Saturday, November 06, 2010

You Don't Know Me

Don't you ever want  to just be somebody else?  I know I sure do.


Why just the other day, I slipped into my zombie Tony Curtis outfit, just to troll the streets like the common folk do.  What I've realized recently, is that maybe I need to dream bigger in my quest for anonymity. Let me show you what I mean.

As I look back on my fun times trolling the streets and biting people, I can't help but think to myself that Halloween shouldn't be the only day we put on costumes and pretend to be someone else.  We should do this every day and perhaps on a more global scale.  Like my friend here:



Best line from the report easily is, "complete with mimicking the movements of an elderly person." My only hope is that when they detained him and made him put all that silliness back on that his mimicking of an elderly person resembled something like this:



But I doubt that it did.

Now decidedly there are serious security concerns.  What if this jerk made it into the country and then caught your ear at your local deli -where he was buying a pickled pigs feet sandwich, no doubt- talking about what it was like during World War II and about how his kids never call, and then start prattling on about all medications he's taking.  I look to my border security agents to protect me from that sort of thing, and Mexicans.  I'm deathly afraid of Mexicans. And Mexican olds.  All those things.  Serious security concerns.

Luckily this Party City poster child was captured and is currently being questioned, so now we're all safe to continue to drive up to Montreal for the weekend and come back and talk about how breathtakingly historic Old City is again.

What I can't get over is how short sighted this guy was.  I mean if you could really be anyone, why would you chose an old person?  I haaaate old people.

I think I'd probably pick something like Bill Clinton or Bill Murray, you know, something with cache.  Something that could get me some tail -or at least something that could be me out of Coach.  Poor people bathrooms are stinky and no one washes your hands for you.

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