The guy on the bike ahead of me had socks that said "REBEL" in an Olde English font. I had assumed he was a loyalist, until the fuzzy knitting on his ankles set me straight.
They looked warm.
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I can't use Twitter.
140 characters just isn't enough for any coherent thought. I find that to say anything worth reading, I need 200-300. I need a setup, the story itself, and the punchline. If you leave out the intro and the punchline it's just a damned laundry list. Look, 315 characters in this paragraph and I barely said anything!
No, I don't want to edit it to make it shorter. I also don't want to rephrase it into iambic pentameter.
The aghast prose in this article is really something: Punks invade Williamsburg as heroin-addicted hobos set up shop in trendy Brooklyn neighborhood.
The newcomers, who call themselves "gutter punks," [...] "The girls here like it that I'm dirty and I ride trains," he added. [...] "This is not Haight-Ashbury," said Community Board 1 member Evan Thies. "This is a family neighborhood."
Also: Before shaving off both eyebrows, we suggest doing just one to see if it suits you.