Lennys_words

    Hey what's up everybody? This is Lenny Highland. As I wrte this it's 5 in the morning and I woke up in a hotel room that is not my own without my briefcase of unedited DV footage. So as of now I have nothing better to do than to respond a question that a few have asked us over the months that DV has been airing.

     I think this viewer question is kind of mean. Someone asked "Is Action Chad retarded?" The word retarded actually means "held back" so technically he is "held back" but only by his own stubbornness. He is not mentally challenged in any way and there's nothing wrong with him psychologically.

     Here's an example of this legendary stubbornness. Chad and I were eating in Fu Lin Chinese restraunt. He reached for the spicy mustard which will indeed blow your sinuses out in the right amount. He proceeded to heap one massive spoonfull into the middle of his China Town Rice Plate with such energy that I knew he wasn't about to stop at that. He scooped out another mountainous glob of spicy mustard and slopped in on top of the rice as well.
     "Slow down boss." I recommended, knowing that Chad can't take spicy food. But Action Chad would hear none of it. His masculinity was now at stake and when that happens, he'll prove his worth or die trying, even if there's no one around to impress but himself. He was going for a third helping of the spicy mustard, when I grabbed his hand restraining him physically from contaminating his rice further.
     "Let go of my hand." He demanded.
     "Chad, you're going to be on the can all night if you eat any more of that and we have too much work to do."
     "I know what I'm doing. God just leave me alone." And with that he tried to jerk his spoon-wielding hand out of mine and unfortunately lost his grip, rendering the spoon air-bourne. We both watched the spoon soar through the crowded restaurant air hand in hand like two men watching a plane carrying a girl they both loved fly away into beautifull sunset. When the spoon landed, it did so into a large bee-hive hairdo of an elderly woman who was noisily sipping a large spoonfull of hot and spicy soup. Fortunately the bee-hive hair was so immense, that the lady didn't feel the spoon landing in her hair.
     Relieved at this fact, the two of us got back to the tasks at hand. Chad's, to pile spicy mustard on his food and mine, to convince him to at least try a little to see what he was getting into. Before long I realized what a waste of time it was to try and tell Chad anything so I sat there and watched him make his food inedible. Then he began to eat. One bite, two bites. Then he began to sniff. Three bites, four bites, then he began to turn red. It was written all over his face, "Pride will sustain damage if mastication ceases. Must continue to ingest this wasteland of a plate of food." And that he did. For a few more bites.
     Not long after, as I was continuing with my pleasant dining experience, Chad began to squirm. He hadn't touched his food in several minutes. I heard a rather loud gurgle sound come from his direction and said, "Chad, if you're that hungry, finish your food."
     He looked at me confidently with beads of sweat glistening on his now red forehead and cheeks and, after meticulously positioning his chop-sticks in his fingers, he sank them once more into the dreadfull conglomeration. There was no question that the mustard was taking it's toll on him, but he continued none the less.
     About five minutes later he was demanding to go home, and I mean demanding. The boy was in pain. So off we went without a styrofoam container, wasting the rest of the food along with the rest of our evening to get Chad to a safe place to explode.

     Well my cab's here. It was my intention to answer more than just the one question so I re-wrote the top of this document to make it a single question story. Later days.

LH