A Field Guide to the Contemporary Wingnuts of the Continental United States (Chapter 947)

 

The culprit.

I sometimes develop a fascination with certain crazy people. After all these years on the street scene, I’m like a connoisseur of wingnuts. A student of human nature, abnormal or otherwise. And I’ll find myself studying them like a clinical psychologist as I ponder just what the fuck is precisely wrong with their brains.

Like this guy. Who I became acquainted with a couple weeks ago when I was sitting next to him at this sports bar eating my lunch, when he suddenly lurched at me and grabbed a big hand full of my french fries (the situation escalated from that point on).

So, a couple days later, I happened to be passing by the sports bar, and I noticed him there, hanging out again. So I couldn’t resist sneaking back in there to get a closer look at the, um, specimen. As you can see from the photo, he’s seemingly normal looking guy. And a pretty big lug. It’s only if you look closely at his eyes that you see he’s crazy as a loon.

There are two empty pitchers of beer at his favorite hangout spot, the corner window seat. And now he’s sidled up to the bar where he’s the life of the party, making these weird animal sounds (one of his trademarks). I’m tempted to stick around just to see how long he manages to contain his madness before he gets thrown out again. But when I passed by again 5 minutes later, he was already gone.

“IT IS WHAT IT IS!!!” Whatever that is.
Then I spotted him across the street, staggering and lurching down the street. He’s most likely not going to be remaining in an upright position for much longer.

Then, a couple of days later, I passed him hanging out on the sidewalk outside the sports bar. He’s babbling non-stop at these two black guys and woman who are taking a cigarette break. He keeps making those strange animal noises — these kind of whoops and grunts — and clapping his hands over and over, and sticking his face in their faces while repeating “IT IS WHAT IT IS!!” Ha ha.

His demeanor is like a manic, overly-friendly, overly-exuberant little kid. Who just happens to be a completely insane, 6-foot, 220 pound man who’s only just barely in control of his behavior.

He’s also a pretty good looking guy, in sort of a classic Nordic mode. That’s why he probably gets away moreso than a lot of people with acting so crazy in public. If you’re good-looking you can generally get away with more stuff.

Staggering off to the sunset.

 

(this was my first encounter with this particular chap: https://acidheroes.wordpress.com/2019/05/22/welcome-to-monday-madness/ )

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