At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013


In the first year that I was back in the United States some hosebag punched me in the face because of what he perceived to be an English accent.
I have never forgotten the incident, nor his ugly inbred appearance. And some day, if I run across him again, I hope to damage that republican's visage with a pick-axe.

Rather an odd thing to have in the bucket list, I know.
And actually, I do not even own a pick-axe.

Nor is it particularly likely that I shall ever run into him again, as I boycott Irish bars, and most of America's illiterates do not frequent places like bookstores.

Except in North Beach. One of my favourite bookstores is infested.

It's not just illiterates; the tourists are also swarming all over the place. Which I find baffling, as tourists are not profound readers. Judging by the miniscule tips they leave for the wait-staff at restaurants, as well as their inability to figure out maps that clearly show how to get from A (a random point) to B (another random point).
The tip thing is quite inexplicable. Prominently mentioned, in several places in absolutely every guide book, are the guidelines for tipping, as well as an explanation that servers cannot live off their salary.
Not in San Francisco, not in New York, not in Podunk.
But that is the paragraph they never comprehend.
They probably fall asleep while reading it.

At the Indian restaurant where I worked evenings for over a decade and a half, the arrival of tourists was NOT a blessed event. Most of them believed they invented food, and that somehow their presence alone was more than sufficient reward for the efforts of the waiters and the busboys. Surely some of their amazing grace and good karma would rub off?

It was because of them that when we reprinted the menus, we changed the phrase that said "management reserves the right to impose a 15% service charge on parties of six or more" to "management reserves the right to impose a service charge".

Which is a polite way of saying "we're sick and tired of you damned visitors consistently screwing the people who work here and pretending that you're so much better than us".

If you do not leave a decent tip after enjoying your meal, that smiling "thank you please come again" will really mean "kindly piss off".
The staff will not forget your face, and one of these days they may change your visage with a pick-axe.
It's a sincere desire.

We're all about sincerity in this city. The rest of us sincerely do not mind your mistakes -- it guarantees that we get excellent treatment in restaurants where we're known -- and we know how rare pick-axes have become. You can't find them in most hardware stores, so surely mayhem is not likely to happen?

Not that we've searched for pick-axes.

Thank you. Come again.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


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