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There's a guy in town who wanders from bus stop to bus stop "Spreading the gospel." Which wouldn't be all that bad if 1) he got any part of it right and 2) he exhibited any real signs of sanity. In a previous era, you'd probably say this guy was a saint, or that he was demon posessed, depending on the particular brand of nuts on any given day. Now, (without wanting to offend any psychopaths or schizophrenics who do manage to get through an entire day without annoying me) in the modern world, we would say he's generically nuts, and pull our kids just a little bit closer when we're walking past him. Today, he managed to preach against the Lord's prayer of all things. I will say, however, that I'm extremely grateful to whatever demons may be posessing him for bathing regularly, as it does result in a much more pleasant variation of insanity.
His general message is that you should talk to Gd like he's a friend, and that whatever you ask in Jesus name, it will magically appear on your doorstep in six to eight weeks, plus shipping and handling.
There's something about this kind of person, and I'm not really sure what it is, that makes me want to mess with their head. Maybe it's the way he treats Gd like some cosmic waitress... Yes, I'd like 3 cheese steak sandwiches, a jumbo order of fries, and a vat of coleslaw, with a hot-fudge sundae for dessert--no nuts. Maybe it's the fact that he's loud. There's something jarring about loud people; I never like them early in the morning, and I especially dislike them, if there's some reason (i.e. waiting for a bus) that I can't walk away. Maybe it's the rudeness involved in choosing a captive audience. The polite lunatic always considers the comfort of others.
This is a recurring event--you bump into this guy every now and then, and he never has anything new or interesting to say.
So, I sit, and I listen to him, and I think of the various things I could say to make him turn purple.
Really? My heart's desires? No kidding! So, what I'd really like is three well-greased men and a goat in a hammock, please.
No? Well how's about one not so well-greased man, hog-tied and gagged, and a scalpel?
Huh. No on that, as well... Huh... so, what, exactly can I ask for? Pizza oven? Juke Box? Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich?
So, as I was getting on the bus, this morning, our lunatic was handing out tracts, up and down the line. You can imagine. And I'm there, biting my tongue, and ecstatic at the prospect of getting away from his man. Just get me out of here.
Oh, I'm sorry, young lady...
Fuck.
Well, I'm all assertiveness, today. I just turned and looked at him and said, Don't. Seriously. That's it--exactly one word--just don't. Get away from me. Don't make me say any of the things I've been thinking. Go away, now.

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