DOWN WITH PANTS!

I don't know who scares me more anymore. The person using the hands-free device on their cell phone or a completely delusional crazy fuckhead. It's nearly impossible to tell the difference between the two. You see them come stumbling toward you totally oblivious to the world flapping their gums to what seems like no one in particular. One roams the malls and grocery stores of the suburbs, the other roams the streets and alleyways of Pioneer Square. But can you really tell the difference?

Who really knows if that grungy looking guy yelling at the top of his lungs in downtown is really fighting with his inner demons or just on a really bad connection. Who knows if the well dressed soccer mom is really talking with her husband about what to get for dinner or if she thinks she is making plans with Satan for the coming war between a group of super strong flying monkeys and an all-star army consisting of Ashton Kutcher, Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan.

All I'm saying is, please be careful. When you see someone talking to themselves, give yourself enough space to get away quick. Because you never know when Kelly the soccer mom may use you as a human shield against an unholy Kutcher/Hilton/Lohan army.