The optimist in me always thinks of how liberating that kind of freedom would be: to completely abandon all societal expectations of public behavior and just walk the streets randomly, yelling at inanimate objects.
But then again, I'm sane (I think), so I see his behavior as enviable, an escape.
So I'm sobered by the realization that a constant state of utter confusion probably clouds this guy's head. I wonder what his childhood was like, and if he was happy and normal until some terrible event eradicated his ability to cope. I wonder if he feels liberated or imprisoned, as a result of it.
Whoa, that thought turned deep. The usual tongue-in-cheek witticisms and bad puns will return shortly!