Postcard to President Trump

The Buddha Comes to Bangkok

A decade ago, the Thai capital was a rarity in Asia, a place where the air had gotten cleaner largely because of a ban on the most polluting vehicles. Those days are gone.

Earlier this month, Bangkok cracked the list of the top 10 cities with the foulest air on the planet.

NYT  @hkbeech

Amidst the saffron clouds of light that penetrate the sky,

the Buddha in serenity watches life pass by.

Beyond the reach of earthly cares, compassionate and wise,

the Buddha sees behind the real with penetrating eyes.

Gazing down with loving heart, he had a sudden shock

when he could not discern that great big city of Bangkok.

Instead of flowers and canals, grand temples all ablaze,

there was nothing but a formless atramentous haze.

The Lotus Lord betook himself down to the inky scene

to find out what this smoggy foggy cloggy mess could mean.

Disguised as mortal once again, he joined the human muss --

and nearly got run over by a diesel burning bus!

A quick leap back onto the curb prevented tragedy,

and then the Buddha squinted hard to see what he could see.

His eyes began to water, because most ev'ry cubic foot

of atmosphere was loaded with a gritty stinging soot.

He coughed, and a metallic tang was set upon his tongue.

The citizens were wearing masks, both very old and young.

The orange robe he wore was stained with sewer water soon.

A rat gnawed at his sandals as the heat proclaimed high noon.

The town was such a cesspool that it shook his self control,

and so the Buddha calmed himself by going for a stroll.

Each footstep that he left behind became an orchid plant;

incense wafted through the smog as he began to chant.

He walked into Wat Yannawa; the monks to him did bow.

He climbed the steps until he reached the whitewashed topmost prow.

And there he sat a-pondering just what he ought to do

to help his worshipers combat this atmosphere like glue.

He didn't need to eat or drink, his mind was far away.

The smoke and dust soon made him smell just like an old ashtray.

At last he rose up to perform a miracle not slow;

he transformed cars and buses into water buffalo.

With a smile he blew upon all heavy industry,

and smokestacks ev'rywhere did turn into the ficus tree.

And soon the air was pure and clean, and soon the fountains poured

out elixirs for long life that all could now afford.

In a twinkle of his eye, with hint of merry skip,

the Buddha left that temple (which is built just like a ship.)

He set garudas over Bangkok, making sure his peeps

walked in peaceful harmony and chucked their cars for keeps.

Still Life Photography. January. 2019.

Postcards to President Trump

Recipe for Hearty Chicken Pot Pie

As more cooks turn to the internet to find and save recipes, the generations-old tradition of using paper recipe cards is disappearing.

WSJ  https://twitter.com/ellenbyron

HEARTY CHICKEN POT PIE

(from a recipe card found on a bulletin board in a coin laundry) 

take a mess of chicken, doesn't matter what the part.

use a drumstick or a thigh and don't ferget the heart.

chop it up with celery and tomaters if ya gottem.

stick it in a pie pan with a thick n greasy bottom.

add a can of mushrooms and a can of sweet young peas.

I always add an onyun but you can do just as you please.

my husband likes tobasco sauce, but I don't never use it.

he can pour it from the bottle (he sure does abuse it!)

now here's the secret that my grandmaw taught me as a child --

use a lot of ketchup and the table will go wild.

They'll think that it's eye-talian and as elegant as can be,

and mebbe they will come on time and turn off the TV.

add a can of corn if there is company a-comin'

or you're troubled with in-laws that never will stop bummin'

a dash of pickle relish I have learned will give it zing

careful with the pepper or your tongue may start to sting

don't worry bout the mayonaise -- the more ya use the better

it melts into a gravy (that can really stain a sweater)

that little dab of cranberry that's been around forever

can be thrown in and guests will say "Oh my, how veddy clevah!"

last of all a can of cream of chicken soup, if it's on sale,

otherwise a splash of milk I find will never fail

 don't bother rolling out pie crust for such a simple dish

just use some frozen biscuit dough -- which first you have to squish

bake it in an oven around three fifty or so

for a half an hour or until the juices flow

let it cool while chopping up some coleslaw for the gang

cottage cheese with pineapple completes the whole shebang.

there you have my dinner, and I hope it suites yer taste

otherwise just slop the hogs -- don't let it go to waste!

Young Lucy and the Devil

The rise of Asian skin-care products and rituals has fueled a resurgence in what had been an overlooked area of the beauty industry. Now the companies at the forefront of the skin-care turnaround are trying to maintain their following . . .  shoppers have begun protecting their skin at a younger age. U.S. skin-care sales rose about 15% over the past year, led by Japanese and Korean-inspired products, while makeup increased by 3%, according to NPD Group Inc.

WSJ   @_jaewonkang

There was a girl, a lovely girl, who wanted perfect skin.

And so she made a bargain with the father of all sin.

In return for skin so fine twould granite stones cajole,

she promised to old Lucifer her own unblemished soul.

Her name was Lucy, and she came from modest parents who

 hoped she'd spurn the lure of fancy lip gloss and shampoo.

That crafty villain sealed the deal by taking her away

to Eastern shores where dirty pores were cured in Mandalay.

They wrapped her face in tea leaves, with a touch of betel nut.
They bathed her feet in palm wine that was boiled with ripe corn smut.
While temple bells were plinking in the moist and tropic breeze,
those acolytes of beauty put raw jackfruit on her knees.

Her arms all wrapped in brahmi, Lucy had some second thoughts;
and they were not dispelled when she had to drink some noni shots.
At last they did unloose her from her herbage wrapping case
and gave to her a mirror to gaze on her glowing face.

Imagine her dismay when what she saw was rather horrid;
her cheeks bedecked with pimples and her chin a purple florid!
"You lied to me!" she wailed to that old serpent who stood by.
"Now, now" he soothed, "we'll have to give your face a second try."

In a trice he took her to the city of Chengdu
where specialists began to brush her face with soft bamboo.
They had her soaking in a tub of water chestnut broth
and beat in galangal until the whole thing was a froth.

They steamed her like a dumpling in a sling of pandan shoots
then laid her on a bed of pickled mashed up ginger roots.
And finally they washed her face with butter from a yak,
then rubbed in salted duck eggs that were smelly, cold, and black.

Seated on a throne of jade, she gazed into a mirror;
and this time gave an anguished howl of horror and of fear.
For now her eyebrows were all gone; her lips a ghastly white.
Green blotches on her forehead made her lose her appetite.

"If at first you don't succeed, and your face still is pocky"
said the devil, "then perchance we'll go to Nagasaki!"
So saying, on his velvet wings he lifted her aloft
and took her to a winsome place where people all talked soft.

And there they sprayed her face with soy sauce and liquid sushi,
and made her eat of radish cake until she felt quite slooshy.
They beat her cheeks with hollyhocks and rubbed her with tofu.
They sprinkled her with essence from the glands of kinkajou.

Enveloped in a cloud of powdered kudzu root, her face
at last took on the glow of beauty, virtue, and full grace.
And so her skin was perfect in all sight and many parts,
and thus she started breaking all the Japanese male hearts.

The devil, with ferocious grin, then took her home again.
He rubbed his hands together like the best of businessmen.
"Your skin is such perfection that I doubt" he said with joy,
that you would have to worry about Helen, her of Troy!"

"So now I'll take your lovely soul, as we agreed upon."
But Lucy stopped him cold by saying "Halt, you evil spawn!
I am a stout Republican and you're an Asian tout.
I've called the Immigration and they're gonna throw you out!"

"You cannot peddle Eastern wares -- the tariff still holds true. 
Your bargain is illegal and it isn't worth a sou."
The devil was deported to the island of Taiwan.
And Lucy used her golden skin to happily get on.

Postcards to President Trump

The Case of Rosa Martin

The shutdown has not only resulted in thousands of cancelled court hearings but also generated chaos for everyone involved in the immigration system.

Most judges have been furloughed and those who remain are working without pay. Lawyers have cancelled flights for out-of-town hearings and, absent direction from the Justice Department, continue to meet filing deadlines imposed by courts that aren’t open to accept them.

WSJ  @andreamcastillo

Justice for the poor is slow, for strangers it's a lie;

like trying to dice cotton candy with an old necktie.

Lawyers have no time to spend with clients who can't pay,

and bailiffs will not give outsiders just the time of day.

For example take the case of Rosa Martin, now;

who came into this country as a child, no matter how.

Law abiding, conscientious, working day and night,

to support her household and pursue her own birthright.

She went to Immigration for to set the record straight,

to show them that she was determined to cooperate.

The clerks gave her such paperwork to sign it made her sigh;

the marshal came around next, acting just like Captain Bligh.

He threatened her with jail time as he huffed and puffed and snorted --

and added that for jaywalking he'd soon have her deported.

She meekly bowed her head and did not give the big ape room

to charge her with the least offense or send her to her doom.

But now the courts became involved; the wheels of justice started

moving at a pace that one could only call 'halfhearted.'

In the dusty halls where jurisprudence held its sway

Rosa sat around on wooden benches ev'ry day.

(She gathered up such splinters she could build a Swiss chalet.)

The judges were not paid and lawyers didn't like pro bono;

they all were on their cellphones with complaint and bitter groan-o. 

Poor Rosa was ignored; she could have set off fireworks,

and no one would have noticed, not the bailiffs or law clerks.

And when the courts shut down she had no clue what she should do.

She waited at the entrance feeling anxious and quite blue.

Her boss was understanding, but to work she never came;

he had to give her job to someone else -- a dirty shame!

And then by some great miracle the courts again revived,

ready to give justice to anyone who had survived.

When Rosa went before the judge at last, he only laughed;

and told her that because he was so broke and understaffed

she'd have to wait a dozen years before her case was viewed,

and that is when our Rosa really knew that she was screwed.

Although to start all over would most certainly be rocky,

she fled to Canada -- and now her sons are playing hockey.

Postcards to President Trump

Postcards to President Trump