Does every asshole in America eat sushi? I am beginning to think so. I really am. I know there are a lot of assholes in America. I am willing to wager that every one of them eats sushi, drinks sake and allows their overwhelming arrogance to waft in great noxious clouds through sushi bars across this great nation. If this were a single occurrence, I could shrug it off. I have crossed paths with singular assholes, monumental assholes, assholes I would not sic on my worst enemy in the world in the fast food joint, the donut shop, the grocery store, the auto parts distributor. I have never in any of these other locations witnessed the persistent, pernicious and obnoxious parade of assholes as I have seen in my local Japanese restaurant. By way of comparison, I visited a nearby Turkish restaurant on a weekly basis for nearly two years and I never encountered one asshole. But asshole encounters at the sushi bar have occurred so frequently that every time the waitress seats a couple or group next to us, I cringe, shudder and quite nearly pose a question to the newly arrived guests, "So...which flavor of asshole are you folks?" Are you a know-it-all asshole who has dragged in some motley assemblage of relatives and friends so that he might display his wide and immense knowledge of Japanese custom, culture and cuisine? That he might illustrate his worldliness, his depth of character for being open to new things, his courage for eating uncooked seafood? Asshole. Or...are you a loud mouthed asshole who never learned the difference between speaking in a quiet restaurant and screaming from the right field bleachers at Yankee Stadium? Who has informed the eastern two thirds of Long Island about your ex-husband and his unwillingness to drive your daughter anywhere? Who tells the entire restaurant you have been medicating your elderly father with Xanax because you thought he needed it? Was that an attempt at whispering? Asshole. Or...are you the dog ugly middle aged accountant looking asshole with the Botox, boob job, butt lift trophy wife part deux and the bratty children who did not shut up for a whole entire hour and wanted to jet to South Africa or Bali to go surfing? Assholes raising next generation assholes. Or...are you the snotty, condescending, interrogative asshole who treated the waitress like shit on shoebottom? What ees Katsooo? What ees Teriyakay? What ees EddaMaMay? What is the deal with your fake Japanese vocal inflections and reading the paper during the entire meal while your poor wife attempted conversation? Give the women a break, Asshole Now...I am sure not every asshole in America eats sushi. There are plenty of assholes who will never touch that raw fish, they call it sushi, I call it bait, Jap, Nip, Slope food. But...that, ladies and gentlemen, is an asshole of a different color and the subject for another poem.