I pass a lot of homeless people in downtown. It's funny, I get more pleas every day for money in an hour outside my loft than I did in a whole week in NYC.

I never give money to the homeless because I subscribe to the theory that you can never really tell who's homeless (or at least needs the money–I assume you can be rich and still live under the stars if you're stupid).

Not only can you not tell who's homeless, but you really have to wonder whether some of these people can't get jobs doing what they do to annoy people on the street. If this one guy in Centennial Park can convince loads of people every day that he really ran out of gas two miles away and “just needs enough to get home,” and this other couple can wander around every day saying they're trapped in Atlanta from out of town and just need to raise the $20 needed to stay in the local Salvation Army shelter (“but we're not asking for the whole $20, just $5“–which is in itself way more than the average homeless tip) maybe they should be cold-calling people for some sales company right? Imagine the guilt trip they could put on as telemarketers. And what about the homeless who have really creative signs that evoke emotion or laughter from passersby? HELLO, ADVERTISING AGENCIES NEED COPYWRITERS.

Then there are the homeless who play on their disabilities. This one guy in a wheelchair has like half a body. I swear there's no way he can have reproductive organs, there's just no room. Maybe he can be a stunt double for the next movie star who loses his legs in a bad accident. Or maybe he can do magic tricks for a circus act with fake legs. Another homeless guy I pass in the EXACT same place on the sidewalk every day waves his hand out at you, shakes his head backwards in convulsions, and mumbles some jibberish for change. Dude, if this guy is as retarded as he acts, I'm afraid he might try to EAT my quarters.

Isn't ironic that when people ask if you can spare some change, they actually WANT some change? Spare me.

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