There used to be a Gypsy woman in Central Square, Cambridge, MA
who would pretend she was trying to get money to "help Indian children."
Hell, you could see she was Romany a mile off, and I was disgusted by the
way she was betraying her heritage by pulling such a LOUSY con, and a
begging con at that.
I just got so fed up with having her get in front of me whining,
"Can you help meeee ouuuut?" that eventually I just had to say
I'D LIKE TO, BUT I DON'T OWN A GUN.
Soft-hearted Nenslo did have a pet bum for a while, a steady
one. One day I was down by the bus station and (stop me if I told you
this one) sitting on the ledge outside the window of a bank was a pretty
typical earth-colored bum, with another one standing in front of him
holding a broken stringless guitar. The one with the guitar was going
"RABBLE GABBLE GARBLE RAR" in bumtalk and punctuating it with an
occasional WHANG! on the head of the other guy withthe broken guitar. I
blurted out in shock and dismay, "well, so much for EVOLUTION!" and a guy
with a necktie on heard it and laughed. From then on I always gave the
victim bum a dollar whenever I saw him. I knew he wouldn't use it for
anything stupid and life-affirming like FOOD (if you're broke enough you
eat badly but for free). He would use it to simultaneously enjoy and
shorten his life with the cheapest booze he could get. I felt I was
sacrificing to my ancient ancestors.
Mostly, if I have the misfortune to have my attention STOLEN by a
bum or leech, and they ask me to HELP them, I tell them, NO, I CAN'T HELP
YOU. Nobody can help them, they have to help themselves or die.
The law of survival of the fittest hasn't been repealed just
because we can buy electronic tie-presses and home pasta machines.
n
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-Copyright NENSLO KDV 1995-
Send One Dollar to box 86582 Portland OR 97286
This is a READER SUPPORTED ministry.
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