I found myself in the heart of the desert with a group of friends, scouting potential film locations, when we stumbled across a dilapidated restaurant standing forlornly in the parking lot of a boarded-up motel. With no other signs of civilization for miles, we decided to take a risk and grab an early lunch.
I sat at the counter beside a grizzled old man who was just finishing his meal.
“What are you young guns doin’ all the way out here in the middle of the desert?” the old guy spit out between bites of his crumbling ham and cheese sandwich.
I told him, “We’re looking for places to shoot a film.”
“And what would you know about making films?” he sneered.
“I made a film last year, and my friends have all made films,” I responded.
“Well, I’m half owner of Keystone Film Company. You ever hear of that?”
“Keystone?” I asked. “As in Keystone cops?”
“Yeah! Dumb ass! I’m a hundred and fifty years old!” he spat in my face. “Are you really that dumb?!”
I’m not easily rattled by nutty people screaming in my face; it happens from time to time. I’ve got thick skin, and I have a certain empathy for people who struggle with mental issues.
My four friends hadn’t sat down yet. They were busy examining the menu. And when they caught wind of the old man’s disposition, they made their way over to the relative safety of an open booth.
I’m not easily rattled by nutty people screaming in my face; it happens from time to time. I’ve got thick skin, and I have a certain empathy for people who struggle with mental issues.
I asked the guy, “Where is Keystone based? I’ve never heard of it.”
“We were in Hollywood years ago, but my partner moved to France. Of course, you wouldn't know that, because you're such a dumb ass!” he snarled. “And you still haven't told me what you think you know about making films!”
“I told you I made a film last year.”
“I heard that! I’m not dumb!” he barked. “What's the film about?!”
“It’s a comedy, a parody of ‘70s cop shows, only instead of cops, it's two street preachers,” I explained. “They drive around in a muscle car, and they fight against Satan and the evil forces of Hollywood.”
“Hold it right there, dumb ass!” he exploded. “I know what you’re up to! You don't think I do, do you? You dumb ass!!”
“I told you what we’re up to,” I said matter-of-factly. “We’re going to be making a movie, out here in the desert.”
He shot to his feet and leaned toward me, his eyes wild with rage, “I’ll have you know I’m the Deputy Sheriff in this town, and we don't go for that kind of bullpucky around here! In fact, I think you're looking for an ass-whoopin'! That’s what I think! And don't think that I can't do it, you dumb ass!”
“Hey, I’m not looking for trouble, mister. I’m looking to eat some lunch,” I glanced back over my shoulder and noticed the waitress was helping my friends. “I was just trying to make some small talk and…” I started to say something to try to cool things down but was cut off.
“Small talk?! I told you I ain’t dumb! You dumb ass! I speak twenty-two languages!” he boasted. “You don't believe me, do ya? Dumb ass!”
“I don’t really care if you do or don't, sir.”
“Let me ask you this, dumb ass. How many languages do they speak in Nigeria?”
“It's about five hundred, isn’t it?”
“You’re such a dumb ass, dumb ass!”
I doubled-down, “It’s four or five hundred languages, I’m pretty sure.”
“Where did you go to school? I can't take this nonsense any longer!” he pulled a crumpled twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and slammed it down on the counter. “I'm goin' home!” He turned to me and gave me a warning, “You better not cause any more trouble, you hear me, dumb ass?!”
He stormed out of the door.
"Hey, dumb ass!" my friend George yelled to me from across the empty restaurant, "Are you gonna order some lunch or what?"
For the rest of the day, and over the following few weeks, my friends and the whole crew referred to me as Dumb Ass.
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⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "What a page turner! This story is an amazing piece of investigative work—both compelling and heartbreaking." - Amazon review
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “I’d seen the author’s work in OZY but was blown away by this book. It’s SUCH a great read, written from the heart! Full of interest for those historians of the hippie generation, North Beach, corrupt cops, mobbed up pols, and San Francisco in general. Very well written and paced up to the last pages. Truth is indeed stranger than fiction. Buy this book now!" - Amazon review