The homeless have become increasingly visible in recent decades. In many American downtowns, it
is common to encounter panhandlers on every other corner--something not seen since the great
depression. This state of affairs is taken for granted by residents of every major metropolitan
area, most of whom have adjusted to this problem by learning to ignore the sight of huddled winos
and to brush off the advances of more loudspoken beggars. Others feel compassion for the homeless
and make a habit of donating money or food to them as they pass. Those who stop long enough to
interact with the homeless on a human level form a very small minority. Because of this, the
startling change in the face of homelessness has gone mostly unnoticed in general society.
Thirty years ago, bums were, almost without exception, unmarried, unemployed men of middle and
old age. The vast majority were uneducated migrants from economically depressed rural areas to
the cities. Today, troubled teens, single mothers, and the families of the working poor make up
many of those on the street. However, this is not the most important shift, in my humble opinion.
Put simply, the biggest change is the fact that there are a shitload of bums. There have always
been a shitload of bums, but the sheer magnitude of the shitload, the enormity of it--that's what
is unprecedented about the shitload. Bums are deemed a problem for several reasons. First off,
they smell like shit. Wine, urine, urban grime, even dry crusty feeces: all play a part in the
unique symphony that is the "homeless smell." Secondly, the homeless violate many of the core
norms of American Culture. They fail to accept the acquisition and consumption of material goods
as the central theme of their lives. They don't subscribe to the doctrine that outward appearance
is a synonym of self-worth. They pist on the sidewalk. Perhaps their only saving grace is their
tendency to frequent the quintisentially American restaurant franchise, McDonald's. It seems
likely that without the kindhearted McDonald's lobbyists' interventions in the hallowed hallways
of this nation's capital, the gov't would gas n' roast the worthless bums without hesitation.
After all, Ronald Regan said once, "We don't have a homeless problem," surely referring to his
deluded belief that the bloated beauracracy had actually managed to successfully implement its
policies.
In my view, the government is once again being wrongheaded. Why should we call homelessness a
problem? I, for one, don't feel responsible for a fifty year old man living on the street. If he
doesn't care enough about his situation to change it, why should I? He's had 50 years to give the
system head, and had made his existance a decision not to do so. Why should we, the
sore-throated, give him any of our change? Besides, he probably smokes rock anyway.
To me, bums are not a problem; in fact, they are brilliant, beautiful monuments to our success.
The sight of a miserable, frostbiting lump of rags dying under an underpass should evoke tears of
joy in every red-blooded capitalist, for it attests to the triumph of the competitive free market.
The lazy shit didn't want to work, and he got exactly what he deserved--just as Bill Gates, using
persistence, shrewdness, and genius, got exactly what he deserved. Viva Social Darwinism! May
the donut police smash the bums' heads in with their clubs to put the bloody cherry on the cake!
Let us not be ashamed any longer. The cost of a B-1 bomber is greater than the annual U.S. budget
for the homeless; let us broadcast it through the mouths of our plastic newswomen and men; let us
print it victoriously on the headlines of our nation's finest newspapers; let us display it in our
textbooks to the unanimous admiration of pupils across this great, brave, free, and just land.
The bums are there because they need to be. They re the failures upon which we measure our
greater success.
is common to encounter panhandlers on every other corner--something not seen since the great
depression. This state of affairs is taken for granted by residents of every major metropolitan
area, most of whom have adjusted to this problem by learning to ignore the sight of huddled winos
and to brush off the advances of more loudspoken beggars. Others feel compassion for the homeless
and make a habit of donating money or food to them as they pass. Those who stop long enough to
interact with the homeless on a human level form a very small minority. Because of this, the
startling change in the face of homelessness has gone mostly unnoticed in general society.
Thirty years ago, bums were, almost without exception, unmarried, unemployed men of middle and
old age. The vast majority were uneducated migrants from economically depressed rural areas to
the cities. Today, troubled teens, single mothers, and the families of the working poor make up
many of those on the street. However, this is not the most important shift, in my humble opinion.
Put simply, the biggest change is the fact that there are a shitload of bums. There have always
been a shitload of bums, but the sheer magnitude of the shitload, the enormity of it--that's what
is unprecedented about the shitload. Bums are deemed a problem for several reasons. First off,
they smell like shit. Wine, urine, urban grime, even dry crusty feeces: all play a part in the
unique symphony that is the "homeless smell." Secondly, the homeless violate many of the core
norms of American Culture. They fail to accept the acquisition and consumption of material goods
as the central theme of their lives. They don't subscribe to the doctrine that outward appearance
is a synonym of self-worth. They pist on the sidewalk. Perhaps their only saving grace is their
tendency to frequent the quintisentially American restaurant franchise, McDonald's. It seems
likely that without the kindhearted McDonald's lobbyists' interventions in the hallowed hallways
of this nation's capital, the gov't would gas n' roast the worthless bums without hesitation.
After all, Ronald Regan said once, "We don't have a homeless problem," surely referring to his
deluded belief that the bloated beauracracy had actually managed to successfully implement its
policies.
In my view, the government is once again being wrongheaded. Why should we call homelessness a
problem? I, for one, don't feel responsible for a fifty year old man living on the street. If he
doesn't care enough about his situation to change it, why should I? He's had 50 years to give the
system head, and had made his existance a decision not to do so. Why should we, the
sore-throated, give him any of our change? Besides, he probably smokes rock anyway.
To me, bums are not a problem; in fact, they are brilliant, beautiful monuments to our success.
The sight of a miserable, frostbiting lump of rags dying under an underpass should evoke tears of
joy in every red-blooded capitalist, for it attests to the triumph of the competitive free market.
The lazy shit didn't want to work, and he got exactly what he deserved--just as Bill Gates, using
persistence, shrewdness, and genius, got exactly what he deserved. Viva Social Darwinism! May
the donut police smash the bums' heads in with their clubs to put the bloody cherry on the cake!
Let us not be ashamed any longer. The cost of a B-1 bomber is greater than the annual U.S. budget
for the homeless; let us broadcast it through the mouths of our plastic newswomen and men; let us
print it victoriously on the headlines of our nation's finest newspapers; let us display it in our
textbooks to the unanimous admiration of pupils across this great, brave, free, and just land.
The bums are there because they need to be. They re the failures upon which we measure our
greater success.
