I live a block from the Italian Market, see, and its ecology is more complex than anything I could ever aspire to describe, but better something than nothing, so let me give you a little tour of the Eyetalian Market.

There are lots of restaurants on 9th Street, so naturally, there are tons of Mexicans, and since they don't go for the dark Irish bar ambience, they congregate at the Stab and Grab, not its real name. At this Korean-owned, neon-lit oasis, all these cooks, busboys and dishwashers just sit at brutal, lonely tables to stare at each other's shell-shocked mug nonstop, so no wonder fights sometimes break out. I've witnessed a couple, cholo, and I hardly ever go there.

Speaking of grabbing, a white waitress told me she's been grabbed a couple of times by drunken Mexicans in this neighborhood. We all need love. I witnessed another Mexican tried to chat up a Friendly Lounge bartender. Though his English was good, he wasn't too charming, as evidenced by these doofus lines, "Are you shy? Do you want me to buy you a shot? A soft drink? Why won't you shake my hand?" To be fair, I've heard much, much worse from the native-born.

In the free ESL classes, flirting lessons should be mandatory. We must catch up with the Germans, for they've long offered sex tips to immigrants. "Achtung! This is how you screw the natives!"

Half a century ago, the Stab and Grab wasn't a semi nuisance bar but butcher shop. Undercutting all competitors, this guy sold three pounds of ground beef for just a buck, but what it was was mostly fat mixed with blood, so when you cooked it up, it shrank to almost nothing. The sly one advertised his bargain with a loud speaker until, one afternoon, another butcher blasted it with a handgun. 

Once, there were many hucksters here, but now, you won't hear anyone shout, "Don't squeeze the tomatoes, lady! Go home and squeeze your husband's balls!" It is a crying shame.

Now walk with me, buddy, down Washington Avenue, but don't make eye contact with that miserable broad, Typhoid Mary, for if you show the least interest, she'll tail and hound you. I have no idea what Mary's on, but her eyes are always turbid yet searching. She wants to do somebody, anybody, the same favors.