Hope revisited

To be thought a hopeless romantic is one of my secret sources of pride...well, maybe not so secret now for the 12 people reading this blog o' mine. But I don't believe it is hopeless, I don't believe in hopelessness...I choose hope because in the end that's what keeps us moving forward. Be it affairs of the heart or state affairs, hope matters.

As I read what Barack Obama said at Shimon Peres' funeral today I was struck by the simple elegance in the way he conveyed what should matter to all of good heart....

“In many ways he reminded me of some other giants of the 20th century I’ve had the honour to meet—men like Nelson Mandela, women like Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth -- leaders who’ve seen so much, whose lives span such momentous epochs that they find no need to posture or traffic in what’s popular in the moment. People who speak with depth and knowledge, not in sound bites. They find no interest in polls or fads, and like these leaders, Shimon could be true to his convictions even if they cut against the grain of current opinion. He knew better than the cynic that if you look out over the arc of history, human beings should be filled not with fear, but with hope.”

...that tomorrow will be better because we strive to make possible that hope. Our need to climb the mountain so we can see what's on the other side will always push us forward and thus our guaranteed growth in humanity. You may scoff at me for that but, in general and real terms, things are getting better. And for proof of that just look who I am quoting above...a black president of the United States. 44 years after Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act Obama took office...that is monumental. Is it perfect? Not even close. Our work as humans will never end but everyday we should be striving to make a better tomorrow and always remember the words "those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it".

Absolutely the state of the world is perilous but I would argue that it has always been that way...who knows what powder keg will have its fuse lit tomorrow but in very real terms we are still better off than say the time between the two world wars. This is little comfort to those living hell on earth, like in Aleppo, and our hearts weep for them as they would have wept for the Jews during the holocaust, it doesn't change that we have made steps in the direction of hope. Is racism still an issue? Of course it is, along with sexism and greed, not to mention the biggest threat to us all, the ruining of our environment but the very thing that allows us to know about and understand these issues is what will help us to continue to work towards solving those issues...our connected world.

Shimon Peres knew that social media and the ability to almost instantly know something will be the key to realizing our hopes as a people. That big huge spotlight created by bringing issues to the front can and will make a difference...you see, Facebook can be used for something other than cat videos. We have to resist the urge to make snap judgements and declare that the world is getting worse because we happen to see more of it now...everything can have the light shone on it now which means it seems like it's getting worse. Facts and stats will tell you otherwise, which means anyone espousing to the contrary as a means of getting your support is using fear as motivation and ignorance as fuel to feed the fire. Not hope...but fear and everything that fear brings.

Rest in peace Mr. Peres...thank you for dedication and heart, for showing that even in your tumultuous world, hope is a better answer.

Ciao
D

Let slip the dogs of war

Long gone are the days of my time spent on the line, that magical area beyond the pass full of heat, flame and profanity. Where raw ingredients get turned into beautiful and edible food with the application of heat, flavour and love...or as often is the case, begrudging acquiescence. Men and women alike in a tortured tango dancing around each other trying to bring together all the components of a dish at the same time, lest the dish be ruined because Steve over there forgot his beurre blanc sauce...great job ass hole!!!

Working the line, as I may have said previously, is a young persons game. Long hours on your feet, the physical abuse your body takes as you bend over into the low boy fridge, reach around each other for food, pans and so on, the constant back and forth as your hands become extensions of your nervous system...reacting more than thinking about your next move. The life takes it's toll. I do however miss it sometimes, there is a camaraderie to being immersed in that life. Truly, a well oiled crew working a busy night is a beautiful thing to behold. The constant barrage of double entendres slipped between time checks and questions of how many beef all day do I have, the sizzle as a piece of meat hits the hot pan, the constant shaking of pans over the cast iron grates and the shuffling of smelly feet. We tend to have quite well muscled calves by the way, if that's your thing.

The kitchens I have been a part of all seem to flow in the same manner, the same things are said and the same things are bitched about. That commonalty makes it quite easy to flow from one kitchen to another...it is a small community after all so we have all probably walked in the same place at one point or another. First there is music...a beat up radio stolen from a hotel room or "borrowed" from the last sous chef that happened to walk out one night in a fit of frustration. Antenna covered in foil or connected to a coat hanger somehow and you just know that the Cd player or tape deck are inoperable...and the whole thing has been thoroughly coated in kitchen grease and flying debris. These days we have iPods or Pads or Pids or whatever the thing is called so you can play your vaunted kitchen mix. When I was younger and I managed to wrestle control of the radio I would put it on whatever rock station played classic rock...I'm old school. These days I have to listen to, at varying times, country music, rap and hip hop as well as pop music....kill me now my ears are bleeding. Music is the life blood of the kitchen along with coffee...it's mandatory, it is what separates us from you office dwellers. Well, one of the things. Easy access to booze and food, a patois that would make a trucker blush, no real rules other than don't be an ass hole and hold up your end of the line and a slightly warped way of looking at the world...see, not so different after all.

And we have the dogs of war themselves, the mish mash motley crew that prepares your food every night for meager wages and little gratitude. We have such diversity of both character and nationality within the confines of that line that I sometimes wonder if maybe this truly represents the multicultural life that we, as Canadians, espouse. Running the gamut from disturbed but hard working sous chefs to hiding from something 3rd cooks, brilliant but lazy first cooks to under appreciated work horse chef de parties. To look at some of them you would think that the door to intelligence was locked when they were lining up for god given attributes, but you would be wrong to make assumptions. Sure, we have our fair share of mental midgets but we also have some very deeply intelligent people that can wax poetic about many, many topics and speak passionately with logic and vigour about others. And for some reason, too many conspiracy theory nuts...just saying. We have OCD poster kids, slobs and sloths, recovering addicts and in situ junkie wannabes along side mercenary cooks, artistes and lifers that just wanna get their time in. Usually it's not who you think cooking your food in a restaurant and certainly not in a hotel...having worked our way through the machine, we sit back and worry about food cost and labour cost, playing hall monitor and absentee mom for all. This business is about people...as legendary Elwood Blues would have said "you, me, them everybody, everybody." You the customer, me, all the cooks, chefs and workers in the biz...everybody. We may sell you a tenderloin topped with a lovely decadent Stilton crust but we're in the people business....and as always, business is war. Cooking the line is war.

Where there is war there is carnage. There be blood, some expected and some not. Not one of us has avoided the "shit" moment when we went too deep with the boning knife on that expensive tenderloin and nicked a minor artery. I've seen guys take the tops of fingers off from knives and meat slicers. I once lopped off part of my thumb in the middle of getting ready for a wedding....off to the hospital to get stitched up and raced back for service with throbbing digits. It's what we do....despite how much we hate you we still do everything in our power to serve you. Our own well being be damned. Case in point...back in college we were prepping for the nights service in the college dining room when a fire alarm went off. We promptly ignored it as chef hadn't come back to tell us anything, so in the absence of contrary orders...we kept working. At some point a security guard told us to get out, we promptly ignored him and possibly threw carrot chunks at him as he left the kitchen. A short while later he came back to remind us to get out...same response. A few minutes later he barged in and said there was a bomb threat and we had to go...fine, bombs trump our prep. We never went back to class after the all clear a few hours later...we dragged our instructor to a classmates apartment next to the college and got loaded. Good times.

This may give you some more insight into my world and my brain....and I'm sorry in advance. Actually I'm not...what ever. If you want an even more in depth picture that will surely scare you...read Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential, a pretty accurate snap shot of the business. He details debauchery in all its forms and shines a light on the people that slip in and out of my world. He did a great job of writing about my experience without knowing me...I'm sure I wasn't the only one.

But really all the stories and moments are part of that tapestry that has grown around my life...I couldn't imagine not being in the trenches to some extent. If I find myself with an opportunity to live in Greece or Italy or Spain, preferably over a bakery or a tapas bar, I'd work part time for spare cash just so I could keep a toe stuck in that room beyond the swinging doors. In there is comfort and many stories to explore.

Ciao
D

Can't look away

Now that I have a day to digest and consequently throw up I feel I can, hopefully, in an eloquent and meaningful way, put down my thoughts on the debate between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump the other night, I feel the level of discourse needs to match the level of discourse displayed. So, now this...

This scum sucking bag of donkey shit is what 40% of the country feels would be an excellent representative of the American way both at home and abroad? Speaking in sentence fragments and with an uncanny way of opening his mouth without the bile flying out he has quite clearly shown the rest of the world the worse of what America has to offer up. Say what you will of Hilary, and there is a lot that can be said, by any standard that should matter she is the better candidate and infinitely more qualified to run the country as compared to this weave wearing orangutan with the manners and temperament of a five year old bully that lost his dinkie car...my apologies to five year olds and orangutans of course. He is poooo. Correction, he is the poooo that when you scrape it off your shoe to fling into the woods that stinks even more vile and looks more disgusting than you originally thought when you first stepped into it....and that is going to be Americas reaction if he gets elected.

Now, I really don't think he will win, but that won't stop me for saying my peace. It's up to all of us to stand up and say what needs to be said, and all the apologists, GOP lackeys and dimwits too stupid to read a book or look past the first few posts of whatever racist woman hating Facebook page they are following currently can go fuck themselves. Yep, I might swear a bit...shocking as that is. Sure, you're entitled to your opinion and you can justify it anyway you wish...be it god speaking directly to you, the bible readings after the Budweiser ride on lawn mower races or because your pappy told you so. I'm OK with that in the same way I'm OK with vegans and paleo dieters. As long as they are not bothering me I will keep my thoughts to myself....but when they do affect me, directly or indirectly and if I think they are going to be bad for the world...I have to say something.

So, vegans and paleo diet followers...get real man. Eat anything in moderation or stop going out to restaurants if your diet should consist of a bowl of grass with a side of ice cubes, excuse me, organic grass and spring fed ice cubes. Now, the rest of you....open your minds a tiny fraction to understand that the hyperbole and venom spewed by Drumph is just simply evil. He doesn't give a shit about you...this is for him and him alone. He's a power hungry megalomaniac that lives in a world where it's OK to literally have gilded walls and not pay his share of taxes. He thinks it makes him smart to avoid taxes, what it should say to us all is that he feels like he shouldn't have to pay taxes because if you aren't smart enough, hard working enough, man enough or white enough to find and use the same loopholes as he does, then you're too stupid to live anyway and why should his taxes go to support you. That's Drumph saying fuck you with his money. Side bar here, if the debate had gone on for another 20 minutes he would have dropped an F bomb...you could just see it,,,like Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men, he wanted to say it, he needed to say it...you can't handle the truth!!! And the worst part of this sad tale is that it would not make a wit of difference to his supporters...they'd be yelling at their TV's..."yeah, curse that bitch out Donald" Fuck me!

And his allusion to Bill Clintons affairs and how he stopped himself from saying anything about it are supposed to make us go, oh, what a nice guy...maybe he will be a good president after all. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Bill screwed around, not Hilary...and she stayed for her own reasons. You orange man, you fucked around...are you so stupid to think that people can't look that up on Google the same that they can look up any number of your false claims and denials of things you have said and done. You never said China was responsible for the hoax of global warming...it's cold in LA today so global warming is a hoax. Or Rosie O'Donnell is a fat pig and no one was offended by what you said about her...go fuck yourself you sack of shit. You, your followers, your gutless apologists that simply want to cling to power and those that don't care enough to stand up...all of you, go fuck yourselves.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, that felt good.

Ciao
D

Grace Too

Looking back, the decision to leave the church a few years ago was a long time coming for me. Much like my marriage, staying in it was about other people, my kids and my ex specifically. The desire to project "normal" and avoid the black sheep label that I probably had anyway plus the fear of hurting those that I cared about kept me going...halfheartedly.

I grew up going to Catholic schools, both elementary and high school, the whole uniform, prayers to start the day, religion classes that only dealt with one religion (go figure) and so on...everything a budding mind needs to be controlled with. It really didn't work obviously as I sit here thinking about attending church yesterday with my kids. Work schedule conflict found me bringing the kids to mass and sitting in with them to keep them company.

And my observations from this slightly uncomfortable hour? Things haven't changed much for me and my way of looking at church...and to be clear, any church. I do not have any desire to return to the flock, not missing it in any way and yesterday, like previous times I have gone, confirmed that for me. I'm more than OK the way I am now and the argument for attending church and following one religion over another holds no sway with me.

If you've read some of my posts you should have seen that I really don't give a crap what you want to believe in or subject yourself to. I subscribe to a "you do you and I'll do me" kind of mantra. Don't use your beliefs to look down upon me and don't try and convert me..to anything. And this goes for atheists as well, who can be just as fervent in their belief that you should follow them in following nothing....who would have thought that atheism could be a religion unto itself? After that, do as you wish...if you want to discuss and talk intelligently, debate even...great, I love that...otherwise, find a new topic of discussion with me. You won't like my response else ways.

There is a certain regularity that I have found in masses that I have attended...similar traits and mannerisms of people that show up that run the gamut from devout true believers to the tag along spouses and kids. They are pretty easy to pick out. Funnily enough, the people in the middle are the ones that bother me the most...but more on them later. First, this...

I may not agree with the beliefs of the truly devout but I can respect their freedom to believe in what they believe in. Who am I to say they are lesser than because of their faith in things unseen? If it brings them comfort and joy fill your boots I say. Enjoy the ride. The devout that use their faith as a way of lifting themselves above others (those middle dwellers)...well, you have another thing coming. If there is a god one can't imagine that he/she or it would want you to step on others to be closer to the supreme deity..it just doesn't make sense. A god of good and love would be a god for all people, not just those that follow one sect or another or those that don't believe at all...god is all loving, so the holy scribes will tell you. And I know...before you pull out the man is imperfect argument on me let me respond thusly...fuck that shit. Man is man, sorry humans are humans and your argument goes out the window the second the humans being made in gods image clause gets invoked. See where I am going with this....god damn hypocrisy!!! That is one of my biggest issues with religion in general...speak out of both sides of your mouth much. It makes me crazy and in the end is what was the final straw in leaving the church all together (look up bishop Lahey), though one can argue that god already knew that I wasn't devout so no big loss for him/her or it.

The other middle dwellers are the ones that come for show. To be seen and to see, often only for special occasions, perched close to the front taking up real estate where the vicar can see them and church elders can make the proper notations. I'm not saying they are inherently bad people, some are very good people actually, but their use of this supposedly sacred gathering for swelled egos and status is a tad askew if you ask me. When I was younger my parents would, once a month and on special occasions, drag me to a Croatian church in the downtown area. This church going venture I hated more than regular church for here, on full display, were the Croatian peacocks of the area. Best suits, best dresses and funny hats with all the bling you could wear. It was ridiculous beyond reckoning...the Croatian flag fluttering up front as doors were opened and closed, the Croatian national anthem being sung...WTF. I imagine it's like that in all churches that have a strong ethnic population but it would seem to be a tad limiting to people of other nations looking for a place to weather the storm...segregated flocks. And I do get it, I'm dumb but not that dumb, if you share some commonality with a group of people you might want to worship with them,,,hear the language and remember. Hell, if church was a chance to get together with old friends from high school and reminisce about our weekend shenanigans, I might consider going...just leave out the preaching.

The other thing that I seemed to pick up more of yesterday was how shitty the church seems to want to make you feel about yourself. It may be the domain of the Catholics but holy hell batman, I know I'm not perfect but to call me a sinner and shameful, tell me I'm not worthy and the kingdom of heaven will be denied to me....but I love you sooooo much. It's a wonder I didn't run away when I was younger. Probably a testament to the fact that I wasn't really paying attention to the words and their meaning in the first place. Seems an odd way to promote the loving god but as I sat there not praying I could see that in the end it's all about control. In one way or another religion is about two things...trying to explain the unexplainable to those that need something to believe in and then controlling those people afterwards. Schlepping through the middle ages, priests would wander from town to town absolving sins and collecting silver and gold. Since they were the few that could read they could tell those that couldn't whatever they wanted. "You slept with your goat, I see it says here in this fat book you owe 10 gold pieces..go forth and sin no more". Sure padre.

And in the end what does it mean? Nothing really, not even a hill of beans. I'm happy the way things are unfolding for me now and if it doesn't fit in with a preconceived notion of how I should or shouldn't be...too bad. And to those that might wish to use their beliefs as a reason for a holy high ground over me or anyone else, have fun with that, you may find later in life or at your death, that god didn't really appreciate the fact that you used his/her or its name in that way....I believe that's called Karma.

Ciao
D

Dear Bernie,

Has anyone ever told you that you sound like Larry David, or he like you, such as it is? I think had you won the nomination a whole new revenue stream would have been created for Larry which in turn could have been funnelled into the education system for your plan to fund college tuition for Americans....think about it. But alas...you came up short, or really were screwed over by the establishment. It's OK, I can say that since A, nobody reads this and B, I'm allowed to say whatever I want on here...sort of like Drumph but without the lies and "isms" that he is using to inch his way closer to the White House.

And here is the reason for my letter good sir. Were you offered a spot on the ticket as vice president? If you were, why did you turn it down? Seriously, would we even be discussing Drumph except to say how far back in the polls he was and ask what moronic thing did he say today? You would have been the final nail in his coffin, instead we have him essentially tied with Hilary...we're all scared man. He's a lying narcissist dimwit that can't be trusted with your locker combination to an empty locker much less the nuclear codes and state secrets. I'm not saying it's your fault, far from it, really it's him and the deplorable fuck heads that follow him blindly and the even more dangerous people that actually think he would be good for the country and hence the world. But you could have silenced him by simply tagging along.

The added bonus is that you would have kept Hilary honest...the moral compass for the country when it is needed most. Two more months of primaries and I have no doubt that you would have won the nomination and convinced those super delegates to switch sides, but alas...it was not meant to be. But you still would have had an impact, a very real one by joining her. You wouldn't be the one that could be ignored, she's too smart to do that and you're too popular to not say your peace. Not only could the revolution have continued but I firmly believe that the course of your country would have been changed for the better.

At the risk of sound like a gushing teenager you really do have the betterment of the American people at heart, your 'revolution' being marked by a desire to bridge the gap between the have and the have nots, the ridiculously wealthy with the people that can't take another step, so mired in poverty that no way out can be seen. To bring a modicum of common sense and compassion back to the front where it belongs...and to beat back the xenophobia, the racism, the misogyny and ultra conservative far right religious zealots. You could have led that battle, not only from your office but within the halls of the Senate and Congress...for certainly you could have helped win back the legislative end of the power sharing arrangement in your country. Transformative comes to mind.

I can understand why Hilary didn't offer you the spot, too much fire on the bottom of the ticket of course. Who wants their presidency marred by the eternal question...why wasn't it Bernie? I get that but I can't help but think that those issues could have been managed, mitigated even to play to your strengths and to hers. I suppose everyone has a role to play and often best intentions are waylaid by politics and power...maybe it wasn't meant to be.

Tell me Bernie, how do you feel right now? Are you pissed? Resigned? Matter of fact? Fearful? All of the above would be my answer. I loved your ideas and your passion...it would have been fun to watch you lead the country. Not in the anarchist way we are going to watch if Drumph gets elected but in the way it would be fun to feel like you were ours and ours alone...our boy making good and doing the right thing.

Keep fighting the good fight sir...the world needs it.

Respectively yours
D

CFA's and more

CFA? Canadian Federation of Ass-holes? Nope. Canadian Fungicide Association? Nope...nice try though. And it's not the Chartered Financial Analyst that's running off with your money to Tortuga either. In this case we are talking about an almost provincial term directed at, well...come from aways. Those that aren't from here, the here being here in Nova Scotia and I can assume the Maritime's in general. I'm a CFA, having grown up in Toronto but living here since 1994. When someone asks me where I am from and I say I grew up in Toronto, often I will  get the slightly derogatory sounding...oh, Upper Canada eh?

I have to be honest and call it like I see it. I do see that attitude from time to time in what are supposed to be the nicest people around. To deny it would be sweeping the issue under the rug...it is fact. And it runs the gamut from veiled disdain to outright animosity, whether shown through acts of vandalism or simply some people standing in your way when you want to do something.

I don't want to say that this is the case with all people and all communities, I'm not painting everyone with the same brush, as Mr Harper would have. I've met many people that are more than eager to help and support new comers, wonderful, warm and welcoming. And then there were the others....you know them or people like them. Living in Halifax I don't see it all, but I did see it when I lived in Lunenburg. It happened to me and it happened even more insidiously to people I knew...sadly. For me personally, it never detracted from my experience or my desire to make a life here...more of an annoyance really in the long run. But can you imagine how a couple of guys I got to know would have felt when someone cut the line on their propane tank? This gay couple were simply fabulous guys, incredibly nice, hard working and worldly. And someone thought they shouldn't be allowed to set up shop in town. Be it that they were gay or because they didn't like the cut of their jib some local yokels thought it was a good idea to endanger the whole town...wood burns I hear.

That would be the most visible aspect of this CFA reaction that I have seen. And while in and of itself it is a bad enough phenomenon it points to a deeper issue which I can't see us of ever being rid of...sadly I think we as a species are simply not capable of getting our heads out of our asses when it comes to acceptance. The train wreck of a country to the south of me is a shining example of this intolerance and racism, brought completely out of the shadows by the Drumph and his ilk. We're no better here or anywhere else really, it just seems more prevalent because of the internet and the size of the audience in the States. It seems that for every good thing done by humans it gets undone or over shadowed by monumentally stupid people that feel compelled to spew their particular brand of hatred. It's tiring...it's simply sad.

"Why can't we just get along" and "am I my brothers keeper" are not working the way they should, we're hoping that we can erase ingrained biases by feel good slogans but we don't teach it or live it as a society. When the confederate flag still flies in the south and in 2016 we still have battles over LGBTQ rights we must come to the conclusion that we have to work harder to push the hatred out...and open our hearts more. Tearing down the walls that separate us, distance us from our brothers and sisters, be it religion, skin colour or a line on a map...we would do well to keep tearing down. Progress has come and change has happened, but too slowly it moves.

See, start with an acronym and end up with pontification....sometimes I can't help myself.

Hug your loved ones
D

Tough guy Tony

There is a certain, how shall we say it, vein of stupid running through most young men. An almost inexplicable desire to do stupid, in every form imaginable and often preceded by, hey...hold my beer for a second. I have been a living embodiment of this phenomenon on a few occasions so I am a bit of a recognized expert in the field. Often this affliction manifests itself in false machismo and the belief that being a strong man means being the dominant man, the bully. These traits are thankfully not so much a part of my repertoire. Out of the lover and the fighter, I'm definitely the former..just saying. Which brings me to the fighter...or wannabe fighter, Mr Tony...of the sore balls Tony for being a douche bag previously written about.

On the street of dreams that we lived on until the end of grade 12, along with "marry me now Paula", "Mike, I was Metal before there was Metal, Gajdemsky" there was an East Indian fellow named Dil. He was older than me, I think the same age as Paula's brother, Humberto "I'm leaving the band" Machado and he was the new favourite amongst the girls on the street. The girls we knew all had a thing for him when he moved in...and why not, he was good looking and slightly exotic...go ahead, fill your boots girls. He was a cool dude so I had no issues with him, we hung out sometimes, the three of us...playing hockey or listening to music. Now, on this magical street we had a family that lived between us that truly embodied the whole "I'm going to need a lot of therapy later in life" mantra. The father was an angry alcoholic, I mean really angry...you know what I mean. The kids lived in fear of this man who also probably suffered from short man syndrome...he would think nothing of smacking his kids or wife around in public..simply vile. So it was really no surprise that his kids were a tad messed up socially. I won't belabour all the issues as only one is pertinent to this story. The oldest daughter played a part in this comedy...she was to put it simply, a purveyor of drama when it came to boys. She was attractive and always had guys chasing after her..for whatever reason she would, on those rare occasions of not "seeing" someone, she would play guys against each other and watch the carnage unfold...crazy I know.

On one such occasion that included Dil and another gentleman of the Italian persuasion named Rob, I happened to become involved as a secondary story. It seems that Dil and this girl we're seeing each other off and on and they were on an off time on this day when Rob arrived in his company issued black Camaro with a few of his friends, one of them being Tony. In the world of machismo I am way down low on the scale so I find it rather amusing to watch other guys do their peacock imitation for an audience full of their own kind...all five of them.

Senor Rob confronts gentleman Dil over the fair maiden...I'm sure some veiled threats were made and honour was being defended between the gladiators as Tony and his ilk stood around trying to look tough for Humberto and myself. It wasn't the Soc's and the Greaser's, more like the Gino's and the Slightly Amusing Dudes with Mullets. I do recall Dil saying that we needed to have his back when the car pulled up so being stupid boys we of course were getting ready to "rumble". How the fuck do you rumble anyway? After a few minutes of this strutting Rob and Dil walked away to settle this like men...they were going to go to a field and duke it out, but we were to stay put. Uhm sure...the two of us will stay with these four guys and make sure all was good. I really didn't think a fight would ensue because there was no real reason for it...shit, we didn't even have any oil reserves for them to covet. But sure enough, Tony being Tony wanted to start something. This tool had a tool...a little billy bat and he was smacking his hand with it and glaring at me. I ignored it but I was getting a tad nervous...despite my aversion to fighting I was certain I could take Tony...that standing up to a bully thing I think, and truth be told I did have a desire to smash his face with my fist just once...he brought it out in me. I wasn't sure how I would have fared against the others, four on two are crappy odds and Humberto did have a reputation of fleeing the scene....side bar here.....Humberto and I were mugged once by a couple of guys and while I was being dragged into a stand of bushes by a guy while his friend was pulling a giant knife out of his pants, Humberto had bolted...thanks man. Anyway, back to Tony and crew. Tony started taunting me and I did my best to simply ignore things....no Tony, I don't want to fight you and your friends, or your bat for that matter. No Tony, I don't think it's a good idea to rumble, the cops drive by here regularly. No Tony, I don't wear girls panties...oy vey.

After a few minutes of this Rob and Dil came back, walking along as if nothing had happened...and guess what? Nothing did happen. As Rob and crew drove away Dil told us that Rob backed down and wanted to pretend that they had traded a few punches and that was that. Of course. These two go off to fake fight and I have to endure idiot Tony with his false bravado while he ridicules my panties....errrrrrr I mean, his taunts were annoying me. I think this was the breaking point for the fair maiden in distress though...she needed to find new combatants for her honour as these two guys had realized that they were being played, all in the name of some basement fooling around. Maybe they didn't know how crazy the dad was, because I never even looked at her for fear that father may lose his shit with me.

Moral of the story kids is always stand up to a bully, unless he his carrying a small blunt object and surrounded by squido minions...then, delay, obfuscate and deflect until the situation resolves itself. Be careful out there.

Ciao
D