Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver Trapped in a Chinese Bakery - Book Reviews

When I was a kid we had a cabin in Big Bear. I usually liked going, but also sometimes found it boring. In my opinion, the cabin was really far away from the "cool part" of Big Bear (is there a cool part?) We didn't have a TV. We didn't have a phone. The closest store was about 2 miles away. We had an 8-track player and 4 tapes that I can remember: The Best of Bread, The Best of Seals and Crofts, The Best of ELO and Chipmunk Punk. There was also a bookshelf filled with Reader's Digest, every shelf was Reader's Digest and Reader's Digest condensed novels. But hidden among them were two books that influenced my life. 

Help I'm a Prisoner in a Chinese Bakery by Alan King and Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver by Jack Douglas, published in 1960 and 1961, respectively.  At the time I had no idea who either of the authors were, and to this day, I only know them by name, and not by their bodies of work, save for these books, and Alan King's role as Steven Reign, the bad guy in Rush Hour 2.  I loved these books. They were so weird, so unlike anything I had ever read, with humor that my 10yo self didn't quite understand, other than it was supposed to be funny, and probably had something to do with sex. 

When I was about 18 or 19 years old I went to The Cabin for what would be the last time, and stole them. I still have them.

Over the years, the glue in the paperback books has disintegrated, all the pages falling out. Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver can barely be held together by a rubber-band. I tried taping the pages, reinforcing the spine, but the book's pages just crumbled. Help, I'm a Prisoner in a Chinese Bakery survived, but the pages turned super dark (and gosh-darn-it, that type is tiny). 

Anyhow, for my recent birthday I bought myself a copy of Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver. I have yet to re-read it. I wonder if it will still be funny. I read a few chapters of Help I'm a Prisoner in a Chinese Bakery and it was just some old guy complaining how good things used to be. It wasn't very funny. My guess is that when I start reading Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver, and continue with Help I'm a Prisoner in a Chinese Bakery, I'll find a host of outdated humor, thinly veiled racism and a lot of male chauvinism. 

I'll let you know if the books hold up.

Strawberries - a dream

I don't really like strawberries.  They're OK, I guess. I'll never choose a strawberry laden food, but I probably won't pick them out if I'm served something. I will however, flat out refuse a chocolate covered strawberry. I don't really seem to get the point of them. There are a few very specific exceptions to my feelings of meh concerning the strawberry. When I was a kid we used to dip giant strawberries in sour cream and brown sugar. I liked that, but I think I liked it because of the tangy slurry that was created with the strawberry juice, sour cream and brown sugar. Also, at the Marin County Fair I usually make time to enjoy a Tiger's Blood shave ice. With the addition of watermelon and coconut, the strawberry becomes refreshing on a hot day. And finally, a favorite of my youngest is a quick jam made from boiling together strawberries, sugar, lime juice and a pinch of salt. It's a nice addition to waffles. Two baskets of strawberries will cook down to fill an 8oz mason jar. It's pretty tasty. 

This morning I woke up to a dream about strawberries. 

I had two baskets of strawberries. One was the conventional kind in the green plastic basket. The other basket was a clamshell container filled with strawberries that had to be stored in the freezer. They were very special strawberries that needed to be kept at a very low temperature to remain fresh. They could withstand the freezing temperatures, while never freezing. They were like the Tardigrade of Strawberries. They didn't even taste really cold when you ate them.