Thursday, January 18, 2007

Art Terrorism Is A Victimless Crime
Only In New York

I was coming home from work via my usual subway train ride serenely listening to some iPod tunes.

Knowing my NY routes fairly well, I knew almost instinctively to find the last cart on the train which would stop close to the exit I needed.

The train finally arrived and I found the interior to be surprisingly void of people.

"What a lucky day! I got the coveted empty cart," I thought to myself in less flashy wording fashion.

The doors open and I enter the cart, almost immediately I see what appears to be a brown spot in the empty seat in front of me.

Then I start to think I'm seeing spots in my eyes, because the same brown spot is in the seat next to it, and on the periphery, two other seats have brown spots.

I quickly realize that these aren't spots, they're vicious smears, then the wonderfully demented playground of senses continued when the sudden smell of human shit creeped up my nose.

All of the other passengers who piled in behind me started to panic. We all eventually realized that we had entered a cart where every single seat had been carefully smeared with HUMAN shit.

We ran to the front of the train where about 4 people were seated inexplicably ignoring the strong scent of human filth pervading the whole cart.

Traumatized, we looked back to the shit part of the cart to find an enormous black man standing there with his coat over his nose, as if to mock us, "real men hang with shit."

The next stop we ran out of the back cart and into the next one, thankfully shit-free.

To this day I'm wary of riding the back cart of a train.


My friend and I have started the unofficial Dakota Fanning rapes herself an Oscar countdown.

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