That's Not Your Real Name Is It?

Aloysius Hoffenhorse. It was then that I knew this guy was feeding me bull shit.

My J800 teacher is pregnant, and went into labor this morning so rather than cancel class, she sent us out at 9am to go on a journalism scavenger hunt. While interviewing people on the street to see what they thought of the election last night (as was required for the assignment,) I met the afore mentioned Mr. Hoffenhorse.

He looked perfectly inconspicuous, nicely dressed in jeans and a button down shirt with a sweater over it. He was smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee, sitting on a cement planter up near the capital. I approached and asked if he would mind answering a few questions about the election. I explained that I was a journalism graduate student, and I would appreciate it if he could provide a few comments to help me with my assignment.

He agreed to talk to me, but as soon as I asked him his name I knew he was just going to feed me a bunch of crap. Before I gave up he also told me that he learned who won the election based solely on his instincts (no media necessary) and that if I needed to reach him I could feel free to email him at blackerthanblackhaseverbeen@yahoo.com.

Why must people fuck with me? I just wanted to know what newspapers or TV stations he followed. He could have said he didn't want to be interviewed, instead he wasted my time for his own entertainment. It  was pretty funny, but at the same time I was really frustrated with the assignment.

I don't think I learned ANYTHING from doing it. I already knew that the world is full of characters, that often make your job more difficult. I didn't need to freeze my ass off scrambling around for three hours to learn that.