Truth, or consequences

What a horrible tragedy in Vegas.

And of course there had to be a Florida connection. Weaponized, angry white geezers; toxic old men, needing some target to pay for their rage, their sense of having been fucked over in life, their jealousy of the young.

Someone has to pay for it:  the gambling losses, the divorces, the snake-coiling realization that there’s less time left. Why not go out with a murderous spray and kill? Show the world who’s really boss. Was that the simpleton thought process?

Everyone knows Americans are nuts when it comes to guns, but their endless gun nightmare shall never end. In fact, now a bill is winding it’s way through Congress to make it easier to buy them, and, get this, silencers.

Who else but a killer would need such a thing? But the NRA, which is nothing more than a terrorist organization, is pushing the bill hard. After all, you need a silencer for huntin’ squirrels and such.

Maybe America should start to profiling toxic old geezers, all of them, starting with the orange shithead himself, then combing the South for these insane nutjobs.

I walked around the Marina yesterday, and had incidental conversations with locals and tourists — it pretty much was not on anyone’s radar. But Egypt itself of course officially condemned the massacre.

That evening, I went to Kan Zaman tonight in Downtown, since the weather is cooling down.  I had this:

Stuffed grape leaves

Tahina plate

Rice with sha’riyya (noodles)

Bamia with in a tomator sauce with meat

Small water bottle

Pita Bread (aish shami)

The whole thing cost me 150 LE, that is about 8 dollars, and just the tahina alone reminded me of what the food I grew up with tasted like.  Fantastic. This is the first good meal I have had in Gouna; unfortunately, I later had serious #2 issues, which I will leave at that. Plus it would be nice to have a tuc-tuc ride once in a while without risking a concussion.

My opinion of Abu Tig restos is that they try hard to come up with foreign menus that are perhaps a bit too difficult to achieve locally, given the lack of ingredients that are necessary to actually approximate, say, even a simple dish such as lasagna, and perhaps a dearth of trained chefs.

By way of contrast, Kan Zaman is the first time I could not finish a meal in Gouna — not because it tasted horrible, as has happened several times already in Abu Tig, particularly at The Garage, with its repulsive defrosted pattie hamburgers — but because I was full.  Not to lecture like some khawaga asshole, but hygiene in the kitchen is something I would encourage Gouna authorities to rigorously inspect for and enforce in all restaurants regularly.

I think what you do in Gouna (if you live here) is cook at home — because it is cheaper, but also to make sure that what you’re eating will not cause problems.

You can buy meat from the butcher, fresh veggies and other supplies, all of which are Downtown, and obtain eish baladi (if you like that delicious native Egyptian bread) from Hurghada), since there are not bread bakeries in Gouna.

Unfortunately my ace real estate agent emailed me today that what I am looking for — a villa with a pool to rent between nov and feb in a quiet section of town — is not available.

Apparently that is high season and everyone has those type of places locked up already. But we’ll see about that. As I am learning, whatever you hear here is probably bullshit.

Meanwhile, on Gouna TV, the Club Doodoo shithead Meinheers are advertising that they’re holding “chill music” parties this Thursday and Friday, starting at 11PM.

I will close with this.

RIP in peace to all the Vegas victims, and a silent moment of appreciation for Tom Petty. He will be missed, and of course how grimly ironic that the founder of the Hearbreakers died of a heart attack.

This morning, the two el zingo wowee motorbike rentals that were parked just outside my balcony were gone. They’ve been here 2 nights. It was fun watching the two Scandinivian bimbettes and their Nordic boyfriend, all in their 20s, decamp, with their designer sunglasses, the young women with their long semi tanned legs, the hint of butt as their outwear was lifted up by the wind. Sweet night Thor must have had as I sat alone choking the bishop in this sweatbox. Not really, but I could have.

Of course all last week it was a whole bunch of other people parked in front of here, such as the strange guy in the sedan texting at 3am for an hour in the same spot, and then there was the young sophiticado Egyptian woman, drop dead gorgeous, whom I talked to in the hallway when the electricity went out. Have not seen that vision of a girl I would hit on no question when I was 30 since.

The point is, this building is a revolving door rental.

I was hustled by the Gouna rental agent into thinking that the minimum rental period for living in this shithole apartment building was 2 months. It obviously isn’t.

People are coming and going out of here no problem, for a weekend or a few days in the middle of the week or whatever.

Where does that leave me?

I’m the dumbfuck American who didn’t realize Gouna was a hustle, just like everywhere else.

Does lying have no consequences?


leaving america

Life as it should be?

Tell me about it, only this time, try not to lie.




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