The Popeye Defense

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.