Wednesday, March 12, 2014
The Poetic Silence of Justice Clarence Thomas
I read an article in the New Yorker this morning that made my Mexican blood boil. It was another attack upon Clarence Thomas. As an individual who has never had any respect for authority or the law, I have never much cared for the Supreme Court. I always figured it was a facade created by the Harvard Graduates in charge of the CIA to give the fools their tartar sauce. But Clarence Thomas can never do anything right, and every single word that he ever utters will be held beneath contempt by all of the fake ass fuckers writing in the New Yorker. Because what is right for Blacks is always thought up by white elites with a smattering of elite black input. If you don't tow their line, you had better shut the fuck up. I understand what he is doing by staring at the ceiling. He understands his place more than any other black professional in the country. I do not agree with his interpretation of the law, but feel he is far less of a Tom than Obama. Thomas certainly does not possess a great legal mind like Justice Marshall unarguably possessed, and I personally believe that it nothing less than an abomination that he sits in that fucking courthouse but I believe that he should be treated with slightly more respect than a leper.
Colombian Food Fabricated Entirely From Cocaine HCL
My wife and I split the Marulanda Platter which contained fried bananas, a large piece of pan-fried round steak, a large, well-seasoned chorizo, beans, rice, arepa, chicharron and avocado. It was made entirely out of cocaine served on a plate made out of super hardened cocaine. Even the green onion salsa was fabricated from pure cocaine. How they do it, I do not know. My daughter got the plato Raul Ruiz. It was a steak sautéed in cocaine topped with a fried egg. Her boyfriend got the stewed beef that looked a bit like the FARC version of rope vieja. I think it may have been called the plato Trabajador. He also liked the empanadas which were also made out of 100% grade "A" cocaine. We appreciated the Romancing the Stone movie posters and the Che portraits.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Seppi Esfandi and It Never Pays To Be A Good Samaritan These Days
A few months ago, I came home from a night hike and parked my car up the street. While walking to my building, I noticed my next neighbor struggling to assist her very drunk boyfriend get up the stairs. As a resident of Los Angeles, I never bothered to introduce myself, and had never said anything more than hello and goodbye to this lady for the entire four months that she lived next door to me. I had seen the boyfriend a few times, and a couple of times, I saw him parking his giant Ford F-150. He was in his late 20's and if I were to guess his occupation at the outset, I would have thought he was a firefighter or something. This particular evening, he probably had probably drank a case of beer by himself. He was struggling, rocking, and rolling each time he climbed a stair and almost fell each time he took a step forward.
I asked if I could be of assistance, and positioned his arm over my shoulder and held his waist to steady him up the stairs. I continued to hold him as she opened the door, walked him into her living room and helped him sit on the couch. Just as I turned to walk out of the house, I got a fist smashed into my ear and then another in the small of my back. The guy called me a faggot, and pushed me into the closed door. The neighbor was screaming at him, and the guy across the hall came out of his apartment and called the LAPD. I was able to recover and turn around and face the guy I had attempted to help and kicked his knee out. When he was on the ground, I continued to snap kick him in the torso, then moved around and began to kick him in the head. The guy was not small and at least 20 years my junior. If not for the alcohol, I could have easily been killed. The neighbor continued to scream. The guy was far from being knocked out, so I helped him along by bashing his face with a scented candle.
About 30 minutes later, I was sitting in the interview room at the police station on Vermont and Olympic. The fine Desk Sergeant at the Vermont Station told me he was going to get everything straightened out, and encouraged me to tell my version of what had happened. I told him that I had nothing to say and that he could discuss the case with my lawyer. The bail for assault with a deadly weapon was 50,000, double for the allegations of great bodily injury, and then I found that they had also charged me with burglary for using a candle to pummel this stinking bag of paraquat.
The monster truck driving guy I had assaulted was indeed a firefighter. Even though I had attempted to be a good Samaritan, I had landed in felony hot water. I am a non-confrontational dude who never puts a finger on anyone unless someone puts a finger on me. I would never injure someone unless my safety was in danger. While I have been in fights before, I had never started one, and had never faced a trial for defending myself.
As you can imagine, a firefighter gets preferential treatment from the Court because they are first responders. If you are unlucky to defend yourself against one, it is the same as fighting a cop. It was a complicated matter. Seppi was recommended to me by the son of the former presiding judge of the LA Superior Court. When I initially spoke with him, he did not promise me the moon and the stars, but explained what he was going to do clearly and concisely and told me at the outset how much I was going to have to pay him.
He sent an investigator over to interview the emergency room staff, and one of the RN's present told him that the "victim" had to be hogtied when they were stitching him up and that a spit mask had to be placed over his head. After subpoenaing the medical records from the emergency room, Seppi discovered that the firefighter's BAC was .32 at the time of the incident. It was at this point in time that the District Attorney announced that they would not be moving forward with the case.
I have zero respect for our criminal courts. It is more of a fucking joke than in Mexico. It is nothing but a liar's contest, and actually think you would get better results if you replaced all the judges, prosecutors and court personnel with tic tac toe playing chickens or a Commodore Vic 20. But if you are one of the few who can afford a competent, experienced criminal attorney, the nightmare is going to end a lot quicker, and you are not going to be suffering the consequences of a felony conviction because you defended yourself against a belligerent, drunk, muscleman firefighter who sucker punches you when you attempt to help. Next time I see someone drunk and struggling to get up the stairs, I am going to walk away and let them choke on their own vomit. People of the State of California: 0 David A.: #1!
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
No Muslim Ever Called Me A Beaner
I live close to little Bangladesh. Formerly known as East Pakistan, the overwhelming majority of the immigrants here worship Allah. Many of these individuals wear traditional clothing and color their hair and beards with henna. The majority of women cover their hair, and a few cover their entire face. Fortunately, we live in a country where if you want to wear a paper bag over your head, technically people are supposed to leave you alone. I seldom hear people talking shit, but when I do, I am always reminded of the fact that this country was founded by people who were religious malcontents. Several businesses are owned and operated by my Bangladeshi neighbors. Lot's of filthy hipsters have recently discovered Restaurant Swadesh because it was featured on Anthony Bourdain's television show. I am happy that people are coming to spend money in my neighborhood. There is a place of worship over on Vermont and 4th where many of these people attend religious services. Over the many years I have lived around here, I have never seen one of these people causing trouble or talking shit. The crimes I have witnessed them committing amount to nothing more than a few simple misdemeanors, dealing in counterfeit videos, and viagra. There are other groups of immigrants in the neighborhood that commit murders at the local laundermat in sharp contrast to the mostly non-violent, Muslim Bangladeshis.
Every time I look at any of our mass media, I am bombarded with broadcasts of Islamic terrorists poised to pounce on us at any moment and other balderdash. Then I look around and see all of the obese people with amputated feet wheeling themselves out of Carl's Jr. and realize who the true enemy is. Look in the mirror at your pig body. You know the enemy well.
Every time I look at any of our mass media, I am bombarded with broadcasts of Islamic terrorists poised to pounce on us at any moment and other balderdash. Then I look around and see all of the obese people with amputated feet wheeling themselves out of Carl's Jr. and realize who the true enemy is. Look in the mirror at your pig body. You know the enemy well.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
A Cold War Child's Reflection on the Iranian Hostage Crisis
In 1979, I was a ten year old fifth grader at Mark Keppel Elementary School in Glendale, California when a group of Iranian students took over 50 individuals hostage at the US Embassy and CIA Station in Tehran. We were outraged as a nation, and even as a small child, I remember believing from the bottom of my heart that we should have dropped a hydrogen bomb or two on them forthwith. I cheered when I watched the local news and saw an Iranian man being attacked by an angry mob in Beverly Hills.
It was not until I was a junior in college ten years later that I learned how the CIA overthrew the democratically elected government of Mossadegh and installed the Peacock Throne. Not one adult took the time to explain a word about the history of Persia to me or to direct me to objective materials about Iran at the library. Nobody furthermore, took the time to remind me that every Iranian had a mother and a father, brothers and sisters, grandparents, aunts and uncles. Nobody ever reminded me that the Iranians were also human beings. I never thought of the consequences of a nuclear strike on Tehran where easily 10 Million people would lose their lives and the area would become a ghost town for years. It seemed like the most sterile, sane, surgical way to show those devils not to fuck with America. It was like the Tea Party's collective anger under the banner of Don't Tread on Me. Most importantly, nobody ever bothered to mention that the 1979 Revolution was very similar to the struggles of the United States when we fought the Revolutionary War to destroy the monarchy. While the fighters supported by Saudi Arabia in Afghanistan were referred to as "Freedom Fighters" and the Iranian Revolutionaries as terrorists by our media never seemed odd to me at all.
I had never met an Iranian as a child in Glendale. But in 1981, our family relocated to West Los Angeles, and I had the pleasure to become acquainted with several Iranian individuals. I did not anything about the difference among the various Iranian factions and religions. At the outset, I felt a remarkable degree of hostility towards all of them and considered them my personal mortal enemy. I had no idea that most of them had worked in professional positions and that many were Jewish and had been employees of Reza Shah. They all embodied and channeled the Ayatollah who was nothing more and nothing less than the devil in my ten year old bird brain. I am ashamed at the cruelty I participated in. The hate speech. The evil that children do.
Then I became friends with Ramin after he beat me in a fight I picked with him. He did not back down. Most Iranians won't. Next time I saw him after losing the fight, he stuck out his hand in friendship. We always treated each other with respect from then on. He invited me to his house and was gracious. Iranian guys are proud. They are mostly noble, incredibly strong. I had no idea Ramin was not connected to the Ayatollah. I did not know his family were refugees. His family had been pharmacists and had been forced to open a fucking donut shop here in the States. People treated them like shit. But they persevered and passed the Pharmacy Board Exam and became prosperous. And remained virtuous in the face of our national ignorance that we allowed our children to believe.
Make no mistake about it, the Islamic Republic of Iran has acted rascally in the past, and have added fuel to the regional fire. During the 1980's, several thousand political prisoners were hanged in Ervin Prison. They have blood on their hands. And on their sleeves, too. But in the scope of things, they have not done diddly squat compared to the United States. Iraq that invaded them supported by us, not the other way around. It was the US Navy that fired a missile from the USS Vincennes that struck a civilian Iranian Airliner without provocation or threat and murdered hundreds of innocent civilians. We have choked their economy, refused to re-establish diplomatic relations with them, and have punished them for being Nationalists. I think our country was founded by Nationalists. They would have wanted us to support an independent and strong Iranian nation, not try and annihilate them and overthrow their government so that they could get some good oil contracts. Not a great idea to try and do something like that to a proud and ancient nation. What the hell were the Dulles brothers were thinking?
I read some stuff as an undergraduate and found out what we did to make the Iranians so angry at us. They had some damn good reasons such as us actively enabling chemical weapons to be used against Iranian Troops during the Iran Iraq war killing thousands and scorching the lungs of tens of thousands of others disfiguring them and disabling them in the most cruel way not seen since WWI. Eight years of trench warfare funded by the United States killed a sizable percentage of the Iranian population. Every child has a father and a mother and deserve a chance to grow up in a time of peace. The United States should never contribute to misery like they did meddling in Iranian affairs. It is time for us to formally apologize to them yesterday.
The vast majority of Iranian persons that I am friends with are true men. They are not inferior to us in any way, shape or form. I am puzzled as to why our diplomats do not recognize this and treat the Iranian people accordingly. A little respect with them goes a long way.
I never saw the Iranians as irrational actors or the mad dogs that they are portrayed as in our wanker media. I saw them more in line with the view shared by the intelligence community in Australia. Something could always work out. It could have worked out years ago. It can still work out.
Iranians are fantastic people. Their Soltani Kebab, Chicken and Lamb Barg, all of those stews with lima beans, dill, and those huge plates of rice are fantastic too. Those salads with cucumber, the lamb shanks, eggplant salad, and delicious fresh flat bread and butter. Our differences are small. What we have in common is vast. Their children are as dear as our children and they want to have a similar future that many of us desire over here. Their leaders are courageous. We should invite Khatami over, take him to Yosemite, and our to the American Street, restore diplomatic relations immediately, eat some wonderful Persian food and try and work things out. We have a lot in common.
Obama is in a unique position to restore maybe an ounce or two of his credibility all lost as a result of the Snowden disclosures and emerge as the President the smoothed things out with the Iranians. I think they have been waiting for us for a long time to express a willingness to mend fences. Of course, we need to treat them with the respect that they deserve. They are are equals, not our satraps, every bit as intelligent as we are and every bit as deserving of respect.
It was not until I was a junior in college ten years later that I learned how the CIA overthrew the democratically elected government of Mossadegh and installed the Peacock Throne. Not one adult took the time to explain a word about the history of Persia to me or to direct me to objective materials about Iran at the library. Nobody furthermore, took the time to remind me that every Iranian had a mother and a father, brothers and sisters, grandparents, aunts and uncles. Nobody ever reminded me that the Iranians were also human beings. I never thought of the consequences of a nuclear strike on Tehran where easily 10 Million people would lose their lives and the area would become a ghost town for years. It seemed like the most sterile, sane, surgical way to show those devils not to fuck with America. It was like the Tea Party's collective anger under the banner of Don't Tread on Me. Most importantly, nobody ever bothered to mention that the 1979 Revolution was very similar to the struggles of the United States when we fought the Revolutionary War to destroy the monarchy. While the fighters supported by Saudi Arabia in Afghanistan were referred to as "Freedom Fighters" and the Iranian Revolutionaries as terrorists by our media never seemed odd to me at all.
I had never met an Iranian as a child in Glendale. But in 1981, our family relocated to West Los Angeles, and I had the pleasure to become acquainted with several Iranian individuals. I did not anything about the difference among the various Iranian factions and religions. At the outset, I felt a remarkable degree of hostility towards all of them and considered them my personal mortal enemy. I had no idea that most of them had worked in professional positions and that many were Jewish and had been employees of Reza Shah. They all embodied and channeled the Ayatollah who was nothing more and nothing less than the devil in my ten year old bird brain. I am ashamed at the cruelty I participated in. The hate speech. The evil that children do.
Then I became friends with Ramin after he beat me in a fight I picked with him. He did not back down. Most Iranians won't. Next time I saw him after losing the fight, he stuck out his hand in friendship. We always treated each other with respect from then on. He invited me to his house and was gracious. Iranian guys are proud. They are mostly noble, incredibly strong. I had no idea Ramin was not connected to the Ayatollah. I did not know his family were refugees. His family had been pharmacists and had been forced to open a fucking donut shop here in the States. People treated them like shit. But they persevered and passed the Pharmacy Board Exam and became prosperous. And remained virtuous in the face of our national ignorance that we allowed our children to believe.
Make no mistake about it, the Islamic Republic of Iran has acted rascally in the past, and have added fuel to the regional fire. During the 1980's, several thousand political prisoners were hanged in Ervin Prison. They have blood on their hands. And on their sleeves, too. But in the scope of things, they have not done diddly squat compared to the United States. Iraq that invaded them supported by us, not the other way around. It was the US Navy that fired a missile from the USS Vincennes that struck a civilian Iranian Airliner without provocation or threat and murdered hundreds of innocent civilians. We have choked their economy, refused to re-establish diplomatic relations with them, and have punished them for being Nationalists. I think our country was founded by Nationalists. They would have wanted us to support an independent and strong Iranian nation, not try and annihilate them and overthrow their government so that they could get some good oil contracts. Not a great idea to try and do something like that to a proud and ancient nation. What the hell were the Dulles brothers were thinking?
I read some stuff as an undergraduate and found out what we did to make the Iranians so angry at us. They had some damn good reasons such as us actively enabling chemical weapons to be used against Iranian Troops during the Iran Iraq war killing thousands and scorching the lungs of tens of thousands of others disfiguring them and disabling them in the most cruel way not seen since WWI. Eight years of trench warfare funded by the United States killed a sizable percentage of the Iranian population. Every child has a father and a mother and deserve a chance to grow up in a time of peace. The United States should never contribute to misery like they did meddling in Iranian affairs. It is time for us to formally apologize to them yesterday.
The vast majority of Iranian persons that I am friends with are true men. They are not inferior to us in any way, shape or form. I am puzzled as to why our diplomats do not recognize this and treat the Iranian people accordingly. A little respect with them goes a long way.
I never saw the Iranians as irrational actors or the mad dogs that they are portrayed as in our wanker media. I saw them more in line with the view shared by the intelligence community in Australia. Something could always work out. It could have worked out years ago. It can still work out.
Iranians are fantastic people. Their Soltani Kebab, Chicken and Lamb Barg, all of those stews with lima beans, dill, and those huge plates of rice are fantastic too. Those salads with cucumber, the lamb shanks, eggplant salad, and delicious fresh flat bread and butter. Our differences are small. What we have in common is vast. Their children are as dear as our children and they want to have a similar future that many of us desire over here. Their leaders are courageous. We should invite Khatami over, take him to Yosemite, and our to the American Street, restore diplomatic relations immediately, eat some wonderful Persian food and try and work things out. We have a lot in common.
Obama is in a unique position to restore maybe an ounce or two of his credibility all lost as a result of the Snowden disclosures and emerge as the President the smoothed things out with the Iranians. I think they have been waiting for us for a long time to express a willingness to mend fences. Of course, we need to treat them with the respect that they deserve. They are are equals, not our satraps, every bit as intelligent as we are and every bit as deserving of respect.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
CVS Pharmacy, The Needle, And The Damage Done
I applaud CVS for making a decision to cease tobacco sales, but the pharmacy staff here are total wankers. CVS continues to peddle highly dangerous and addictive narcotics, benzodiazepines, amphetamines, methamphetamine HCL, Soma, and other substances that cause far more deaths than heroin, cocaine, and bath salts combined. Despite displaying a facade of being socially responsible, CVS is nothing more than the Nation's largest drug pusher. Drugs such as Xanax, narcotic/APAP combinations, and amphetamines are no different than the shit for sale in Mac Arthur Park. CVS policy of profit before health and safety has contributed to tens of thousands of deaths. The pill monkeys here are no better or no worse than the pushers that sold Phillip Seymour Hoffman his fatal dose of heroin. And they are assclowns to boot, especially the chubby rude pill jockey who looks like the spitting image of Kim Jung Eun in a pharmacist's smock.
I remember a time when my family purchased their narcotics and amphetamines from smaller neighborhood drug dealers and I liked that a lot better. You got better and more personal service, everybody knew your name, and none of those back door shenanigans from the pinheads behind the counter at CVS Koreatown.
I remember a time when my family purchased their narcotics and amphetamines from smaller neighborhood drug dealers and I liked that a lot better. You got better and more personal service, everybody knew your name, and none of those back door shenanigans from the pinheads behind the counter at CVS Koreatown.
National Character: Truth or Fiction?
I hate it when fuckers make blanket statements about groups of people. I read about some guy who tells people that he came from his mother when they inquire as to where he was born. I tend to believe, however, in the concept of national character. It applies to a certain degree, far greater than a slight majority. It is not a bigoted worldview. In any non-threatening gathering especially if food was being served, most people would agree with many assertions as to their national character with much laughter. I would like to share some observations that I have made about certain groups of people that I have had the pleasure to meet and chat with over the course of my lifetime.
I would like to begin with people from El Salvador. At the outset, I would rather do business with a person that hails from El Salvador more than any other country in the world. Guatemalans and Mexicans are also people that I like to do business with. People from El Salvador are almost uniformly kind, humble, honest, and sweet people. The majority I have met are hardworking, reliable, and polite. Like most Latinos, they are totally into their families. Despite suffering the devastation of being the primary proxy battleground of the Cold War, Salvadoreans have a remarkably positive and courageous attitude and national character. I respect the Salvadoreans that I have had the pleasure of meeting, and always ask them to tell me about what transpired with them during the Civil War. Both sides talk about similar atrocities, but seem to have a remarkable ability to move forward and work towards the present and the future without forgetting the past and being determined not to repeat it.
They have a strong, mighty national character, especially considering that El Salvador covers approximately the same area as Los Angeles County. I predict that after drugs are legalized, El Salvador will become the crucial link in the chain between the two continents. The potential for the country to become a financial powerhouse like Singapore is definitely in the cards for these guys. I see how many Salvadorean families push their kids as hard as Koreans in school. They are smart and cultured. Shame on other Latinos who talk shit about our Salvadorean brothers and sisters. We are all in this together and should never talk shit about one another, as we have much more in common than apart.
Salvadorean food, however, is repulsive. The Salvadorean contribution to world cuisine, the pupusa, is a terrible griddle cooked thick corn tortilla mixed with pig skin and shitty cheese. Curtido, a sort of cole slaw is pretty good as are the black beams and rice. Fresh fish is available at the beach and lobster is available at La Libertad. Everything else is bland, tasteless garbage.
People from the Philippines are the sweetest people and are so friendly and smile a lot. They have colorful nicknames like Bong Bong and Angel Baby Girl. Their culture is remarkably diverse as there are so many different regions, tribes and local customs. But I have never met a person from the Philippines that was not totally kind to me. Furthermore, when I have fucked up a little in business, they seem to have mechanisms built in to allow one to save face. They are smart and colorful. I used to think the food was repulsive, but it was only because I had only eaten at places like Barrio Fiesta, Nipa Hut, and other places with a steam table and pre-cooked food. My opinion changed when I ate homemade chicken adobo, rice, pancit, and some other fine foods. The chicken adobo may have been the very best chicken dish I have eaten in my life! The people I have met from the Philippines seem to appreciate a bargain, and like to haggle. I do too.
People from Armenia are awesome and there is a huge Armenian community in Hollywood and Glendale. Armenian Cuisine is certainly in the top five or maybe even in the top three of world cuisines. Armenian parties are the best parties I have ever been to, hands down. The food is so abundant, and so wonderful, it is impossible not to overeat. Your Armenian hosts are going to be the most hospitable hosts you will ever encounter anywhere.
The first course at an Armenian party is going to consist of cheese, fresh mint, onions, pickled turnips, turnovers, pita bread, radishes, and a bottle of brandy for every man. The second course is going to be 5 or 6 different cold and hot mezzas, all executed perfectly with the freshest and most delicious ingredients available. Cooked with love. Grape leaves, kebabs, quail, fish, may come out next. In all, there may be 10 courses. All of them are going to make your toes curl they are so tasty. There are different kinds of Armenians. Some are more like Russians, some are more like Lebanese. We are lucky to be invited to their weddings, christenings, and birthdays. Our Armenian Brothers and Sisters rock and their national character is pretty strong in the food and hospitality area. They are true masters at that.
Because I could go on and on, I will stop here and do another post at a later date covering some observations on Koreans, Iranians, and maybe people from Vietnam. Cheers!
I would like to begin with people from El Salvador. At the outset, I would rather do business with a person that hails from El Salvador more than any other country in the world. Guatemalans and Mexicans are also people that I like to do business with. People from El Salvador are almost uniformly kind, humble, honest, and sweet people. The majority I have met are hardworking, reliable, and polite. Like most Latinos, they are totally into their families. Despite suffering the devastation of being the primary proxy battleground of the Cold War, Salvadoreans have a remarkably positive and courageous attitude and national character. I respect the Salvadoreans that I have had the pleasure of meeting, and always ask them to tell me about what transpired with them during the Civil War. Both sides talk about similar atrocities, but seem to have a remarkable ability to move forward and work towards the present and the future without forgetting the past and being determined not to repeat it.
They have a strong, mighty national character, especially considering that El Salvador covers approximately the same area as Los Angeles County. I predict that after drugs are legalized, El Salvador will become the crucial link in the chain between the two continents. The potential for the country to become a financial powerhouse like Singapore is definitely in the cards for these guys. I see how many Salvadorean families push their kids as hard as Koreans in school. They are smart and cultured. Shame on other Latinos who talk shit about our Salvadorean brothers and sisters. We are all in this together and should never talk shit about one another, as we have much more in common than apart.
Salvadorean food, however, is repulsive. The Salvadorean contribution to world cuisine, the pupusa, is a terrible griddle cooked thick corn tortilla mixed with pig skin and shitty cheese. Curtido, a sort of cole slaw is pretty good as are the black beams and rice. Fresh fish is available at the beach and lobster is available at La Libertad. Everything else is bland, tasteless garbage.
People from the Philippines are the sweetest people and are so friendly and smile a lot. They have colorful nicknames like Bong Bong and Angel Baby Girl. Their culture is remarkably diverse as there are so many different regions, tribes and local customs. But I have never met a person from the Philippines that was not totally kind to me. Furthermore, when I have fucked up a little in business, they seem to have mechanisms built in to allow one to save face. They are smart and colorful. I used to think the food was repulsive, but it was only because I had only eaten at places like Barrio Fiesta, Nipa Hut, and other places with a steam table and pre-cooked food. My opinion changed when I ate homemade chicken adobo, rice, pancit, and some other fine foods. The chicken adobo may have been the very best chicken dish I have eaten in my life! The people I have met from the Philippines seem to appreciate a bargain, and like to haggle. I do too.
People from Armenia are awesome and there is a huge Armenian community in Hollywood and Glendale. Armenian Cuisine is certainly in the top five or maybe even in the top three of world cuisines. Armenian parties are the best parties I have ever been to, hands down. The food is so abundant, and so wonderful, it is impossible not to overeat. Your Armenian hosts are going to be the most hospitable hosts you will ever encounter anywhere.
The first course at an Armenian party is going to consist of cheese, fresh mint, onions, pickled turnips, turnovers, pita bread, radishes, and a bottle of brandy for every man. The second course is going to be 5 or 6 different cold and hot mezzas, all executed perfectly with the freshest and most delicious ingredients available. Cooked with love. Grape leaves, kebabs, quail, fish, may come out next. In all, there may be 10 courses. All of them are going to make your toes curl they are so tasty. There are different kinds of Armenians. Some are more like Russians, some are more like Lebanese. We are lucky to be invited to their weddings, christenings, and birthdays. Our Armenian Brothers and Sisters rock and their national character is pretty strong in the food and hospitality area. They are true masters at that.
Because I could go on and on, I will stop here and do another post at a later date covering some observations on Koreans, Iranians, and maybe people from Vietnam. Cheers!
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