Wok The Dog

In response to a response by Opus, a cat is a good, popular meal. In Asia they prefer their protein fresh and sold live (fish, eels, cats, etc.). Cats in a market are for sale as supper, not as pets. 

The Golden Retrievers I've seen are in the Korean markets - always with a red and blue bow around the neck. It lets the buyer know they're for BBQ'ing. They always look healthy and active because nobody will pay good money for a listless meal.

The caged market cats in China usually look forlorn. While I'm not a cat lover, it's not a pretty sight. 

It's HIGHLY unusual to see a feral dog or cat in Asia. The joke in the USA: 

Q "What do you call a Chinaman with two dogs?" 

A "A rancher."

Is not really that far from the truth.

Rat too, is a source of protein and is widely consumed in Indonesia, Malaysia, China, Indochina, etc. The first place I ate sambal rat was in Suluweisi. Westerners and more particularly, western WOMEN seem to be repulsed at the idea of eating a rat for supper, even one spiced and properly cooked.

For Opus, who is Jewish, I don't think that there is any way to prepare a rat so as to make it kosher unless, of course

you are making sausage/a hot dog.

Then who really knows - more to the point, do you really WANT to know when you're at the ball park enjoying the big game?

In Asia, practical expediency overrules Western prejudice when it comes to eating - though I admit that when I ate scorpions - though they tasted ok, it took a bit of doing to swallow them.

Tastes just like chicken...

This, I wrote...

www.afghan-network.net/Culture/buzkashi.html

Panjasher 

Valley

post 9/11

There is some kind of warning before you proceed to the site. I don't know why it's there. Perhaps because we're at war in Afghanistan, but it's not hazardous in any way I know of. This information is all cultural and historic.

NY Times - They Quoted Me

query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9907E491231F933A05750C0A9669C8B63

Ok, it was back in 2000.

But they say they called me and I commented. I don't recall that part.

Legio Patria Nostra

movies that make me flash back

There are movies that remind me of things that happened to me. MAN ON FIRE is one of those. They're not always even close to what happened, but when you see them, they transport you. A friend blogged about smelling smells when he watched a different movie and it reminded me of this one. Good movies do that. They transport you. Sometimes in a good way. Sometimes not. Burned gunpowder, food smells, the distinctive sounds of some cities, the distinctively metallic smell of fresh blood and the battlefield odors of corruption, feces, and yes, there is even a smell I associate with broken dreams of the dead. I can't tell you what it smells like, but sometimes I smell it and remember. 

Weather and the smells of seasons, the rush of wind through pines or night blooming jasmine that come to you when your mind is stimulated by films, is the oddest thing. 

Films about Asia bring back the morning markets, the sound of cities waking up. The bicycles being peddled into town at 4 am loaded with produce. The fresh fish, eels, bugs (to eat - because it's all protein) and the livestock - from golden retrievers to chickens, cats and even rats.

The cry of birds, the croak of really big frogs, and all of those impressions that you hold in your subconscious waiting for them to be unlocked once more.

There is also the Asian bar scenes. Thirty bars, all small, side-by-side, catering to different types of customers, each with it's own music blasting at least three times as loud as it needs to be. The confused melodies carry out into the street where vendors hawk gut busting curry, chicken pieces on a stick and the girls sell three kinds of chicken to tourists looking for a cheap thrill.

The Sounds of Silence

I loved working at night because the world was so different in the night. Sometimes human conduct in the shadows is debase and depraved. For the most part, the world is asleep, and they rely on guardians of the night.

Today the night means that the phone won't ring. I won't be disturbed. I can read, or think, or write from the soul without distractions.

Next Story

WHITE POWDER, my novel set in Laos in 1961 is complete and I'm in the editing phase, with the help of my friend and blog reader WoFat and others.

The next story I'm working on, PENITENT MAN is a contemporary novel set in The Sudan and Darfur. The current story is about Tom Deever, a man who flies a Mi-24 Hind gunship in The Sudan in support of oil companies. The former Soviet gunships are very effective against ground targets, but over time, he has become disillusioned and returned to the US. 

His former employers have another job for him that will take him back into the thick of things, with a twist.

Niki Brown, a psychiatrist, worked for S. E. Petroleum Orientale, the same place Deever did. She fell in love with Deever and that love is about to be rekindled as Deever seeks to put past wrongs he's done to right.

The story is about love, redemption and unfolds within the current bloody war in Darfur. The scenery is real, the situation is real. Only some of the characters have changed to satisfy the requirements of fiction.

Be Careful What You Wish For...

Barry Soetoro (aka Barack Hussein Obama) has his hands full. First, there's the payback to the political parasites and back-slappers who helped propel him into office. ($800+ Billion)

Congress granted him that wish because it shows they're doing something - even if it's the wrong thing - and I'm not sure that Congress knows the difference between right and wrong.

When the wine stirred in their heart, their bosoms dilated.

They rose to suppose themselves kings over all things created-

To decree a new earth at birth without labor or sorrow-

To declare: "We prepare it today and inherit tomorrow."

They chose themselves prophets and priests of minute understanding,

Men swift to see done, and outrun, their extremest commanding

Of the tribe which describe with a jibe the perversions of Justice

Panders avowed to the crowd whatsoever its lust is.

-Kipling (an excerpt from THE CITY OF BRASS)