Oh, hi. I wasn’t expecting you so soon, or I’d have put some of my belongings into the NICE trash sack.
Nobody will steal your stuff if Jesus is watching. Photo here.
Sorry I wasn’t able to set the table, because usually I just eat out of trashcans, unless I can make it to the soup kitchen. But I don’t like to do that, because I hear that soup kitchens and shelters lower property values. If that's the case, it would be self-defeating to inconvenience the hardworking taxpayers who support my lifestyle by dwelling anyplace other than this spot under a bush.
Anyway. Just this morning I found this really great half-eaten Carls Jr. Six-Dollar Burger. Hungry?
She should go for an endorsement deal with Pepsi.Original at The Guardian.
Here, come sit with me on the splendid little urine-scented three square feet of pavement under this here bush I like to call “home.”
Look at that view, eh? A freeway over your head and a clear line of sight to a bunch of empty storefronts. I tell you, when I worked in the corporate world and had a home, I just didn’t know what I was missing.
Livin la vida loca under I-5 in San Diego. Link takes you to source.
Which is why I gave it all up.
I mean, who in the hell wants to work, right? Not me. That’s why I’m homeless.
I see all you people, going to and from your sad little “jobs,” not dressed in tattered, stained, smelly clothes fished out of dumpsters and holey shoes, them and I just think, “There but for the grace of God go I.”
I used to wear Blahniks. Source
Look at Maureen and her two kids over across the street under the mock orange bush. Wouldn’t you rather be living like that than enslaved by employment? What do you really know about freedom if you can’t be with your kids 24/7 in the great outdoors? Plus now that she’s homeless she doesn’t have to worry about rent, so she was able to quit prostitution. (Although she told me last week that she still occasionally gets raped and beaten. So I guess there are still a few issues we who have voluntarily chosen the “homeless lifestyle” could work on.)
I actually pity all you "homeful" people. You’re slaves. You seriously don’t know what you’re missing as you hide behind roofs and walls and bed and furniture and so many changes of clothes, they don’t even fit in two Hefty bags.
Oh, sure, you may think you’re a great success with that sportscar that takes you to work, but I have a shopping cart and no car payments.
Who says you can't have it all? (Image: Getty images, David McNew)
You know what freedom is? Being able to move everything you own from this bush to that spot under a storefront awning during the rainy season, or when the cops make you to move along. That’s what.
No sir, THIS is the life. Homelessness. Sponging off society. Relying on the good will of the government that steals money from decent working people so I can totally bask here in luxury all day long every day with my friends. (I call them my friends, even though most of them are nuttier than a Skippy factory and most of ‘em can’t hold a conversation because they haven’t been able to find a decent supply of antipsychotics in nearby refuse bins…but hey, they’re company, and at least they never talk about ROI or leveraging assets. Those two guys over there occasionally mention DOD, but then they usually spit and say “cocksucking motherfuckers.”)
Support Our Troops: Buy a car magnet. After that you have no moral obligation whatsoever.
Oh, and speaking of antipsychotics, did I tell you about the free health care? That’s right! No “Obamacare” for me. (I read about that in some overnight cover-up. By the way, where did all the day-old newspapers go? It’s getting kind of chilly and there don’t seem to be as many of them this year.)
Where was I? Oh, yeah. I get health care over at the shelter clinic. They’re open every evening for a couple of hours. And as long as I am certifiably, genuinely, truly homeless (which I am, because this piece of sidewalk doesn’t belong to me but nobody else is willing to fight me for it), they can give me things like antibiotics or antifungals to clear up this rash I have from…well, hell, I don’t know what it’s from but that’s not important…anyway, they can give it to me for free.
If I were staying at the homeless shelter, though, they’d have to charge me. (Not that there's any room there, and all you homeful people are doing a really good job of making sure nobody builds new ones—so hey, thanks for the assist there.)
Protect our homeful children...fuck the homeless ones, though. Source
See how smart I am, living outside in the elements here, doing all my business (including shitting and pissing) out in the open? (Be careful about that, by the way, because outdoor elimination is against the law and you could be hauled off to jail for it. I’ve been there. The food’s worse than this half-eaten Six Dollar Burger there, but at least it’s dry.)
Anyway, I’m glad you let me show you around. You should consider switching lifestyles, too, and get free stuff from the government. Homelessness is totally America’s Best-Kept Secret.
What a country, huh?