Goon Butts

Seems a little harsh to call the cute kid a goon.

The AJF and I were at our favorite Japanese grocery store. As she spent a large portion of our children’s’ inheritance on products that all seemed to consist of soy sauce, miso, mirin and sugar, I wandered the aisles and discovered this fine product.

Fair to say I am outraged about naming baby diapers Goons. Or maybe naming babies Goons. Anyway, this is clearly disparaging to actual goons like me and must stop.  I think I’ll form a class with other goons and sue for a gazillion and a half dollars.

Goon good

Turns out they sell these on Amazon so I guess a lot of people know about Goons.

They got a 5-star rating although on closer inspection there was only one review. Praise was faint with noted Papua New Guinea customer Kirill Krattli stating Goons were indeed “good.” He probably meant as a polishing cloth.


Meanwhile, there was sale going on for Kuro Butt.

Hard to get good Kuro Butt.

Three bucks off of sliced butt. Hard to resist.

Lots on inferior Butt available. You got your flat Butt, round Butt, Honey Butt (start of my usual excuse and/or apology) and the ever popular Pain-in-the-Butt but Kuro Butt is a rare find; it’s usually behind everything else or on the bottom or cracked. snork, snork

(Explanation: it’s a typo and should read “buta” which means pork or pig. “Kuro” in Japanese means black. Hence the product name is kurobuta which is to pork as Kobe beef is to cow meat; in other words, among the best you can get.)

The more you know…

A kurobuta in pre-bacon condition.

PS: Max is fine. He skipped the shopping trip, preferring to grab a power nap. Here’s a “dog tax” for making a drive by post. It’s Max patiently waiting on his pad at his favorite doggy-friendly restaurant.

“Sheesh, ignored on my own blog.”




Condo Party!

Wifey and I have owned our little condo on Kaheka since it was erected in 1982/1983. Over the ensuing 30 years we have been absent more than resident and during those times we simply rented out the place but always kept it as our fall back for a residence in our (cough) “Golden Years”.

Ours is a great place to live. The neighbors are diverse and interesting. The staff and manager are good people and competent. It’s a friendly building and, while we know more pet names than pet owner’s names, everybody is willing to help each other. There’s plenty of humor and goodwill – the social lubricant that eases the inevitable friction of packing 175 units into a very small footprint. Perhaps most of all, we residents love the garden-like atmosphere of the grounds.

Last Saturday we had condo party to celebrate the unofficially official 30th anniversary of Hale Kaheka. The AOAO Board (of which I am a member) cooked up the scheme and we attacked the advertising and planning of the event with a vengeance because previous social functions during the holiday season were not well attended. We vowed that this production was to be different; an affair to remember if you’ll pardon the shameless movie reference.

Party Food

It turned great. We got over 2.5x our expected turn out but still had plenty of food and goodies for all. The AOAO provided burgers, hot dogs, potato salad and fixings while enthusiastic “Potluckers” kicked in some of their favorite recipes – they were all tasty! – ranging from kimchee to cheesecake and from pasta to kalua pig. The kids played in the pool while the adults lounged on the lawn under umbrella tables and a canopy area. Many stayed the entire 3 hours of the event.

It was a great day and an exhausting one. Our team of volunteers worked very hard to make everyone welcome. We had door prizes, party favors, a history table extolling the past 30 years of the building and music.

Living in a condo is a compressed lifestyle. You are surrounded by people all the time. Your neighbor’s dinner is your room fragrance for the evening. Privacy is relished and protected as a scarce commodity. That’s part of the challenge to break through and get folks to mingle and it’s a great thing to see folks come together as a condo ‘ohana and spend an afternoon talking story, eating, laughing and reaffirming the bonds of a common residence. Good fun.

Hale Kaheka

Something Fishy Here

Max and I were strolling Rycroft Street early this morning and saw a small group of folks standing on the makai side of the street by the Pagoda Restaurant entrance – the famous “floating restaurant” that has been so much a part of the neighborhood for so long.

As we approached we overhead mumbles and imprecations and noticed lots of head shaking. Closer investigation showed that many of the gorgeous koi, both large and small, were dead. So pitiful! Some of the deaf fish were floating and some lay motionless on the shallow bottom. Survivors were clustered by the fresh water outflows, gasping and obviously in distress.

These fish were always a joy to see and over the years Max and I have struck casual friendships with the guys who cared so well for them. Max even got the occasional nibble of piscine food from the fish wranglers as we made our morning constitutional.

What happened? No one had firm information on the cause. Could it have been malicious? Perhaps a system malfunction or maybe a mix up of chemicals? We just don’t know. I hope it was an accident. As bad as that would be it would be a far better thing than to find out that someone deliberately killed the koi.

EDIT – I added this 7/29/13:

I finally got around to asking the Head Fish Wrangler at Pagoda about the kill-off. He said that a contractor charged with doing some repair work on the ponds had incorrectly shut off the pump that puts oxygen into the water and, as a result, the fish asphyxiated. An accident.  Looks like a large crop (swarm? bunch? mess? Whole lotta?) of new fry are now swimming beneath the restaurant.

McD’s – The Heartbeat of the K Streets

For a slice of K Streets demographic, visit the McDonald’s on Keeaumoku Street. Early morning is best.

You have your Korean ladies golf groups on the patio, perfectly coiffed hair, enormous visors and trendy attire. A few taxi drivers sit nearby with stunned looks on their faces like cattle waiting for the sledge to fall. They probably had a tough night.

Inside is the senior cohort sitting in small groups, sipping their free refill of coffee and waxing eloquently and authoritatively on all the world’s ills. Get off my lawn, kid. It is amazing to see how long the codgerly set can make a cup of coffee last.

The small front patio is often the domain of the homeless and crazy. One guy seems to be talking to the sidewalk newspaper stand while a couple who have resided for months in a tent at Pawaa In-Ha Park snag a robust bag of breakfast goodies, cups of expensive designer coffees and looks that kill from more prosperous customers.

Some families can be found herding the kids around the store and grabbing huge quantities of napkins, filling multiple tiny paper ketchup buckets and then scoping a place to park the family that won’t expose the kids to Uncle McNasty, and there’s always at least one Uncle McNasty in residence.

During the weekdays you have the worker bees grabbing their daily McFix. Most seem to work at the huge HMSA fortress building (perhaps our most astonishingly ugly commercial property) and a surprising number seem from India.

On weekends you get early birds bound for Ala Moana beach park or to the sale tables at the shopping venues. The two-lane drive through keeps on pumping.

Local columnist and write Lee Cataluna often opined that the soul of Honolulu could be found at the Pali Long’s store. Maybe so. But if you want to see the cross section of K Street folk, visit McDonald’s.

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