They really should’nt let Ms. Rice out of the White House by herself, unaccompanied. 
I am the local nutcase. 
I’m pretty sure this guy wasn’t nutty but it’s a good story anyway. This past weekend, there was a guy walking down Colorado Blvd. wearing a sandwich board that said:
PLUTO
IS STILL
A PLANET!
I think he was handing out leaflets, and I did hear him shout something. Unfortunately my wife wouldn’t let me cross the street to go talk to him, so now I’ll never know what was up with ‘Pluto Guy.’ I’m pretty sure he was just some random guy having fun, but you never know around here.
I spoke with a woman today while I was at work who I think was a bit of a nut, but I will let you decide. She called to tell me that she was upset that our company had closed it’s payment center in her area and she needed to send in her payment through the mail now. She went on and on and on about how she and her friends used to get their exercise by walking to the payment center and making their insurance payments in cash, be handed a receipt, and walk home. she really misses the payment center! I explained that it is safer for her to send in a payment by check or credit card in case her payment is misrouted it is much easier to find and replace than it is for us to find a payment from someone who handed the company a wad of cash. Besides that, it is much safer than six 65 year old women walking the streets, each with $1000 in cash in their pocketbooks. Then she started in with her, “that’s how I got my exercise and safety has never been an issue for me” spiel again. And again. And again. Did I forget to mention the payment center closed 2 years ago? I finally told her that there is nothing I can do except make a note on her account and then she yelled at me for not caring about the elderly.
J’avais toujours rencontré tous les fous que je savais ici, au Straight Dope.
You sure you got the right thread, lady?
Not recent but one memorable nutjob I used to run into regularly on the UT campus about 15 years ago.
The west border of campus is Guadalupe Street, better known as “the Drag.” All kinds of freaks, skaters, and dope fiends hang out here, but they’re pretty innocuous and tend to stay to themselves (except for their “spare some change” spiel).
One lady was different. Homegirl was probably in her 40s and had her hair in a turban. With twigs and leaves sticking out. When you saw her coming you had to immediately avert your eyes lest your eyes meet… and then she would go off.
NIGGER! NIGGER! GOOK!
DO YOU KNOW WHAT NIGGERS DO? NIGGER NIGGER NIGGER!!!
I’m Black but I saw her do this to Latino and Asian people as well. Once I was on a 'Dillo (trolley-like bus) and she was in the back (so I stayed in the front). She was making noise so the driver asked her to keep it down. She then yells back, runs to the back railing and LEAPS OUT OF THE MOVING BUS GOING ABOUT 15 MPH. Literally landed on her feet and walked off.
One of the Jamaican girls on the track team - the NCAA champion team - was chased by this woman and she almost caught her. The scariest time I encountered her, though, was when I was at Floppy Joe’s on 29th and Guadalupe. Me and a friend came out of the store, got in the car, heard a tap on the window and… it was HER! I thought she was going to break the window and scratch my eyes out… but she simply asked, “Do either of you gentlemen have a quarter so I can ride the bus?” Needless to say we emptied out pockets of all change hoping she would go away. She said thanks… and walked away.
Weird, man, weird.
As you can imagine, as someone in politics, I have a fair number of these stories. Here are three conversations I had in the same evening during my most recent political campaign.
Waiting to meet a friend at the metro:
Random person 1: Hey! You folks waitin’?
Us: Yes.
Random person 1: Waitin’ to buy DRUGS?!
Us: …nooooooo…
Admittedly a dialogue with this meaning is not that uncommon, but it was 1) the abrupt shift and 2) the tone of voice he said “DRUGS?!” in, which was in this total grade 6 instructional video what-to-do-if-you-meet-a-“pusher”-who-tries-to-sell-you-some-“grass” tone of voice.
Then walking back towards the metro after having dinner with some friends, I was randomly accosted in the village. This whole dialogue was in the same, highly intense tone of voice.
**Random person 2: ** What’re you wearing? JACK? Jack Clitoris [!!] Layton? But you’re gay, right?
Me: Yes.
Random person 2: Then why the fuck you supporting that asshole? [further ranting]
Me: What? Jack Layton? What’s wrong with Jack? Are you confusing him with Stephen Harper?
Random person 2: No, LAYTON. He’s just as bad as Harper.
Me: I don’t know what you’re talking about, but the NDP is the best party for gay rights… [spiel, blah, blah, blahdi blah.]
Random person 2: Oh, okay. You’re not from here, are you? Are you from BC?
Me: No, I’ve lived in Montreal for ten years.
Random person 2: But do you speak French?
Me: Ben oui, on habite quand même pas Montréal pendant dix ans de temps sans parler français.
Random person 2: But where were you from before?
Me: Manitoba.
Random person 2: So you’re a purebred anglo. Not a Franco-Manitobain.
Me: Well, I’m not purebred anything, but my first language is English.
Random person 2: Whaddya mean, not purebred?
Me: Well, my dad is Canadian, my mom is American and her grandfather was Korean.
Random person 2: KOREAN??? Anyway… (grabs my coat lapels, forcibly buttons the top one) You’ll catch cold.
Me: Um -
Random person 2: [seizes my scarf and starts two-cheek kissing me] Well, happy kiss new kiss year kiss. And take care of your anus!
Me: Uh, yeah. FLEE
And then a little later on that same evening:
Random person 3: [is not quite there. Was yelling on the other platform. Comes over the mezzanine to accost us.] [to himself:] I’m a Canadian. I’m a Canadian. HEY! You a politician?
Me: Yes.
Random person 3: You with the Liberals?
Me: No.
Random person 3: Paul Martin?
Me: No.
Random person 3: Stephen Harper?
Me: No, Jack Layton.
Random person 3: Jack Layton?
Me: The NDP.
Random person 3: You’re with him?
Me: Yes.
Random person 3: … Well, good. He’s OK. [insists I do the little fist-banging handshake-equivalent] You a politician?
Hamish: No.
Random person 3: You with him?
Hamish: Yes, with the NDP.
Random person 3: Good. Hey, mind if I smoke over there? I got a little butt end of a smoke that I want to finish before the train comes. [The actual dialogue was not this coherent.]
Me: is terrified to say no
(no, I haven’t been brooding on these for eight months; I copied them out of my LiveJournal.)
Oh, and in between incident #2 and #3, we saw two guys sitting in a parked car with the car alarm going, laughing their heads off. Not making any particular move to steal the car or anything, just sitting there, laughing and laughing. It was really loopy.
Also, our indefatigable office administrator Patrick would be in a position to tell you all kinds of stories. The folks who call up demanding to be put through to Jack Layton are the least of it. Then there are:
-
the many, many people who call up with surefire!! ways to get us elected, or who guarantee!! that they can deliver a riding for us if they are permitted to be candidate;
-
the guy who told me he had a complete database of every voter in Canada, which he could e-mail me, and then threatened to collude with Jack to get me kicked out of the party when I expressed doubts (I had to threaten him with the police to get him to leave me alone);
-
the woman who called to kvetch at us because our pamphlet was in English only (it was actually bilingual, one language on each side - she could not be bothered to turn over a piece of paper);
-
the fellow who wanted to become a candidate because he was a psychic who helped police to locate missing children (he actually contested a nomination at one point, and received a total of one vote - he didn’t predict that, I found myself thinking smugly - and promptly denounced the entire exercise as a pagan conspiracy and stalked off in a huff);
-etc. The hardest thing is having to treat each and every one with deference, because you don’t know whether they’re merely a slightly eccentric voter or a complete tinfoil hatter until considerable time has been spent.
Sings:
Button up your overcoat,
When the wind is free,
Take good care of your anus,
You belong to me!
There’s this person on my message board that posts in French! It’s an English message board.
Nutcase.
Or you might be spotting people who just got off a long plane flight and haven’t had a chance to shower yet. I look like that when I’ve just gotten off a long flight.
Wow. What I have pales to what’s already been posted.
Around the capital building of Denver there is a guy who carries a sign that says “Clinton Raped Anita!” I have no idea what he is talking about. Anita Hill maybe? But that happened under Bush 1. He stands at various street corners and points to his sign, grinning at the traffic.
A few years ago, when I was riding a bus in the same area, an older gentleman got on the bus wearing a nice fadora hat, button up shirt, sports jacket, tie, shiny leather dress shoes, black socks and sock garters. I know he was wearing sock garters because he had no underwear or pants! :eek:
I’ve seen a few pro se civil RICO plaintiffs approach that level of insanity.
I was inside the post office at a table in the center a few feet from the door (it’s a small PO.) I turn to head toward the door & find myself behind a man walking to the door. When he went through the door, he opened the door fully and released it. I don’t believe he realized someone was a step or two behind him. He didn’t look back toward me, and when he released the door it wasn’t as if he purposely held it open for me. (That’s the same thing I do when I go through a door with nobody behind me.) I reached out myself to keep the door open as I exited.
The walkway splits outside the door, and we each went separate ways. I noticed him turn and stare at me.
Him: “You didn’t say thank you.”
Me: “What?”
Him: “I held the door open for you, and you didn’t even say thank you. You should be thankful.”
Now, normally I thank people for holding a door for me, but I think this guy realized I was behind him only after I went through the door.
Wondering what this guy’s problem was, I said, “Yeah, whatever.”
I’m 6’1", 220 & this guy is about a 5’ tall ball of fat. He comes toward me and starts yelling, “You have a problem! You have a problem! You have a problem!”
I said, “If you come much closer, you’re going to have a problem, because I"m going to knock you out.”
He stopped advancing toward me and started gesturing to the small crowd of people who were watching. He kept pointing at me while he walked to his vehicle. He was pointing and saying, “That guy has a problem. He’s not thankful.”
I think you were yelled at by George Costanza.
“We live in a SOCIETY!”
I really have a thing for crazy librarian chicks. I’m not a nutter though. The prophecies tell me so.
I work in a poker room and by default, if you can out-weird a poker player, yer a nutball.
We had a dealer go off his meds and attack a supervisor, they had to take him to the ground and haul him out.
We have snorting guy. You know those gut wrenching, whole body snorts? Yeah, this guy does this about every other breath. When he isn’t convulsing with snorts, he’s picking his scabs and eating them. He was all in one hand and was at the far end of the table. He stood up, leaned over the table so far he was literally inches from the flop and was frantically rubbing a rock in his hand while screaming “GIVE ME WHAT I WANT!” “COME ON, PUT IT OUT!” He got two pair, the other guy had a flush, I thought he was going to fall over when I wouldn’t give him the pot, most certainly, he had willed himself the pot.
Semi-regular guy, nice guy, except when he gets in his cups. He’s drunk the other night, starts insulting a woman, they pull him away from the table and suggest he leave. Well, he had just ordered a Hennessy and was arguing about the right to drink it. He opted to spend a night in jail and PAY BAIL rather than leave his half empty drink.
“The Brothers” are routinely thrown out for being gross, peeing on themselves, what have you. The other day, the dealer couldn’t understand what he was saying so he took his teeth out and tossed them on the table.
Maybe you misheard him. My guess is that he mistook you for some sort of cosmic superhero and wanted you to protect his home planet.