Didi the Treeman

Okay, I know.
I know this is tough to look at. The poor guy has really suffered and you'd hope it'd be beneath me to present this small record of this man's awful plight as some sort of sleazy entertainment or freak show curiosity and then comment glibly like some kind of disaffected, bug-torturing schoolboy, but the fact is this guy haunts my dreams. It's very scary. I stumbled across this footage on Youtube totally by accident and ever since then, man, I'm not sleeping like I used to.



But it's not always - you know what?
The dreams with him aren't always completely scary. Sometimes he talks to me and tells jokes from the front porch of his tiny hut which is located at the center of a great labyrinth with walls made of straw and dung.

Sometimes he sings for a punk band.
They're pretty good, too.

Then the dream inevitably becomes scary again as an enraged Marie Osmond starts attacking me from outta nowhere with a big, plastic dollhouse. She's dressed like a realtor for Century 21 and she throws the dollhouse at me and instantly another one appears in her hands and she chucks that one at me too, and on and on.

Later on it's revealed that she's upset because she's the owner of a chain of gift shops in the area and she considers Didi the Treeman a threat to local tourist revenues.

That's sort of understandable.