BSS loves you

Salutations BSS subscribers!
We regret that we took a two week hiatus to spend some quality time dumpster diving in these choice weeks that mark the end of the university semester and the beginning of summer. We found some new broken furniture but it was a betrayal because it took time away from you, our beloved readers. So we regret that we let some new paintings come between us. We're shameless whores, but we've come back to our first love - the reporting on Berkeley wingnut incidents. We're on the frontlines of Berkeley freakdom for you. You owe us.

I must take the time to spin you a tragic tale of Berkeley called the ballad of the Cowboy and his dog. First the cowboy's dog was taken away in a false confrontation in which the animal was accused of biting someone. Then when the Cowboy, in a fit of self-sacrifice and realization gave up his dog for adoption at the local animal shelter, we were deeply saddened. Everyday the Cowboy had to put up with passers-by who recognized him asking after his lost puppy. Finally, he had had it with Berkeley. The loss of his dog and the constant harassment by Berkeley police with tickets for loitering, for smoking, for just being homeless in a world where homicidal maniacs own houses. In the Berkeley Street Society we have no end of members that suffer mental illness, the Cowboy was one of them but unlike the rest, he kept himself under control. He knew he was not all there and worked with it. He never begged. Never peed in a doorway. Never beat his dog. Never screamed at passerby. Never littered. And he was driven away for being homeless, leaving us with such sterling examples of BSS such as Omar Perro and Ring Man, both highly recognizable members that harass the public on a daily basis. So Berkeley, where is your heart? We would like to see the members who are dangerous to the community get help, but those who are not taking away, how are they a threat?

Breaking news:
Take the twine! We need the twine!

Sightings:
Omar Perro was very frisky in recent weeks. We had no end of sightings of him poking his head in doorways where he was unwanted, harassing fellow bums with his jocularity and the best incident was this week, when he decided to harass an elderly french man who spoke little to no english. Following him closely, Omar Perro loudly announced to the gentleman, "I'm Hitler! I'm Hitler!" The poor man was afraid and not sure if he was being insulted. Finally lookers on proceeded to rescue the man causing Omar to charge in a rage.

One of our bs correspondents happened to see this little gem of an interaction>
In a downtown Berkeley store we saw a morbidly obese woman harassing a clerk endlessly with questions about items and prices, all the while sounding as though she had a loaf of bread in her mouth. Her hygiene was rather dubious as well, when we noted the dried rice encrusted at the apex of her mammoth stomach. She was in the process of showing her love for her "boyfriend Orlando" by buying him tokens of her gargantuan love. We can't help wondering if "Orlando" helps her wash in all the hard to reach places.

Denture guy was up to his old tricks trying to enter downtown stores in search of dentures. It mattered not what the store actually sold, he was going to find something that he could use for dentures, be it wax lips or teeth covers!

Ring Man happily cavorted down streets, rolled around at his sleeping spot across from Starbucks on Oxford and particularly enjoyed yelling profanity into store entrances delighting employees everywhere downtown.

Of late there have been a number of articles in the local papers discussing that delightful society of bicyclists known as Critical Mass. They are merely any gathering of people that wish to commandeer the streets in protest of smog causing gas consuming vehicles. We've invited one of our bs correspondents to answer the question, why has Critical Mass been subjected to so much criticism recently? -
It seems to me that Critical Mass is in trouble. What is wrong with Critical Mass? I'll tell you what's wrong - assholes!
The majority of bicyclists that join Critical Mass bike rides, normally the last friday of the month in any city or town that chooses to start one, are peaceful folks having a green goody-twoshoes powertrip. It's the assholes that infiltrate a movement and turn out sour. These so called anarchists are apparently pissants who hate the idea of a peaceful demonstration in which everyone has a good time. When Critical Mass rides up University and makes a leisurely victory lap at the intersection of University and Shattuck no one really minds. Everyone is amused. It's when the bulk of the group has moved off down Shattuck and a couple of BMXers are still doing wheelies in the middle of the street and some other guys decide to sit on their ass on their bike in front some car, blocking traffic. Then a couple of assholes decide to push their luck and do a couple more victory laps. Honking obviously ensues. Tensions rise. Road rage occurs. I say to these assholes, fuck off!
We don't need your supposed earth-lovin vindictiveness. And I certainly don't want your holier-than-thou attitude blocking my pedestrian rights at a green light again.

The horror of when your workplace is turned into a sexually charged environment against your will! What is your recourse! Why aren't you allowed to use mace on the general public!? When will your bosses issue you a standard taser?! BSS is proud to bring you again -
EYE-WITNESS
What do you do when someone gets turned on by the thought of getting caught in public with a boner? Then what do you do when this person enters your place of work? And rests his rod on your counter? A man, or a man-child, entered the store wearing extremely saggy jeans that looked a trifle odd. That might have been because his zipper was open and a mysterious red jersey swathed object was standing at attention. Obviously he wanted all of us to salute it because he was extremely polite, taking trouble to start conversations with everyone in the store, bouncing a bit on his heels in hopes it would draw our eye. He was very polite but obviously very excited. Finally, impatient that no one had yet shrieked and yelled, "oh my god his penis is hanging out of his pants!" he walked up to the counter and said, oh so suggestively, "Oh no, I forgot my belt today and my pants are just coming off!"
We have the pepper spray waiting, bucko.
Just try it again.

Introductions:

You may have seen him around town - the Mole Man. He's one of those genuine Berkeley characters, a man of short stature dressed in a uniform of his own devising. We have never seen him without his giant furry boots, skin tight black leggings, huge black leather jacket, belt with lightsaber and other accessories, crash helmet and aviator goggles. He doesn't bathe either so he's very noticable in close quarters. So far no one we know has had a bad incident with him, but he draws the eye to be sure.

It is not a man, it is a beast, a putridfaction in human form, a creature we can only call the Stench. Imagine uncleaned latrines, dead animals and the scent of old urine in Berkeley doorways and you come somewhere near the smell of this man. At least we think it was a man. He wore so many layers of clothing that he appeared mummified. Any attempted interaction with him resulted in him tweedling a miniture recorder on a string around his neck. The smell rolling off him was so incredible we could hardly understand how didn't pass out from the stench of his own body. People were fleeing from him in all directions. His stench is embedded in our mind for all time. Beware him. Shun him. Avoid him. For he is, the Stench!!