A few things are still confusing me about this story. 1) Why were all those bums sleeping around you? 2) Who was this good samaritan? He's riding his bike through the park at the wee hours of the morning and suddenly spots a bum trying to rob you so he drives through a pile of bums, catches the guy, grabs your wallet then shakes you out of a perfectly good slumber? Who was that guy and what the hell was he doing there?
I would like to know the answers to those questions myself. I don't know about now, but back in the mid-90s there were a lot of homeless in Chicago, and they slept in the parks. I was surprised to find they had congregated around me. They probably thought I was homeless and that I had picked a good spot.
I don't know anything else about the guy on the bike other than what the police thought of him. He saved my wallet, not that there was anything in it. He was probably riding home and cutting through the park, saw me, and intervened. My mother thinks he was my guardian angel, but would an angel need to ride a bike? Mom doesn't always think these things through before she says them.
OK, I think I figured it out! Your mom is absolutely right. The bums represent your past indiscretions. Your wallet is your soul at the time: empty. The guy on the bike was your guardian angel saving your soul. The cops put you on the path of righteousness and the hooker represents temptation always looming in the background. I'm just making this shit up, so work with me.
Is he right? Because that is one popular interpretation, and I'd like to believe that, but I was there. The wallet does not represent my soul. My soul is clearly in the briefcase after it was extracted through the base of my skull, thereby requiring a telltale band-aid. The cops represent those who oppose free market capitalism. The prostitutes represent the free market in its purest form. The bums represent the moochers and second-raters looking for a handout. The wallet represented my value in our capitalist society. It was empty, but only after I supported a local business by holding a master class in crapulence. Although penniless, I was rich because my philosophy was pure. The whole evening was my journey, in both the phenomenal and noumenal worlds, to Galt's Gulch. The bicyclist was none other than John Galt himself, saving me from the moochers and the fascists. The hooker who looked like Nortorius BIG represented Dagny, my love, who was a bit of a whore, now that I think about it, but knew something about putting down rail.
A few things are still confusing me about this story. 1) Why were all those bums sleeping around you? 2) Who was this good samaritan? He's riding his bike through the park at the wee hours of the morning and suddenly spots a bum trying to rob you so he drives through a pile of bums, catches the guy, grabs your wallet then shakes you out of a perfectly good slumber? Who was that guy and what the hell was he doing there?
I would like to know the answers to those questions myself. I don't know about now, but back in the mid-90s there were a lot of homeless in Chicago, and they slept in the parks. I was surprised to find they had congregated around me. They probably thought I was homeless and that I had picked a good spot.
I don't know anything else about the guy on the bike other than what the police thought of him. He saved my wallet, not that there was anything in it. He was probably riding home and cutting through the park, saw me, and intervened. My mother thinks he was my guardian angel, but would an angel need to ride a bike? Mom doesn't always think these things through before she says them.
OK, I think I figured it out! Your mom is absolutely right. The bums represent your past indiscretions. Your wallet is your soul at the time: empty. The guy on the bike was your guardian angel saving your soul. The cops put you on the path of righteousness and the hooker represents temptation always looming in the background. I'm just making this shit up, so work with me.
Is he right? Because that is one popular interpretation, and I'd like to believe that, but I was there. The wallet does not represent my soul. My soul is clearly in the briefcase after it was extracted through the base of my skull, thereby requiring a telltale band-aid. The cops represent those who oppose free market capitalism. The prostitutes represent the free market in its purest form. The bums represent the moochers and second-raters looking for a handout. The wallet represented my value in our capitalist society. It was empty, but only after I supported a local business by holding a master class in crapulence. Although penniless, I was rich because my philosophy was pure. The whole evening was my journey, in both the phenomenal and noumenal worlds, to Galt's Gulch. The bicyclist was none other than John Galt himself, saving me from the moochers and the fascists. The hooker who looked like Nortorius BIG represented Dagny, my love, who was a bit of a whore, now that I think about it, but knew something about putting down rail.
Ha! A much better interpretation. I think this could be the start of a great novel. Btw, you had my vote for Jester last week
Thanks. I really like your stuff. There are only a few people I auto upvote, and you are one of them.
Wow, thanks!!!