My back hurts, and somehow this inspires me to write. My writing has suffered as of late, according to my friend Bryan, but although I do like to be funny, I don’t always feel it, and it’s my damn diary, which gives me the right to put whatever drivel I feel worthy in its hold. Not lashing out at you, Bryan. I think it’s the Migraine-Strength Excedrin talking. It doesn’t really help the back pain like I thought it would.

The weather sucks today because of the tropical storms hanging out in the pacific. I hope it clears up by Friday, because I am flying with my boss down to Disney World for the weekend. I get to ride the teacups with his kids (same ones who tried to drown me in St. Croix), and most importantly, I get to help fly the 340. I’ll be sure and do lots of stupid stuff when I get there so I’ll have a genuinely funny entry to put down when I get back. Keep your eyes peeled.

That’s not what this entry is about, though. This entry is about how little I like people who ask me for money on the street. I do lean pretty far to the right on this issue, so if you are a true bleeding heart, you might not want to read my opinion on this, which lies somewhere between “use them for medical testing” and “line them up and shoot them”. I know I am a calloused assnugget. Accepted as fact. I won’t argue.

I am, believe it or not, in favor of shelters, soup kitchens, and other feelgood band-aids we have in place and pay for with money we work for. I just think there should be some requirements to getting in. Like having to be actively searching for a job, and if you are not of the capacity to do so, actively seeking/getting medication/help. Where did I say, “welfare should be as difficult to get as the death penalty”? I volunteered at a soup kitchen when I lived in Utah at Christmas for two years and don’t deserve any kudos for it. I wanted to do something nice and it made me feel good. Plus, some of those folks were interesting to talk to. They all told me stories about how they got where they were. Most included being robbed, losing their social security card, trying to find a job but unable without a social security card, needing the $50 to get a new one and thus turn their life around. They all had glittery pasts as rocket surgeons or whatever, and I soon realized that the vast majority of them were just really shitty con-artists. If $50 was all that was standing between me and a real life with shelter and food, I’d have that $50 before lunch. Now I take a different approach to panhandlers when I have the time. Instead of giving them money to get whatever they need, I just give them what they say they need. When a dude outside the local Wendy’s hits me up for a dollar so he can buy a coke, I just offer to go inside and get him a coke. This is usually met with some degree of hostility, and one guy even went so far as to insult my clothes. I didn’t bother to mention to him that although my clothes may not be designer wear, they do not double as my toilet. No need, as I have several other sets of clothes AND a toilet. Being insulted by a bum is something everyone should experience. He didn’t get his coke.

Tuesday, I had another interesting experience with one of Atlanta’s finest at the local McDonalds. I was at the drive through ordering my breakfast burrito®, and this guy walks up and says, “hey, bro, I don’t mean you no harm, I just need some gas to get my family home” (like he would tell me if he did mean me harm). Always the charitable one, I thought, “If this guy needs gas, I’ll buy him some gas.” He had a gas can in his hand, and a woman was waiting in an old car, but I still didn’t think he really needed gas. I got my burrito, and parked next to his car to see if I could help. He said “Man, I got four dollars, but I need to fill this car up enough to get to Greenville”. For those of you not familiar with the area, that’s about $12 in the car he had. I told him to give me the gas can and I would drive to a gas station and fill it, bring it back, follow him to the gas station, and pay to fill his car. He could keep his four dollars. Sound like a good idea? Yes, maybe to you and I, but therein lies the reason you and I have homes. Apparently his gas can was salvaged from a spaceship or made of some precious alloy, because he thought I was going to take off with it. He wanted to come with me. The idea of this dude getting in my car was not in the realm of possibility, and I told him. He asked why, and I said “Because I’m not as dumb as I look, and neither are you. I don’t need your gas can, and if you need gas, I am offering my help. I am not trying to help my fellow man and be late for work so I can score a rusty gas can.” It offended him to have his clever plan thwarted, and he tried to make his position sound reasonable with such astounding logic as “this is my only gas can.” and “you don’t understand, I need gas for my car.” My final offer was this- “I’ll go to K-mart, buy you a gas can, bring it to you as a backup in case I run off with this one, and proceed with the original plan. You stand to lose absolutely nothing.” I had no intention of doing this, of course, because I knew he was full of shit. I just wanted to mess with him for wasting my time. He got kind of mad and had some reason that wouldn’t work either, so I said “It sounds like you don’t want any help, then.” He asked for a dollar or two again, and that is the closest I have ever come to punching a homeless guy. It would have gone on the books as a hate crime, undoubtedly, and it would have been pretty close to the truth. It is easier to just give these people a dollar and be on your way, but actually try to FIX the problem, and you’re a jerk. Give it a try sometime. Pretty soon you’ll have the same distaste for them as I do. On second thought, just ignore them so you don’t get like me.

I actually entertained the thought of putting a disclaimer paragraph here, stating that I’m really not a hateful person, etc., but then I figured that if you think I am a heartless jerk for trying to help this guy, then you are probably as closed minded as you are about to accuse me of being.

Trackback URI |