Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Bum Fights

I always thought pan handling meant that you had to do something for money. In San Francisco bums paint themselves silver, hide behind a tree branch, dance on cardboard - something; here they heckle and harass you until you are so tired of them, you finally give them a penny.

This state is the most giving to the homeless too! It's ridiculous! We've installed bathrooms downtown so that the bums have somewhere to urinate when all the stores are closed during the night! Glad to know my tax money is going down the drain!!!!!!

I was talking on my cell phone today, and quite frankly it was an important call. I wasn't listening either, I was talking when I passed by some old bum. He asks, "Do you have a light?" What really aggravates me about this question is that I don't act like I smoke, I don't look like I smoke, and I don't smell like I smoke. That is because I don't!

You smokers are the most pretentious, self absorbed people in the world! You blow your smoke in every one's face, you stand under awnings when it is raining and spread your diseases everywhere so that no other soul can take solace from the rain, you speed up and walk in front of others and blow your smoke behind you, you try and bum cigarettes off everyone because you can't cope without your next fix regardless of who they are or what they are doing, you stand and sit and smoke in clearly labeled no smoking areas and under vents and in doorways with absolutely no consideration for any other people in the world.

You disgust me with your slovenly, puerile, moronic proclivity. You pretend that you are all organic, and herb positive as you fill your lungs with tar and play slave to a tiny paper tube. That you know everything about global warming because you watched an asinine imbecilic movie by an idiot who thinks that a zebra has spots, and that you know everything about what is wrong with health care because some obscenely overweight simpleton paid someone else to pick up a camera (who by the way, got treated for his obsesity in the United States - not Canada). You believe that you are some sort of cool because you smoke for recreation, or weight loss, or because you saw your idol on the Real World sporting a cigarette.

So, don't come up to me asking for a light. You know every 15 minutes you need a cigarette so carry a lighter with you, or steal one like Britney Spears, or find one when you rifle through the trash, or stop at a bloody gas station and pick up a free pack of matches. If you seriously can't figure out how to conjure up some free matches you are as pathetic and pitiful as they get; and frankly it's no wonder you can't hold down a job.

Like I said, I was interrupted in the middle of my conversation because this blockhead thought what he wanted and what he needed was more important than virtually anyone else. He yelled after me as I kept walking, "You could just answer yes or no!"

I answered, "You could not interrupt me."

He answered, "Well, it's rude to not answer me!"

"It's rude to talk to me when I'm on the phone. You don't know me! Don't talk to me like you know me!"

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