He looks like a nosy fellow.
Hollywood teaches: Streets lined with steaming woks and cured gooses, sing-song shouts and paper lanterns. Gun battles and kung fu fights are equally likely to erupt. Lightning-flinging evil gods walk among us. Stacks of empty boxes and food carts full of confetti await a car chase. There may be some conspiracy involving the water supply and incest, but you might as well forget about it, buddy. It's Chinatown.
The reality: I've been to Chinatown. They sell iPods and bootleg movie posters. The dim sum is made by Mexicans. I have never once seen a kung fu battle there.
Things gets wild at the Camp Crystal Lake arts & crafts cabin.
Hollywood teaches: Every summer camp is patrolled by at least one lunatic or supernatural murderer and they always hate vice. The awkward hormonal groping of teenagers gives way to carnage and underage drinking produces body counts that rival the Third Battle of Ypres. When visiting a summer camp, even if you know the bloody routine, you should always expect the unexpected.
The reality: I'm sure some kid somewhere has died while canoing, although they probably weren't a gender-bending cannibal.
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
It is said the Lord did write upon the sky, "Only the Most Awful shall be cataloged herein." And a wind did come and blow away the words and turn them into a skull. And the writers did fall upon their knees and give thanks, for yea, the Most Awful was good. Thus the lists were born. Read them, sons and daughters, and be strong.