Quote- Fredag
"So I'm eating supper at a Kentucky Fried Chicken, and this crazy old woman who looks like a disheveled version of Minnie Pearl taps me on the shoulder and asks " Can you buy me some chicken?" I, ofcourse, say, "What?" Because this does not seem like an appropiate question. She asks again, "Can you buy me som chicken?" This time I flatly say no. Then she changes her query and asks "Can I have a dollar to buy me some chicken?" I again decline, and she sulks away, exeting the establishment and camping out in front of the KFC sighn on the sidewalk.
Ten minutes later, I finish the last nibble of my buttermilk biscuit, all the while watching this old woman through the window. She continues to unsuccessfully panhandle. As I leave the restaurant ans begine walking home, I pass this woman ans she stops again "Can you buy me some chicken?" she asks. Again I say, "What?". She proceeds to repeat her question, and-upon my silence- asks if she can instead have a dollar to buy some chicken for herselfe.
To me this just seems like a poor business philosophy. I realize street people don't really provide a "service", per se, but-if you had to quantify what they do contribute into some kind of discernible social role-the most fattering description might be that they make us feel like we're part of a cicilazation. They are part of the urban landscape, they are reminders of how life is wicked, and they are profiles in courage.
Or at least they could be profiles in courage, if they weren't so goddamn inconsiderate. How can you not remember talking to me, old woman?
It's not like you're haunted by career responsibilites and bombared by stimili; in hte past ten minutes, you´re merely asked random strangers for free chicken. Is recalling that I've already declined to give you my charity too much to ask?
Must you treat me like a complete stranger?
As a member of the same civilazation, can I not expect the courtusy of a knowing glance when you beg for chicken a second time?
That's the problem with homeless people: To them we´re all just a number."
// Sex, Drugs and CocoaPuffs*
Chuck Klosterman
Ball bok....I like!!
Ten minutes later, I finish the last nibble of my buttermilk biscuit, all the while watching this old woman through the window. She continues to unsuccessfully panhandle. As I leave the restaurant ans begine walking home, I pass this woman ans she stops again "Can you buy me some chicken?" she asks. Again I say, "What?". She proceeds to repeat her question, and-upon my silence- asks if she can instead have a dollar to buy some chicken for herselfe.
To me this just seems like a poor business philosophy. I realize street people don't really provide a "service", per se, but-if you had to quantify what they do contribute into some kind of discernible social role-the most fattering description might be that they make us feel like we're part of a cicilazation. They are part of the urban landscape, they are reminders of how life is wicked, and they are profiles in courage.
Or at least they could be profiles in courage, if they weren't so goddamn inconsiderate. How can you not remember talking to me, old woman?
It's not like you're haunted by career responsibilites and bombared by stimili; in hte past ten minutes, you´re merely asked random strangers for free chicken. Is recalling that I've already declined to give you my charity too much to ask?
Must you treat me like a complete stranger?
As a member of the same civilazation, can I not expect the courtusy of a knowing glance when you beg for chicken a second time?
That's the problem with homeless people: To them we´re all just a number."
// Sex, Drugs and CocoaPuffs*
Chuck Klosterman
Ball bok....I like!!
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