They cleaned up the NYC Subway 25 years ago, but somehow the rats keep getting bigger and the mutants keep getting creepier! Maybe it’s all the hormones they’re putting in the plastic pizza-cheese.
We tried to stop at 13, really! But the list just keeps going on…
- Niglets selling candy. A classic! They’re from Newark and are fundraising for their Boys’ Club or basketball team or church youth group. Or something. No, they don’t have a permit.
- Mariachi Band in Full Mexi-drag. No, we didn’t invite you here. We’re full up with Mexicans right now, thankyouverymuch.
- “Deaf” Gypsy Hustler. Hands out little yellow cards showing sign-language alphabet, curses you if you don’t pay for it.
- Pole-dancing Hip-Hopsters. Don’t you feel safer, now that they’re swinging their feet at you, instead of swinging knives?
- Superannuated Social-Justice Warrior. Generally an old Jewess who loudly condones any and all misbehavior by persons-of-color. “Quit bein’ prejudice, they just expressing theyselves.”
- Impassive Muzzies. They watch the scene, and feel normal.
- Mystery-Meat Hipster. Why is he riding the BMT from Bloomingdale’s to Carnegie Hall? Shouldn’t he be on the L line? What is this thing, a Mexican-Punjabi?
- Cantonese Screaming Termigants. They’re six feet from each other but converse at full volume. With any luck they’ll get off at Canal Street.
- Ecuadorean Dwarves. They travel in packs at 6 a.m. Where are they all going?
- Lunchmeat Cowboy. Negro exposes his dick to white women waiting for the F train at 6 a.m.
- Derelicts in Blankets. Draped in the fumes of a year’s worth of urine, they easily appropriate whole subway cars for their slumbers.
- Recently Discharged Crazy/Criminal/Crackhead. “I don’t want to rob or steal but if you could just help me out so I could get something to eat.”
- Half-primate in Motorized Wheelchair. Three feet tall, missing some important body parts. I can’t look.
- Colored Bum-Comedian. He could have been another Dick Gregory, if he hadn’t been locked up on Ward’s Island for forty years.
- Squatemalan Garbage Disposals. A whole family of them, sitting there. Big as Tamworth hogs already, but eating, eating, eating. Like hummingbirds, they consume three times their body weight daily.
- Snotty Fag. An ex officio ‘minority.’ He dares you to stare at his leopard-print high-heel platform pumps and his Tintin quiff.
- The Do-Wop Ethiopes. Sort of a Harlem barbershop quartet. They’re 70 years old and know only one song, a gospel thing called “Let it Shine.” Obnoxious but harmless.