BoingBoing writers don’t seem to be able to shut up about betel lately. This reminded me of a 4th or 5th grade report on India (great friend of the Soviet Union, emerging economy, blah, blah) that I had to do in school back in the Soviet times.
I remember the teacher get very interested about betel chewing and prematurely praise it as a great habit. Then I reminded her that importing such a thing would mean having to deal with bright red spit all over. It’s not like the Soviet Union did not have its own share of hygienically questionable customs.
Back then Soviet sci-fi writers promised us Communism with goods being teleported right into our crystal palaces for free from anywhere on the globe. I guess that (and my flying car) did not work out, but today Capitalism brings us the ability to order almost anything from almost anywhere through electronic computers.
So, if I want to try some betel all I need to do is pick between The Basement Shaman and Shaman Palace or many other fine merchants.
Who knew that there are so many stores catering to shamans. At leats now I know where the Suburban Shaman.
Hmm, I guess I could get one of these and try to rid my cubicle of the sick building syndrome.