Sunday I hosted noder ushdfgakjasgh and his utterly lovely, charming girlfriend at my restaurant. This is a milestone for me; I've not ever had a noder visit there before.

Prior to their arrival, I ran around handing out crisp $20 bills to the staff to ensure that they called me "sir" or "Paul" instead of the usual "whaddaya want, dickhead?!"

The moment of their arrival arrived. I'd imagined ushdfgakjasgh to be perhaps a grad student, in his late 20s. Well, was I in for a surprise. He and his girlfriend couldn't have been more than 13 years old. Really, though, these doe-eyed recent high school graduates made me feel every second of my 50 years on this earth. "Ush" as I'll call him from now on, is a man of spare words, most of them "okay." I do believe I overwhelmed them a bit with my loquacious first greeting.

In the spirit of nodermeets, I did a bad thing and offered these two younglings the Devil's drink. They both discovered Asahi (from Japan) and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Young Ush is a very, very smart person. His interests are myriad; playing and listening to avant garde music in obscure genres, art, and minimalist style. And anarchy. If one reads his homenode, one will discover that his other interest, reiterated several times, is "crushing E2." In my head; I combined the "anarchist" thing together with "crushing E2" and became frightened that he may have secreted some sort of little surprise on his person.

They ordered dinner and watched politely as I dominated the conversation, occasionally sipping on a Pepsi, which saturated my bushy white mustache, and then fell onto my white polo shirt. I do believe I did that with dumpling dipping sauce, too.

After a delightful conversation about styles of music Ush revealed that he plays quite a few instruments and screams. Yes, screams; not sings. That nixed the idea I had for him to sit in with me and the evening's entertainment to do a song. The thought crossed my mind of the already sparse crowd that night getting up and running for their lives as Ush accompanied himself on the piano howling an ode to sex with Beelzebub in Death Metal fashion.

In all truth, however, given the musical tastes of Ush and his lovely friend, I must commend them for enduring most of a three-hour show of jazz standards, performed by cabaret singer Joel Garcia and pianist Jonathan Chatfield. (Although during my performance of "Route 66" I could hear moans from their corner of the room that sounded something like "my ears; my ears; oh, my God; my ears!") The most precious of quotes from Ush was "all I hear is him (the vocalist) starting with one song and switching to another." This was particularly evident in Joel's take on "Somewhere Over The Rainbow." I explained that in the '30s and '40s all songs had an introduction; but one rarely hears them anymore - the artists go right for the melody. Well, at my place we've taken great pains to get musical scores which include the introductions; and Joel sang and Jonathan played them all with aplomb.

The evening ended all too soon. I wished both young people well on the occasion of their rapidly-approaching first years at College. They bade farewell in kind.

The infrared camera equipped with a parabolic microphone in my parking lot picked up the following conversation:

Ush: "What a crazy old fuck. I thought he'd never stop talking!"

Ush's g/f: "The food was good, though."

Ush: "Is that the kind of music all old people listen to? No wonder they're all Republicans."

Ush's g/f: "No. I think it's just him and a few of his friends. There weren't many people in there."

In unison: "Whoa, the whole back wall of the place is white!"

Ush's g/f: "Go into the trunk and get the Krylon and let's tag it!"

I was thinking about shooting 'em, but I don't like to shit where I eat.