The Wee Democracy

Crazy Hair

so, what comes first? the crazy or the hair? as i've said before, i ride the bus most days. using mass transit, you're exposed to all walks of life, and one of the first things you discover is, they usually limp. most of the time when i ride, i hope that people don't sit next to me, or, if they're smelly (and alot of the riders are) anywhere near me.

there are alot of crazies that ride, and i got to thinking today -- why do crazy people always have crazy hair? this one dude, a morbidly obese sweaty man sat in front of me, giving me a close up of his absolutely ludicrous comb over. now there are comb-overs where you see it, and you're like, dude, that's bad, give it up. and then there are parodies of comb overs, like you see on tv, where there are maybe four or five seriously greasy hairs covering up a bald-ass head. well, that's what this was -- just a crap-ass stinky, slimy, greasy comb-over. every time the bus door opened, a waft of air passed him, then me, carrying his nasty head-stink to my poor little nostrils. then, adding craziness to bad hair, this dude would go apeshit, practically throwing his sweaty face against the bus window to ogle passing women. it was gross. shit, i was offended for these women.

then another crazy got on the bus. his hair was nutbar. it was a big red 'fro, with huge bushy sideburns, and a terribly ungroomed mustache. not to mention stubble that could choke a horse. truth be told, he reminded me of ignatius j. reilly. he mumbled to himself, and twitched. he was more the crazy scary than the other guy. no wait, he was scary, too.

there's an old lady who hangs around the mall, too. with crazy bushy white hair. she's the kind of lady you see and you expect her to come from arizona and talk alot about being abducted by aliens. she throws her hands up in the air when you pass by her in the food court, like her hands form some kind of impenetrable barrier to your noisome aura and life-threatening germ factory. she rides the bus, too. surprise, surprise, right?

does being crazy automatically mean you lose all sense of what's right and wrong when it comes to personal grooming? is there one day when you wake up and go "fuck it, i'm not even gonna wash today. showers are overrated. screw brushes or combs or not looking like a complete nut!"

it's like that talk i had with damon a while back. i said to him, "damon," i said. "you know who rides the bus? the scum of the earth, that's who!"

he looks at me and goes, "you ride the bus"

I said, "my point exactly"




feeling: pissed, man
thinking of: pot
song of the day: let down - radiohead
one day i am gonna grow wings