hi! i live down the street from a crazy old man. i run into him about twice a month, and he generally engages me in some sort of non-threatening conversation beginning with how he feels that people are generally unable to accurately guess his age (I'M 80 YE-AHHHHS OLE, SWEEET-HAAAAAAAAAAAT. 80 YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHS! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA -cough- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA), briefly touching on his, uh, completely schizo-sounding musings on the numerological/astrophysical relevance of a variety of building numbers (YOU SEE HOW THE PAINT STOWAH IS 372? WELL THE WOMAN I MARRIED WAS A 7-3-2, SO YOU'D BETTA PLAY THOSE ON THE LOTTERY NOW, DEAR), and ending with some remark about how i remind him of a schoolgirl or a type of precious woodland creature, at which point he walks away abruptly. NOT A PROBLEM. totally cool with that guy. meanwhile, but a few blocks away, the crazy old PERV lives. this is the gentleman (and any woman who has ever walked down graham avenue can attest to this) who will shout an innocuous sounding but somehow totally pervily-delivered compliment, such as "you look GREAT!!!!!" (you know, in a way that could MAYBE pass for appropriate if stated by, i don't know, someone who isn't a creepy 3,000 year old complete stranger?) or sometimes he, um, throws candy out his window. AT PASSING WOMEN. i try to avoid the perv, because when he speaks, my ovaries turn to dust. he's pretty much a walking, shouting chastity belt. i think catholic schools could use him to scare children away from ever having... puberty. like, "boys and girls, please welcome this pervert to our class. you'll notice that when he lobs the candy at your head and whistles, your pituitary gland will begin to slowly dissolve. remember the sound of his voice whenever you're thinking about how handsome and virile justin timberlake is, or how jessica alba makes you feel funny 'down there'." but! i digress. i walked off the L train friday afternoon to discover the crazy old man equivalent of the thrilla in manila: lovable crazy old man vs. crazy old pervert. all i can report is that crazy old italian dudes, pervy or not, pretty much don't speak english when they "throw down," and... i guess what i gathered about the fight itself was that there was something wrong with something... involving... the sidewalk? and that non-raunchy crazy old man likes to wave his hat around for dramatic effect. also, i think i was able to ascertain from about 50 paces that being in the middle of an angry, crazy old man-sandwich is not to be advised, so i didn't stick around for the conclusion. please enjoy my artist's rendering of the event.