The Sir Woody Chronicles

Salutations, seekers of sophistication and acumen. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Woodrow Emerson Prescott III, or “Sir Woody” to my colleagues.  A fortnight hence, during a serendipitous ejection from Pugsley’s Public House, I chanced upon the editors of the “Daily Discord” who solicited me to compose an authoritative column for their publication. My area of expertise, I ascertained, is how to maintain a sophisticated lifestyle in shelterless urban environs. It is my sincere belief that my libertarian associates benefit from my example of gentlemanly comportment, and I am imbued with optimism that I can bestow similar wisdom upon the general literary public and those Metropolitan Roving Survival Aficionados (or MRSA-neries as I call them).

The first school of thought in corporate real estate is, “location, location, location”. Location is ephemeral to the ever transient. Those not auspicious enough to habitate in more southerly climates must endure the adversities of frigid air, preferably with a box from Frigidaire. Such cardboard casas are one of many copious techniques to sustain optimum bodily temperatures when the Fahrenheit plummets below the freezing point.

The quaint and archetypal image of ladies and gentlemen congregating in the vicinity of a roaring barrel fire has long elapsed. The quest for warmth has become an individual endeavor. Layering is the optimum solution, and in this era of green technology and recycling, discarded newspapers act as superlative insulation and engender a feeling of environmental activism and responsibility. Recent advances in ink and chemically laden paper have reduced the most disagreeable “smearage factor.” No longer does one appear like a Dickensian chimney sweep, a West Virginia coalminer, or some outdated minstrelesque faux pa.

The accessibility of the business section and book reviews is a peripheral benefit that should not be neglected!

Those who are industrious and possess the adroit skills of a Boy Scout can assemble a heat-capturing pavilion utilizing a large swathe of plastic siding and string.  Alas, boy scouts themselves will warm one’s château in a pinch, although a plucky girl scout is my preference for both their perky pookas as well as their palatable pralines.

Simply envelop a sidewalk storm grate that exhumes steam from below. You may recollect the famous photograph of Marilyn Monroe coyly attempting to maintain her feminine dignity while a lusty gust of air failed to expose her delicates. Later that evening, once Marilyn, her entourage and the paparazzi departed, six people shared that very grate. It was a magical night for the ages.

Exercise is a crucial component to maintaining peak physical conditioning. Bipedal transportation, admittedly, is the sole source of mobility for my demographic group. I proudly proclaim that I promenade a minimum of twenty miles a day. Many of my more fitness passionate compatriots accomplish this feat via a circumambulatory route where I choose a more linear trajectory frequenting the parks, shopping malls and public museums. I find it extremely inspiring when our uniformed law enforcement officers loudly exclaim their encouragement for me to “keep moving.” My daily constitutionals would be impossible without their vigilant support.

To live in a country of such abundance is a blessing. A gourmet diet is easily achievable in our land of milk and honey (although, be wary of the discarded milk). Each night, Italian pizzerias receive numerous unscrupulous and erroneous telephone orders. The undeliverable pizza pies are discarded at the conclusion of each work night. And many of my colleagues confess that stacked pizza boxes make for excellent head pillows. One twenty-five cent piece can muster a culinary feast celebrating the melting pot that is America.

A brief sojourn in my daily routine is a hearty brunch at the local soup kitchen. I delight at the intellectual discourse that permeates the atmosphere reminding me of an ivy-league university student union. Discussions range from criminal justice and pharmacology to the latest in mental illness and religious experience, transfixing patrons to a higher plane of philosophy and thinking.

Now don’t imagine for a moment that just because the traditional 3-bedroom domicile is absent, one’s primordial desires go unfulfilled. The instinctive inclinations of men and women are easily satiated by those willing and ambitious enough to employ themselves in the carnal arts. Dalliances under a refrigerator box or in a Salvation Army clothing dumpster are the proverbial love nests. My favorite lass, Gummy Rose, a retired yet self-employed artisan of the flesh is a callipygian beauty for all those with a spare fiver to splurge. The free clinic gratefully administers inoculation services to mitigate any shared pathogens or crustaceous cohabiters of dubious origin.

Those who traverse the boulevards and alleyways of a large metropolis often excrete a tremendous amount of perspiration, making proper hygiene a challenge. There exists a variety of agreeable deodorants that obfuscate any felonious odors. Discarded automobile air fresheners when festooned from the neck exude a satisfying pine tree fragrance and accentuate one’s modish prettification. To enhance the bodies’ natural bouquet, various alcohol-based concoctions when imbibed in sufficient quantities permeate a sweet and sour dermis medley that pre-announces your entrance to any room.

Being devoid of material possessions has allowed me to follow more cerebral, sophisticated pursuits. Much like the Buddha, all I own is contained in a solitary shopping cart. May I add, K-mart pushcarts are the Rolls Royces of transportable towage with the smoothest and most vertical alignment? The fries from a thousand diners grease my wheels of pragmatic progress.  I have zero credit card bills, car or mortgage payments, there’s no compulsion to “keep up with the Jones’s” and no concerns or stress regarding employment promotions. Fornicate the Jones’s.

I feel a closer affinity to our ancestors who lived a more simple life before the age of electricity and luxury. I sincerely believe this exposé on how to live truly free and in comfort will inspire those considering such an alternative lifestyle. My needs are simpler yet my tastes remain refined. I still take my tea at three and it’s a marvel of science that you can get over 200 cups with one single bag. It is trifle weak after about 150 but supplemented with brandy, wine, whiskey, rum, scotch or vodka there is no end to the pedestrian epicurean delights. Don’t even get me started on the hidden treats amidst those fast food dumpsters and the shear magnitude of their discarded buns, or urban crumpets as I call them.

I trust this editorial will help the urban newbies transition smoothly into the adventures of vagabondia, so until next time.

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