July 2001

DC Bums Are Getting Creepy
Step Off, Bitch!

I have a stalker. In fact, I have more than one. I have about 6, and they are as insidious as the plague.

This merry band of men, for I think I can disclose that they are men (and don't think goddamn Robin Hood), always seem to be where I am, or where I want to be. They disrupt my Saturdays, they haunt my sundaes, they are even on the corners in downtown DC where I work. They are always up in my grill piece.

Plus, to top it all off, and I mean from bad to worse, they play music. Bad, bad music.

These fellows are a group of street musicians who bring the melodious and dulcet tones of Peruvian flute music to the basest of levels. Forget indigenous sounds of the jungle shit- these bastards butcher everyone. Imagine John Lennon's "Imagine" rendered un-listenable due to high levels of pan-flute. Oh, I mean bad pan flute. This ain't no infomercial pan-flutin'.

And let it also be known, that I support street musicians or "buskers." (and where that name comes from, I have no idea.) The street musician is more likely going to get the spare change in my pocket, as at least they provide me a service for my hard-earned dollars. All I am asking for is a little service, damnit.

You tell me who wins: You have 67 cents in your pocket. There is a smelly bum on the corner who yells at you belligerently about the pope raping him as a child, and then asks you for some absurd amount of money. Across the sidewalk from this interesting character is a guy blaring on a saxa-ma-phone some shit rendition of the Coltrane standard "My favorite things." Clearly the sax-bum wins the .67 cents (plus lint) that is in MY pocket!)

Anyway. These Peruvian fucks are constantly at the Dupont Circle farmers market where I work at a farm stand on Sundays. The insult passers by with poorly performed covers of classic songs. An obvious insult to all rock-n-roll loving Americans. I swear to god, one day I heard "Hotel California" and I hate that fucking song, but hearing them play it made me more angry then I have been in a good long while.

And they keep showing up. Recently, I saw a duo on the corner of 18th and Eye streets.

I swear on my mother's grave, if I hear them playing a Chuck Berry song, I will kill them all.