And just which tragic murderer are you supposed to be?

This, from K:

As I left the apartment this morning, I ran smack into the middle of three young carbunculars dressed head to toe in camouflaged army fatigues. They were all short, chubby, and greasy. One of them struggled clumsily with a duffel bag. First I thought, "What could he have in that the duffel bag?" Then I thought, "Uh oh, Columbine in Greenpoint!" But I put it out of my mind and continued on. Next, I get to the Graham Avenue train station and see a tall, thin Polish kid in blackface and a ridiculously outsized black afro wig, wearing an equally ridiculously oversized tee-shirt and baggy jeans.... Perhaps I should have thrown him onto the third rail then and there to spare someone else the trouble of doing it later.... Next, I get off the train and exit the station at Union Square Park where I'm greeted by a man dressed like an Arab replete with flowing robes and headcloth handing out free AM New York newspapers, "Get your free papahs!" Of course it doesn't hit me until I get to work and bump into R, inevitably dressed up as Pippi Longstocking, that it's fucking Halloween! "Uh, nice costume, R." "Thank you, K. Are you going to change into yours later?"

I used to defend NYers, but today they stab me in the back by dressing up as tragic murderers and racial stereotypes! Please do not tell me that you dressed up as a bean counter after I left. I do not want to know.