Sweet Home Chicago

Today I went for a walk downtown, because my office has no windows and the cramped space makes me more skittish than those poor bastards on the North Korean soccer team awaiting their impending executions when they fly home.  As I walked down Michigan Avenue, I saw a crazy homeless dude on the sidewalk screaming at all the unsuspecting foreigners and small-town visitors. He looked like a cross between Switchblade Sam and one of those hillbillies from Ice Road Truckers, and he spewed flecks of diseased saliva perilously close to the faces of his victims. As I passed by, I looked him dead in the eyes, because I don’t respect my own safety. He paused, probably due to the fact that no one has made eye contact with him since he put on his first poop-stained pair of Dickies, threw away his toothbrush, and hit the streets.

He stopped and gave me the thousand-yard stare for a beat, and then he bellowed, “I’m going to f–k your mother in the ass tonight!!!”

I really admire outgoing people.