November 20th, 2002

Dog Balls

We're Taking It Off For You

I gotta find out who this Megan Spillare is, because she just got offered a Playboy subscription. Maybe she lived in the apartment before the Spellmans.

Oh, and a special note to the bum (and I mean bum because I don't think he was a proper street person) who confronted me on 7th and V last night: if you ask me a friendly banter question, and I reply in kind, do not follow up with "don't be scared, I'm not gonna bother you", because that will make me get in my car and lock the doors faster. Do not stand next to my drivers side door making the roll-down-your-window motion, chanting "I'm not gonna bother you," because you're bothering me already. When I politely wave goodbye to you and begin to pull away, despite your claims to the contrary, *you* are the one who is being obnoxious.

I've concluded that the bums in this town are nothing but bad businessmen. The first problem is that they are in a town that it gets cold, and when cold, rains frequently. Spend 8 hours doing day labor, get yourself a Greyhound ticket and move on down to Palm Springs or something. At least you won't have to worry so much about coats. Second, there's the supply and demand problem. Maybe if you were to relocate to a market that isn't already saturated with bums, you might be able to prey on the sympahty of people who see you as a novelty and not another faceless mass of an overwhelming problem. One could corner the entire alms market of some hick town in Kansas by themselves, or fight for the scraps in a place where the supply of bums way outnumbers the demand of people to feel better about themselves. Somebody get these guys an X diagram.
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