How nice to find my entire philosophy summed up and on display at a mid-town sidewalk kiosk, and in large print, too: "People say I have a bad attitude. I say screw 'em!" "Sarcasm: Now Served Daily." "Wine! How classy people get wasted." "Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups." "Some call it bitching. I call it motivational speaking." "Amazingly enough, I don't give a sh*t." "I don't expect everything handed to me, just set it down wherever." "I can only please one person per day. Today I choose me." I'm happy to report I've applied some of this inherent snarkiness throughout my stay in NYC. Whenever someone approaches me with an aggressive sales pitch -- every 15 minutes or so -- I'm armed with an appropriate answer. On the street: "Pedicab ride! Through the park! What's wrong? Don't you want a pedicab ride?" "I could live my whole life without a pedicab ride." At the fancy-schmancy department store: "Give me your hand. See this lotion? It takes all the redness out." "Don't spray that on my -- @#$%! What is that?!" "It's magic. Look at your right hand! Now look at your left! Which looks better?" "Are you Israeli?" "Half." "I'm not going to buy this." "It's a shame, because your right hand looks better than your left." "You're trying to make me feel bad about myself. And guess what, it's working." At the theater last night, a young man (who just climbed over me) asks his friend, two seconds before "Peter and the Starcatcher" is about to start, "Do I have time to pee?" I lean over and look at him. "No!" I want to add, "I told you to go before we left home," but I show restraint. Only because the actors are now on stage. Much like Popeye, I yam what I yam, wherever I go.