September 21, 2008
The Assassin of the Headless Sprinting Chicken
By Jud Wilhite My friend, we”ll call him Matt, sits today in the coffee shop looking like he”s slept on the street for a few days. Maybe he has. No one around us has a clue that six months ago, Matt appeared to be a very with-it leader. Six months ago, he was a recognized for his accomplishments with magazine and cable news interviews. That was then; this is now. Today, he has bags under his brown eyes. His hair is ruffled by more than the wind from a weekend cruise. His clothes look like they”re circa 1990 Seattle warehouse
