Monday, October 06, 2003

To feed a need.

I have this need to share all the encounters I have with the hilariously crazy in this city. So many people in Toronto leave their front door, turn on the auto-pilot, and notice nothing about their surroundings until they hit the revolving door at work. Come 5pm they repeat the whole process in reverse, thus missing the rich mosaic of nutcases and slipping/tripping pedestrians that fill this city to the brim. I suggest that people look up when they go from "a to b", and notice the world around them in all its splendor. I bet all of us would be surprised at just how entertaining the commute can be.

In the words of one man I walked past recently in Parkdale:
"I'm so sick of your bull crap that I'm begging for horse crap!"
If you'll believe me, I'll tell you that he was yelling it at a book he threw in the trash cans outside his halfway house. What was the title of the victimized tome? Not "The Way Things Ought to Be" by Rush Limbaugh, nor "Does Anybody Have a Problem with That? The Best of Politically Incorrect" by Bill Maher, but "North American Bird Songs".
He either needed something to throw at the invisible party who was spewing the offending "bull crap", and "North American Bird Songs" was the only thing in arm's reach; or, he was particularly frustrated with the suggestion that the Willow Ptarmigan was slightly more rich in voice than the Helmeted Guineafowl.

If you ask me, both birds are inferior to Buffy-crowned Wood-Partridge. And I don't care what Mr. Crazy-Pants thinks of that.

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