I’m not sure exactly when it was that I lost all patience with crazy people. I used to feel sorry for them, and think, aww, poor crazy person. Maybe I could help or something. Now it’s all I can do not to plant my boot in their face. It’s like that smelly old lady who sits in the ATM kiosk and screams some sort of aggressive-sounding eastern European nonsense at me when I’m trying to get my money. I envision the joy on the faces of the jack-booted thugs who should, by all rights, be stomping her steaming, genetically-damaged innards all over the immaculately-tiled floors. Merry Christmas, you fucking crazy lady. Then there’s the so-called “King of Augsburg,” who’s basically a 40-something attention-whore who dresses up like Ludwig II and walks around city hall like he owns the place. Let’s not forget this one loon who jumps on the streetcar at all hours and sings opera at the top of his lungs. They should be tagged, shaved, and sterilized, the whole loopy lot of them.

That’s why this post by Velociman aggravates me. Not only does he not engage them with violence, he gives them smokes! It’s the two things that conspire to drive me batshit: non-violence with regards to crazy people, and the wanton giving of smokes to freeloaders. Now, in all fairness, I used to give cigarettes to anyone who asked. I could recognize a brother in need, and would happily surrender a Camel to silence the monkey, if only fleetingly. I’m not sure how this tradition started, but it’s wrong-headed in the most serious way. I didn’t realize just how wrong it was until I went to Paris. I’ll warn you now, in case you’ve never been in Paris: Don’t ever smoke outdoors. Even in the nice parts of town, you’ll be swarmed by sullen teenagers from every direction, demanding a cigarette; and offering not even the slightest nod of thanks once you give them one. You’ll go through about a pack an hour in daylight, and you’ll be asking for a brick-slap on the back of your skull if you light up at night. Since my last trip to Paris, I’ve taken a different tack towards freeloaders. If somebody comes up and asks for a cigarette, I ask for money. If I’ve got more than half a pack left, it’s only 50 cents. If I’m down to the last 5 or so, or if the asker is drunk, it’s a cool Euro per nail. You should try it; it works. You can make enough to buy a whole pack, and it’s better than saying no, since it’s completely fair. Unless it’s a crazy person, in which case you should just say no because you’re as likely to get a small rock painted with a smiley-face as you are to get a Euro.