1) My father once told my brother and I to just “fight it out” after we got into a disagreement over who was entitled to play with a spectacular orange shovel by the shores of Moosup Pond. We were 8 and 9, respectively. “Slappies” evolved into “kickies” and then “punchies/amature judo” and finally no holds barred MMA. At the climax of the battle, my brother pushed my head under water and held it there until I nearly lost consciousness, but at the vital moment, with a surge of strength, I was able to throw him several feet into the air. He came down on some rocks, cried, and I got the shovel. Children, in addition to being dream killers, are monsters.

2) I grew up in a town bordering Salisbury, CT, and Rip is a fixture in the area, known for being constantly drunk and, more often than not, packing heat. I believe the bank he broke into used to be a shitty restaurant/B+B, so perhaps he was just craving some overdone steak and a lumpy mattress for the night.

3) Re: Why Charlie R. still employed. Answer: Fear of mummy’s curse. Did you see him at the state of the union? Yeesh.

4) I am saddened a bit by new Kitchen Nightmares. Still poorly editted. Only now the narrator spends even more time explaining everything that just happened for the vision/perception impaired. Grumble!

Fin.