Big Homeless is not a man of the street, he's a man of the people. Growing up and out in the realm of Academia, he was considered a prodigy of Psychology for his unorthodox approach and strange methodology. Such praise allowed Big Homeless endless access to grant money, prestigious graduate assistant jobs, and a slew of other scholastic treats. Such was the golden path for Big Homeless, but things got hard upon graduation. His idiosyncratic practices were lost on his therapy subjects. They didn't want to know why they wore green, only wanting to know why they wanted to cut themselves. Such normalcies didn't interest Big Homeless. He went out, abandoned traditional practices, and became America's first street psychologist. Here are some of his prophecies.
Greetings ya'll hope your Saturday is swimming and that your life is good on all accounts. Hope life don't have you too down, and that you have yet to invest too much in this year's Oscar Season. Even Momma knows that it'll be Daniel Day's Day.
Since this is our first meeting, let's lay down the basics. I live in Los Angeles. Despite the moniker I am not homeless. I have a great apartment near La Brea that I am rarely at. I sleep there for six hours a day, four hours a week. The 1400 a month is nothing to me. It's enough to for a decent bed given my advantages. The rest of the time I am, well, out there, living life and giving my chosen spiel to the world. That's how it goes sometimes and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Yesterday was a fruitful one. I had some observations that are mine and mine alone. Let me share them with you and make these observations open source.
Observation 1.
My broheim, let's call him Bick, was joining me and our mutual friend Sergei for a Thai Food Dinner. We like the place. We want to become regulars at Mae Plot. The waiter, Sid, is a scamp. They unapologetically mess up orders. The Mongolian Beef is delicious and they show Laker Games on plasma. What more can you want? All desirable aspects of life are wrapped up in a neatly wrapped package for our consumption.
On the way there, Bick was a little car sick. We thought Bick might puke so we slowed and he discussed Ken Griffey Jr before moving onto his advanced opinions of Thai Food. Bick had this to say about Los Angeles's fine array of Thai Food. "The Thai Food is good here but for my money it can not compare to the Thai Food in Michigan."
The superiority of Michigan's Thai Food is tangible to Bick. He believes it with every iota of his soul and cites it as the greatest Thai Food that has ever, or will ever, come to exist. These notions are filled with fallacies. As a young buck, reared outside Detroit, Bick tasted Thai for the first time. It blew his mind. Not only was it a new kind of cuisine, but it lay the template for any Thai Food he would ever taste. Although it is decent Thai Food in a worldly sense, to Bick it is incredible, the only Thai Food worth eating. It established what Thai Food would or should be, becoming the measuring stick and the only true testament to Thai Cuisine.
Though this can make a restaurant better, it is a trap. Depriving Bick of other Thai Food greatness and making him long for not only the tastes of home but for the Michigan experience as a whole. It should come as no surprise that Bick has taken his lumps in adjusting to a new environ. The world (and Thai food) still reside in Michigan.
Also, Bick has a long distance girl friend he loves a lot. Such an exaltation can turn any shit Thai Food into greatness.
Observation 2
As a bit of irony, I was sober at 11pm and ended up being the designated driver on a run to McDonald's for two friends let's call them Rock and Theidi. They were so belligerent in their fun time that they were willing to take a ride in my car. It is the pure definition of Jalopy. It lacks a bumber. It is filled with leaves. The only redemptive quality is that it has a portrait of Richard Nixon in the back seat. This portrait is good for anything, and so often everything. it is the lifeblood of my vehicular enjoyment.
In the drive through of McDonald's we began to joke about the painting. Being drunk as they were they engaged in screaming fits. Getting three milk shakes was never so hard. An adequate adventure we found ourselves lost in our moment of little insignificance, causing the world to close and boundaries to fall.
Theidi looked at the portrait of Richard Nixon and called it "Ronald Nixon". the power of McDonald's and the scope of our experience snuck into her mind and dissolved any distinction between the McDonald's experience (and thus the exploits of Ronald McDonald) and our late embattled president Richard Nixon. This gave birth to a hybrid of Politics and fast food culture.
All I can say is Hamburglar Clinton in 2008.
This is Big Homeless signing out. Hope to see you out there.
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