Chainsaw is his handle. But let me back up.

Had breakfast this morning at our favorite place (see previous blog posting). The bikers were there as they are once a week. Bikers talk loudly and I believe it is because their rides are so deafening that they shout to be heard over the roar of the engines but then can't come down from that level when they are off the bikes.

Anyway, my point is that even as Jim and I sat and did our crossword puzzles (got to keep the mind engaged you know) we could hear the conversation plainly.

The bikers, all eight of them, appear to be Viet Nam veterans. From their perspective, decades later, they loved the war and being in combat. Not so sure they were as enthusiastic at the time.

Today Chainsaw was recounting his run-in with a pacifist after returning from war. He told in graphic detail, yes, while the rest of the dining room was attempting to eat breakfast, how his lip had been split open and his head bashed in.

All by a pacifist.

Do you see the incongruousness? That's what I'm thinking about.