RSS

Tag Archives: money

You cannot prove it

I don’t think of myself as a heartless fuck of a human being, but when the homeless guy with the sign asking for help is sporting a fresh haircut, clean clothes, and nicer sneakers than me? I refuse to help him.

I have nothing but heart for the truly needy, but fuck that guy.

Before you send me email and Facebook messages telling me that I know nothing about him and he may need the help, save it.

There has to be someone out there that gives less of a shit than I, but they will be hard to find.

There is a really brutal answer as to why.

Its honest, but you aren’t going to like it.

And here it is.

I prefer my homeless a little more pathetic.

I am driven by the visual as a general rule.

If they don’t look like they desperately need my help, I don’t have the heart.

It is not my role to help someone going thru a little bit of a rough patch.

The only thing that gets a dollar out of my wallet is the thought that this dollar is the only thing keeping them from either committing an atrocity to get their drug fix or eating their own foot out of cannibalistic starvation.

That sounds cruel, but keep in mind, I am comfortable with cruel.

My test reader made the point that my last line may not be nice, but at least its honest.

Lucky accident, honesty was not my goal.

Karmically, there has to be a category for people who beg for change when they could totally hold down a job.

Or at least they look like they could.

Karma is normally a lazy shit that rarely carries it own weight.

But every now and then, karma steps up to the plate and knocks one out of the park.

So, that being said, what would karma do? What would satisfy the universe at large when faux beggars abound?

A disease would be sufficiently horrible, but raped in prison would also suffice. (Thats not from me, I just know how karma works.)

Ok, now it has been pointed out that I am somehow wishing for horrible things to handle this total stranger based solely on my fabricated scenario of his life.

Yeah, like that.

Why would I need to know anything about him other than what my mind has generated?

That last line has stuck in my head until I realized why it doesn’t bother me.

And there it is, the answer.

It doesn’t bother me because I suddenly realized that he may not be real.

We are now back to my popular theory that most people you see in life, mostly the homeless, do not really exist.

This is an off-shoot of the main theory of nothing on Facebook being real.

That whole line of reasoning makes ignoring this homeless guy that much easier.

I even had to talk myself out of running him over with my car, a Honda Civic that I know for a FACT actually exists.

In the end, I did not run him over, nor did I give him a dollar.

But I did feel a touch guilty on the drive home.

And then it happened.

Redemption.

I pulled up to a stoplight and saw him.

Walker.

Walker is a crazed homeless guy that walks, back and forth, non-stop.

I have never seen him standing still, sitting, or passed out on the ground.

He is a pure breed.

He doesn’t ask for money, doesn’t talk even if you ask him questions, doesn’t give a shit about those around him.

Almost like we don’t even exist.

Food for thought.

Advertisements
 
2 Comments

Posted by on September 22, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , ,

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, you know the rest.

There is an odd energy to being unemployed.

Like you are forgetting something that you just can’t remember.

But its always there.

And an element of laziness.

That would be my immigrant blood talking.

If you are not so sick or damaged that you are in hospital, why the hell aren’t you at work?

That voice in the back of my head sounds suspiciously like my father, but we are not here to analyze, just share.

I found myself caught in a layoff a month ago.

I hate surprises, especially when they interrupt my day to day.

I am a fan of consistency.

Mainly because you can never count on inconsistency.

Here is one of the main issues with job hunting.

Paranoia is your best friend.

You want to come across as a nice guy, exactly who they want, but your best bet is to approach it like borderline paranoid schizophrenic.

There are so many job scams going on, it boggles the mind.

Resumes services, recruiters that need a “fee” because they work with “exclusive” clients. (I hate using quotes, its annoying.)

I was a recruiter, worse, I was a “headhunter” during the Dot Coms. (Headhunter deserves quotes, we were shameless money whores.)

But even we didn’t have the yarbles to try and charge candidates selling them like human cattle for a DANDY profit.

These are the guys I love to keep on the phone for a long time, giving them the impression that the hook is solidly set into my upper lip.

Like telemarketers, these are people who think they are slick.

Its only when they realize that you are jerking them around that they get pissed.

I had one threaten to KICK MY ASS.

I pointed out that, as they had my resume, they knew where I lived, and further invited them by for said ass kicking.

Not that I think I am such a badass that I live without fear, far from it.

I am half a century old and chubby. (Cardio kickboxing can only do so much.)

I am not gonna be laying people out left and right, not even on a good day.

But, and here is the really weird part, I have had my ass kicked by people that are inhumanly good at it.

So, my fear of a mediocre smack down is low level at best.

Now, we move on to the shady types that have jobs.

I say shady because they have a job, but not one you want.

Among other things, I do sales.

Here is the general rule with sales:

  1. The higher the salary, the easier the sale and the more you want someone of a certain minimal level of quality to stay in the role for the long term. There are few jobs like this. Mainly because when someone gets one of these jobs, they never leave.
  2. The lower the salary, the harder the sales. When you are seeing something that is 100% commission, that is a really hard sale and the company doesn’t want to waste money on people who may never make that sale. Real Estate Agents and Car Salesmen live in this category. Yes, there is a reason they have that reputation.
  3. Never be afraid to let the employer know how much you love money. Sales is the only position that being “Money driven” is not only acceptable, its preferred.

As a general rule, any job that you cannot get a clear answer of what it is on the phone, that you have to come in for, is shady as fuck.

The person the phone wants you to come in because physical presence twists the equation enough that he has a better chance of you going for it.

And thats when you find yourself signing up friends and family to sell candles, insurance, weight-loss products and dildos. (I have seen family members selling all of those items.)

Now, this is just my opinion, I am not looking to throw the stink eye on anyone’s sale, but when you find yourself selling a double headed dildo to a blood relative, you have made a bad decision in the long run.

But that is just me. (Double headed dildos creep me out.)

I am an asshole before I have my coffee.

Alright, I am an asshole after, I am just happier.

Mmmm coffee…

 

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 12, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Tis the season…

Its the holiday season and much is afoot.

People have been gearing up for commercial blockbuster of Xmas since before Thanksgiving.

However, many of the retailers are carefully avoiding using the word Xmas. They have been carefully told that it will offend people.

But, and I have asked more than 5 people who would be offended if they could be offended, and they could not give a shit about it.

A Muslim friend said he thought it was nice, that the sentiment was appreciated.

A Jewish friend lamented the fact that he doesn’t get Xmas gifts because he is Jewish, and he has a tree and everything.

A transgender friend seemed confused with the question and then showed me his(Her?) Facebook pic of his tree. Hours went into this gaudy nightmare. (I was called an anti-Xmas prick for that comment. I am a male by birth but I identify as an asshole.)

A homeless guy outside 7-11, (He identifies as smelly) ignored the question and told me a story about how he needs money to take a bus to his mom’s house. Seeing as how he appeared to be in his 60’s, I found his story improbable. I gave him a dollar anyway, its Xmas.

So, it turns out that the only people who are offended with the word Christmas are the same self-hating, uptight sphincters that would get their panties in a twist about anything and everything.

And since everything offends them, fuck em, lost cause trying to cater to those tards.

So I will make it my goal to truly offend people this year, just for the sake of the holiday spirits.

Malloy, my associate blogger, when I mentioned I had nothing for a blog this week, suggested that since people are stressed for the holidays, keep it light.

Here is why I not only can’t do that, but flat out won’t do that:

Because you didn’t come here to meditate.

This is not a blog about animal rescue or yoga.

This is a vulgar little blog that uses sarcasm like a heroin addict uses a needle to try and get you to shoot coffee out of your nose, once a week.

With that in mind, here are three filthy jokes:

  1. 2 flies land on a piece of shit. One fly farts loudly. The other fly says, “Do you mind? I’m trying to eat here!” (Ok, not sex filthy, but filthy.)
  2. A beautiful woman in a real mink coat is approached by an animal rights person. “Do you know how many animals had to die for that coat?” The beautiful woman replies, “Do you know how many animals I had to fuck for this coat?” (Legitimately filthy, hope it pissed someone off.)
  3. What’s the difference between being hungry and horny? Where you put the cucumber. (One of those ones that most ladies and gentlemen laugh at, but a few of both genders will go “Ewwww”.)

When you get down to it, the holidays are about family, faith, commercialism, drama, financial woes and drinking.

You can try to argue any parts of that you wish, but each and every one of those are valid, so you are wasting your time.

I will spend as much time this Xmas as I can with family, I will watch my mouth and be nicer than usual.

I will probably have a cocktail or two, at which point I will have no control over my mouth, which will create drama.

I will worry about money for gifts, worry about this years taxes, looming in the distance. I will buy items and help the economy. I will buy from small businesses and big alike. The really dumb meme online that says “When you buy from a small business, you are helping someone pay for their daughter’s dance lessons and not some CEO’s 3rd house. First of all, your daughter is not that talented and dance lessons are NOT going to help. Second of all, who the fuck do you think works for big companies? There is a crap load of delusional parents with clumsy daughters working for big business.

I will get to church at some point before Xmas day. If any atheists are offended by my mentioning church, bite me. There is a God and I can prove it. Go to BestBuy and check out a new Chromebook. That kind of perfection does not just happen, brother.

Xmas is that time of the year that we kind of admit that we are shitty people who try to be a little better for the holidays.

Its like an adult “Elf on the Shelf” that keeps us in line, take away that and we are in trouble.

So, here is the game plan:

Be a little nicer.

Don’t over spend.

Don’t be a cheap asshole.

Avoid the drama.

Do something nice you would not normally do for a total stranger, but tell no one.

Fact check anything you want to share on Facebook.

Do NOT get caught drinking at work, you need that job.

Have fun.

Be good.

 

Tis the season…

 

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on December 11, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Saint Bitter, patron saint of the homeless.

There is a certain crazed symmetry to watching a meth head beg for money.

I know what you are thinking – “There he goes again, making fun of people less fortunate.”

You’re wrong.

I am making fun, but these people are in a living hell.

But, even the making fun is reserved as I watch how absolutely exhausting it must be inside of the head of Pauline.

Pauline is mid 30’s, looks 60.

There are only a few teeth left, the rest have fallen out.

Her eyes are tired, yet dart back and forth in a manic frenzy.

I am parked at the corner, on my bike, waiting for the light to change.

I have been bicycle commuting as much as I can lately, trying to change my shape from round to more of a V.

Jury is still out on how that is still working.

I have my cycling shades on, so no one can see my eyes.

Which destroys Pauline’s whole game, she relies on eye contact as the go ahead to start her pitch.

The light turns green and Pauline has had no success in her fundraising activities.

Everyone starts to cross the street.

Except me.

Its not often I break outside of the rotten little shell of shittyness that I wear like a new coat and feel something different.

Pity.

Pauline is a broken toy.

Like well and truly broken beyond repair.

She is watching me, so I take off my glasses and look at her.

The story, when she launches into it, makes severe ADD look focussed.

Her purse was stolen, or she lost it, or she needs cigarettes, or money, or a ride.

I hold up my hand, shushing her.

“What do you want from me?”

Tears well up in her eyes.

“I want to talk to someone.”

First complete sentence from her so far.

Tears well up in my eyes.

I tell her my name and ask hers.

She begins to slow down.

It occurs to me I might be the first person that is not telling her no or avoiding her in weeks.

Its a sobering thought.

I would throw out a “There but for the grace of God…” line, but it would wring false.

I figured out a long time ago that addictions never stick with me.

Luck of the draw.

 

I tell Pauline why I am riding and about the 100 mile race I want to do.

She stars a little blankly at me as if the idea of riding for any reason other than to get some place makes no sense.
And maybe it doesn’t.

And I do something I rarely do.

Part with cash.

Same deal as before.

Reach into the wallet, pull out a bill at random.

No matter what it is, I have to give it.

Its a dumb game that is designed to make me feel better on a base emotional level.

Last time I did it, it was just a five.

This time, luck is on Pauline’s side.

She folds the twenty and puts it in her pocket, like a squirrel hiding a nut that someone might steal without warning.

The light turns green for about the fifth time, this time, I decide to go.

“Bye!” Pauline stands on the corner and waves as I ride off.

Not many days I do this, I don’t think I could survive the emotional rip tide of it all.

But I feel better, in a shallow, superficial way.

And I am ok with that.

I’m a fucking saint.

 
1 Comment

Posted by on July 10, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

Sometimes you have to stop and ask yourself…

What the hell is wrong with people?

Today is a day filled with bad pick up lines.

The first one of the day caught me unaware, like a crisp slap across the face.

“A woman like you can stop a man in his tracks!”

This was said to a beautiful business blonde in a tailored suit.

This is a woman truly worth hitting on, and it was actually a decent pick up line.

So why didn’t it work?

I hate to be superficial, but the man who said it had no teeth.

The overwhelming stench of BO and urine did not help, I’m sure.

This woman was a rising star of the business world, you could tell from her demeanor.

If she hooked up with a homeless guy, in a classic “Differing class forbidden romance”, she would be ostracized.

The heart may want what it wants, but even the heart has to have some sort of sense, even if its not a sense of smell.

Plus, he would be hard to explain at parties.

Because nothing kills a young rising star in the business world like having to explain why your boyfriend is performing oral sex in the kitchen during a 4th quarter kick off party at the boss’s house.

Just saying.

But alas, our star crossed and pharmaceutically challenged lovers were destined never to be together.

She needed to get to work and he needed to go get high.

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi

In a dead language that is inflicted on high school students like the clap, that phrase means The Glory of Man is Fleeting.

A loose interpretation could be to live for today.

Few people embrace old ideas like this.

They could throw caution to the wind and spend the next hour in the vacant lot nearby, seeing if the business woman’s shoes match the sky. (Wait for it, wait for it, BAM! You got it.)

But the fates are not kind to toothless men and fools.

To bad fate can’t get the homeless guy in a headlock and give him a quick shower, a flea dip and a serious delousing.

And pass the hat to get him a set of choppers.

Now, I told you that story to tell you this story.

I gave a homeless woman a 5 spot.

Not my usual thing, I know, I was shocked too.

But I spent my entire early morning chuckling about my evil observations about the big business/homeless Romeo and Juliet.

And it put me into one of those odd states of mind that I try to avoid when I am being vile.

It put me in a good mood.

And thats when she came rolling up.

The oldest 30 year old you have ever seen.

Life has regularly dragged this little honey out and beat her ass.

Well over several hundred thousand miles on this model, and those are all city miles.

There are missing teeth, but she was not so far gone that she had forgotten that.

“Got a dollar? Dollar for some food?” Almost like a chant, like she can’t even hear it herself.

My answer came out of my mouth from pure reflex.

“Don’t have any, sorry.” Cold, monotone, no eye contact. Cold son of a bitch.

She moved on.

And I felt bad.

It was a Grinch kind of moment and Whoville just started singing.

Shit.

I reached into my wallet and pulled out the first bill my fingers found.

Here is how out of character this is for me.

I am cheap, not a cool thing to admit, but there it is.

I had one of just about every bill you can have in America with the exception of the $100 bill.

“Forgot I brought my wallet, take care.”

I noticed as she took the bill that it was a 5.

I was happy it was not a 20 or a 50.

Mainly because it was the kind of moment that I would have let her have it, either way.

She stopped in place when she recognized the denomination.

“Thank you.”

Watching a meth head step out of their life and tear up at simply getting $5 is a emotionally surreal thing.

This is not a life changing event, but it did touch me.

In the good way.

St. Bittermac wishes you all a good day.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 8, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Getting to the cruel part.

There are two different types of bad behavior in this world.

There is the rare one, at least admitting it is rare, it actually happens quite a bit. Its the type of bad behavior that you do and then secretly relish the shitty thing you have done.

I am well acquainted with that one.

Hell, because of the filter eliminating effects of this damn blog, I often brag about it.

But today, we are here to talk about that other type of bad behavior.

Its that type of bad behavior that you do it and don’t secretly relish in it.

In fact, you don’t get it. Even when someone points it out to you, you don’t get it.

Like a shitty form of karmic water off of a cosmic ducks back, just to make it sound all new agey.

Here is an example: (Come on, you saw this coming, right?)

I was recently visiting on an excursion to a weird alternative museum.

The Museum of Jurassic Technology.

Its kind of like a freak show on Xanax.

Its the stuff that legitimate museums and freak shows took one look at and said, “It’s not for us, thanks.”

One display is two mummified mice on toast. (Draw your own conclusions.)

Another is a collection of clear glass globes that have floating figurines in them, all in different stages of drowning, complete with mood lighting and odd bubbly sounds effects.

The last example is a steel ferris wheel suspended from the ceiling. Its made of steel and every moving surface on it has a bell attached. Ever few minutes it begins spinning and the room has no sound proofing.

So any conversations you have go on a time out until the ferris wheel is done.

But the museum is not why we are here.

It what happened when we left the museum.

And then we met Earl.

Not sure if that is his name, but that is what I am calling him and who the fuck are you to argue? Sit down, shut up, and let me finish, jeez!

Earl is homeless.

And he is a homeless ninja.

We had not taken 10 steps from the shady museum’s front door when Earl struck.

His walker is on wheels, and they roll silent as a whisper.

“Hey there! How you boys doin’?”

He is not blocking our path, there is plenty of room to go around, but you have to.

We mumble some platitudes and begin our evasive maneuvers.

Earl is having none of that shit.

Side-spinning a walker does not take up more space at all, but it is a psychological block.

We stop.

“I don’t want money.”

As an opener, this is sloppy, but good. It doesn’t work, I mean, I KNOW he wants money, but what is his pitch? I was in sales long enough to know that everything is a transaction. Money, sense of accomplishment, pride…etc. Money is just the most obvious.

“Could you buy me a meal at the In’n’Out?”

There is a burger place just up the street.

“Sorry, I don’t carry cash.”

You might think this is the cruel part, BUT YOU WOULD BE WRONG.

So off we walked.

“Why didn’t you give him food?” My oh so innocent companion asked.

The reasons are long and drawn out, but based on advice from a professional in the “Dealing with the homeless in the most compassionate way” industry. The incomplete simple answer is, anything I give him enables and perpetuates his addiction and makes me an active party in killing him.

But that is still not the cruel part.

“Because,” I said as we headed in to the same burger place to get lunch.

“I don’t want to see him try to smoke a burger.”

And THATS THE CRUEL PART. (And its a hell of a long walk for a punch line, but it is what it is. Write your own blog.)

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on April 17, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Welcome to Thunderdome, bitch.

I never put much stock in the idea that money can’t buy happiness.

But it doesn’t seem to suck, either.

Case in point, the guy in the Mercedes S-class that just gave the homeless guy in front of the Starbucks a scone and a couple of ones.

I described this scenario to an acquaintance  to get their feedback.

“With the obvious wealth he had, he could have given more.”

Which I found to be an interesting statement.

I quizzed the shit out of this individual, pretty rudely, and found out the following:

1. The person I was talking to had not given any money to a homeless person in the last year.

2. They prefer to donate only to “Legitimate charities”. However, they had not given to ANY charity in over a year.

3. They avoid homeless people because they are “disgusting losers”.

I decided that since we were both being so honest, I would give my honest opinion of their statement.

1. You judgmental, selfish fuck.

2. Why do you care what they do?

3. You are a bad person with the soul of a serial animal rapist.

Consequently, they are not talking to me now.

If you don’t want to hear it, don’t invite me to coffee.

I make no apologies over the fact that your soul is fucked up and dead and everyone else you talk to overlooks it and sugar coats it.

Should those that have help out? Sure.

Are there have nots that need to quit being drugged out children? Sure.

Should we point the finger at someone else who is doing something, no matter how small, and give our opinion on it? Sure.

Just don’t expect me to give you the “Atta boy” with a back slap.

I never bitch when someone throws condemnation my way because I throw enough shit out there myself.

After thought. Nobodies owes a homeless guy shit, not one thin dime.

So, when someone decides to do something, anything, view it as the act of charity it is.

Or don’t, none of my business really.

Unless you express that view to me.

Then the ball is in my court and all bets are off.

Everyone wants to have some silly ass opinion, but not actually have to defend it.

In my world debate has the same rules as boxing.

Keep your guard up and protect yourself at all times.

Welcome to the world of aggressive debate.

Welcome to Thunderdome, bitch.

Nowadays, people almost go into anaphylactic shock the second someone disagrees with them.

Debate is dead.

What most people think of as a discussion on Facebook is either a bunch of people agreeing with each other or name calling.

Present a differing view and it is often attacked like a sick wildebeest at the watering hole.

And here is the sad truth.

If you cannot debate your opinion rationally, which means to opposing viewpoints, without name calling, then you do not truly believe in your point either.

Like the vegetarian who’s whole world view, it seems, stems from a distrust of “That whole murder justified for profit thing.” that I argued with for the better part of an hour.

Her contention, was that eating meat of any sort distorts your world view to the point that you truly cannot make any decisions that involve murder.

It took an hour to get the following out of her:

1. She sometimes eats fish. She loves Chilean sea bass. Also, she rarely has chicken, but she does. (Which means this hipocritical bitch is part of the problem, according to her.)

2. Her talking point catch phrases were given to her and taken verbatim from a professor in college. (In other words, it wasn’t her opinion.)

3.  When she goes thru periods of only eating vegetarian, which sounds rare, she feels generally unwell.

I finished the conversation with a sense of pity.

This is the modern Facebook persona, the intellectual without any real intellect.

Sound bites without content. False science. False claims. Ineffectual activism that cannot effect that which it claims to help.

Its pathetic.

When you take the time to verbally break down, dissect and  ultimately disprove their claims, you get a lot of pissy childish responses.

“You have to be right at all costs.” (Being right is being right. And no animals were harmed in the course of this debate.)

“Hitler said something similar.” (Actually, dipshit, he felt the same way you do about the homeless. Congratulations.)

“You sound like a typical [Insert opposing political party here]. (Boy are you bad at this. I’m a libertarian, asshole. I think both sides are criminals.)

Debate is almost like playing a sport, if you have no ability and you keep getting your ass handed to you, maybe you should sit on the sidelines and let the pros take the field.

And you should see my endzone dance.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on September 26, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , ,