Bill pretty much sums up what's going on right from the beginning. I'm the fake atheist political police agent provocateur, those students around him are Jesus freaks organized by the U.S. government, and he's..... well, he's Bill.

The most enduring part of this video for me is when he starts calling to the crowd for any progressive people to come up and help interfere with the stuff going on here. It's kinda sweet. Like a shivering puppy in a rainstorm.

BILL! Go take a break from Union for 10 minutes! Go get a slice of pizza and take a walk in the park, and come back a little later! You're allowed to flee and return after that've left! You don't HAVE to endure the whole world right now!

Aww, but I suppose that's why you're precisely who you are.

Yeesh Louise! I mean... Christ. I ahh, have you seen...? Um.

Pants.

Okay, lemme start again.

So I suppose this is how you hafta wear your pants once you get tattoos such as those.

Jesus.

I ask you, what could be more lovely and quaint than an adorable, upper class child watching a handsome, scruffy street performer strum out a happy tune on an acoustic guitar about the enviable plight of summer love?

It doesn't get much more precious than that. So precious in fact that even Golem from Lord of the Rings would be swept away into a land of neverending dreamscapes and gigglng icecream cones, chortling like a goon April Fools morn.

There is a severe price that must be endured which comes along with springtime's rewards. It's what we call "The Evil Twin of Spring Love." We all bear the brunt, but we shake it off without complaint, understanding that whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

At times the blow can seem to be more than one can take. But later, after the dust clears and we remove the hands which cover the eyes of our children, we realize that we were all united as one, and in that we were, for a moment, more powerful than "it."

No! No! Say it isn't so! It's camel toe!

One of the only things to look forward to about getting really old is you get to wear whatever you want in any combination and no one can say shit about it.

White cowboy hat, gawdy tourquise earrings, Obama campaign button pinned to a black coat with rainbow-polk-a-dots over a poodle skirt?
You better fuckin' believe it.

"Buddha's birthday can be like, really confusing. Is this reall how the Happy Birthday Song in Korea goes? Is anyone else around here as confused as I am? I mean, what's... going... on... with... that... noise? It's crushing the middle of my head. Everybody else is listening too, but why am I the only one who... seems... to... be... having... his... brain... scrambled?"

*Insert static white noise here*

While normal people sit and gleefully enjoy the Buddha birthday song at Union Square South, a completely different story is playing out in my mind.

For me there is a death match at hand. It's a battle between the world's prettiest gap-toothed smile chowing down on a papaya blossom, and Mr. Crazy in the prison uniform & white afro wig. Each of them grappling for the ultimate prize of center stage in the lens of my camera! Who will triumph??!

Afro wig, of course.

While this man dances and sings along to "I Hate Myself for Lovin' You" by Joan Jett, my so-called "friends" bust my balls about how I make money and how one day I'm gonna get my head bashed in with a baseball bat by one of these weirdoes.

Perhaps this will give everyone a clearer idea of what it's actually like to hang around me at the park.

Worse still, it's only going to get more extreme with age.