The Life of a Simulated Meat Thief Continues...

Date: Nov 25 1990

It's after midnight on a Sat night, I'm hungry and all the flower shops are closed. I'm bored. I'm gonna write you this letter.

I just found out that the banks steal 35% of the interest you make in your bank accounts. You are supposed to get some back after you do your taxes but I think why they do it is to rip off all the foreigners here for a short time who don't know how to get their money back or know it's gone. Doesn't much matter I guess. I think I get 2%.

I think I'm getting Spaghetti poisoning. I think it's from eating spaghetti, spaghetti and spaghetti. They have dessert here that looks like spaghetti. I think it's chestnuts run through a grinder thing.

I accidently told my secretary that every Saturday I go out to the airport and sit on this big hill and watch Air Canada take off and that I meet other Canadians there also wishing they were on the plane. And there's a group of Americans watching American Airlines taking off. She asked me why I don't go inside the airport where it's warm. Because they know who I am now and throw me out for loitering, and no matter how many different funny hats I wear they always recognize me. I was thinking of inviting her out with me sometime. If only I could find bunches of people who can pass as Canadians to already be there sitting on the hill. But it's freezing and messy out now.

I was at a house-warming party of a American friend who was thrown out of his last place because of a party. He told me he's immune to that happening in his new place. Some kind of weird agreement where he and the landlord(s) have to put up with each other.

A Scottish friend of mine who has been sleeping on the floor for the last 3 months has found a place (for 6 months) with a New Zealand friend to live in. It's actually a nice place and got it for a reasonable (Swiss) price. Maybe that's because they inherited a 900 sFr phone bill...

I'm bored. I'm bored. I'm bored. I keep dreaming of peanut butter sandwiches and orange juice. Hey, you wouldn't believe how awful salads are here. It's made of the kind of stuff you might consider maybe eating when you're stranded in a tropical forest and hoping it's not poisonous. And they sometimes throw in a piece of rotting tomato. I used to hate tomatoes, but it's the best part of a Swiss salad.

So I'm at the 'Big Door Cafe' the other day having the 'Fat Mans Special' (all you can eat). They don't let you carve your own simulated-meat since it's so valuable. So the meat carver who's normally a real shithead stops before cutting it, looks at me and says "gorp-gorp-ala-gorp?" (Where are you from?) Crap! He's not gonna gimme meat cause he thinks I'm American. So I jump up on the table and sing as much of O-Canada that I know. Two words. O-Canada. He cuts me slabs of simulated-meat twice normal size. Then he looks around to see if his boss is looking, and then motions me to take this 2 pound slab of simulated-meat and stick it in my Jacket. Wow! This must be worth a bloody fortune! So I hide it. Later he comes to my table after I sit down and says

"Please me take Canada back you with please. I out of here want. Good cook I".

I tell him I can't. Then he starts swearing and wrestling me and tries stealing my simulated-meat. Everybody is sitting there watching us and then they see the simulated-meat. Gees, what a riot! They think I stole it! So now I'm living under a bridge since they're looking for me. Stealing simulated-meat is almost as bad as robbing a Swiss bank. So don't anybody bother writing me at my old physical address. I'm not there. I'll let you know when I get a real address again.

Some restaurants (like the Big Door cafe) have TV cameras mounted up near the ceiling pointing down at the customers. I keep waiting to hear loud- speakers :

"You! # 63 at table 14!! Eat your potatoes!!"

Hasn't happened yet. I'm avoiding those places now since all the restaurants are keeping an eye out for the simulated-meat thief.

I keep telling Swiss people about herds of animals where real meat comes from that roam the prairies in North-America. They won't believe me. Sort of like when Paul in the movie 'Dune' tries telling people on the desert planet that there are worlds where one can drown in water. What a ridiculous concept.

Well, I better go see if my spot under the bridge has been stolen yet.