On Sunday on Winter Street I met a homeless man who claims to have developed such a genius business idea that members of the 1% have ordered the mafia to “put a bullet in [his] head.” “My son thinks I’m crazy” he told me, and when I asked him what his company will be called, he told me the name, but that it’s top secret so I shouldn’t share it with anyone. Apparently he’s spent the past 15 years working on this, and since he needs to devote all his time to the project, he’s had no time to work and actually support himself. He showed me the inside of his jacket which was completely tattered, but looked professional from the outside. He handed me a brochure he took out from a folder inside his briefcase (which he carried alongside probably everything he owns) which explains the basics of his plan on one side, and an essay-length explanation for why he’s going forward with his “solution to our world’s healthcare dilemma.” It was fairly efficient-looking, with his name signed at the bottom. He pointed to a little caricature depicting a smiling man with a beard pushing a little cart. Above it read: “Happy Homeless’s ® Healthcare Solution”. “That’s me,” he said. “Happy homeless!” He walked off hurriedly into the crowd and was soon gone.
That same day there were hundreds of pink-shirted walkers showing their support for breast cancer survivor’s/research. A man who had died his hair and beard pink stopped and suggested I smile and encourage all the walkers who passed by, which I did for the most part.