First of all, this node is not about some bearded guy in a white toga
walking around Nazareth
paying poor people money so he can jerk off in their faces. And perhaps my radical ideas about financing bums have already occured to others, but this has plagued me recently.
In Dublin, there is a lot of bums. They are all harmless and quite content to sit on the street corner knocking back cans of 12% Special Brew. Occasionally they will come out with a rant about the Merchant Navy or pull out their willies and try to aim a piss at you like some type of urine light sabre. But for the most part they are good people and I am happy to give them money, buy them a cup of tea or have a chat. At Christmas time I always received stacks of booze from whatever Irish dot com I was working for at the time, more than I could drink, so I would give it to the local down & outs on Georges Street, possibly worsening their alcohol addiction at the same time but at least they would be having a bit of a laugh and getting pissed on something other than meths or cooking sherry.
You get the picture. I have time for bums, but I'm no fucking Mother Teresa or Bob Geldof by any strech of the imagination
I live in London now and the bum population here is insane compared to Dublin. I work on Park Lane which is quite a swanky part of town. Lots of investment agencies and luxury hotels yet there are stacks of bums around. I have to walk through a subway tunnel under Park Lane to get to my place of work and there is usually 4 or 5 bums camped down there begging for money. There is an alcoholic couple, a guy with a guitar who sounds better than Bob Dylan and a guy who looks like a caterpillar. These are the regulars and I give them change whenever I have it. Today however, a new guy moved in on the patch and I was out of change by the time I got to him in the tunnel. As I passed him, he put his hand out in anticipation of some free money. I apologised, explaining I was out of change and I would sort him out later if he was still around.
He then got really pissed off because he knew that I'd shelled out to the other guys up the tunnel.
I apologised again then went on my way. As I neared my office, I looked around and made a mental note of all the bums in the area. Then I started thinking about my bum selection process.
How does one decide which bum to give money to?
1. The most desperate looking?
2. The most musically talented?
3. Best aim with a piss weapon?
How would Jesus Christ do it if he were alive today? Would he really stop and give money to every single bum he saw AND heal them at the same time?
Talk about a logistical nightmare.
So I thought to myself: Should I feel guilty about every bum that I pass on the street?
Should I do that awkward "pretend not to see them" thing that I sometimes do?
Should I drop everything and become a professional helper of the homeless?
Simple answer to these questions: No.
Homeless people don't get the help they need, they certainly aren't represented properly either, but I simply can't help every bum I pass in the street. Should I let my repressed inner catholic come out and feel guilty about it?
What would Jesus do?
More importantly, what would Brian Boitano do?