silverlance
Member
ah yes
i have tons of homeless right by my house. tons of illegals looking for work, too. nowhere do you see the juxtaposition of willingness to work/indolence and self-pity more sharp.
both groups are butt-broke, but one is living off of donuts and sending money home while the other group is drinking and cursing god, the sun, and you.
i had a time when an old van would park in front of my house every night for two weeks in a row. if it werent for the fact that i go to work -real- early i wouldn't have realized that five guys were living out of it. never made any trouble, left some trash but no big deal. you know you're real poor when you're having a cigarette for breakfast.
now there's this crazy mutha, lives under the propane tank of the gas station behind my house. chucks beer cans over the wall into my yard. also chucks little liquor bottles, plastic bags.
i went over to the gas station, talked to the counter pakistani whose family comes over to the house to pick fruit each season (free), and we threw away every last scrap of belonging that crazy mutha had stashed there.
nutjob came right back the next night, move right back in. cops won't do squat as there are homeless a plenty. every single one is crazy, seriously unhealthy, and claim to either be dying, have a family, or served in vietnam.
then again, there was the guy who ran up to me, pulled up his shirt, and there was a half-dollar sized hole from which feces was dripping out into a stomata bag. told me he was hungry and had cancer. i figured he had a gunshot wound, but gave him two bucks anyway. last thing i wanted was some crackhead giving me the jail cocktail straight form the source.
God, give me a nice house in the country some day.
i have tons of homeless right by my house. tons of illegals looking for work, too. nowhere do you see the juxtaposition of willingness to work/indolence and self-pity more sharp.
both groups are butt-broke, but one is living off of donuts and sending money home while the other group is drinking and cursing god, the sun, and you.
i had a time when an old van would park in front of my house every night for two weeks in a row. if it werent for the fact that i go to work -real- early i wouldn't have realized that five guys were living out of it. never made any trouble, left some trash but no big deal. you know you're real poor when you're having a cigarette for breakfast.
now there's this crazy mutha, lives under the propane tank of the gas station behind my house. chucks beer cans over the wall into my yard. also chucks little liquor bottles, plastic bags.
i went over to the gas station, talked to the counter pakistani whose family comes over to the house to pick fruit each season (free), and we threw away every last scrap of belonging that crazy mutha had stashed there.
nutjob came right back the next night, move right back in. cops won't do squat as there are homeless a plenty. every single one is crazy, seriously unhealthy, and claim to either be dying, have a family, or served in vietnam.
then again, there was the guy who ran up to me, pulled up his shirt, and there was a half-dollar sized hole from which feces was dripping out into a stomata bag. told me he was hungry and had cancer. i figured he had a gunshot wound, but gave him two bucks anyway. last thing i wanted was some crackhead giving me the jail cocktail straight form the source.
God, give me a nice house in the country some day.
