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Beggars Banquet

by adam | June, 1997

This month I’m finally getting around to addressing an issue that’s irked me for a long time. While I credit the 80′s brit-pop indie record label with my choice of titles, the subject, I assure you, is very different and far more insidious. What I’m referring to is the manner in which the working American public has so flagrantly allowed street beggars to monopolize more of our time with increasingly less interesting stories. For the sake of political correctness, I will point out before I proceed, that I do indeed make a clear distinction between the homeless and beggars. One is a subsection of our society, which for one reason or another, has ended up on the downs and might actually need our help (although it’s clear they don’t get it). The other, however, is an absurdly crass reality of everyone’s daily life in any urban sprawl.

Where’s the good fucking sob stories?! In the 70′s and 80′s, perhaps due to the proximity of Vietnam, street beggars had a story to tell. They had a real hardship, genuinely needed the help of passers by, and all-too-frequently didn’t get it. Today, more often than not, one encounters a completely different individual with an entirely different dynamic. No longer is there an interesting story. No longer is there any apparent reason for their homelessness. If there is any information relayed, it’s most likely a load of shit. Something like the guy out in front of my office building who is constantly “late for work in old town and just needs trolley fair to get there.” Sure, it’s a believable enough story the first time, but by the fifth time, it seems pretty clear to me that if this guy ever had a gig in old town, he’s most assuredly lost it by now. And even after the first time for christ sake, he expects me to believe they don’t pay him enough to commute? Well, that’s actually not so unbelievable… but that’s fodder for a totally different discussion. The problem is that while beggars would once put a little effort into a story, often making it worth the money, nowadays they either offer nothing, or something that shows a clear lack of effort or enthusiasm. I want a good fucking story.

Tell the goddamned truth! I’m guessing that because we’ve entered the “information age” with such gusto, that it’s possible someone this applies to is actually reading this in some cyber cafe in San Francisco. So, if you’re reading this, here’s some free advice: Nine times out of ten, I give my spare change to someone who tells the truth. Everyone is guessing you’re a drunk whether you are or not, so if you tell them you want to buy a beer, at least you’re not bullshitting them or deluding yourself. If your top priority were food and shelter, chances are you’d have found yourself a job and an apartment at best, and a soup kitchen at worst. We know you’re going to buy booze, so stop fucking lying. It insults our intelligence and makes us dislike you even more than we already do. And by the way, I smoke cigarettes too, but I’m also painfully aware that it’s about an eighty dollar a month habit. That looks like two expensive habits that have nothing to do with food.

Yes, we don’t like you. There’s many a pompous ass in intellectual circles and political power who will grandstand about how badly they feel for the homeless, and when it applies to the subsection of truly helpless children, women and men who really can’t take care of themselves, they’re probably being sincere. But don’t think for a second that we feel anything but an overwhelming sense of disgust and annoyance when the beggars catch us in the street. Shit, I quickly proceed back to my office to wash my hands if some beggar who bummed a cigarette accidentally brushes against my hand while lighting the damned thing. They’re dirty, disgusting, abhorrent street urchins who invade our sense of privacy and security every chance they get. It’s silly to deny those feelings. If you let them out, perhaps you’ll come up with a really good solution for the whole problem.

Anyone who approaches you in the street is demonstrating the kind of initiative and persistence that most employers would find very appealing in a potential employee. Get a grip! Do you realize how vital the people who can shrug off any and all negativity are in the business world? They’re the salesmen who make us buy something when we have absolutely no need for it, the people who mysteriously climb the corporate ladder without apparently ever lowering themselves to petty ass-kissing, and they’re the insolent bastards who grab you every morning and say “Hey buddy! How about a dollar so I can get a cup of coffee.” These are the folks who can make you feel bad if you’re not looking out for THEIR best interests. The only difference is that the beggars don’t want that nice job and cushy apartment. Whether consciously or not, I’m certain these guys have chosen to stick with what works for them.

The concept is simple — why should I waste my time helping someone who demonstrates a palpable lack of interest in helping themselves. These people aren’t trying to improve their lives, if they were, they’d be at a soup kitchen getting a straight meal and trying to find a way to clean themselves up so they can do right for their lives. Enough attention has been drawn to the homeless problem in America that there are a few outlets for people on the street to help themselves. But it’s only when they resolve to take charge of their lives and work to tangibly improve them, that they can actually make any headway. It’s not my dollar or cigarette that’s gonna help — if anything, any contribution of that sort from me serves to reinforce their decision to continue living their lives the way they are. The status quo has to be fought with vigor on a moment by moment basis if one is to avoid falling prey to its traps.

The problem with the above suggestion is that quite a few of those beggars who irritate you the most might very well make a decent living in half the space of your workday. A meager mid-twenties salaried job pays around a hundred bucks a day. That’s nine plus hours a day for a hundred bucks. On the flip side, for the really good one’s, that’s only convincing 100 people a day to part with a measly buck. Sure, it can’t be easy, but these guys are pushier than you and I are and they can probably cover enough ground to raise the hundred bucks in about six hours. Oh yeah, and they don’t have to pay taxes either so they actually get the whole hundred and let us pay the taxes on the dollar we gave them — not bad.

Yes, I’m insensitive. I didn’t used to be, but the gaggling dirty bastards on the street have ceased to entertain me, have removed any desire that I might have had to help them, and have simply resolved to obnoxiously hassle me until they get what they want. Remember, you’re only one in a hundred people, and the less time they waste on some sob story with you, the better. How many floors in an office building? How many people? You stand in the right place downstairs and you get to hassle a thousand people in no time. Maybe a ten percent hit average is a bit high, but I’d bet it’s better than anyone would guess.

I’m not writing this to inspire social change. I’ve become enough of a cynic to know that social change takes too much fucking time and effort just to see any initial proposal watered down to shit. All I’m asking is that the next time some dirty rude bastard yells at you on the street and tells you he wants a dollar of your hard-earned cash that you ask him to fucking earn it. Tell him that he can’t just HAVE your dollar, he’s gotta do something for you. That means putting some effort into concocting a lie that sounds believable. Remember (and I think I’m quoting George from Seinfeld here): a lie isn’t a lie if you believe it. Give me a good performance and you can have my dollar. Don’t expect me to pay you for nothing. Even “slimy salesmen” and “evil corporate figureheads” have to work for a living.

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Filet De Fred

by cari | June, 1997

1 cup white wine
1 cup water
1 medium julienned onion
1 gigantic sliced carrot
6 peppercorns
4 coriander seeds
A few sprigs of parsley
Sea salt
2 large goldfish (can substitute 5 beta or 6 guppies)
Juice of 1 lemon

Place wine, water and seasonings in a saucepan, bring to the boil and simmer simmer simmer for ten whole minutes (be patient…maybe bring a book into the kitchen). Place the cleaned goldfish (or comparable aquatic friend) in a flameproof dish, squeeze over the lemon juice (i mean, squeeze the lemon, not the fish) then pour over the hot liquid plus all the flavorings (yummy!). Add vegetables. Cover with tin (or gold) foil, bring to simmering point then lower heat slightly and poach very very gently (softly now) for, oh, i don’t know…ten minutes until fish is just cooked.

Remove from that hot thing, transfer to serving dish, pour over liquid and flavorings, discarding soggy herbs, and allow to cool. Garnish with fresh herbs and any plastic aquarium plants you might have left over, before serving (not after, stupid!) (sorry, i’m seeing a therapist about my abusive outbursts) (he’s really nice, too. i’ll give you his number if you’re interested). If preferred, fish can be skinned and filleted when cold and served with about half of the liquid mixed with a little French (stinking frogs) mustard.

artist: michael sowa copyright © 1996 Inkognito

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Diary of a Smoker

by adam | June, 1997

I quit smoking a half-hour ago. The last time i quit was probably about 8 years ago. I don’t like to disappoint myself so i never really try to do it. It’s amusing that i can go for eight or nine hours at night, and even several hours during the work day without noticing any real craving, but thirty minutes after this spur of the moment decision and i’m already jonesin. This sucks.

Cold water tastes really good. I’m told that i’ll find a whole new appreciation for food and drinks in general once i quit…but then, every non-smoker takes that for granted anyway, so it’ll only be a matter of time before i start taking it for granted too.

I have almost a full pack and intend to carry it with me wherever i go. That way i know that if i ever want a cigarette, i can just open the pack and smoke one. The only downside will be that i let myself down. I can’t guarantee that i’ll stick with this even through the end of the day, but if i do, i’ll certainly herald my will power. What do non-smokers do when they’re bored? I always know i can smoke a cigarette, and it sort of fills time. I need more water.

Three hours later — i just cracked. I am a weak, disgusting specimen.

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