing more days of the week than not, and plays at each of his locations an hour, then moves on. He's putting in 2-3 hours a day. I asked him what reeds he uses, thinking I might come across some, but he uses these plastic coated reeds that I doubt I'll come across. We talked about trying different instruments, and I said I'd rented a sax once but "it's a *lot* of buttons, and I get confused enough with the 3 that are on a trumpet" and he said he'd tried trumpet and "couldn't get a sound". I said it's like the instruments choose us. We wished each other well and I rode off.

I wanted to get something to eat, and rode down to the "SoFa Marketplace" food court thing. I pulled up to lock my bike to the bike rack and Whewff! Did it ever smell like piss there. It's right by the gutter. I was ready to let that slide, except a bum was hanging around, and it seemed like the bum was really looking forward to doing a little "shopping trip" through my bike bags once I was out of sight. 

I looked at the bum, and the bum looked at me, and I casually put the lock and chain away and got on the bike and rode off. 

I rode South, thinking about various food places, There's Wienerschnitzel, and Burger Barn, Los Chivos, and so on. I decided to try out the sort of "food court" that's a place where 6 or 7 Mexican food trucks set up. 

You have to give the city of San Jose credit for authenticity. It's a dirt lot, with big pieces of cardboard covering ditches that are there for some reason, and which make a loud sound when a car goes over them. I sidled up to the first one, and a bum was there with a dog, which barked at me. So  I went to the one opposite. I even joked with the guy about how he's got my business because of that bum and his dog across the way. 

I'm glad I found the place. My two asada tacos were $8 and change, but they had a lot of meat in them, and the plate came with radish slices and grilled onions and a grilled pepper, and I got myself a little cup of pickled carrots too. It was a standard San Jose al fresco meal, traditionally eaten quickly as you hope the wind doesn't blow your food away first. Lots of beef, grease, and hot sauce, it doesn't get better. 

I even memorized the name, to put a good review on Google but in keeping with authenticity, the place doesn't show up on any map. You just have to know, the way it was in  the 70's when I was a kid. 

I went over to Big-5 to lock the bike and there was a guy lying flat on the sidewalk, apparently asleep. I looked around in Big-5 but didn't see anything I wanted, and bought a Gatorade which I put beside the passed out guy who opened his eyes a crack as I said quietly, "Have a Gatorade" and then walked over to Walmart. 

I got pretty routine stuff, and lucked out paper towel wise because there was just one 2-pack left and it was left because it looked weird. Apparently at the factory, a stray sheet of paper towel had gotten tangled up in the packaging and it looked like one roll was unrolling. But it wasn't, it was fine and I removed the stray sheet. 

My stuff came to about $40 which was great because I had $60 after the tacos. I rode home by way of the Amazon place where I got some bubble mailers, and then just putted along, fighting the wind, on home.