You Do Not Scare Me, You Silly English Gale

   No problem... hardly a breeze. Rainy, but if you had a golf cart, you could get in a squishy 18 before the nasty stuff starts. The leaves are hardly rustling. The big thunderstorms will hopefully go under (south of) us, and it looks like I could walk Sloppy Dog and stay dry.

   I'm a bit disappointed. I like storms. I didn't want a Katrina storm- I'm crazy, but I'm not stupid.

   Fun is a very individual thing. I may enjoy things that you can't stand, and you may enjoy things that fill me with revulsion. If things work out well, the two Ends are mutually appealing- the Sadist finds the Masochist, the great cook finds the bottomless stomach, the Seller finds the Buyer, etc...

   Or, as it usually works out, one will tolerate some stuff, because the whole is greater than the sum of its' parts. It's a lot like that skit on the Biggie Smalls album: "So anyways, after I s*** on the b****...."

   Anywhooooo... I like storms. It was a motivatng factor that put me on a beach when Monponsett sold. Storms are like God's little action movie, especially on the ocean. You can see a squall roll in, a dark sheet of rain that actually hits the coast like a wet slap. Howling winds are cool to "watch," and the whole atmosphere they provide works for a romantic fire, a solid appreciation of nature's fury, a horror movie, or a really tense news broadcast.

   The sky has that industrial-grey look...the barometer is falling- from 29.9 " to 29.7" in a day or so. The wind is starting to pick up, and  we're getting bursts of hard rain. The center of the storm is south of Nantucket, which means it is almost past us. We'll get kickback rain- sort of what "lake effect snow" looks like on The Weather Channel, but in reverse, and with an ocean. If you were worried about me, you can stop.

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Weekend Assignment from Monsieur Scalzi:

Weekend Assignment #77: When I Grow Up

  Since I won't personally be killed today to  my knowledge,  I should probably try to provide some  form of entertainment.... so here is some video I found on the Sports Desk Blog, or something like that. But first, a story...

   I'll be honest with you- I'm not that physically imposing. There are those of us who can bully, and there are those of us who have to think around problems. When I was a kid, I ate every vegetable that was fed to me, in hopes that i could grow up to be all swole and angry and stuff. Didn't work...

   As a child, it was always my dream to be the nicest person with the hands anyone ever knew... knockin' folk smooth out. A lot of money was spent trying to analyze this personality flaw, and I caved in more than one doctor.

   I had very little interest in dolls or Candyland or anything that didn't involve just steady bustin' someone up. I'd get pretty angry in school, when I was actually allowed to circulate unguarded among the populace. I was switched from school to school a lot, but you get used to that after a while.

   Still, even with the time I spent in the Mossad, I never actually got THAT tough. Professional wrestling school (I worked with former pro strangler Killer Kowalski in Lawrence on several charity projects, and I was able to utilize the connection) was of little help, a summer spent as an UFC groupie yielded no great gains, and I was the only person to ever work with Boston's notorious Winter Hill Gang who was allowed to retire afterwards without being killed.

   Whitey Bulger- the WHG leader, who was probably the most terrifying person in Massachusetts history- took a personal interest in my career.  He tried to impart his wisdom onto me, but you can't pour blood into a stone, or whatever that expression is.  After a while, he gave up. For a brief period of time, I eventually failed in my roles as:

- a "holder," the person who gave you the crack when you paid the actual dealer who was standing next to me.

- the person you throw the envelope of protection money to after the serious enforcer does the intimidating.

- "Kercolldraw", which is a Gaelic term that loosely translates to, "the person who tapes the pistol to the back of the toilet tank in the Italian ristorante for the actual assassin."

- Post-Beating Victim Evaluator, which was basically visiting victims of gang violence in hospitals to see if they would pay NOW.

   My work here was also studied by heavies as a sort of reconnaisance, so as they could extort more effectively on future bull runs. Even at WHG holiday functions, it was not unusual for me to be asked, "Should I throw someone out the window back first, so as to maximize damage?"

- Cement Shoe Mixer. As it turns out, if the concrete is not mixed to a proper consistency, the mark rises back up to the surface- which brings about unwanted questions from the Suffolk County District Attorney's office.

   I was terrible at it, and Stephen "The Rifleman" Flemmi actually wept as he gave me a big bag of money... when  they told me that my job was to keep an eye on the Cape Cod Canal and to not stop by the offices under any circumstances. Short of testifying to avoid the electric chair, it was his last public act as a crime figure.... and, ironically, it may have  been made in the best interest of the very people he was terrorizing.

   So... my childhood dream of being a mob enforcer was not meant  to be. I left the Fast Life behind, and moved down the Cape... where things generally are more congenial. The most violence I get these days is the South Korean elections, or the occasional in-law wedding. Mostly, I watch videos like the one listed below. 

   It's two big diesel gentlemen, beating the holy hell out of each other. I'm pretty sure you could hit the bigger guy with a bat and not bother him. Keep in mind, the smaller of these two goes 210 or so... and he lands two or three straight right hands to the jaw of the bigger dude (who looks like John Amos with a Melville beard, all roided up), and he doesn't even flinch.

   I've watched this several times, and I still laugh just thinking about it. God must have carved this guy's head out of depleted uranium. The quote by the cameraman as he congratulates him- "I ain't ever gonna question you, partner" - is pretty sound advice.

   While no brouhaha I've been in was this ugly (though I did bite someone once), I can only imagine that fighting the big guy would be like trying to hold off a Sasquatch... except that the Sasquatch can make fun of you while it bats you around.

   To top it off, he's a perfect gentleman... or at least a good example of whatever sportsmanship can exist when you bloody someone on film in their own backyard for a $500 purse provided by Sound Beat Records.

   If I were fighting someone and they took my three best shots like this big guy does, I'd just cover my face and cower like a p00-sai, maybe even beg.... unless there was any chance of fleeing outright, at which point I'd be Audi like m********* Roddy Rowdy.

Enjoy:

this video