Nulla dies sine linea. Four sentences every day. About whatever happened that day. Most of it's even true. Written by Scott Lee Williams
Sunday, December 9, 2018
The drunk idiots dressed in Santa Claus costumes running around midtown seem to have mostly worn themselves out, and as the sun sets, they and their scantily dressed, drunk girlfriends are making their way back to Jersey or Staten Island or wherever else they’re from.
A car passes me, and a Santa hat wearing fool leans out to give me an inebriated “Woo!”
“Woo,” I reply, completely deadpan. His look of utter disappointment gave me a warm glow to fight off the winter chill.