I saw this flyer right outside of Clooney’s on my walk to work a couple of weeks ago. I had to take a photo.
My initial thoughts were, geez, that dude’s opening himself up to whole world of trouble. Good thing he included a douchey Gmail address and not a phone number. That inbox will be full of hate faster than the vagrants at 24th & Mission can pop the top on a 40 of Mickey’s. The flyer wasn’t up for long. Oddly enough someone tore off one of the contact strips. Weird.
But as the past couple of weeks have elapsed I’ve come to reconsider this neighborhood anomaly. I smell a troll. Maybe it’s the umbrella, orange wedge and cherry-adorned cocktail so delicately balanced in his left hand. Maybe it’s the come-hither gaze framed by lank, vaguely-greasy-looking hair and the oh-my-god-you-can’t-fucking-ignore-it white plastic and aluminum Google Glasses. Whatever. The whole thing screams troll to me now.
Say, it’s nearly 3pm on a Saturday right now. I wonder if he’s meandering near Zeitgeist this very instant. I hear they LOVE glassholes at Zeitgeist.