A few days ago the ghost of Mark Twain (or Kurt Vonnegut, or maybe an actual living person that just looks exactly like them) came into the store and repeatedly yelled "You can't tell me what to do you f---ing son of a b----!" while calmly taking a lap around the store, and then he showed himself the exit. It reminds me of the time the guy in the neon blue unitard came to church and yelled, "I am a vegetarian," proceeded to spell the word "vegetarian," and left, but then remembered he'd forgotten his invisible hat and came back to get it.
Hopefully I'm laughing at the funny actions and not at the person with mental problems themselves. My non-crazy friends came into the chicken fast-food place where I worked as a teenager and took their shirts off to see if they could still get service because there was no "No shirt, no shoes, no service" sign, and I laughed then, and when my buddy told me about how he dressed up in a Sasquatch suit and terrorized the local Taco Bell, I laughed at that too.
Speaking of hats, I bought myself this hat as a Christmas gift, along with a Loretta Lynn greatest hits CD. I don't know why I think really old country music is good, and all new country music is bad, but I do. Maybe I think that because it's true. Or maybe I just like Johnny Cash and I over-reacted to my recent enjoyment of Coal Miner's Daughter. We'll find out.
Merry Christmas. I'm going to run from the Embarcadero to the top of Mt. Tamalpais and back.
P.S. Speaking of vegetarians, I'm sorta vegetarian now. Mostly because I hate cows. With 12,000 miles of backpacking under my belt, they've shat in my water one too many times. Plus there's that whole efficiency thing. I'm also considering making a joke about how I went "cold turkey" by having the last meat I ate be cold turkey Thanksgiving leftovers. Mmmmm, those were good.