Ol' Rambling Drunk Guy in November '04
Ahh The time to give Thanks and Trick the Crazy People out of their Cranberries (Week of 11/28/2004)
The Thanksgiving food shelter, where the true homeless pecking order is revealed. On the top rung you have: the Bad Musician, they ply the trade; Then Comes messed up vet, et Moi ; The Cripple, More pity less patriotism, Fake Cripple, just plain sad, Religious Zealot, gives people that creepy quiver and last and most certainly least Crazy Guy, the wacky, the city cut out me meds kind of guy. The nice thing about crazy guy is they don�t know turkey from a paper bag so it�s double my turkey time mm mmm good. Oh the Smell of Nutmeg and Mulled Cider Takes me Back (Week of 11/21/2004)
The cold night and the pungent smell of nutmeg oozing form the mulling spices. Yeah it was 22 years ago I was just a young strapping well hung lad fresh out of high school holding a gun that could decapitate a turd a 100 paces. The horror the choppers flying in the screaming babies the smoke form those Cuban cigars. Johnny don�t let go don�t get stuck in this place. JOHNNY
Huh oh um yeah ill take some change. Note to self-Flashbacks equal booze money
Ah the First Colombian Snowfall of the Year (Week of 11/14/2004)
So funny story � I ended up in Tijuana and that Tequila is a serious buzz kill, I am a Whiskey man. But here I was stuck on Red white and Green Soil with no way of getting back to the land of blowing shit up real good. So what is a stranded Expatriate homeless guy to-do. So I met this guys Enrique who cleaned me up and set me up with Jorge who needed a coke mule. Yeah I know but hey it�s a living. I made it through lickety split, thank you homeland security. Jorge bought me a bus ticket and I was home. Turns out the kids were long gone and I winged a fire hydrant. Go Figure. If You�re Going to San Francisco Remember to Wear Feces in your Hair(Week of 11/7/2004)
What the hell is wrong with trains these days. God it reeks of dung and nachos. Don�t they every wash these cars anymore. Crimeny! So anyway I decided to get out to the west coast again. I hadn�t been to San Francisco since about 95 in the Great Homeless crackdown. It�s good for my Sciatica to get out of the cold anyway. Besides a little fresh fish and some soup kitchen sourdough is just what i need to forget Mildred, and evade a homicide rap. What the hell.. this train isnt going to san Francisco its going to San Diego�.and Mexico
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