April 15th, 2003

The gentleman is always properly dressed

Internal dialogue from one of my less enlightened moments



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<IMG SRC="http://www.patriotresource.com/tombstone/graphics/cast/delany.jpg" ALIGN="left">

<ALIGN="bottom">Watching <U>Tombstone</U> over the weekend, I found myself fantasizing how the exchange between Josephine Marcus and Mr. Fabian would have differed if Josie had noticed me standing in the street instead of Earp.<BR CLEAR="all">

<SMALL><B>Josie:</B> I wonder who that extra-thick milkshake standing over there is?

<B>Fabian:</B> Behold the quintessential American depressive male. Note the ample profile, the eyes heavy with self-doubt and regret, a glassy gaze not unlike that of a drugged sheep. He has the look of both the defeated and the bewildered.

<B>Josie:</B> I want one.

<B>Fabian:</B> I wish you luck.
The gentleman is always properly dressed

On my bottom bracket, or, I think I may have missed something

One of the hazards of having my bike serviced in a shop that employs a brace of bike-couriers is that the same surly invincibility they use to navigate city streets tends to bleed out into their customer service. I dropped my wheels off last night for tuning just as the young woman behind the counter was complaining to one of her cohorts about "some crack-head" who wanted to know how much one of their bikes weighed. It didn’t seem that unreasonable a request to me, though the exchange was instructive in that I learned that manufacturers don’t normally publish weights because there can be a significant variance based on frame-size alone.

And so, edified, I approached the counter to ask for a tune and that they check my bottom bracket. Before I knew what was happening, the bike was out of my hands and up on a rack, and I had a tattooed twenty-something insisting that there was nothing wrong with it.

"Well, when I’m climbing or topping out the gears I’m getting a clicking noise."

"I can try to tighten it for you, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it."

"The last time I was getting this noise, I was told I needed to replace it. Please, can you just check it out?"

He rolled his eyes. "It’s a closed cylinder, so there shouldn’t be anything wrong..."

"Yeah, I got that. Look, I’m leaving it for a tune anyway, so could you just have it looked over?"

"I guess... It’s when you’re under power?"

At this point, I was starting to think that the judgement has been made. I’m not of the typical bicyclist’s build, and he’s sized me up for a weekender or worse, a poser. (Heh. I just remembered the pseudo-skaters we had in high school. All the gear, none of the shred.) I know the dialogue in my head is just my own paranoia, but I couldn't shake the idea that he was calling me out. I felt like I wasn't ~enough to warrant his time, and that maybe the things I imagined he wass thinking might be true. I said, simply, "Yeah. It’s the same problem I had last time around."

"Okay," he replied, "we’ll have it ready for you Thursday."
  • Current Music
    The Clash, "The Magnificent Seven"
The gentleman is always properly dressed

By any means necessary

Query: if a party were to kill someone whom he believed desired him dead and who might have had the means or might have acquired the means by which to attack him, would it be possible for the party to claim that his "preemptive strike" was an act of self-defense? Would this be viable as a legal defense?

Just curious, is all...


On the upside, I suppose it would mean a possible return to a dueling culture.
  • Current Mood
    I feel like a duck with an M16