Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web
As another snowstorm approaches, more complaints from the homeless community can be heard, some of them being even more annoying than you could imagine.
Everywhere you turn, it seems a homeless person has something to say. From "I'm cold," to "please feed me," to "I'm going to die," comments from the less fortunate spew out like a pool of rancid semen, becoming excruciatingly mundane, forcing Quincy residents to face a problem they would much rather ignore.
"Who gives a fuck how cold homeless people are?" asked Paul McGranite, a wealthy investor from North Quincy. "Homeless people ruin everything."
Under the constant pressure of concerned citizens, Quincy Police have promised to keep the homeless hidden from the view of those who are conducting commerce in the city, as it is they who keep the economy flowing, forever feeding into its never-ending cycle of constant fluctuation.
"I pay my taxes just like everybody else," remarked Todd Fundersen, an out-of-work movie theatre attendant from the bad side of West Quincy. "There's two things in this world that I just can't stomach: college kids and homeless people. Neither of which contribute anything to society, whatsoever, I might add. It just seems like the homeless are always in need of something. What a bunch of needy bastards the needy can be. If they're not cold, they're hungry. If they're not hungry, they're cold. It just never seems to end with them. And then, if you're really unlucky, you get to be one of the unfortunate people that has the displeasure of watching them have homeless-sex next to Fratelli's Bakery. I don't know about you, but I don't exactly see myself being in the mood for a coffee and a fig square after I've seen some homeless lady's meat curtains wrapped around some dude's face."
3 comments:
These are great man, but half the deralicts they are about spend there money on heroin and the occassional replacement pair of shelltoes instead of internet. You should think about printing them up in a sweat shop, crumpling them up as if to be discarded, then have the intellectuals from such places as Father Bill's or Labor Ready pass them out at the T kid.
Dude, the funny part is, my wife and I were at an online marketing seminar yesterday and Tito the Fake Indian was there!!!
Fuckin' Labor Ready!
The last time I saw that Quincy Icon, he was rambling on about living in a condemned house with seven other unsavory and less notable sacks of shit! God save the Queen, I figured Quincy's fat and fucking finest would of made him move back to the fake reservation!!!
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