One for all, and all for one.

This evening as we came abreast of the bar at The Refectory (home of the Sunday night blues jam), I heard a spirited conversation between the bartender and a customer. "I'm no f***ing Dooh Mahs", declared the bartender. My first thought was that he was referring to his writing style as being unequal to that of the author of The Three Musketeers, Alexandre Dumas. As we passed on by, however, the sentence concluded with something about a huge flat screen tv and I realized that, while he was not squeamish about shouting out the F word in the workplace, he apparently just couldn't bring himself to say dumb ass.