I am going straight to hell. On my way into work the other day, I stopped to admire the snow that had accumulated on all the public benches near my office and I immediately thought, ‘What a lovely sight! Not a single bum lying around, asking everyone for change. If only these benches could be covered in snow all year.’
I never give money to panhandlers. In fact, I don’t even give to the shameless people who ring those damn Salvation Army bells. I just don’t like being asked for money on the street, period. Growing up in the South where the car is king, I never had to worry much about panhandling. The homeless problem was, for the most part, an invisible one, and I think everyone likes it that way. Now that I find myself in a pedestrian-friendly metropolis, I’m asked for money (or a petition signature) every two blocks and I find myself daydreaming about being a deaf mute just so I’ll have a legitimate reason to avoid the Greenpeace activists or the guy who keeps asking me to sponsor him in an AIDS walk that always seems to be right around the corner.
It’s not that I don’t believe in charity. I just don’t see what difference it makes if I give a little bit here and there, or if I give away a giant pile of money when I’m really old and pricey man-whores no longer excite me. At least then I can pick a decent cause and make a dent in the problem. Lately, every time I watch one of those Save the Children commercials, I keep thinking, ‘I know it’s only 50 cents a day, but is this a long-term solution? Because I’ve been seeing these same kids on TV for 20 years and I’m beginning to think it would be more efficient to just adopt all of them and bring them here where the food is.’
I’m also annoyed with celebrities who complain about the disparity between rich and poor, then get great press for donating one or two percent of their annual income to charity, then run out and buy another $2500 handbag or $200,000 car. Can you really call yourself a charitable person when the money you spend on moisturizer could feed a Guatemalan family of four?
I do recognize there’s merit in helping others in small doses—I’d just like to find a way of doing it that doesn’t reward people for being lazy. I know, I know—if I like the Republicans so much, why don’t I just marry them? Well, I totally would—if they’d stop tapping their damn feet at me in airport lavatories and just make an honest man of me—but I digress. My point is I do have a heart. I don’t even spit on homeless people when I see them or anything! Case in point: when I was still relatively new to urban living, I made an effort to carry snacks with me that I could give out instead of cash. I felt pretty good about it until one of the chronic panhandlers on my El line accepted my granola bar with a smile and promptly dropped it on the floor as he walked away. I stared at it and left it lying there for a good five minutes, thinking about all the germs from his hands that were now multiplying on the wrapper. I eventually picked it up and put it in my backpack, but swore I wouldn’t eat it. Of course, a few weeks went by and I found myself trapped on a train “due to an equipment problem,” wondering if I’d ever see my family again, and suddenly, that granola bar that wasn’t fit for a bum started calling my name. So, until I no longer find myself eating food cast off by homeless crack heads, I’m going to continue to hoard my money and search for the perfect charity.

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