In a world of meaningless labels I realised that the mad ones are the ones for me. These vagabonds can turn the sanest of white collar workers into a walking LSD pill of self-destruction. Ironically these human mutants can sometimes be the cure to an unbearable writers block, since you are finally far from the maddening crowd of diabolical dement unable to get their next fix of whatever job they have decided to let mercilessly kill them. I know that much about these aromatic mad men. And the maddening crowd will never be bought for gold or sold to the devil. But they will sell themselves to vice and that is were the sane await with their pens and small print eagerly waiting for the next outlaw mad man to slip up on the peel of sanity and be back to square one, no quitened maniacal followers that are just as unbearable as the next, just emptiness and medicineless Now I leave you with this if the aroma of a mad man gets to you, pick me up a postcard from Vermont afterwards.