As a general rule, most greasers do abide by the Rockabilly code. With the exception of a few shady deals, such as buying stolen cheese at a dive bar, stompin' on a twenty dollar bill dropped by an unsuspecting tourist or smuggling cigarettes across the border, most greasy folk that I know abide by that tacit code of honor. It seems simple enough and it is firmly rooted in common sense. It is the type of common sense that was, or at least should have been , instilled at kindergarten.
Whether it be in the workplace, at the bar, or in plain everyday situations these are simple rules to live by. It seems, however, that many people have forgotten their kindergarten education basics. There was a best seller years ago that addressed this societal malaise and it was something along the lines of everything that you need to know was taught in kindergarten. Some people were unable to assimilate these basics and even in those early days of one's youth, there was always one son of a bitch who would steal your cookies. I'm thinking that these misfits ended up as sociopaths, dangerous retards, dead or all three. Here are the basics.
1. Don't pick your nose.
Amidst all the mayhem, squalling, pants-wetting and blood-curdling screams of an average day at kindergarten, there was always one kid who had his finger jammed up his nose to the third joint. ( I think that kid sold me my I-pod at the Apple store). The teacher would tell him to stop, but he was a chronic nose picker and couldn't resist. These booger-eating nose pickers eventually grew to adulthood and are still among us. The zombie-like people who walk around texting, oblivious to their surroundings were surely nose pickers. When they walk right into me, I will call them fucking idiots. They do not respond, and are bewildered by my reaction. I guess they jammed that finger a little too high one day and caused permanent brain damage.
Those louts that carry enormous backpacks on the bus or on the subway must have also been chronic nose pickers. I am pretty sure that they are not going on a Himalayan expedition anytime soon because they are on a goddam city bus. They seem blissfully unaware of the laws of physics as their back pack takes up the space of four passengers and approaches the speed of sound as they spin around taking out unsuspecting commuters. You can try yelling at them as loud as humanly possible, but it is futile because they are plugged into their I-pod and the volume is cranked to eleven. In my personal experience, a good shove on the the offending goof's backpack usually does the trick. The Coriolis force will cause him to spin out of control, miss his stop or maybe even go tumbling out the back door.
Like kindergarten, there is always one annoying little puke who is 10 decibels louder than everyone else. I hear this every time I go to a park to get hammered..... I mean enjoy nature. There are a lot of parks in this city, but there are way more potheads, ergo most people hanging out in parks in these parts have been indulging in the ole hippie crack. I erroneously thought that that shit was supposed to make people mellow ( i.e. make them shut the fuck up). It makes some people howl like baboons.
Other loud-mouthed douchebags can be found at yuppie parties. I do not attend these parties, the obnoxious sounds emanating from various backyards always seem to find me. Most house parties produce a kind of even drone interspersed by clinking of glassware of the hollow sound of empty beer cans. Not so for the yuppie parties; you get a couple of glasses of Chateuu Migraine into these repressed squares and they start braying like donkeys stuck on a barbed wire fence.
Louder still are those annoying goofs that ride expensive road bikes and dress in spandex. They insist on riding side by side and engaging in very loud conversations. I never know what they are talking about because the volume and the inescapable annoying voices distract me. How can a grown man be such a douchebag? The answer is is simple; he was a nose-picker.
2.Don't tell on other kids.
I know very little about child psychology, but it seems that five year olds enjoying "telling". The kindergarten teacher soon instructs them that it is not nice and most kids will stop. Others will carry this unfortunate trait with them into adulthood and become what is commonly referred to as rats. Like their flea-bitten four -legged brethren, nobody likes a rat. These eaters of feces can often be found at your workplace and it is best to avoid them. Even though the boss doesn't respect them, they will use the information supplied by the rat. An practical solution to dealing with rats is the same as it would have been in kindergarten; sneak into the fridge a put a few boogers in his sandwich.
Various organizations, who shall remain nameless, consider rats ( squealers, stool pigeons etc.) the lowest form of life and have very effective ways of dealing with them. This is why cement sales usually remain constant even during a recession.
Gossip is a second cousin to rathood. These seems to happen in many circles, particularly in sub-cultures or "scenes". I don't believe that is is human nature, it's just something that people get embroiled in. Or maybe some folks ain't so bright and in the absence of any interesting topics or ideas to discuss, will resort to this vicious practice. Or maybe everybody's drunk, I don't know. The best way to keep your nose clean, as it were, is to avoid this at all costs. After all, there are so many other assholes in the world, let's talk about them.
3. Play nice and don't hit the other kids.
It is indeed true that greasers do enjoy a good rumble once in a while, however a desire to not mess up our hair inadvertently creates restraint. The wisdom that comes with getting older also seems to make it way too much trouble than its worth and showing up to work with a black eye on Monday takes no small amount of explaining. Admittedly, there are some people that are just begging for a punch in the mouth, but that just cuts into our drinking time. Also the cops seem to take a dim view on random face punchings and for some reason view this as assault. Those pesky assault charges have a way of following you around and you may end up with a flashlight shining up your butt in some back room at the airport.
Just as the teacher had taught us in kindergarten, smacking people around won't get you anywhere. Some little kids are more devious than others and will come up with some Machiavellian plot to get some big dumb kid to do the smacking for them. This is a good template for adult situations. If some drunken retard is annoying you in the bar, just tell the bouncer that you saw him stealing tips and watch the hilarity ensue.
4. Don't break the toys.
Some little kids are kinda nuts and will proceed to dismantle, maul or otherwise destroy any toy that they come into contact with. These kids will graduate to pulling legs off insects and eventually become serial killers. Other kids will outright snatch toys out of other kids' hands and little kid fights will break out with much screaming, clawing and pooping of the pants. Other kids just play nice. Be that kid.
This is covered in the Rockabilly code. You never mess with somebody's ride. If someone is disrespectful enough to sit on the hood of car, you are definitely entitled to break rule number 3, and if someone is dumb enough to sit on your motorcycle you are also exempt from rule #3 and are allowed to kick them in the bag.
Guitars are more fragile, and in some ways, more personal than a car. Never mess with a dude's vintage guitar unless permission is given and you can actually play. It also helps if you aren't drunk out of your mind. This is probably why karaoke exists, a public spectacle reserved solely for the talentless and extremely inebriated. This is probably not a bad thing, because the only thing that will get damaged is the karaoke rock star's pride when he sobers up. Oh yeah, maybe some eardrums of unsuspecting bar patrons.
The other thing that they taught us about toys is to put them back where they belong. If you borrow some tools from your buddy , return them as soon as they are done. By return them, I don't mean sneak them back into his toolbox if you broke them in four places.
No one can ever really "borrow" a beer, and tomorrow is way too late to replace said beer. Always show up with beer dammit. If I even have to mention that you're never supposed to drink your buddy's last beer, maybe you need to go back to kindergarten. If you ever try to "borrow" a greaser's girlfriend you better borrow some cash for an ambulance. If you ever try to "borrow" a hillbilly's girlfriend, boy, you better run cuz he's gonna borrow some ammo for his big shotgun. One exception to this rule is if you have a friend who owns a fire-breathing beast of a hot rod but drives it like a grandpa. You are entitled to drive it like a fucking maniac and do at least two burnouts. After all it's good for the engine.
I have to sign off now. I just got this strange urge to eat some cookies and lay down for a nap.
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