"Whatcha Doin' All That Bloggin' Fer, Harry?"

"Damn, Harry, you sher do put alotta work in that bloggin o' yours! They pay you much for that?"

That was Negative Ned speaking and he wasn't driving towards a compliment. Everybody knew where he was going with it as I could already hear the snickers. I also knew the rules of the game: like ancient gladiators one must not only win the fight but win the crowd. Luckily, I knew my opponent well.

There's 'funny negative' and then there's 'asshole negative'. When I worked as a busboy in high school, the manager told me about an old curmudgeon that used to crack her up. He'd see the floor mat as he was leaving, read it out loud, "'Have a nice day'?" and then kick it to the side on his way out the door. God, I hope I'm like that when I get old. I suspect I'm off to a good start.

But Ned's another story, a poor man's Rick the Prick. Ned's just looking to kick ya in the nuts, and as long as he feels he's got the crowd behind him he's cocky as all get out. (Rick the Prick needs no such approval, bless his sociopathic heart). But Ned has one fatal flaw: he's a redneck Texas idiot. Knowing this, I kept one arm behind my back as I battled his channeling of his inner Chuck Norris, satisfying myself with merely defensive maneuvers.

I gave only a noncommittal grunt.

"You got what? Like five whole readers!"

More chuckles, the crowd warming up.

"Pretty much."

"Nobody gives a shit what you write! You ain't gonna change the world fer nothin'!"

That cooled the crowd off a bit - no on wants the world changed more than the homeless. Ned quickly sought to regain his balance.

"That's a fact."

"Ain't ya got nothin' better to do then writin' shit nobody reads?"

Back to giggles; Ned standing taller!

"Seems not."

"You ain't making ya-self any better if that's what ya think!"

Now that was gold! Tapping into their silent envy of my writing. Anything that might bring self-esteem is ruthlessly attacked in the street world.

"Not I."

"You know, you could die tomorrow and not one person's gonna miss that writin' you do! Why can't you admit it ain't nuttin' but a big waste o' time!"

The jurors were all on his side at this point. The charge: I'd been accused of Time Wasting by people who spend most of their time sitting on their thumbs and staring at the ceiling. Same ol' trick as always: nothing more fun than convicting someone else of your own crimes. Diverts suspicion while making you look honorable.

"Yup, just a waste of time."

A few of the more perceptive pea brains from the peanut gallery started to suspect I was up to something - but not Ned. Ned was totally emboldened by my lack of contrary responses having assumed it must be due to his extreme mental prowess. That's when he moved in for the kill.

"So whatcha doin' all that bloggin' fer, Harry? Just what do you think you're doin' over there!"

"I could ask the same question of you."

"Me? Don't see me doin' no stupid writin'!"

My steely gaze bore directly into him. "No, but I could ask why you're a dick."

Everyone laughed at the truth of that and Ned's miasmic cloud evaporated from the room - as did he. Poor Ned, you may be Chuck Norris but I'm Bruce Lee - and Bruce kicked Chuck's ass!