COLESLAW!!!!!!!!!!!!

It seems like no matter where I go or what I do there’s always one person telling me that I’m crazy. This person's name is Harold Blurkenstein and he lives in my brain. He also tells me to burn things and buy flip flops in bulk. Worry not though, dear readers, for I can assure you that I’m not crazy-- just very eccentric and maybe a little schizophrenic. It's true, he is. Shut up. No, you shut up.

When I was a little kid I had an imaginary friend. We were more than friends, we were best friends, and we did everything together. Whether it be cleaning my room or ridiculing my wardrobe, he was always there to lend a hand or scream racial obscenities at his imaginary children. We had cool nicknames for each other too, I called him ‘Zorlax’ and he called me ‘Faggot.’ I still remember laying tied up on the basement floor every few days playing a game we affectionately referred to as ‘Rape.’ I lost every time.

Sure, years later it would turn out that Zorlax wasn’t an imaginary friend at all and I was, in fact, kidnapped, but that doesn’t change the fondness I have of our memories or the years of psychological abuse that I’ve been forced to deal with through intensive psychiatric care. In fact, I still keep in touch with Zorlax. I visited him recently and was relieved to learn that he still plays ‘rape’ with his new friends in prison, but he says he doesn’t win nearly as often.

The point I’m trying to make is that being ‘crazy’ is subjective and perhaps it doesn’t deserve the bad rep it gets. Granted, most of the voices in people’s heads aren’t very supportive. You never turn on the news and hear about a lonely man who shows up for work on his birthday and hears the voice in his head demand, “Cut them Paul. Cut them all… a piece of your birthday cake!!!” But maybe that’s just sensationalism. We’re led to believe that everyone who kills because a non existant being demands it is a nutjob, but that's simply not the case; many are just religious. The news never reports on the homicides resulting from a voice constantly complimenting someone’s shoes, because the friendly voices aren’t news worthy.

Just because somebody thinks and acts differently from the majority doesn’t mean they’re crazy. When you see a homeless man collecting empty water bottles to finish building his rocketship, you call him crazy and you judge him. Sure, he’ll probably never make it to the moon but that guy is probably much happier than you and I. That man has a purpose and he’s content to finish his rocket, get enough peanut butter to fuel it, and launch himself into the unknown. So you call him crazy if you have to, but where’s your water bottle rocket ship?

People are so quick to label the homeless as ‘crazy’. I don’t consider most of the supposed weirdos on the street crazy, I consider them brave. I would love to run around screaming all day, humping fire hydrants, and begging strangers for money, but I simply don’t have the guts. If you take off your pants, talk to yourself, and eat some shit off the floor in the privacy of your own home it’s totally normal, but if your home is the sidewalk than you're totally whacko. When you see a homeless guy beating one off in the bus terminal, he’s not crazy, he’s horny. Horny and brave.

Insanity has such a negative connotation and insane people by association. Just because somebody’s crazy doesn’t mean he’s unpleasant. I used to know somebody with multiple personality disorder and he was the nicest group of people I’ve ever met.

What I’m getting at is that we shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Just because somebody speaks in languages that don’t exist or responds to everything you say by screaming “COLESLAW!!!!!” doesn’t mean he or she is nuts. If that person isn’t hurting anyone and he/she is happy, than who the hell are we to classify them as crazy? Maybe if we were all as confident to act as freely as these ‘weirdoes’ the world would be a better place. Instead of ridiculing those that live by their own rules maybe we should step back from the stresses of everyday life and conformity and try to find our own plastic bottle rocket ship.

Shut up. No, you shut up. Go buy flip flops. Okay.

Special Guest Entry by Helen Keller

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Edit: Get it? Because she's blind. Haha! GET IT!?!?!?!?