Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Monday, December 29, 2008
Letter From "Puss Cat" To Her Crazy Cat Lady Owner Written by a Crazy Cat Lady
Dear Kate,
So, a couple of things on my mind.
First, the out loud voice that you have given me is really off. You are rather good at identifying the thoughts in my head, but the conveyance needs adjustment. One obvious thing that could be changed is the British accent. You adopted me from a litter of kittens born in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. If anything there should be a faint South Jersey accent, if there is such a thing. Drop the accent. I'm really a very simple creature so the advice I give you on relationships is, unfortunately, from your own head. As I said earlier, you're good at identifying the thoughts I have. This is probably because there is you can count on only one of three options: you, please give me fresh food; oh my god what was that loud noise; and, oh my god, why did you move so quickly - that freaked me out. And the last note on the out loud voice you have assigned to me and also, I suppose it has come to this, my only piece of relationship advice for you: do not use the out loud voice and have a full conversation with yourself in front of some one you are newly dating. Not every one gives their pets voices and makes them talk. To some people this is weird:
You (after coming home from work): Hello, pretty puss kitty! I am so happy to see you.
Me (But really you. Attempting that awfully-executed British accent): Oh! I'm so happy to see you, too, Mate!
You: Oh, I missed you. You wouldn't believe the day I had. Do you want to eat? Hm?
Me: Yes, very much, Misses.
Then you giggle and I get to eat. We watch endless episodes of Law and Order. Go to bed. Do it all over again the next day. You will wear the same holiday sweaters in rotation through out the year. Between holidays you will wear sweaters with cats on them. The holiday sweaters I find a little tacky. The cat sweaters, however, I find adorable. Especially the one with the kitten playing with the yarn. That is why whenever you lay it out on the bed, I try to sleep on it. I wish you'd wear that one every day.
While we're on the subject, have you heard of a lint roller or a vacuum? My hair is just every where. I love our weekly brushings, and maybe we could do them more often. I think that would help, too. Things that shouldn't have fur, have thick coats. The table, chairs, floor, food. I'm just saying it's a pet peeve of mine, that's all. Like smokers who can't stand the smell of cigarettes.
I would prefer not to be thrown in that box and carried off to that place where strangers poke and prod at me. The first couple times they stuck needles in me and I just hate being pinched and touched by strangers. I feel like I shouldn't have to be saying this. Would you like to be pinched by strangers? I don't think so.
Lastly, please no more forced cuddling. Let me come to you. It's a control thing I have. I like to be the one who initiates snuggle time. I've been that way since I'm a little kitten. Most important, do not pick me up under any and all circumstances. It makes me extremely uncomfortable.
Thanks and Nose Kisses,
Puss Cat
So, a couple of things on my mind.
First, the out loud voice that you have given me is really off. You are rather good at identifying the thoughts in my head, but the conveyance needs adjustment. One obvious thing that could be changed is the British accent. You adopted me from a litter of kittens born in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. If anything there should be a faint South Jersey accent, if there is such a thing. Drop the accent. I'm really a very simple creature so the advice I give you on relationships is, unfortunately, from your own head. As I said earlier, you're good at identifying the thoughts I have. This is probably because there is you can count on only one of three options: you, please give me fresh food; oh my god what was that loud noise; and, oh my god, why did you move so quickly - that freaked me out. And the last note on the out loud voice you have assigned to me and also, I suppose it has come to this, my only piece of relationship advice for you: do not use the out loud voice and have a full conversation with yourself in front of some one you are newly dating. Not every one gives their pets voices and makes them talk. To some people this is weird:
You (after coming home from work): Hello, pretty puss kitty! I am so happy to see you.
Me (But really you. Attempting that awfully-executed British accent): Oh! I'm so happy to see you, too, Mate!
You: Oh, I missed you. You wouldn't believe the day I had. Do you want to eat? Hm?
Me: Yes, very much, Misses.
Then you giggle and I get to eat. We watch endless episodes of Law and Order. Go to bed. Do it all over again the next day. You will wear the same holiday sweaters in rotation through out the year. Between holidays you will wear sweaters with cats on them. The holiday sweaters I find a little tacky. The cat sweaters, however, I find adorable. Especially the one with the kitten playing with the yarn. That is why whenever you lay it out on the bed, I try to sleep on it. I wish you'd wear that one every day.
While we're on the subject, have you heard of a lint roller or a vacuum? My hair is just every where. I love our weekly brushings, and maybe we could do them more often. I think that would help, too. Things that shouldn't have fur, have thick coats. The table, chairs, floor, food. I'm just saying it's a pet peeve of mine, that's all. Like smokers who can't stand the smell of cigarettes.
I would prefer not to be thrown in that box and carried off to that place where strangers poke and prod at me. The first couple times they stuck needles in me and I just hate being pinched and touched by strangers. I feel like I shouldn't have to be saying this. Would you like to be pinched by strangers? I don't think so.
Lastly, please no more forced cuddling. Let me come to you. It's a control thing I have. I like to be the one who initiates snuggle time. I've been that way since I'm a little kitten. Most important, do not pick me up under any and all circumstances. It makes me extremely uncomfortable.
Thanks and Nose Kisses,
Puss Cat
Monday, December 22, 2008
Training Manual for Receptionists/Customer Service Reps/Cashiers in Philadelphia
The first and most important rule is to act like it is not your job to be at the front of the store answering phones, exchanging moneys, etc. You must act like you are doing both a/ the customer and b/ some unnamed, absent underling you are covering for, a favor.
Proper Phone Etiquette suggests that you ask the useless boyfriend you are currently on the phone with to hold on 'one goddamn minute' before sounding annoyed and exhausted at the person calling on the other line. When answering quickly say: "Can I help you?" If the person has called with an inquiry please use one (or all, if caller is persistent) of the following responses: "I don't know," "Imma ask my manager," "There is nothing I can do," or "I'll put you through to the voice mail." Your true job is to get off the phone as soon as possible so that you may return to your previous phone call with that asshole boyfriend. If the customer is especially bothersome feel free to a/ walk away or b/ curse her out and then walk away.
Proper face to face contact suggests a similar manner to phone encounter, only the look on the face is more important. Make sure to look more and more annoyed as the dialog continues. Also, during this encounter you may stay on the phone with jerk off boyfriend and yell at him between the words "I don't" and "know." You can yell at him saying things like "Will you shut up. I gotta customer." Do not, however, take the phone from your ear and make sure you giggle as the customer talks at some cute thing the jerk off boyfriend has said. Remember! This is not your job. Maintain the attitude that you are filling in and don't know policy and procedure.
Leave all paper work to the brand-new idiot hire who will eventually catch on and also stop doing work. At which point all will fall on your lazy manager who does the bare minimum to get by. There is never any toilet paper as a result.
Keep the bar set as low as possible. The last thing we as an organization need is expectations from our customers. We want them to come in hunched over, bracing for a fight. Make sure they know kindness will absolutely not be tolerated nor will it get them anywhere.
In a word, unnecessary hostility is key. You have a legacy and reputation to uphold, my new friend. Let us make the citizens of Philadelphia uncomfortable asking for help, as much as humanly possible.
Proper Phone Etiquette suggests that you ask the useless boyfriend you are currently on the phone with to hold on 'one goddamn minute' before sounding annoyed and exhausted at the person calling on the other line. When answering quickly say: "Can I help you?" If the person has called with an inquiry please use one (or all, if caller is persistent) of the following responses: "I don't know," "Imma ask my manager," "There is nothing I can do," or "I'll put you through to the voice mail." Your true job is to get off the phone as soon as possible so that you may return to your previous phone call with that asshole boyfriend. If the customer is especially bothersome feel free to a/ walk away or b/ curse her out and then walk away.
Proper face to face contact suggests a similar manner to phone encounter, only the look on the face is more important. Make sure to look more and more annoyed as the dialog continues. Also, during this encounter you may stay on the phone with jerk off boyfriend and yell at him between the words "I don't" and "know." You can yell at him saying things like "Will you shut up. I gotta customer." Do not, however, take the phone from your ear and make sure you giggle as the customer talks at some cute thing the jerk off boyfriend has said. Remember! This is not your job. Maintain the attitude that you are filling in and don't know policy and procedure.
Leave all paper work to the brand-new idiot hire who will eventually catch on and also stop doing work. At which point all will fall on your lazy manager who does the bare minimum to get by. There is never any toilet paper as a result.
Keep the bar set as low as possible. The last thing we as an organization need is expectations from our customers. We want them to come in hunched over, bracing for a fight. Make sure they know kindness will absolutely not be tolerated nor will it get them anywhere.
In a word, unnecessary hostility is key. You have a legacy and reputation to uphold, my new friend. Let us make the citizens of Philadelphia uncomfortable asking for help, as much as humanly possible.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
My Higher Gods and Goddesses
So the fellows over in India have so many Gods and Goddesses because they believe strongly that one's god should be personalized. Your God should make sense to you. Perhaps its one you can relate to or one that you just hear above all the others. Unfortunately Christianity, as I see it, gives me only 1 to maybe 3 options. God Himself. Himself. Jesus. Himself. Or, if you want to stretch, Mary the Virgin. Now, if the Kingdom of Heaven (or Freedom) is truly inside of me - way down deep - I have to be able to hear and feel The Great Spirit through all the chatter and noise and screaming lunatics in my head. A voice and a presence that I feel has got to be a loud and mighty one to cut through all my bullshit. I have a pretty clear picture of what the voices in my head are and look like because I hear them 24 hours of every day of my life. It is like they work in this office of a company whose sole purpose is not to make money, but rather to make my life the most unbearable situation.
Here are some of the employees of Unbearable, Inc.:
There is Melody, the depressed customer service representative: [In a flat voice] "Thank you for calling Unbearable, Inc. customer service, this is Melody how can I help you?...Oh, you are not pleased? Tell me, what is the problem...Uh-huh...Yea...Wow, that is a problem. I just don't know why this keeps happening. We've gotten ten thousand other phone calls lodging the same complaint. I have suggested to my boss that we just close this thing down. I mean, what's the point really? This just keeps happening over and over again. [She slumps over her desk and starts sobbing] Her Mantra the rest of the day is: "I can't take it. I can't do it anymore. Everything is wrong."
Then Harold comes in, late as usual. He's only late because he's wearing a straight jacket and this makes it difficult for him to open doors and push elevator buttons. He still hasn't quite mastered his motor skills because of uncontrollable, jerky spasms throughout his entire body. Also his eyes are glazed so it makes it difficult for him to see the doors and buttons. For the first hour of his work shift, he attempts to violently wriggle out of his special jacket to no avail. He sits in the corner and just writhes getting sweatier and redder and more frustrated. His coworkers offer to help but he always shakes his head no and sometimes he barks at them. Eventually, he wears himself out and falls asleep. About twenty minutes later, he wakes up and finally gets into his office where a TV and a DVD player begin playing all of the things that happened to him the previous day. He watches the same twenty minutes over and over again and throws himself around the room. It costs quite a bit of money to replace all the broken vases and chairs, but Harold is an asset and the company would not be the same without him.
There are about 300 other employees in the company that all have the same job: to run around the office in panic, screaming and crying two things: "No!" and "This is bad!"
The main boss of the company is Mr. Richard Rothman who sits in his office with the shades drawn, in pitch black. His computer speakers play slow, goth house music - the score for impending doom. He sits in his black leather chair, hunched over his desk, his forehead leans heavy on his folded heads. A rising stack of unattended to manilla folders sits at the corner of the desk and towers over him.
Given the vivid nature of the negative forces at work in my brain, it would seem that I would need some pretty kick ass yins to those fucking yangs. A force to counteract Unbearable, Inc. This is America, there can be no monopolies, damnit.
So there's The Bearable Alternative Company. Their logo is a soft, cuddly teddy "bear" with his arms thrown wide open wanting a hug. His eyes are bright and joyful.
Here are some of the workers or Gods and Goddesses of The Bearable Alternative Company:
The first and primary Goddess is a big, beautiful, black lesbian woman named Vernetta Dupree. When she speaks, she sings. She always calls me "sweet child." I like this name. This is God HERSELF. She sings to me, in her soulful glory, "Sweet child, I will watch over you. I know your heart is true and I love you..." She radiates light and warmth and I want to crawl inside of her arms, against her belly and sleep. She always smells like an earthy incense, like Sandalwood. When I leave her arms I smell like this Sandalwood and I feel light and warm.
There is Annette Percocciollio: a skinny, loud, emotional, Italian south philly woman. She's a little nuts, but she's got a lot of very practical things to say. She wears scrunchies and makes it ok for me to be me. Always willing to get a cup a coffee wit' me and say "Listen, no matter what, it's gonna be ok." She also teases me and reminds me not to take myself too seriously. "Listen, you know I kid wit' ya cuz I love ya."
There is the one who looks like my mom and gives me everything and more that she has. She loves me no matter what shit I try to pull.
There is the chubby gay god named Carmichael who just makes me laugh hysterically. He loves dance music from the early nineties. He'll come in my room when I have the covers pulled over my head and he'll say "Girl, get up. Quit all this shit. It's time to dance."
Then there is a fiery goddess who always carries around a hatchet and a bow and arrow and is super sexy like a comic book character. She usually comes crashing through my window and says in a forceful, but calm tone: "Emily, dont' worry about it. I'll handle this. I will protect you." Then I say, "yeah, but Melody and I were talking and she said..." Then the fiery goddess cuts me off with: "fuck what Melody says. I'm about to go hack that miserable bitch to pieces." I've tried to name the fiery Goddess, but she refuses to be named or categorized. "I've got it. Relax. Go live your life."
Here are some of the employees of Unbearable, Inc.:
There is Melody, the depressed customer service representative: [In a flat voice] "Thank you for calling Unbearable, Inc. customer service, this is Melody how can I help you?...Oh, you are not pleased? Tell me, what is the problem...Uh-huh...Yea...Wow, that is a problem. I just don't know why this keeps happening. We've gotten ten thousand other phone calls lodging the same complaint. I have suggested to my boss that we just close this thing down. I mean, what's the point really? This just keeps happening over and over again. [She slumps over her desk and starts sobbing] Her Mantra the rest of the day is: "I can't take it. I can't do it anymore. Everything is wrong."
Then Harold comes in, late as usual. He's only late because he's wearing a straight jacket and this makes it difficult for him to open doors and push elevator buttons. He still hasn't quite mastered his motor skills because of uncontrollable, jerky spasms throughout his entire body. Also his eyes are glazed so it makes it difficult for him to see the doors and buttons. For the first hour of his work shift, he attempts to violently wriggle out of his special jacket to no avail. He sits in the corner and just writhes getting sweatier and redder and more frustrated. His coworkers offer to help but he always shakes his head no and sometimes he barks at them. Eventually, he wears himself out and falls asleep. About twenty minutes later, he wakes up and finally gets into his office where a TV and a DVD player begin playing all of the things that happened to him the previous day. He watches the same twenty minutes over and over again and throws himself around the room. It costs quite a bit of money to replace all the broken vases and chairs, but Harold is an asset and the company would not be the same without him.
There are about 300 other employees in the company that all have the same job: to run around the office in panic, screaming and crying two things: "No!" and "This is bad!"
The main boss of the company is Mr. Richard Rothman who sits in his office with the shades drawn, in pitch black. His computer speakers play slow, goth house music - the score for impending doom. He sits in his black leather chair, hunched over his desk, his forehead leans heavy on his folded heads. A rising stack of unattended to manilla folders sits at the corner of the desk and towers over him.
Given the vivid nature of the negative forces at work in my brain, it would seem that I would need some pretty kick ass yins to those fucking yangs. A force to counteract Unbearable, Inc. This is America, there can be no monopolies, damnit.
So there's The Bearable Alternative Company. Their logo is a soft, cuddly teddy "bear" with his arms thrown wide open wanting a hug. His eyes are bright and joyful.
Here are some of the workers or Gods and Goddesses of The Bearable Alternative Company:
The first and primary Goddess is a big, beautiful, black lesbian woman named Vernetta Dupree. When she speaks, she sings. She always calls me "sweet child." I like this name. This is God HERSELF. She sings to me, in her soulful glory, "Sweet child, I will watch over you. I know your heart is true and I love you..." She radiates light and warmth and I want to crawl inside of her arms, against her belly and sleep. She always smells like an earthy incense, like Sandalwood. When I leave her arms I smell like this Sandalwood and I feel light and warm.
There is Annette Percocciollio: a skinny, loud, emotional, Italian south philly woman. She's a little nuts, but she's got a lot of very practical things to say. She wears scrunchies and makes it ok for me to be me. Always willing to get a cup a coffee wit' me and say "Listen, no matter what, it's gonna be ok." She also teases me and reminds me not to take myself too seriously. "Listen, you know I kid wit' ya cuz I love ya."
There is the one who looks like my mom and gives me everything and more that she has. She loves me no matter what shit I try to pull.
There is the chubby gay god named Carmichael who just makes me laugh hysterically. He loves dance music from the early nineties. He'll come in my room when I have the covers pulled over my head and he'll say "Girl, get up. Quit all this shit. It's time to dance."
Then there is a fiery goddess who always carries around a hatchet and a bow and arrow and is super sexy like a comic book character. She usually comes crashing through my window and says in a forceful, but calm tone: "Emily, dont' worry about it. I'll handle this. I will protect you." Then I say, "yeah, but Melody and I were talking and she said..." Then the fiery goddess cuts me off with: "fuck what Melody says. I'm about to go hack that miserable bitch to pieces." I've tried to name the fiery Goddess, but she refuses to be named or categorized. "I've got it. Relax. Go live your life."
Thursday, October 30, 2008
A Follow-Up Letter To The Dark Soul That Is My Alternate Self
{Read original "Alternate Self" post before reading this one!}
In the days following the initial shock of You, there were some developments I thought You should be made aware of. First, I wrote a blog entry about you. Second, there was an overwhelming reaction amongst my friends and family regarding the contents of said blog. Apparently harsh self-laceration strikes a chord with people.
Silly me, I thought You and I were over. But no, this is not dead. Not yet.
It is for the concerned friends and family that I write this. This is for the ones who pleadingly said to me, "Emily she has to be unhappy" and "I bet her soul is dark. I bet it's black like OIL." Thanks to every one for caring about my mental health and my tendency to self-deprecate even while thinking I am the Queen of the world. I am tempted to here list the reasons why I am, in fact, winner of the Best Emily S----- contest and, therefore, better. But I'll only give one for now. My mom works with autistic children. Your parent works to destroy the world in the most corrupt and deadly industry ever seen. So, have fun with your blood money.
OK, that was harsh.
Moving on, I am going to get after-school special on your ass. It seems to me that the the real reason so many people responded to the original letter is because every one has their own "alternate self." They don't necessarily have the same name, but it is someone they feel they are in direct competition with. These alternate selves can be like ourselves in so many ways, but they have an unearned leg up on us. Then we get in self-pity about it and grumble things under our breath like: "silver spoon," "kiss ass," and "lucky."
I say, embrace your alternate self. They will challenge you to do better. Or they will force you into debilitating self-pity where your only motivation to get out of bed is to get to your computer, where you write a blog.
In the days following the initial shock of You, there were some developments I thought You should be made aware of. First, I wrote a blog entry about you. Second, there was an overwhelming reaction amongst my friends and family regarding the contents of said blog. Apparently harsh self-laceration strikes a chord with people.
Silly me, I thought You and I were over. But no, this is not dead. Not yet.
It is for the concerned friends and family that I write this. This is for the ones who pleadingly said to me, "Emily she has to be unhappy" and "I bet her soul is dark. I bet it's black like OIL." Thanks to every one for caring about my mental health and my tendency to self-deprecate even while thinking I am the Queen of the world. I am tempted to here list the reasons why I am, in fact, winner of the Best Emily S----- contest and, therefore, better. But I'll only give one for now. My mom works with autistic children. Your parent works to destroy the world in the most corrupt and deadly industry ever seen. So, have fun with your blood money.
OK, that was harsh.
Moving on, I am going to get after-school special on your ass. It seems to me that the the real reason so many people responded to the original letter is because every one has their own "alternate self." They don't necessarily have the same name, but it is someone they feel they are in direct competition with. These alternate selves can be like ourselves in so many ways, but they have an unearned leg up on us. Then we get in self-pity about it and grumble things under our breath like: "silver spoon," "kiss ass," and "lucky."
I say, embrace your alternate self. They will challenge you to do better. Or they will force you into debilitating self-pity where your only motivation to get out of bed is to get to your computer, where you write a blog.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Fiction Soon to Come
Am I allowed to do this on a blog? I just don't know, but I'm gonna. I have an ever-growing circle of writers coming into my life as of late and this must be represented. I will post my first short story in a couple of weeks. Hopefully my wordsmith friends will contribute eventually, as well.
(I made up the word Hyperbolize and believe it should officially be a word so I am starting the Revolution. Viva la Revolution!)
(I made up the word Hyperbolize and believe it should officially be a word so I am starting the Revolution. Viva la Revolution!)
Monday, October 27, 2008
NORTH PHILLY CRACKHEAD SQUIRREL
Police Report: Theft on the 2000 block of N. 13th St. September 21, 2008
Lunch cart owner claims theft of one six-pack of Lance brand orange cracker/peanut butter sandwiches. Detectives scour the area for cellophane wrappers, but find nothing. There was one witness to the theft. Witness able to describe suspect in statement.
Witness: Yea, I was just standing in line waiting to order my usual bacon egg and cheese when I see somethin out the corner of my eye. It startled me 'cause they move so quick, ya know? So he scurrying about and I'm watching 'cause I'm waitin,' ya know, and all the sudden he makes for the shelves in front of the lunch truck. He hops in the little basket of peanut butter crackers and gets one of the packs in his little mouth and runs as fast as his legs can go. I'm giggling at this 'cause I'm like, shoot look at that little guy. I'm laughin tellin the guy that this squirrel stole his crackers and he tells me he does it all the time. I couldn't believe it, I was just...yeah, I got a good look at him. He was about a foot long, I guess. He was gray with like a brownish stripe down his back. Real furry. Definitely a thin build. Black, beady eyes. They looked crazy like all glazed over...Naw, he wasn't wearing no shirt. No pants either 'cause he's a squirrel...Nope, nope, no identifying marks. But he did look real nervous, like, he sorta jerk around real fast, like this...
Other notes: Reports in the area have suggested that the suspect has been terrorizing those with Wendy's french fries. It is highly abnormal for a squirrel to be so brazen with fry snatching. Some victims have reported holding the french fry in their hand and a squirrel, matching a similar description to the suspect in this case, has grabbed it away from them. The abnormal behavior surrounding the possibly related crimes may suggest the influence of intoxicants as further evidenced by the witnesses report of a 'glazed look in the eye.'
September 30, 2008 UpdateI: Suspect brought into custody after an altercation is reported on the 2100 block of N. 13th St. The altercation was between the suspect, now identified as James "T-Nuts" Simpson, and Michael James Layden. The fight was caused when Layden attempted to steal away the orange crackers Simpson tossed aside after carefully opening each cracker sandwich and licking the peanut butter inside. After questioning the lunch cart owner, it was reported that peanut butter crackers were stolen earlier that day. Simpson and Layden were treated for minor fight wounds and taken into custody.
October 27, 2008 UpdateII: James "T-Nuts" Simpson was sentenced to 24 years with possible probation after 15 years in SCI Graterford Federal Penitentery for 67 counts of Grand Larceny and 2 counts of Assault.
Lunch cart owner claims theft of one six-pack of Lance brand orange cracker/peanut butter sandwiches. Detectives scour the area for cellophane wrappers, but find nothing. There was one witness to the theft. Witness able to describe suspect in statement.
Witness: Yea, I was just standing in line waiting to order my usual bacon egg and cheese when I see somethin out the corner of my eye. It startled me 'cause they move so quick, ya know? So he scurrying about and I'm watching 'cause I'm waitin,' ya know, and all the sudden he makes for the shelves in front of the lunch truck. He hops in the little basket of peanut butter crackers and gets one of the packs in his little mouth and runs as fast as his legs can go. I'm giggling at this 'cause I'm like, shoot look at that little guy. I'm laughin tellin the guy that this squirrel stole his crackers and he tells me he does it all the time. I couldn't believe it, I was just...yeah, I got a good look at him. He was about a foot long, I guess. He was gray with like a brownish stripe down his back. Real furry. Definitely a thin build. Black, beady eyes. They looked crazy like all glazed over...Naw, he wasn't wearing no shirt. No pants either 'cause he's a squirrel...Nope, nope, no identifying marks. But he did look real nervous, like, he sorta jerk around real fast, like this...
Other notes: Reports in the area have suggested that the suspect has been terrorizing those with Wendy's french fries. It is highly abnormal for a squirrel to be so brazen with fry snatching. Some victims have reported holding the french fry in their hand and a squirrel, matching a similar description to the suspect in this case, has grabbed it away from them. The abnormal behavior surrounding the possibly related crimes may suggest the influence of intoxicants as further evidenced by the witnesses report of a 'glazed look in the eye.'
September 30, 2008 UpdateI: Suspect brought into custody after an altercation is reported on the 2100 block of N. 13th St. The altercation was between the suspect, now identified as James "T-Nuts" Simpson, and Michael James Layden. The fight was caused when Layden attempted to steal away the orange crackers Simpson tossed aside after carefully opening each cracker sandwich and licking the peanut butter inside. After questioning the lunch cart owner, it was reported that peanut butter crackers were stolen earlier that day. Simpson and Layden were treated for minor fight wounds and taken into custody.
October 27, 2008 UpdateII: James "T-Nuts" Simpson was sentenced to 24 years with possible probation after 15 years in SCI Graterford Federal Penitentery for 67 counts of Grand Larceny and 2 counts of Assault.
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