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October 17, 2014
I can't decide who I'd like to bludgeon more on the uptown 1 this afternoon: The low-pants-wearin', mumble-talkin', "nigga"-callin', sweat-stinkin' quartet of boys no bigger than I am who I'd guess were born just before the turn of the century, or the strung-out, stringy-haired, plaid-mini-skirted, over-the-knee-socks'd, wiggly-voiced gigglesnort with someone's phone number scrawled on her hand in black ballpoint ink, at least five years older, telling them they'd see God if they did 'shrooms, which prompted one of these subway studs to say he saw God on "herb". It's a good thing I don't have to choose, in my fantasy.