Ursprünglich veröffentlicht: 2008-12-18 11:58 (no longer live)

“Scary” Gutter Punk on Bourbon Street Circa 8 PM Last Night - m4m

So I was wandering around the French Quarter last night and I found myself on Bourbon Street in search of hot cock. (Just kidding…or am I?! I am!) Knowing I would have to momentarily make a sharp right to reach my destination, I crossed the street. Further up the block, I noted a gutter punk across the street walking with a bicycle. He was talking to himself. Actually, he was talking at me (note I said “at” and not “to”). He was saying something like, “Go ahead and cross the street,” implying that I had crossed the street to avoid him. I think he may have called me a pussy. This is not the first time something like this has happened to me in the French Quarter; I dimly recall a gutter punk yelling “boo” at me when I refused to meet his gaze one night (I’m sorry, I tend not to make eye contact with dirtbags who want me to give them the money that my parents worked so hard to make!). Granted, I may look, dress and act like a square, but I’d like to make it perfectly clear that your shitty tattoos, filthy Misfits “Fiend Club” t-shirt and white guy dreads don’t threaten me in any way. (I personally think the Misfits suck and I will confess now to preferring Danzig’s first two solo records to anything he did with his NJ cohorts…blasphemy, I know!) I realize you think you’re exceptionally bad-ass for raging against the machine by choosing not to bathe regularly and panhandling strangers despite being a middle class cracker-ass-cracker, but I assure you that no one is impressed with or shocked by your behavior. Also, it’s annoying when you play your raggedy acoustic guitar or accordion on the sidewalk—please stop doing that. Do the world a favor and take a hot shot at your earliest convenience.

I’m sure some of you cynics out there are thinking gutter punks don’t have access to the Internet and thus the guy in question probably won’t read this post…au contraire! (That’s French!) Those idiots may pretend to be impoverished outsiders, but I bet you my milk money that they all have laptops and a burning desire to surf CL.

In the name of Satan,
A Concerned Citizen

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