Random Musings: Moto Crash, Vaccine Definitions, Language, Blood Sausages

  • The Move
  • The Motorcycle Crash
  • Language
  • Blood Sausages

Today’s get up, read something, get some inspiration to write something is to large extent on Dr. Mike Eades. He has a weekly newsletter and it gets to me—14 hours ahead here in Thailand—between 6.30 and 7.30 every Friday morning. Could not be more perfect timing. You can find most of that original inspiration in his 45th.

The Move

I moved about a week ago, again. This is the third move in my 9 months on the south end of the island of Phuket, Thailand. The reasons are multi-faceted—a lot having to do with growing a bit weary of the Swiss-German vibe in my last place—but I’m now in a quite eclectic and curious place: Shanti Lodge. Kim, the owner, came here from South Africa 25 years ago and built out the place. It engenders a sense of living in treehouses in the jungle. The saltwater pool is a brown pebbletec finish and looks like a jungle swimming hole. One allure for me was the bar/restaurant that’s completely open air and feels like home. The food is excellent, prices way reasonable, and there’s an horor system at the bar with a notebook to write down what you got on your own. They have one of those push-button coffee machines that makes a perfect americano (thanks to Mike Eades, again, for turning me onto that best version of a strong black coffee).

The staff is mostly Burmese and Filipino, and they have a Filipino band of remarcable musicians. I sometimes can’t believe I’m not hearing a live performance by the original musician or band. Something of interest to note here in Thailand. They don’t have many Thai cover bands. I’ve seen a few, but they’re mostly metal or hard rock, so it’s more technical instrumentation than vocals. Pre-Covid, you would find Filipino cover bands everyplace Western tourists go. They play tonight in the bar. I’ve had the pleasure of hearing them rehearse a couple of times over the week, right from my room.

Massaman Beef Curry
Saturday Night’s Buffet
Grilled Pork Belly, Grilled Chicken Skewers, Grilled/Roasted Whole Chicken, Clams, and Thai-Style Fried Chicken Whole Wings

The Motorcycle Crash

…The day after arrival I was down at the bar in the late afternoon and had an inkling to head out on the motorbike to make some rounds. I end up first at Madame Bar, owned by a French guy and where I go sometimes to chat with the Frenchies over un Pastis ou deux. I befriend a French expat dude and when I say I’m headed to Roxanne Bar, he says he knows it, will meet me there. So that transpires for a few hours. Nida, the south-Thai owner worked in the kitchen at The Islander years ago—an English Pub place just down the street. Now, she owns a popular bar and two cars…

The Thai Dream…

We decide to head over to the Laguna Nightclub.

Laguna is a pretty cool place. About 6 bar stations, all separately and independently owned, and lots of pool tables. Great vibe. It’s also where lots of the Thai-girl “freelancers” go. It’s impossible to go there and not get to chat with a pretty Thai lady over a drink or too. More than that? It’s up to you, her, and “support.” I have a blog post in the back of my head about just such dynamics, given that I’m still with the very first girl I met, January 17, 2020, 1 day after arriving back to Thailand after a 29-year hiatus. I’ve been in ‘look, talk, don’t touch’ mode since March, 2020.

So I’m driving to Laguna and in the 10 months living here, I know just about every route and I like the little ones—the narrow streets and alleys that cut across. So, right towards the end of the drive where I’m about to come back onto the main street for the final leg, I have a hard 90-degree left I’ve taken dozens of times. This time, soon as I get around, there’s a truck and another motorbike trying to pass it. It was either hit something coming my opposite way, or take the concrete ditch and wall that is not moving toward me. This was simply an instinctive move with zero conscious or contemplative thought. I’m a passenger while whatever is wired in my brain tries to survive.

A minute later, I’m dazed and confused while my brain reboots and I stumble over to sit on a concrete block wall. Many Thais are rushing to my aid, and within 3-minutes flat or less, an ambulance van arrives. That shocks me into full composure as I express shock and amazement that they got here so quick.

“We take you hospital.”

“No. Thank you. I go Laguna.”

I gave them my Thai driver license, they wrote some paperwork, and I signed a release. In the meantime, Thai folks got my bike out of the concrete ditch. I noticed two of three things broken. The left mirror and the right brake handle was now a fishing hook.

And I drove to Laguna with a sort of who, what, me? confident vibe. Soon as I sit down at one of the bar stations, I’m surrounded by young, pretty Thai girls attending to my wounds. What I had not known then is that the gash on my left eyebrow—bandaged by the ambulance folk—was the least of it. Turns out I also had a far bigger gash on the lower back of my noggin; my back was all bloodied, and my shirt was soaked. They brought out wet towels and cleaned me up. Then they showed me the towels. From white to red.

I bought a round of laddies drinks that set me back about 3 bucks each (they get half).

Then I drove the 10KM back home, snapped a selfie, sent it to Yui.

60-yo Richard Living Dangerously

No matter what, you will always take the wrong path sometimes with chicks, which is a wonderful thing, actually. Suppose I had sent that selfie to a good dude-buddy?



You always have to keep in mind. Chicks like crazy, daring, bravery, give-a-fuck, rebellion, et al. It makes them horny (rest assured). But, they don’t generally admit it. You have to wait and let it sink in. It’s your general vibe and attitude that counts, long term.

After 2 Tylenol and 10 hours sleep, I wake up to a text:

“Good morning darling. How are you?”

To wrap up this section, I mentioned that I’d detected two of the three broke things on the bike. The other, I didn’t find until a day later when I went for a ride and noticed it was really taking the bumps hard, not to menton speed bumps. I stopped and had a look. The rear-right spring and shock was bent a good 30 degrees, rendering my bike a hardtail.

And so yesterday, I took it across the street from my place and down 100 meters to a shop. He fixed me all up: replacing the mirror, brake handle, and spring/shock combo for 2,170 baht ($66). Easy $200-300 in the land of the free.

…My own antics do give me some pause, because I do live with a measure of cause and purpose. In reflecting on that, the only thing that springs to mind is the current global childrens’ comfort-blanket laugh that now permeates every tiny aspect of society. It would be natural to assume that all my brushes, near misses, and shit I’ve been in since January 2020 are the result of living in Thailand—not renowned for its safety and security. In the space of 6 months, I’ve had ambulances come to my aid twice. In my previous 59 years, not once. There’s comparative data.

What I prefer to believe about it is that it wasn’t two weeks after I arrived here in January 2020 that the Covid bullshit began and I’ve watched it diminish and ruin lives—and not because of the flu-like thing itself. So, I wish to believe that my style of living a bit on the edge, a bit dangerously, is a push-back, proportional to the utter disgust and loathing I harbor for most people on this planet—mostly the male-like—cowering like pathetic little scared children in the corner with their comfort talismen.

What Is a Vaccine?

I’ll say right off the bat that this is criminal in scale, by which I mean in a moral, not legal sense.

Because “the vaccine” is not actually a vaccine by any stretch of the imagination, they’ve of course done the right thing and are now calling it a drug.

Of course NOT!

They instead did the criminal thing, which is to go back and change the meaning and definition of what a vaccine actually is.

Vaccine was a pretty well-understood thing. You get injected with a weak form of the virus, it causes your immune system to behave as though it’s really the real thing, and it produces antibodies against the whole virus whilst backing up memory to fight off anything close in the future.

Now, it’s all weasel words, vacillation, and equivocation so as to call anything that stimulates immune responses a VACCINE!!!

Why? Very simple. Because if they call them something like immune-stimulating drugs, then there can obviously be no such things as compulsion and mandates at our current level of suck-up totalitarian governance. We still have word-game euphemisms to develop towards all of the it’s-good-for-you Reichstag-slide in that regard.

At a quick Google glance, there are about 20,000 FDA-approved drugs.

Any of them stimulate any sort of immune response? I don’t honestly know, but given the complexities of human biology, I’m loathe to believe it’s only the mRNA drugs that do, irrespective of the fact that such is their sole raison d’etre. Any amongst the 20,000 that do it as a side benefit or side effect?

Are they all reclassified as vaccines, now?

Could drug companies petition lawmakers or sue to have their drugs mandated—by injection or gullet—because they stimulate the immune system and are now vaccines, not drug therapies?

This is chid-stuff your mom taught you. Remember when you told a lie and she showed you that when you do one, and it begins to unravel, then you have to keep telling more more of them to cover?

Children shit, and now we live it as global fucking euphemism policy. Lie after lie that people eat up with a vigueur that exceeds the Nacho Cheese Doritos threshold.

What I’ve just written and more is all spelled out in this 5-minute video by Dr. Peter Doshi, an editor with the British Medical Journal. I hope he still has his job.

UPDATE: Well, YouTube tool it down LOL, but I found it on BitChute.


During the first “wave” of Covid I was living in Chiang Mai in the north of Thailand and simply refused to believe that Covid would be taken seriously for long. I laughed daily, and in many faces—both Thai and farang.

Never underestimate stupid.

That was my mistake. My misanthropy was still targeted and focussed. Now, as you know, it’s simply generalized. Refusing to accept that the fate of the world was something more suitable for Noah to tend to once my flight to Saigon, Vietnam got cancelled (thank fucking God—they’re even stupider…), I opened my KIAK app, saw there was a flight to Koh Samui leaving in 2 hours, and I was out of there with everything I owned. Just like that.

What a cool move.

…Until the next day when various lockdown children-in-the-dark shit began rolling through there. By the time I left and returned to the devil I know better (Chiang Mai) 9 days later, I was one of 2 people staying in a 600-room beach resort. Jesus, did I ever hate leaving the two young barefoot 20-something Burmese girls who cleaned my room every day…

So I get back to Chiang Mai and check back into the same hotel room, owned by a Swiss architect who’d designed and built it. The next day, I learn that he designed, built, and owned the small apartment building next door. I rented a really super-cool studio apartment. Here’s a video I made while in the place and as you can see, total modern Euro design, not Thai.

Anyway, the child-lockdown became harsh, but not 30 meters from my front door is a French expat bar and they were pretty good at flouting the rules-for-children. There was an alcohol ban, and the only reason they could be open anyway is because they serve food. All pure bars were closed and the only way they operated was by who you know. You just go and knock, roll up the “garage door” in front, close it behind you, party away. Be quiet.

Speakeasy will never die.

…Of course, the cops know about all of this. Unlike the Ministerium für Staatsicherheit (Statsi) in the West— particularly the prison colony down under now run by the descendants of prison officers—Thai cops, while corrupt as all hell, are easy to deal with because of that. 500 baht ($15) goes a long way with them. What you cannot do is embarrass them. Therefore, you do your thing but don’t do it so much as it makes them look like they aren’t doing their jobs.

…Remind me to tell you the story about how I ran police checkpoints three times, got away twice, but they chased me down and caught me the third time, demanded 30,000 baht ($1,000) and I negotiated down to 500 ($15)…

So I spend two months in lockdown, my girl is holed up in her room with roommates, all as scared as children in the dark. I went and bantered with French and French-speaking Belgians most days and often enough, almost all days. Drinks were served in coffee cups so as not to flout anything and embarrass the police.

  • French coffee: red wine
  • German coffee: beer
  • Scottish coffee: whiskey
  • Irish coffee: Irish coffee

And I’m speaking French most of the time which was a certain lemons to lemonade thing for me. Oh, how rusty I was after 30 years and having occasion only now and then to engage. But here, I was immersed, again. Then, once the lockdowns-for-scared-children-in-the-dark eased, the girl and I packed up, did the 1,000 KM to Si Sa Ket, and I took up a rural family life.

After finishing the house and stuff, I took up a small place on Jomtien Beach, Pattaya. Went back to the village a lot, she came down a lot. Then I moved to Phuket. Before the 2nd wave of Covid over the last 6 months or so, it was the same frequent visits thing; flights back and forth are dirt cheap. But, scared children have prevailed and I’ve been separated from my libido for months.

But I’m speaking French daily. I shot off an email in response to Mike Eades’ newsletter this morning. In part:

Interesting thing about the speed / foreign language thing. My French is working its way back to early 90s levels where I was almost never speaking English, had even begun dreaming in French (still do, now and then).

He had included an email from someone that reads:

Enjoying the newsletter very much, especially when we disagree. I wanted to pass on a tip that came to mind because you mentioned listening to videos at higher rates of speed. For years I taught Spanish at the local university. Often, students complained that Spanish was ‘too fast’ in the teaching videos. So, I taught them to speed the videos up if they couldn’t understand well. Speed them up, and to do their best not to care at all what was being said. After about 30 seconds, the speed would seem slower to them. If they returned the video to a normal pace, it would sound preternaturally clear and comprehensible. Particularly when learning a foreign language, it isn’t that speech takes place too quickly, it is that listeners decide it too slowly.

I had an ah-ha moment. I too had been using Mike’s recommendation to watch the long videos at 125% speed, and even 150% speed. His emailer added another element which reminded me of something I stumbled upon a year ago.

To the point, I was chatting with the French at the bar, mostly in French, but now and then we go to English. They’re always asking me to speak slowly. It’s a bit same for me. If I’m speaking 1 on 1 or 1 on 2 with French, my comprehension is near 100%. If I’m listening to 2 or more French speak to each other, comprehension drops to 70%.

The other thing is that when I’m out in the village, I’m always trying to get the 2 Thai girl “daughters” to try English more, and I endeavor with their pronunciation and here’s where your emailer got me an ah-ha moment. I stumbled into a trick with the girls. When they mispronounce badly and I have them correct it, they naturally try to sound it out very slowly, and it really just exacerbates the problem.

Solution, have them say it very fast repeatedly.

So, for ‘room,’ instead of them going ‘loooooom,’ I have them go ‘rm’ rapidly. Just ‘rm,’ dropping the vowels and spoken rapidly in repetition.

Et voila!

I don’t know if it’s strictly applicable or analogous, but I do know that my AH-HA!!! moments arise from deep integrative contemplation and experience, and are thus immune from question.

Blood Sausages

Here’s where I tie it all together and go full circle. Thanks, Mike. After putting up two posts in two consecutive days, looking forward to a day off and thinking “cool, Mike’s gig right on time over a great americano,” I end up diving head first into a third post, 3 consecutive days, and this is not a 2-3 hour deal. I’m into 6 hours, on and off, by now. The sun is fading…

…When I hit Madame Bar the evening of my crash, there was a very pleasant, attractive 50-something Filipina woman there, speaking French with all the rest of us. But I didn’t know she harkened from the PI. I assumed she’s Thai. Then, she begins to speak to me in English and I knew in a microsecond. She’s PI. A subject for another post sometime, perhaps, but in my life, I have been with vastly more PI Chicks than any other. Magnitudes more. Beginning at Oregon State University. That only led to over 30 trips and months spent in the PI.

I lub dem long time.

Turns out she’s here 15 years, owns a bar and restaurant with her partner Bernard, French. It sports a pool table, ping-pong, and…get this…six pistes pétanque.

It’s just a KM away from my new place so I head over last night for food.

…Aside. In December of 1989 when I flew into Hyères, France—the closest airport to Toulon—it was 7 or 8pm, and a couple of officers from the French Navy ship to which I was to serve as navigator for the next two years came to pick me up. It was pretty late by the time we got to the ship but the in-port contingent (a fraction of the at-sea, all hands on board) had held up dinner, so the four of us sit down a table; and the meal?

Boudin Noir et Pomme de Terre Purée.

Blood sausages and mashed potatoes. I had an aunt who was married to a Spanish Basque guy, so I had some inkling of blood sausages—where they take blood, typically pork, have it coagulate add some herbs and spices, tube it up, let it get hard. Mouth watering, right?

What was I to do? I’m the new American Navy exchange officer to this ship, they picked me up at the airport, held dinner service (all meals are important events for the French…at least it used to be) pour moi meme, so you just do.

And I fucking loved it.

Over the two years, it was one of my favorites whenever it was to be served.

…And so, last night when I showed up at Froggy’s, I went for it. Served up by a Filipina. I’d included that in my email to Mike as well.

Last night, I drove 1KM down the street to Froggy’s a bar/restaurant owned by a Filipina gal and Bernard, who’s French. I had a meal of Boudin Noir et pomme de terre purée, which I LOVED to have in France. For my taste, the very best of all the Euro region blood sausages—though I quite like black pudding with an English breakfast.

I added:

They gave me both the sauce au poivre et le sauce champignon. The shrooms are Thai, don’t know what they’re called, but they are curiously slightly naturally salty.

So I guess that’s about it for this one. Whew!

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  1. Lothar Nikoley on November 13, 2021 at 01:21

    Blood sausage, Blut Wurst in German. There wasn’t a Christmas over at your Oma’s house that she didn’t have the open face sandwiches with Blut Wurst. I don’t know if you tried it. It was a reddish-brown with big chunks of fat and was delicious.

    • Richard Nikoley on November 13, 2021 at 05:04

      Hey dad, hope you and mom are doing swimmingly.

      Funny, I don’t remember this. On the other hand, I know and meet more Germans and Swiss Germans than ever in my life, right here in south Phuket. Dozens and dozens. All are interested in my heritage via you, of course. Born in Stettin, now Poland.

      I relay lots of stuff, including Oma’s style of an assortment of open-faced sandwiches….butter not mayo. Tomato, tomato and onion, liverwurst, ham, etc. I don’t recall blood sausage.

  2. Lothar Nikoley on November 13, 2021 at 05:40

    I’m great. working on a new (not so big) project. Got to keep that income coming. Although I told A&B to hold my checks for Oct, Nov & Dec. until Jan. 22. Your mom is just getting over an upper respiratory problem with lots of coughing and mucus, but no fever. It lasted for about 2 weeks, that’s why she couldn’t go to Bozeman with me last week.
    Sorry you had to go through that crash on the motorcycle, but looks like you made it through it OK. Probably were a little more sore the next day or two.
    Stay well.
    The Blut Wurst was always there, as well as an assortment of other German cold cuts.

  3. Alan Andersen on November 15, 2021 at 02:00

    Hi Richard. I’m catching up on your posts. Just a question re your situation with your girl. I thought you were living with her full time in the house that you built for them. But it sounds like you are living in other places, but still exclusive with her. If you care to explain why, I’d be interested. Is it that it’s better to have some space, or cuz you like to get away and live in other places less rural? I don’t live with my girlfriend either.

    • Richard Nikoley on November 15, 2021 at 09:38

      Yea, basically the rural is OK for a while, but then I go a bit crazy for beach and sun.

      That was no problem because before the last wave of madness going on for 6 months, we made frequent trips back and forth.

      Hoping to resume that soon, since flights are dirt cheap.

  4. Steve Carbone on November 15, 2021 at 23:32

    Wanted to drop in a little tidbit most people miss. I’m a regulatory affairs consultant so I have to pay attention to these things. The latest ICH guidance from Sept (ICH is comprised of FDA, EMA and PMDA agencies). Here is how they define gene therapy: “products that mediate their effect by the expression (transcription or translation) of transferred genetic material. Some examples of GT products can include purified nucleic acid (e.g., plasmids and RNA), microorganisms( e.g., viruses, bacteria, fungi) genetically modified to express transgenes (including products that edit the host genome), and ex vivo genetically modified human cells.”. Really not sure how the new “vaccines” don’t fall under this. They do add this tidbit though: “this guideline does not apply to prophylactic vaccines”. Hmm…

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