2003-10-07

In case I haven�t made it clear before now, I love the insane. I don�t love the retardeds so much, because they�re always doing things like making asinine conversation on the bus; and really, if I wanted drooling commentary about the Ottawa Senators, I�d go hang out at a sports bar. But the crazies are my pals. Calling all crazies! I want to hear about the sweater Jesus knit for you out of pure electricity and how it helps you hear transmissions from government agents in the sewers! Yes! And therefore, in homage to the Nutbars I Have Known, I hereby present�

The Crazy Catalogue

Zipper Guy. The Cadillac of Crazies. I know I�ve mentioned him in the past, but it bears repeating: HE WEARS A SUIT MADE OF ZIPPERS. The whole outfit is crafted from sewn-together zippers. This guy is like Martha Stewart on Risperdal. And as if wearing a suit of zippers wasn�t fantastic enough, he caps off the ensemble with a huge sombrero and preaches the word of God in the Byward Market � or, at least, he plays a recording of the word of God on a shitty boom box. Obviously he has found some sort of loophole in the requirements for salvation via evangelism.

�Oh please!� Guy. This guy is sneaky. He doesn�t look crazy � he�s just a fairly inconspicuous old man. But I saw him in action in my local coffee shop, and he�s awesome. He came shuffling in and stood at the counter near the pastries until one of the employees asked if they could help him. �How much is this?� he asked, pointing at the biscotti tray.

�A dollar thirty-five,� the clerk answered.

�That�s too much. Can you make it less?�

�No.�

He kept trying to haggle for biscotti and generally made a pest of himself until the girl came out from behind the counter to escort him off the premises. When he saw her coming, he recoiled in horror. �OH PLEASE!� he cried plaintively. �OH PLEEEEAAASE! Please don�t hurt me!� He wailed and carried on in what looked like genuine terror until the employees managed to herd him out the door. I can only imagine what kind of sadistic baristas he�s encountered in the past. Perhaps he had a nasty run-in with a milk steamer.

Air Raid Guy. This one doesn�t talk much, or at all as far as I know. He rides his bicycle. All day long. He wears a surgical mask, which he has decorated quite festively. Underneath the mask, he has one of those �bomb falling� whistles in his mouth at all times, which he blows as he tears around the streets of Ottawa�s downtown. The sound really carries, and it took me a while to figure out what was making it. It�s always funny to see people look up at the sky in bewilderment. I think he�s trying to keep us on our toes. You never know when there�s going to be a Blitz.

Hellfire Guy. Fairly run-of-the-mill street preacher. Actually, he�s probably not crazy as such, just extremely devout; but why split hairs? He stands on a busy corner on weekends with his Bible-verse placard and harangues passers-by with the myriad reasons they�re going to Hell. I like this guy because he seems so put-upon (Christians do have such a talent for that). He shouts and gesticulates, but he�s always staring into space as though it�s all just routine � another day, another dollar (or, another herd of miscreants warned of their impending damnation). He�s just punching the clock. But punching the clock�for JESUS.

Spiritual Enlightenment Guy. This guy was a customer in a bar I used to work at. He was bona fide certified crazy, with papers and everything: he was on medication and living off a government support program. Or, as he put it, he was so spiritually advanced that he no longer had to work for a living. When I asked him once how he managed to ascend to this pecuniary nirvana, he told me the story of how he was committed: apparently he made quite a ruckus at an airport trying to defect to Russia (back in the Cold War days, presumably�or perhaps not). He often relayed to me the latest pearls of wisdom he�d learned from his guru � I was actually quite surprised the day I learned that this �guru� was, how shall I say it, non-corporeal.

The best Crazy of all, though, is still Lord Thunderwind: the man�the myth�the legend.