He's wearing a hat with irregular dimensions and no cultural significance a la Jim Brown.
In general he looks disheveled, even though he's not sporting the obvious "I'm a crazy person" giveaway which is a non-local sports team's starter jacket with a logo iteration which no longer exists.
Anyway, the cagey-ness causes me to slow down in case he, like many local insanes in my neighborhood, crosses the street with little to no regard to law or his own life.
Turns out he was a regular dude who just made some bad walking decisions.
The question is, if I saw the same thing happen with a white guy, would I worry he was a crazy with no sense of what's real?
Directly, the answer is yes, but that's only because he'd look even more insane wearing some other guy's clothes.
I also felt racist during a show last night when I noticed a Central American-American (is that what we call Nicaraguans raised in the US?) with the wet hair look and inferred (with no empirical evidence) that current cultivation of "the wet look" is nearly completely owned by the people with roots in Mexico, Central, and South America, and white girls from Long Island and New Jersey who still wear Keds, scrunchy socks, and oversized Champion sweatshirts.
Anyone who hopes for racial and cultural unity in this country has to hate certain people from their own cultural group.
Can I speak on it?
Grandma, stop stealing Sweet and Low from the God damned diner you Jew.
Dad, stop pissing money away and smelling faintly of a heavy cooking oil when you're dirty in the summer you Greek fuck.
White girls on a train full of tired, overworked, middle-aged minorities trying to sleep,
1)Stop wearing those FUCKING GALOSHES EVERYWHERE.
2)Shut your fucking ringer off.
3)If you pick up your phone, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DON'T.
Unlike these people. Every group has those examples of genetic and cultural excellence. These are the people who make people in other cultures go "Holy shit, I guess white people are for fucking real."
And now, an open letter to one of these pieces of human excellence.
You're the best person. Ever.
You're a fucking F-18 and you've got lock.
Vatican Warlock Assassins 4EVA
I think the real question in all of this awesome ranting and drug addiction is, despite the totally insane commentary doled out by the Ma-sheen, how much of what he says is really wrong?
His show is awful, poorly written, and without him, that shit doesn't exist.
He's stronger than everyone on that show, in fame, and in existence.
It's like this, if someone handles addiction forever but isn't on the worst show on television, and is say, named Ace Frehley, or Keith Richards, we think they're awesome.
If they're shameless in their pursuit of prostitutes, porn stars, etc. (brief pause for high recommendation of Diamond Dave's autobiography, which is amazing) we're happy to see that.
I mean the only fucking reason Behind The Music went off the air is because once all the bands who told tales of their drug addled Ferrari death accidents in Germany, ant snorting, and mainlining Jack Daniels, hearing about Jeff Tweedy rubbing his corduroys down looking for the perfect hat to go with his keyboard, I want to fucking kill myself.
Give me Mick Mars looking like David Lo Pan from Big Trouble in Little China.
Give me Tommy Lee acting like a naked 7 year old in a bath tub blowing a boat horn with HIS FUCKING MUSHROOM HEAD.
We love that.
But when the Ma-sheen goes buck wil', he's a monster causing a fat 17 year old and Jon Cryer, who we all know belongs in a West Village apartment lamenting not getting that call back for CSI:NY.
To be honest, if Charlie Sheen tells me he's healed himself in two days, based on previous accomplishments, I'm willing to believe it.
Put it this way; do you think your body could handle this shopping list?
2)11 8balls of coke
3)6 handles of Captain Morgan
4)$10,000 worth of $500 prostitutes.
5)3 days at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel.
No, it couldn't.
Everyone knows a man or woman like this.
It's that guy or girl you went to college with who eats 3,500 calories worth of pizza and ice cream, then goes out with you and drinks a bottle of Crystal Palace Vodka from the bottle, throws up in the sink 4 times, then takes mushrooms, and is in class with makeup on the next morning at 10.
This man's penis must be moisturized every hour to keep him from rubbing it raw in whore vaginas.
It's funny that while I wish the white girls with juicy sweatpants and eating disorders, and guys who dip should all die for the future of our common culture, people like the Ma-Sheen prove to all the other cultures in America that their are genetics worth mixing with.
Fucking Ace Frehley has been running with a 38 year coke habit. No overdoses of note, and the only negative is that he's slowly obtained the Richard Pryor post crackfire skin.
Like stickers on college football helmets, each of those moon surface holes on his face represent one of his many nights that held more excitement, drugs, and banging than you've had in a calendar year.
Every culture has a few of these exceptional creatures, capable of infinite consumption with no visible signs of damage other than excessive and amazing rants, until after they stop doing it, become a Christian (Willie Ames, Usual Suspects Baldwin) or Scientologist (everyone else), and then have their heart erupt 40 years later and you go "who would have thought."
The reality for them is, the only way out is through.
They have to give the sauce to their body or their body can't run non-stop like it's supposed to.
Once old people retire and stop going to work, it makes them die.
Same principle applies here.
For instance, the only reason Keith Richards is still alive is because, like macerated fruit, he will hold his color and flavor as long as he is steeped in alcohol.
Ma-Sheen is the Johnny-come-lately to the group, but he is by no means dancing in new shoes.
Below is the list of top performers in this category:
Whites: Hunter S. Thompson, Lindsay Lohan.
African-Americans: Wesley Snipes, Whitney.
Latinos:MA-SHEEN (it's true, see also, Charles Estevez) Martin Sheen*
Native Americans: Everyone
*You like Bartlett for America huh?
Watch the first scene of Apocalypse Now.
You know the part where Ma-Sheen-ior looks in the mirror and fucking destroys it with fists, and his hands are covered in blood?
That's all Ma-Sheen-or (En Espanol).
Drunk as fuck.
Hereditary. Genetic. Perfection.
Sheen men are built to last.
Here's the real question?
Where the fuck is Emilio?
Did he die? I haven't heard peep from him since Free Jack.
Is he secretly tearing up some foreign country in similar fashion, living off the Young Guns franchise royalties?
Estevez, your family needs you.
If 6 time Grammy award winner Toni Braxton can move home to help, so can you.
Sisters. We Get It.