OUT OF HAND

A crazed person was throwing bottles at a parked car down the block and shouting gibberish when I stepped out of the house with my pipe this morning. Good thing I lit up while still in the portico, as that shielded the sudden flare from his attention. One would not want to catch the attention of unstable fellows by standing out in the corners of their eyes when they're having a moment. As lighting up a full bowl of pipe tobacco inevitably might.

It's probably going to be hours before he has his coffee, smoke, and perhaps any necessary unprescribed medication. And I keenly wished him to head much further down the street towards the donut shop. Not trot uphill towards me.

As I headed up the street calmly puffing, a teenager listening to rap at a low volume on his cellular device passed me, probably on his way to school, judging by his weighty backpack.

Also, the somewhat snippy looking young lady whom I see on the same bus as myself every Friday. I am off today, she probably works the usual weekdays.


Where she works there probably aren't any unstable eccentrics with bottles.

Where I work, they're all unstable eccentrics with bottles.
But fortunately not very mobile, or physically active.

At the end of my workweek I am probably somewhat loopy. Partly because I've had far too much caffeine over several days, partly because I've listened to hours and hours of rightwing nonsense being whined, droned, shouted, bloviated, vituperated, and snarled, by a roomfull of incontinent mental defectives who are just full of themselves. Which is typical for older Caucasian Americans in the suburbs.

It's the wave of the future. In another ten years or so it will be nothing but long suffering Filippina nursing staff patiently pushing wheelchairs filled with crazy old white men around well manicured lawns with ear plugs in gated communities. They acquired the earplugs originally because Pablo would be doing the walkways with a leafblower before daybreak, but since then happily discovered that those things tune out the mobility impaired old Anglo fascists gibbering non-stop about liberals stealing elections and biting off Trump's right ear, they've seen the videos, it was a black boxer hired by Pelosi, what was the world coming to, and black helicopters spraying vaccines over the crowd. Aliens! Not only that rapist wielding a leafblower, but also Xercto-B from planet X. Can't even afford a burger anymore!

The thin band of textfeed on grandpa's technosunglasses scrolls an evenly spaced stream of paranoid disinformation from Florida, tailored specifically to his interest, the algorithm knows what he likes to read based on his previous searches. His gibbering is only a repitition of what he sees, there is no need to respond. Conversation is impossible anyway.


I suspect that the crazy man breaking bottles either wishes he could live like that, or is an escapee from Belvedere or Tiburon. And probably needs a burger.


We have no burgers here. Meat is murder.
Go on, have glazed donut.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================