Horrid haze hangs heavy.
Hostile heat harms historical habitats.
Hacking, heaving; holding hanky handy.
Hope heaven hastily halts haughty human hubris.
Health, hurry! Hie hither home!

It's the mooncake festival tonight, and I've taken my 2 nephews down to the playground to bask in the light of the full moon. So many other kids down here with us, swinging their lanterns and sparklers. Some are busy trying to set the playground on fire with such arrangements of candles as are usually seen on a psycho's shrine to the object of his obsession.

Apparently, amongst all this lunacy, traditional Chinese scholars are meant to drink tea and compose poetry. That explains the few lines above that begin today's entry. Yes, it's supposed to be poetry. And it's about current affairs too.

So there.