I once shared an elevator with Cloris Leachman and her two yippy not-dogs. I said hi and asked her what kind of dogs they were. She pretended like she didn't hear me and left the elevator without acknowledging my existence.
I've always chalked her stony silence up to the fact that I'm too real and she wasn't emotionally able to deal with it.
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I see a hobo. And when I see the hobo, I think to myself, "This man is poor. His monetary value is low, and my monetary value is high, and it's a shame that he is himself. What can I do?"
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