Monday, June 22, 2009

Adios, analistas

It doesn't get more bizarre.

All logically positive, I sat at in a firm chair at a table in the WiFi venue after being cushy for some time. In addition to the friendlies feeding on the patio, we were joyanced by a pigeon that had infiltrated the premises. It was shyly making forays from under the furniture yet wasn't scarfing nothing. I thought to put it out cause the pickings were sparse and it shouldn't get stomped. So I'm happily oriented to time and place (Who's the President?) when a kid across the way snipes: "child detective", "Jew", and, hang on to your jockstraps, the sadistic long-lingering hiss.

A brat from beyond the pale? Go to Plan 9. Intelligence migrates.

Rising to occasion, presented mon moxie et sallied away. Changed the subject. Decked him on his way out.


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