02 April, 2013
As I drove the boring ass stretch of I 80 back from Chicago 2 months ago, I made a realization: the panhandlers are all the same, be it in Cleveland, Chicago or any other frigid region of the country. All the lunatics you find in the public transit system are all the same.
An open letter to all you pandhandlers out there: you shitheads all have a pathetic (and probably made up) sob story. But, motherfucker, mines better (haha). The difference between the two of us? I don't share mine! No, I do not give a flying fuck about the policia busting down the door to your casa and taking your nest egg. No, I don't give a squirt of piss about how goddamn difficult your life is. Consider this: you could be living in Nicaragua in a pile of garbage eating shit every day and not having any clothes to wear. Do you assholes want my advice? Probably not, because all you're looking for is the way to the next whiskey bar.
As for all you lunatics, yes, you're all God. You're all high and mighty. You are multi-billionaires, not punks and you all have Rolls Royces. And you're riding public transportation. Sit down, be quiet and save yourselves the embarrassment (if you're capable). If not, I'll just write about you on a blog nobody reads.
Get a life (and a job might help too),
KB
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