Years ago, I was working on a house where there were several nests of these wicked looking red wasps. I had been working around them all morning quite safely. At lunch, I drank half a beer, and was almost immediately stung twice when I went back to work. I don’t know if it affected my timing or my scent, or something else.
My old partner and I used to travel to rural areas in our rv, to work on low income ppl’s houses, as part of a different government program, and our clients often gave us some of their commodities. That cheese made some mighty good tacos. I used to make them directly on the propane flame to melt the cheese and toast the tortilla. We’d stuff them with avocado and alfalfa sprouts because we were hippy weirdos. The honey was great, too.
“Like they should have stopped Hitler at Munich, they should never let him get away with that, they was just asking for bad trouble.” Peter Clemenza, The Godfather
I’m afraid so. There are a lot of people still fighting our Civil War, the one that supposedly ended over 150 years ago. Even without those troglodytes, there is a distinct cultural difference between the North and South, as I think there is in many countries. We tend to rub each other the wrong way sometimes.
Old joke about the difference. Walk up to a Southerner’s house, and they say, “can I help you?” Walk up to a Yankee’s house, and it’s, “whaddya want?”
Someone who will treat you well won’t need to tell you that they will treat you well. It’s kind of like how liars and scammers make a big deal about how honest they are. Another big clue is that he was telling you this while both of you were with other people. He cheats on one partner, he’d cheat on you, too.
Texan here. Yankee is definitely not a neutral word to refer to everyone from the USA. Some people down here will fight you over it, but most would just give you a confused look.
I’ve always understood gringo to mean white person, especially one who can’t speak Spanish. The term is sometimes used in Mexican restaurants to let the staff know that you can’t deal with too many jalapeños.
I’ve rewatched Haven several times. I love everything about it, the characters, the acting, the writing, the music, and the overall vibe. It somehow manages to be tragic, terrifying, and wholesome, all at once.
It was taught in my first grade class in the early 1970s.
Not really a lesson learned, but a line that stayed with me. I forget which book it’s in, maybe Post Office, but he writes about a winning streak he had at the track. It was so good he either quit or took a leave of absence from his job. He woke late, enjoyed steak and scotch, then ambled down to the track. And then he says, “it was a great life, and I did not tire of it.”
All our lives, we’re told that wealth won’t buy happiness, that the only true fulfillment comes from hard work, and that getting what we want will only lead to misery. But here’s Bukowski describing a life of utter self-indulgence, and saying he never got tired of it. Profound.