From the book of “I thought I finished this one. Hmm…maybe not. When did I write this, anyway?”
January 14th, 2008 by Dusty
I wrote this a few weeks back and I’m not sure why I didn’t post it. Maybe it sucks. I guess we’ll find out.
So I’m walking down the street the other day and a bum says “What can I do to make your day better, sir?”
“Absolutely nothing; my life is on rails right now, but thanks for asking.”
“You sure you don’t have anything for me?”
“Not a thing, man. Sorry.” (I wanted to do that thing where I reach in my pocket and cleverly pull out my middle finger - “Oh, I guess I do have a little something. Here ya’ go.”, but then I’d have to run away and I didn’t feel like running)
“Come on, brother. I don’t even have a job. Can’t you help me out?”
“Oddly…” (and this was quite liberating to say) “I don’t have a job either. In fact, if you have a couple bucks I can borrow, that’d be stupendous. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get on my feet.”
Now Colonel Rottentaint was confused and just a tad angry. I’m talking to a person who decided to become a government funded philosopher and bother people for table scraps, and how dare I encroach on his dignity in such a manner. Really? I’m not the one who approached you to ask for something I don’t deserve, dickbag - that was you. I don’t know what your public school guidance counselor taught you, but “Refuse Reexamination Engineer” is not a paying job, no matter how good you are at it. So save the indignation for someone who thinks you are worth a shit.
On the rare occasions that I engage a homeless person, I honestly do not have a problem giving them food, clothing, or whatever basic human need they have (within reason – no reacharounds. I’ve been burned one too many times with that one…and the burn doesn’t go away). Although giving anything to anyone without them working for it is the reason that that the homeless population is growing, denying a hungry person food is something even I can’t do. I’m working on it, though.
Another thing I tend to do (that will probably end with my lifeless corpse being found in a gutter) is offer helpful tips when they tell me their problems, which they do without fail or request. Back to our bridge camper and his plight…
We were near the local shelter where they go to get free stuff and get out of the rain. That happens to be about a block from where I live, making it somewhat unpleasant to walk around in my own neighborhood. And yes, it is my neighborhood, not theirs. I help pay for it.
“Man, sheeeeeit. What’s with you? Listen, I tried to get into Peach and Pine (the name of the shelter, I guess) but I didn’t get here in time. Now I have to be outside and it’s cold.”
“You were late?”
“Yeah, they open at 6 and it fills up, and I couldn’t got muh (garbled) foom zop. Gimme money.”
“What the fuck. You just told me you don’t have a job, so I’m going to guess you weren’t in meetings all day. I’m going to tell you one thing you can do that will change your life. You have one single thing to do as long as it is cold outside, and that is to stay warm. Do. That. One. Thing. As soon as you are good at that, pick another thing and do that one thing in addition to the first one, but make sure it is a thing that makes your life better.”
Then he walked away with a dismissive wave of his hand, mumbling something about whitey. Hell no – no time for things like solutions. There are taxpayers to accost and bushes to crap in and hygienic practices to ignore.
So now I’m going to tell you about Carl so my friends can stop asking me to write about it already. I used to walk past the sketchicenter (peach and pine) every day I decided to walk to work instead of riding my bike. I bought the bike because you are less likely to be molested if you are moving faster. Another good trick is to bark at cars as they pass, making the bums think that you are worse off than they. You learned it here.
I had my earbuds jammed in my skull and was looking straight ahead. Just me and my ipod, walking to work in my MBT’s (ugliest shoes known to man, but they keep my back straight, so cram it up your poo hole).
I watched a guy go past me and saw his shadow stop out of the corner of my eye. He turned around and started following me, and I knew he was going to ask me for something. Dammit. All I wanted to do was have a nice walk to work.
When he got up next to me he was saying something and I ignored him, but he wouldn’t take silence for an answer. After a block of this, I removed an earbud and said “What the hell, man? No. I don’t have anything to give you.”
“Hey, those are great shoes. I’m thinking about getting some.”
“No you’re not.”
“You just out walking? Beautiful day.”
“Going to work.” (attempting to put earbud back in ear)
“Whoa, hold up. What’s your name?”
“Rusty” (way to think on your feet, champ)
“Dusty? Nice to meet you, Dusty. I’m Carl.”
“God. Damn. It.”
“Listen, I’m a hard working man and I’m in the job pool and I mean you no harm. What do you know about black history?”
“Uh…(looking around for hidden cameras) probably not enough. “
I waited until the last second and darted across an intersection, but Carl was quick like a bummy.
“You know Harriett Tubman, Thurgood Marshall, and Martin Luther King? You know who they are?”
“Yes, Carl.”
“Well, let me share a little something –“
At this point he started “spittin’ mad rhymes” about the aforementioned people. He also improvised the following line – “50 years later, we strollin down Peachtree, me and Dusty. You don’t know, but Dusty can flow I know and I told you so. Ain’t none a you know blah blah blah bro and some other rhyming stuff, yo.” And then he threw to me like I was supposed to pick up where he left off. Mildly amusing, but no.
We stopped at the next light and he asked, “Hey, Dusty? What did you think when you saw me coming to talk to you?”
“Honestly? I thought ‘Christ, I hope this fucker doesn’t want to talk to me.’”
Carl found this hilarious.
“Man, you’re honest, that’s why I’m glad we’re friends.”
I looked back over my shoulder so that I could count the number of blocks you have to walk to become lifetime buddies. Turns out to be 3 and a half.
And he wanted to shake my hand. This guy was a talented rapper, but nothing made me want to shake his hand. Bum hands are worse than kids’ hands because they not only have the feces and disease on them, they are also large and scaly. I passed on the opportunity and he forced the issue. I settled on a knucklebump and am now unable to masturbate because that hand refuses to work.
We walked on a few more blocks and Carl told me that although he is in the labor pool, no jobs are to be found anywhere on god’s green earth because someone stole his ID. So I assume someone out there is in a rough enough spot that they are stealing the credit history of a homeless man. I told him to go to Home Depot and stand in line with the Mexicans. Not an I.D. to be found for miles, but somehow they all find jobs every day. Strange…perhaps this has something to do with their willingness to work? Nah…that’s crazy. He also told me that he had a son, and asked me to guess his age.
“Mm. 4?”
“Not my son’s age, my age.”
“Oh. 7?”
Again, Carl was helpless against my rapier wit. At the next corner, he said “Let me tell you something, Dusty. All these people around here…they look at you and they see a white man. I’m gonna tell you, I look at you and I see a black man, cause you a good man.” (Did the closed fist thump on the chest thing) “You know, I see you as a black man because all of these people around here, they don’t know you can flow. But I’m colorblind.”
He’s colorblind, so he sees me as a black man. Makes perfect sense. Uh…thanks?
“I’m a fat white guy wearing a backpack and orthopedic shoes, Carl. No one sees a brother standing here. There isn’t a speck of flow in me. In fact, the flow of others is inversely proportional to their distance from me.”
By now we had walked well over a mile, and Carl’s leg was bothering him, so he sat down. I sat on his lap and asked him to tell me more about his life. Just kidding. I didn’t even slow down.
“Hold on a minute, Dusty!”
“No can do. I have somewhere to be. Have a good one.”
Another block and Carl was by my side again, and now he wanted a couple bucks for breakfast.
Well, Carl had entertained me for the past 20 minutes despite my best efforts, so I said “Alright. I’ll buy you breakfast, but you have to go on your merry way after that, okay?”
“No problem. I have somewhere to be cuz I gotta’ narg with the blammo and moo gabba ovary mackerel.” When a bum starts explaining how much crap he has going on, it gets a little slurry and nonsensical.
“mmm. Hmmm. There’s a CVS on the next block. I’ll go in there and grab you something, okay?”
“Yeah.”
We got to the door of CVS and Carl’s negotiation skills sort of fell apart. I was planning on getting him a couple of nutri-bars and a jug of water. Carl’s tastes are a bit more refined, however, and he was having none of it.
“Okay, here’s what I need - I ain’t allowed in this store no more, so I can’t go with you. (Carl is banned from CVS, for the record) I need two…no three cokes – the ones in the plastic bottles, one a them gatrorade - the orange gatorade, two big bags of chips, milk duds, hey, you think they got ice cream? And if they ain’t got milk duds, gimme a couple…”
“Whoa, Carl. I’m not stocking your pantry. How about a couple of power bars and some water to hydrate you and keep your skin clear?”
“Man, that power bar stuff tastes like shit. You ever had that stuff? Power bars can eat a dick.” (his words, not mine)
“Okay. I’m not going grocery shopping, but I’ll buy you enough to get you to lunch. You cool with a couple of granola bars?”
“Shit, man, why you playing me like this? I walked all this way with you and wrote you a song.”
“I know my way to work, and I never said I’d buy you breakfast if you wrote me a song. I’ll be back in a second.”
Carl pissed me off. I guess one of the billion life lessons he didn’t learn is the one about people like him being choosers.
I went into CVS and asked the guy behind the counter if there was another way out.
Soon I was shoulder-rolling into the elevator and exiting into the parking deck, walking around the back of the building and the rest of the way to work. I looked behind me pretty often, because I figured Carl would be pissed as soon as he figured out that I ditched him, and he’d expect an explanation.
I have a lot of theories about how most people inadvertently perpetuate their station in life. The guy who drives around for an hour looking for the cheapest gas, the guy who spends the last week of every month looking for ways to save money instead of finding ways to make more, the chick who keeps dating assholes and is baffled by the fact that she has three kids with zero dads, and so on. Some (a lot) of people say that my theories are baseless and grounded in my own self-myopia.
This may be true, but I won’t stop believing these theories until 98% of everything I see proves me wrong. For now I’m going to stick with what I see every day.
Reminds me of the time an Asheville bum asked me for a cig.. I handed him one and he said, “UGH! I ain’ smokin this sheeeit!” and then proceeded to the next office building and pawed through their butt can and pulled out his preferred brand. WTF Dude? He’d rather smoke someone’s herp infested three day old butt than a fresh camel? Fuckin bums. hahahhaha
Good stuff; good read. I enjoyed it.
In my more innocent days, I fell prey to the “Hey, man, my car just broke down on the freeway and I need some cash to get it towed. My wife and kids are waiting in the car for me…yada-yada-yada.” I think I gave this dude 200 bucks. No kidding.
Of course he also took my name and address so he could mail the money back to me. Fortunately, I was 500 miles from my home, or there probably would have been a nice little home invasion to put the cherry on top of my bonehead sundae.
And then, this past weekend, there was a bum standing in the median next to the left turn lane holding a sign made from a cardboard box. Said bum has been inhabiting one median or another in the area for a few months now. His sign read, “Stranded. Homeless. Need Job. God Bless.” My innocent 10 year-old daughter read the sign and asked if we could give him some money.
So…is my story about:
A)lost innocence,
B)the general decline of western society,
C) the inherent worthlessness of US Social programs
or
D) How much I hate everyone?
yep, it’s D.
Bro! Wheres my F*&%%$ Coke and Milk Duds??!
Dude, I had totally forgotten the Unemployed Duke of Smell that we made friends with that one night after onerous drinking and onerously slow omelette service.
If I remember correctly it went something like this:
Smellyduke: Heyzz fellazz… ish hahd goddam welk finin’ sumfin’ to et roun’ heyah”
Dusty (frozen in alcohol-induced paranoia): Did I do something to anger the God that would otherwise make you die and my day better?
Judd (clapping soon-to-be-fouled hand on the Duke’s shoulder): I KNOW! I just had to wait 45 fuckin’ minutes for some eggs!
Sadly, there simply aren’t enough Carls to go around these days. I hope you gave him my best.
“Another good trick is to bark at cars as they pass, making the bums think that you are worse off than they. ” Love it. Love YOU. I promise I will bark at cars the next time I am on a bike, in honor of you. thanks for the laughs.
I like to give my bums little bottles of booze. At least then I know that when I come around again, they will be too drunk to accost me.
I think people in that situation are “choosers” because they need some sense of choice in their lives, and feel less like a victim. However, I have to admit your theory about the cause and effect of these things being reversed makes a LOT of sense.
As for asking what they can do for you, I’ve offered a chance at a job to one person and they never showed. At least I shared a sub with the guy instead of giving him beer money.
Maybe we should come up with tasks OTHER THAN writing rap songs about their potential benefactor to whip out whenever someone asks. I dunno … like “say the alphabet backwards in once chance without a mistake for {x} dollars” where {x} is inversely proportional to their sobriety. Or please carry my stuff for the next two blocks … maybe a bad idea now that I think of it. Any other suggestions? Now you have me thinking.
I spewed my coffee reading this! Carl - what a trip. And I’ve met so many Carls.
I always love it when certain aggressive panhandlers suddenly materialize by my side in parking lots and can’t figure out why I feel the need to karate chop them in the throat. Hmmm. Couldn’t be that I’m a woman with a 10-year-old daughter in a parking lot - parking lots - tales of abduction and murder, etc. etc. Hmmm. No reason to be paranoid at a semi-crazed, aggressive person accosting you in a parking lot!?
Seriously though, I’m sick to death of victim mentality which is an American pandemic, and the homeless are just a more obvious sign of it. I’m tired of the “you owe me something” vibe. No. I don’t owe anyone anything! And I don’t expect others to owe me anything either! Personal responsibility has more mojo, thank you.
Now, you know who I HAVE given money and food to? The folks who don’t ask me. Then, I’m generous to a fault. I can see a need…
So there. Keep up the great posts, Dusty. I’ve missed their frequency. You’re a brilliant observer of the human condition.
Back when I lived in San Francisco, I was walking in the Haight (just about my least favorite area of SF), actually I was stopped on a corner waiting for the light to change so I could cross, when one of the faux homeless kids (wearing 12-hole Docs is a clear indication you’re not homeless) said to me, “Give some change for once in your life.” I was very witty and snapped, “Fuck off.”
I’ve been known to give food to the veterans on Market Street, but someone younger than me? Go get a friggin’ job, I worked my way through college working at Burger King for $3.20 an hour.
Dusty,
Interested in Charter Flying? Drop me a resume.
Mitch
I’ve found that you can almost always tell when a person is going to hit you up. First, identify that they are a bum. Now watch their eyes. They will ever so slightly brighten, kinda like in Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out!!. Now you’ve got about a second to prepare yourself to: 1.Tell them to fuck off in a way reserved only for bosses and shitty drivers. 2. Beat them to the punch and ask THEM for something first. This one is to be preferred, as there are few things better in life than to turn the tables on a very practiced individual. 3.Threaten to break both of their arms. This one is about the only one I’ve had any success with in Downtown St. Louis.
I too like to entertain myself with the chronic homeless.
Especially the addicts.
Never the mentally ill though…too risky and then they follow you home screaming at their demons and you have to explain to the wife why she can’t go outside anymore.
Entertaining read as usual Dusty.
Phil
Jax
“Quick like a bummy.”
That is going to entertain me for DAYS.
Thanks for the funny!
Very happy you updated. A lot of homeless people on the streets in my neighborhood too; I’ve seen several Carl types and for all your insistence that you have little tolerance for them - you were more receptive to him than I’ve been to the ones here. Had to laugh at your urge to pull your middle finger out of your pocket as an offering; I might do that sometime.
~FM
Vancouver Canada
The best homeless man I ever saw was one of some foreign persuasion who played his guitar and sang at the stoplight on a freeway exit ramp. I wanted to give him money out of relief that he didn’t have a “homeless, anything helps, God bless” sign.
Another good one was a man who held a sign, “Why lie? I want a beer.” I barely managed to stop my husband from donating to that one.
If you have room, carrying Vienna sausages, snack crackers, and bottled water is an inexpensive way to salve your conscience, if you have one.
MBombardier
Vancouver, WA
“Power bars can eat a dick!” Now that is a sentence that has never been uttered in the history of the english language. I’ll have to make sure I use that sentence in my normal everyday conversations.
There is one free exit that is primo space for beggars. I have seen the same blond hair girl on and off for about three years. Her sign says she is traveling and stranded. I had one bum there ask me for change. I told him to get a job. He told me he couldn’t find one. We were in front of a White Casatle that had a help wanted sign out front. I could see it from my car. And then there was that one guy who’s car broke down on a highway (2 miles away from the gas station I was at). His wife and infant were still in the car! He was telling me this story while he was smoking a joint. I almost felt compelled to give him money for the contact buzz I got.
Another great post Dusty. Keep up the great work!
“Another good trick is to bark at cars as they pass, …”
Yep, that picture is PRICELESS and one I shall never forget my dear boy…
Keep makin’ us laugh Dusty…We miss you when you’re gone…:-(
Dusty, if I weren’t already on a financial par with Carl, I’d have bought you a Christmas gift. It’s from T-Shirt Hell, and you’ve probably already seen it, but my sister and I both thought of you. The shirt reads, “Yes, I have plenty of change, you homeless piece of shit. Thanks for asking.”
This is why I never venture far from suburban honky America.
You make me laugh every time you post! Hilarious!
We need a laugh over here, both my husband and I were laid off in a matter of days. Odd.
“Man, you’re honest, that’s why I’m glad we’re friends.”
I looked back over my shoulder so that I could count the number of blocks you have to walk to become lifetime buddies. Turns out to be 3 and a half.
There it is - the reason I visit this site …
Carry poisoned food and drink.
Give it to the bums.
Problem solved.
2 updates in one mont? Wheeeeee!!!
Between the knuckle-bump and your MBT’s, I’m going to be leaking tears of laughter for days. Good way to keep the crazies away is by breaking out into spontaneous laughter. On the subject of kids hands … when are you going to be fruitful and multiply, Dusty? You’d be the funniest Dad ever!
Thank you for giving me a laugh while I’m at work! Notice that I didn’t say “working.”
How is the airline training coming along?
Of course groupies who flock to the side of celebrities are perceived by the celebs as the same!Considering the financial worth of celebs, the hangers-on are on equal footing with the homeless. I’ll give a dollar to someone obviously hungry though.
another gem… thanks Dusty
Long time reader, sometime commenter…We had a run in with Steve, Carl’s older thus smelly long lost brother out side the local music dive one night. He patted my brother or the back and said, “Sounds like shit in there got anything extra?” My brother was THEN bullied into giving him 5 bucks. I was so pissed I made the guy take us across the street and buy US coffee.
Sweet Jesus, I feel more sorrow for you than Mr. Bum.
The Man totally inconvenienced Carl by taking him down and getting someone to steal his I.D… thus it is okay for him to inconvenience and badger you for money and food. Hah.
I guess beggars can be choosers. And yet at the same time, sane people with good jobs can also be the “cleansers of the streets”… if you know what I mean. *Jab jab*
–Bekah