i'm still wondering about the whack-job born again psycho phd. s. asked what he looks like so she can avoid him. i'm not good at describing people objectively but i said he's skinny and kind of bent like a scythe, has a whitish beard, and glasses from the eighties. i wonder if i can look up his license plate number. i also wonder if he saw us first and if he pulled over to harrow us. i can't imagine why he would park and walk across the midway with an auto club and lug wrench. where was he going? he strode forth like he was on a mission, yet he didn't come toward us, our paths just cryptically kind of converged. anyway he may be on a mission, but he'll probably fuck off now, like the other righteous bugbears of false religion who fancy their asses as saved.

he seemed to think dogs were evil, like the sign of the beast, he said he was saved and would kill the beast. imagine: lulu. i'm sure he was afraid, but rather than keep his own counsel he was preemptively attacking. it's difficult for me to fade away from sanctimonious assholes anyway, but as it happens i'm usually with dogs (or on the bike, which also provokes their wrath) and lulu was obliviously friendly, like mister is when i'm in dangerous confrontation. my dogs are either oblivious of menace or of the simple faith that everything, even human tangles, can be resolved in a peaceful way. 
s. said he might be from indiana. might be a pence-accost-al freak-of-god. yeah, i somehow don't expect to see him around here again. the worry was lulu would get too close and he'd start swinging at her. my instinct was to distract him from her by being as batshit crazy as he was, and louder still. i cursed his saved ass to hell. 
isn't it an odd phrase, batshit crazy? i spose that comes from the nitrogen narcosis you get from caves where there's little air and lots of bat guano.