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by Richard Timothy | Jul 11, 2010 | Mini-Smirk, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
While I was sitting at my desk yesterday, writing up the A-Team theme song experience my phone rang. This in and of itself is not all that common of an experience for me. I mean subtracting the calls I get from Angela I get maybe ten to fifteen calls a week. So when I check the caller ID I was surprised to see that it was my oldest brother Dave was giving me a ring. The surprise comes not from anything negative; it’s just a rather rare event in comparison. I believe it was the second call this year from him. So with my interest already peaked, I answered the phone.
All small talk aside, he was very direct and up front about the reason for his call… there was a sale on some MST3K boxed sets. Apparently there is a site called woot.com that does a daily sale, and it is only a 24-hour sale. Meaning if you want what is being offered you have to buy it that day because you will not be getting that price again. He noticed that Saturday’s sale was for a three pack MST3K DVD 4-pack collection, which is rather confusing when you write it out. It means that there were three different MST3K collections (Volume 16, 17, and 18) and each volume has four different movies in it. At first I wasn’t sure, but eventually figured, “What the hell.” I only needed one of them, but it was a really good sale and now I have two birthday gifts that I don’t need to shop for when the birthdays arrive.
After he let me know about the sale, then began catch up time. Surprisingly, he’s moving to Arizona in the next few weeks! Who knew? He’s only been in Jackson for 16 years. It was, sadly, a much shorter conversation that I would have liked. While we talked, Angela and I got ready and headed to go see the rest of the family for family reunion that we had been planning for the past few weeks. I do hope that the move and new job will give him a little more free time, so that he’s easier to get a hold of. In the past, getting a hold of Dave was a lot like trying to drink a Shush Puppie without getting brain freeze.
Once we finished talking and hung up I started thinking and the whole call, and started laughing to myself because of all the things that are going on in Dave’s life that I didn’t know about and that I feel would be good reasons to give me a call, it was a sale on Mystery Science Theater 3000 DVDs that got him to not only think of me, but that got him to take action and actually give me a call. Even now it gets me chuckling a little bit.
I started thinking about some of my identifiers for my family and some of my oldest (longest) friendships. Things that will always remind me them no matter where I am and what I might be doing. These are things like:
Butterflies = my sweetie-baby-cutie-pie-wifey-pooh, Star Trek = Anson, The Razors Edge by W. Somerset Maugham (or the films) = Dave, Good Omens = Kyle, The Music Man = Dad, Police Academy film (the first one) = Steph, ABBA = Mom, Bugs Bunny = Mike, and wiener dogs or Mickey Mouse = Fee.
Out of all the things out there in the world I have to admit that having my family and friends think of me when MST3K is seen or mentioned is just pretty damn cool.
What are some of your reminders for friends and family?
Image Source: Google Images, key words: checking cell phone, slush puppie, and MST3K.
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by Richard Timothy | Jul 10, 2010 | Mini-Smirk, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Reviewed and Recommended
So last night I got together with some friends to go see the film, The A-Team at a bar/movie theater called Brewvies. It is a brilliant concept where you can get food and drinks and then take them into the movie with you to enjoy while you watch the film. It’s really nice in the sense that you don’t need to smuggle any liquor in to the theater because you can just by it there.
Once we had our pitchers of beer (for those drinking) and out two orders of nachos, we headed into the theater. Traditionally films start about 15 to 20 minutes late, and last night was no exception. The previews rolled by and the movie began. As the film start you are slowly introduced to some of the main characters through a series of action scenes. As mayhem ensues, and a climactic moment is reached, where the good guys rush in to save one of their own, the sound completely cuts in the theater.
Thus begins a barrage of yelling, popcorn throwing, and all around grumbling. Then one solitary person out of the audience, keeping in spirit to what made the old television show so great, yells out, “Bah Bahbah Bah, Buh bah baa…”
And that was all it took, the entire audience took his lead and all of us start belting out The A-Team theme song. As the scene continued to move forward without any sound, we continued sing out that unforgettable little theme song that made the show that much better and memorable. Once the sound came back on and we stopped singing, it didn’t matter what came next, I was going to enjoy this film whether it deserved it or not. I rarely get the opportunity to spontaneously break into song with an audience full of strangers, and let me just say that for the record… it is sooooo much better that I ever imagined possible!
I was in an audience of strangers that all had at least one thing in common, a youth filled love for a bad 80s television series. If film sucked, I really didn’t notice that much. I mean I know it wasn’t a good film, but for those two hours I just didn’t care. I was amongst my A-Team friends, and I for one, thanks to everyone there enjoying the film with me, was thoroughly entertained.
Thanks A-Team theme song, for making us laugh at the A-Team… again.
Image Source:
Google Images, key word: A-Team
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by Richard Timothy | Jul 7, 2010 | I Do Suggest, I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
My friend Jen shared the following story with me the other day. It was about her going to the bar with her friends, mostly. Here’s what she said…
“So I’m hanging out at the bar with some friends. We’re sitting in a booth around a big round table and this one dude, Dan, is sitting across from me. He was long gone (drunk) before we even got to the bar.
He then yells at me from across the table, ‘Hey Jen.’
I yell back, ‘Yeah Dan?’
Then he says, ‘You’re the only girl I know that doesn’t get prettier when I drink.’
I looked at him a second and said, ‘What the f… Dan?’
He then went on to explain that what he meant is that he thinks I’m pretty even when he’s not drunk. Most girls he has to have a few beers in him to think that.”*
And thus ended the story.
*(On a personal interjection here, but if you have to get drunk to find women pretty, my recommendation is you either need to stop going to those kinds of bars, or you need to start dating men.)
It did get me thinking though, how many times do we think something out in our heads to form the perfect sentence to say the perfect thing at the perfect time, and when we finally share it, it’s the perfect sentence to the mental set up you gave it and a perfectly horrible thing to say when said out of context. I think it’s one of those universals in life that we all experience and that makes us all the same… even thought we are all different… which also makes us all the same. Ahh, Universal Individualism: making everyone the same since 8 million BC*, even though we are all different. You know what I think? I think that belongs on a t-shirt!
*(Which is arbitrary number that I just made up.)
I’m trying to think of some of my own “mental conversation not agreeing with the real conversation” moments. I know I’ve had them; my guess is that I am just going out of my way to not remember them. What I remember about these types of conversational mishaps is that it is much easier to forgive yourself for what you said than it is for the other person to forgive you. It’s mainly because you had the entire conversation in your head, so you know exactly what you meant when you made the stand alone statement that got the other party in such a huff.
Another thing that can happen is when you try to get creative with your vocabulary, using words you usually don’t. When you get ready to use the word, you kind of forget it in its entirety, but you still remember some of it. So you wing it, and make up a whole new word that sounds a little like the original word. The result, the other person defines this new word to mean something much worse that you would have come up with on your own. Case in point:
You are out shopping and the significant other or friend. They are trying on a dress that makes them look very regal and magnanimous and you opt to use the second word, but don’t quite remember it so you come out with, “Wow that outfit makes you look so mangansimous.”
To which they reply, “Mangasimous? It makes me look like a man with gas? What does that mean?” All the while they are slowly, yet consistently, raising their voice. And thus begins an unwarranted, yet suddenly needed apology accompanied by you offering to purchase Starbucks for the drive home.
Another mixed word interpretation that can actually get you in even more trouble is when you use a word meaning it in one very specific way, but it is one of those words that had multiple and very different definitions and the definition that the other person uses is not how it was intended. Another case in point :
Using the same situation as before, when the person asks how they look you offer this little sentiment, “You look absolutely awful!”
The response that follows is, at least in my experience, usually filled with a collection of expletives, some that suggests my mother was of canine origin, and the automatic and instant expectation that I am officially taking part, as the only contestant in a little activity called “The Silent Game.” My participation in this game continued until I offended party home. If you find yourself in a similar situation, trust me, don’t try explaining that you meant awful as in full of awe as opposed to being dreadful, terrible, appalling, unpleasant, or bad. Words are not on your side at that point and you will be deemed a liar until chocolate and wine, or flowers, or both are given from you, to them and you are dismissed from “The Silent Game” so you can begin to explain and be forgiven of the use of the word in question.
With all the internet capable cell phones out there this process may have changed a bit since my blunder. It’s much easier to look up words and get an online dictionary to assist you in pleading your case when this type of situation now occurs. Still, words can sure be tricky things sometimes. Just five years ago, instant definition followed by reluctant, yet understanding, forgiveness really wasn’t an option. For your own safety, you use to have to walk around with a pocket dictionary. You know what I learned from walking around with a pocket diction in my, well, pocket… I wasn’t going to shopping with anyone that really fancied a guy with a pocket dictionary.
The best advice I can give… nice. Always use the word nice. It will never let you over commit. It is a short and simple word that everyone knows, appreciated, and likes. It will keep you safe.
So how about you, what are some of your good words gone bad experiences?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: friends at bar, we’re different we’re the same, trying on outfits, no talking, and pocket dictionary.
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by Richard Timothy | Jul 4, 2010 | Adolescent Shenanigans, Holiday Banter, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Utahism, When I Was a Kid
It is Saturday the 3rd of July*, which in Utah can only mean one thing… fireworks! Yes in the state of Utah any holiday that falls on a Sunday, save Christmas, is celebrated by the state on the Saturday before. It’s kind of a catch twenty-two though. (I would have included Easter in that, but Easter is a Sunday holiday so it’s not like it’s going to get celebrated in a different day for some reason.)
At one end of the spectrum it’s the power of the people controlling and choosing when to celebrate… at least it would be if there was a vote. I know it’s what the majority would vote for, which might be the rational for there not being a vote. At least I really don’t remember a vote, and democracy though assumption is not a government that I’m terribly supportive of. Hence part two of the equation, the perpetual and relentless lack of the concept, separation of church and state. I’m not saying that it’s like Vatican city… ok so maybe I’m saying it’s a little like that. There is a very strong church based control of the laws that get passed in this state.
It is getting better though, we even get the occasional alternate lifestyle supporter, and once we even had an a politician in office in Salt Lake City itself who was openly active in that alternative lifestyle. You’d never see it happen in the rural towns, still Utah is not a completely dark age state. Oddly though, the liquor stores are all run by the state. So all of these hard core religious politicians want to make sure they have control of the alcohol in this state, even though they are against the consumption of alcohol. I have heard, which may or may not be true, that it is the taxes on alcohol that helps pay for the schools, which to me means that if you want smarter children in the state if Utah, you really need to drink more. In fact I think for the rest of the wine parties we have each month I am going to start them off with a toast to the education of Utah’s children. It will be in good spirits and everyone will be drinking with intent and purpose.
I don’t believe there are any dry counties in Utah, so I don’t feel we are quite that archaic. I guess when it comes to Utah all I can do is quote the immortal words of one Bob Wiley from ‘What about Bob?’ fame and say, “Baby steps…” We’ll get there eventually, maybe not in my lifetime, but eventually. Until then I’ll keep celebrating Independence Day on the 3rd instead of the 4th during those years that the 4th falls on a Sunday. Likewise, I’ll continuing ignoring all state hosted New Years Eve celebrations that take place on the 30th of January instead of the 31st because the 31st falls on a Sunday… because that is just plain stupid and in my book utter sacrilege.
One of the things I learned today while out and about, going to a late movie during the same time that the official city run firework shows are going off is the perfect time to catch a movie. You can arrive five minutes after the movie has started and still get your choice of almost any seat in the house. We even caught a few colorful fireballs filling the evening sky on the drive home as well. It was like our own little double feature.
One thing about July in Utah is it is unofficially the official firework month. They legalize fireworks for the month of July for two different patriotic celebrations. The first is the 4th, which is the birthday party for the US. The second is the 24th, which is the day Utah officially become a state, hence the birthday of Utah. On both days there are firework celebrations and the state feels compelled to let the people of Utah light off fireworks during these three weeks without any legal repercussion… as long as you don’t set anything or anyone on fire that is. Granted these are only the state sanctioned and legal fireworks that are allowed, which are sold at the various firework booths that start popping up in grocery story parking lots throughout the month of July. For the more adventurous folks, they will drive about an hour out of their way to cross the state border over in to Wyoming were they can purchase illegal fireworks and bring them home… and quite probably
I have mixed feelings about fireworks, mainly because it’s a very literal variation of the old adage “burning your money”, which I’d like to think I’m against. Lighting off fireworks is more like lighting a hundred dollar bill on fire and watching it burn over an hour long interval, but this really only happens once or twice a year. Still, fireworks seem like a bad investment that I’m just not that interested in making.
Besides, I know that a portion of my state taxes are always going to help fund the state hosted firework shows each year, which does make me a little grumpy if I stop to think about it. Let say that the average firework show costs a hundred-thousand dollars (which is a made-up figure that I have no way of knowing is even remotely accurate). Ironically enough, well, hypocritically enough anyway, I always find it comical that it is illegal for any civilian to own or shoot off any illegal fireworks, which are the big ones that shoot into the air and make big colorful explosions in the sky. Yet, it is perfectly acceptable for the city council to bring in and light off thousands of these illegal fireworks each year. I guess that’s politics for you. The main thing I get grumbley about is that we could use that money to help people in the state that are living below the poverty line, that are homeless and hungry. Instead, we light all that money on fire so people can “Ooooh” and “Ahhhh” for about an hour.
Still, the little person inside me still remembers all of the fun I had based on bad decisions in the name of a good time. Things like holding firecrackers with my hands and throwing them into the air before the fuse ran out and they would explode. My favorite was the Roman candle wars we would have. Roman candles were twelve to fourteen inch long fireworks, about a half inch in diameter. One end had a stake that you would stick into the ground and then you’d light the fuse at the other end and ten to twelve little fireballs would shoot out of the end, burning a different color. They didn’t last that long and would burn out before it hit the ground, still you got ten of those in a row. My brothers and I would actually hold those things in our hands and then run around the back yard trying to hit each other with these baby fireballs. My dad just laughed at us and stayed close to the hose.
There is something hypnotic and inspiring about fireworks. I see it in the eyes of my niece and nephew when they watch them go off and fill the night’s sky with fiery colors. It’s kind of like watching them dream while they are awake. And there is my firework conundrum… inspiring and invoking imagination in the youth, and a huge waste of funds that could help those in need. Hopefully someday the state will find a happy medium. Until then I’ll try to keep this conundrum to myself and try to spend time with the niece and nephew when the fireworks go off and continue to donate to the food bank when I can. I guess that’s my happy medium for the time being. I hope everyone enjoyed, their 4th festivities, even if they happened to happen on the 3rd.
What are your thoughts on firework shows?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: Utah fireworks, what about Bob, firework tent, watching fireworks, kids watching fireworks.
*I realize that I officially posted this on the 4th, but it was written on the 3rd. Sometimes things take a bit longer to post than I initially expected. Personally I blame hay fever and allergies, but the allergy medicine did play its role as well.
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by Richard Timothy | Jun 30, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
Recently my sweetie-baby-cutie-pie-wifey-pooh had her birthday, and as birthday’s go this one went rather well. The celebration of which managed to expand over a three day period, which is almost the amount of time it takes to watch the Lord of the Rings Extended Version Trilogy back to back… almost being the distinguishing word there.
So what made this birthday so grand and drawn out? There were a couple of elements added to this holiday. The first and main reason, it was Angela’s birthday and in truth I could just stop there. When the one you love becomes a year older what better cause for celebrating for three days in a row. As far as age goes, I am going to break all southern etiquette rules… or is it female etiquette rules? I am going to break all southern female etiquette rules and let you all know that it the fourth anniversary of Angela’s 29th birthday. And that means only one thing! Butterflies! I’m pretty sure that the symbol of the fourth birthday anniversary is the butterfly. At least that’s the theme I went with. Of course having Angela overly smitten with most things butterfly caused this choice to work out pretty well.
Saturday evening began the birthday festivities in a tri-celebration. Two additional friends were also in the season of their birthday so in the spirit of giving I made a vat of fruity alcoholic happiness. One of the birthday people had brought two questionable bottles of wine. The type of wines that had exceeded its stay in its home of fermentation and over the years had become a bit withered and grumpy, and constantly yelling at all the young wines to stay out of its rack. One was a white zinfandel and the other was a seven year old bottle of Chianti. After trying each it was clear that both had gone over to the dark side. I used my mixing mastery in to save these poor decrepit wines from being undrinkable, and turned them into the base for my beverage dispenser of fruity birthday toasting.
We did end up putting a skull and crossbones sticky note on the drink dispenser though. Apparently if you fill something with fresh fruit, ice, and make the liquid in it a happy and festive summer color, little kids tend to think that it was made specifically for them. I learned this as I was finishing up the drink and a line of little people formed asking if they could have some. There was a chorus of adults loudly denying this request. “That drink is not for you.” echoed throughout the party and a pitcher of lemonade was quickly produced and poured into the little one’s cups.
As the party came to a close and birthday people began to head home, we had the present opening portion of the evening. To Laurie, our gracious party host, and whose husband Dwight and friends serenaded our birthday honorees with live music, we gave her a cage for naughty candles that refuse to play nice with others. At least that’s what it reminded me of. It was a round wire cage with a twisty bottom that you could remove and place a candle on, and then twist back into place so that the candle was in the cage. It also had a long wire handle so you could hang it on a ceiling hook in a corner of the house when you decide to put the candle in time-out.
Then there was Mike, who received the collection dollar items for the sole purpose of filling a lovely leather travel toiletry bag that had a water proof lining for Mike to take with him on all his many travels… to meet up with his wife who travels all over the world for work… which means she now has a very nice travel bag to take with her when she travels and that will always house one extra tooth brush for Mike for those occasions when he gets to meet her somewhere in France, Germany, Michigan, wherever really.
I did manage to get Mike a new t-shirt though, which is inherently him. Some people collect spoons, others collect spices, which is a lot more people than you might think. Think I’m kidding? Go to your kitchen and look in your spice drawer, you just might be surprised at how many spices you have in there that have never been opened. If you have more than five, then you are an unknowing spice collector. Welcome to the club.
As for Mike, he collects vintage looking food t-shirts. Like his red shirt with a big McDonald’s M on it, or his brown t-shirt with the A&W logo on it. He loves them. It’s a sort of tie to his youth when junk food tasted better, was cheaper, and was probably better for you than it is today.
For you slightly out of your twenties folk, do you remember the Tootsie Pops commercial with the owl and the little kid asking how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop? The owl takes the pop licks it three times and then bites the pop off the stick, and hands the stick back to the kid telling him, “three.” Well it just so happens that I found a t-shirt that had Mr. Owl sitting on a branch with the word POPS in the back ground, and a caption under the owl that read, “How many licks?” When Mike unrolled the t-shirt and saw what it was… it was like looking into the eyes of a six year old who had just eaten his first Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. It was the look of pure joy.
For Angela, I gave her the one thing she always seems to need more of, time… sort of. It was a watch, actually two, but I gave her the second one on her actual birthday instead of at the party. I guess you could say that I gave her time pieces symbolizing how time flies, but that just means that the watches I gave her had butterflies on them. Yes, accessories with butterflies on them truly is the one thing she currently seems to need more of.
Getting her two watches started when we were in the Fossil store a few weeks back, which happens to be the same store where I got my sun dial. She saw two different watches that had butterflies on them and fell in love. She self debated for a good twenty minutes over which one she liked the most. Once she reluctantly decided I told her we’d come back as soon as pay day arrived. Then the next day I went and got both of them for her. My birthday message to her mimicked a message that she has been sharing with others for a while now. To paraphrase the message… you don’t have to settle in life, you can be happy in personal and business relationships, healthy, wealthy and enlightened. Life is not about living in just one of those areas, while the rest suffer. Life is about all of them and living in a way where you have a balanced and whole life. In short, you deserve it all, and Angela deserved all of the butterfly watches she wanted.
Day two of the celebration consisted of sleeping in, and moving slowly once we got up as a result of moderate alcohol consumption and an assault of vindictive pollen beating my allergies into a state of sneeze filled exhaustion. One we hit the post shower level of begin awake we went over to Laurie and Dwight’s and helped clean up the party mess. Once that was done, we hit the last day of the Utah Arts Festival. We spent five hours wanders around looking at booth after booth of various forms of art, such as painting, jewelry, ceramics, glass work, pencil drawing, sculptures, stained glass, and so on. All the while we were being followed around and tempted by the savory fragrance of cinnamon roasted almonds… that mouth watering tempter of sweet crunchy goodness. We did manage to resist its temptation though.
There were five different stages at the Arts Fest and through our walkabout we did see two spoken word performances, a collage of different dance performances, an obnoxious pigmently challenged rapper, an Ani DiFranco sounding angry anti-folk singer, and a fairly groovy soul/funk band. Our evening ended with us going home around 9:30 as a result of me falling asleep on the grass while Angela was listening to the music. I really tried, but I was on a losing battle against the summer horror that is allergies.
Day three, which was the official date of the celebration, consisted in me taking off work and spending the day with my sweetie. Again, sleeping in was our first accomplishment for the day. By 1PM we were out of the house and heading downtown to eat at Angela’s favorite Mexican restaurant. It was so good, but so… much… food… We didn’t eat anything else the rest of the day/night. The margaritas were strong and left Angela enjoying a birthday buzz as we went shopping the rest of the afternoon. Before lunch I did give her the second watch, and a card/sketchbook. Meaning I gave her a sketchbook where I sketched something on the first page and wrote an inscription along with it so it could serve as a birthday card. She cried when she read it, but in a good way.
I’m not sure why it’s become common practice to always add that clarifier when you mention you made someone cry. I mean whose going to advertise that they were a jerk and made someone cry? Ok that is who beside Don Rickles, or a politician publicly apologizing for making their wife cry because they are a liar and cheater? Oddly though, every time I hear someone mention they did something to make their significant other cry, they always clarify it with, “In a good way?” It’s always quickly added as well, as if there is some very large man close by holding a cricket bat ready to smack you in the kneecap while yelling, “You don’t make women cry!” Still, we feel compelled to clarify every time that phrase is uttered.
All things said and done, it was a wonderful three day celebration for my beautiful wife’s fourth anniversary of her 29th birthday. I love you honey! Next year I hope the celebration lasts a whole week… you deserve it!
Any thoughts about today’s Smirk?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: Happy Birthday Angela, fruit punch, hanging candle holder, tootsie pops owl, fossil butterfly watch, Utah arts festival, and red iguana Utah.
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by Richard Timothy | Jun 26, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
I have, from time to time been so compelled, moved, and motivated to pass on cash to the occasional beggar. It was during my summer in San Francisco that learned the errors of making eye contact with strangers on the street and of carrying any cash on me when I left the house. Responding to them is something that takes a little getting use too if you’ve had no experience talking to these people. I remember one day, while on my way to work, a younger guy, close to my age, was lounging on a bench and yelled out to me, “You got a dollar?”
“I’m fine thanks.” I replied. I was aware of my error the second I let it out. Trust me when I tell you that beggars don’t appreciate you replying to their begging in the same way you would when responding to a sales associate who approaches you and asks if there is anything they can help you find.
“I the one that’s not fine!” the man said back to me, puffing out his chest, but making no effort to leave the bench. He kept yelling after me as I continued to walk to work, but I ignored what he was saying. I do remember thinking that if I could get a job in the overpriced city of San Francisco, I’m pretty sure he could too. At this point I started laughing. I’m not sure if everyone experiences this, but for me all it took was a summer in San Francisco surrounded a sea of beggars for me to actually utter the phrase, “Get a job hippie.” and mean it. Times they were a changing.
I say beggar because there is a very distinct difference between being homeless and being a beggar. You can have plenty of homeless people that beg, but when it comes to begging for a living, well, it’s a living, one that can enable some of your more proficient beggars an income that exceeds $100,000 a year. My biggest gripe is that I really can’t tell the difference, unless of course you happen to see them changing for work.
It was during my last trip to Vegas a few weeks back where I saw this rear opportunity of seeing a professional beggar out of his natural habitat and in the wild… dressing up, actually dressing down, getting ready for work. It was the last night in town and Angela and I were with friends and on our way to dinner when we stopped at a red traffic light. I notice a little supped up Honda pull past us and a guy jumped out of the front passenger side and walked to the corner. As the light turned green we rolled past the intersection there was the guy who gotten out of the car, holding some cardboard sign about being hungry, or trying to get enough cash to get a bus ticket home to his little kid, or something like that specifically devised to pull at ones heart-strings so they will be more apt to give a dollar.
The thing was he was holding the sign between his legs while he was changing shirts. He had one nice clean shirt that was resting over a guardrail while he was putting on a very nasty looking t-shirt that had a few holes in it. I mean talk about a gutsy fraud. Then again the first group of cars was the one that got to see this rare metamorphosis in progress. All subsequent groups would only see a professional beggar passing as a homeless person in need. It made me a little sad because essentially what you are doing when you give a professional beggar a dollar is tipping a lazy person for being a bad actor.
I’m all for helping the homeless. It’s just a bit of a struggle to figure out who’s homeless and who’s pretending to be homeless. So I donate to local soup kitchens and homeless shelters or offer a few dollars to people who are at those places. I figure that the pretend homeless won’t be going to places that those in need gather at for meals, support, and a nights rest.
If you are of the disposition of giving a beggar some cash, try making it an even exchange. It was something I picked up in San Francisco, and it takes only one word… “Why?” When someone walks up to you and just asks for change and you simply give it to them, it seems a little one sided. So when people would start approaching me, asking for cash, I’d ask them, “Why?” It caught some off guard, but others were professionals and were ready at a moment’s notice.
I’d just sit back and listen to the story of why they needed the money. Some stories took about a minute to get through and were the equivalent to the signs that lazy beggars hold up on street corners. Some stories would last close to fifteen minutes. Once they were done with the story I’d tip them based on the how good I thought the story was. That way I was encouraging and donating to the imagination and storytelling ability of the person instead of just giving them some change with no even exchange on my part. I was much happier to donate to these performers when I started getting, well, a performance.
One of my favorite ones was from an ‘ex-military pilot’ who had been discharged after telling people about a UFO sighting he witnessed and was ordered to keep to himself. He spent a good ten minutes telling me all about the sighting and how he loved to fly his jet. The explained further that he had come to town to meet with his old commander about possibly getting his job back. Things were going well at the meeting until he got a priority call from his expecting wife. She was in labor and told him to get home as soon as possible. He was trying to get bus fare so he could get back to his wife and new baby. It was much more involved than that, but you get the basic idea. I gave him four dollars for that one. It took him about 20 minutes to get through it, and I felt like I was giving him over minimum wage for the time he’d given me. It wasn’t a great story, good but not great, it was quite entertaining though. All in all, it seemed like a rather fair exchange, and I feel a lot better about these donations now.
I do hope that in the event that I come across someone that is truly homeless and I take them for a beggar that they feel sharing a story is a little more like working for the money instead of just begging, and that they appreciate that. All in all, it’s a tricky situation to decipher. I hope some of this helps you the next time you choose to make one of these types of donations. As a general rule of thumb I stick to, if you are donating because you are being guilted into it, keep your money. If you truly want to help or want to tip a stranger for a story they just shared with you, I say go for it.
If you’ve need exposed to them, what are some of the stories beggars have told you?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: begging, get a job hippie, helping the homeless, and UFO story.
While I was sitting at my desk yesterday, writing up the A-Team theme song experience my phone rang. This in and of itself is not all that common of an experience for me. I mean subtracting the calls I get from Angela I get maybe ten to fifteen calls a week. So when I check the caller ID I was surprised to see that it was my oldest brother Dave was giving me a ring. The surprise comes not from anything negative; it’s just a rather rare event in comparison. I believe it was the second call this year from him. So with my interest already peaked, I answered the phone.
After he let me know about the sale, then began catch up time. Surprisingly, he’s moving to Arizona in the next few weeks! Who knew? He’s only been in Jackson for 16 years. It was, sadly, a much shorter conversation that I would have liked. While we talked, Angela and I got ready and headed to go see the rest of the family for family reunion that we had been planning for the past few weeks. I do hope that the move and new job will give him a little more free time, so that he’s easier to get a hold of. In the past, getting a hold of Dave was a lot like trying to drink a Shush Puppie without getting brain freeze.
