Happy New Year Chico

Well shit. I began my evening witnessing Bath Salts Jesus. A resurrection of the worst kind. I write about him with an air of sympathy and futility. He had blasted off on whatever fantastical substance he got his hands on. His shoes had not approved of his decisions, ripping themselves off and disappearing. I can see his socks in my mind now. They were so destroyed it would be more appropriate to say he was barefooted. I guess you could say they were “holy”. Shit joke. He got aggressive with a bouncer, started trying to argue with the garbled profanity of a person who has a squirrel operating their language center. Then he saw his reflection in a window, and began to argue with his reverse image. I wish him a happy New Year and a tip of my hat. 

Many people came out this evening and all seemed to be happy. Only a few had that air of negativity which comes with failed expectations. The bar was at capacity, all the bartenders under demand. They did their job well. I spent more time than I would have liked babysitting those who can’t recognize their limits. Found a wallet on the ground, then found its owner. I even danced a little. Not much to say other than, people are happy for this year to end. The next, I presume, will be no different than the last. It is always nice to hope though, celebrate, and distract. Whilst distracted by the crowd and showmanship of the evening, barely a block away, a man, a father of three, was shot to death. The circumstances which led up to this deadly encounter I do not know. I do know it was an out of towner that shot him; some foreign invader who decided to take. It seems too frequent an occurrence where a night of celebration is tarnished with tragedy. Yet, I can’t say I am surprised. 

Before I end this I must announce, on a slightly lighter note. Beware the Trashcan Bandit. A serious case of thievery, a local bar has been under siege by a trashcan infatuated criminal. Local bar going, drinking degenerates say, be on the look out for something like Oscar the Grouch in a sort of human form. Will your trash can be next? 

Happy New Year Chico, let's make this next one good. Stay warm out there, and may the lost be ever remembered.