I slid through a pile of something unspeakable on the sidewalk across from the Orpheum this morning. And as I looked down upon a foul-smelling mix of partially digested soup kitchen ziti and broken whiskey bottle glass, a realization hit me like the scent of stomach acid in August – they’re baaaaaack.
Those of you who’ve been reading Pye In The Face for a while know where I stand on the homeless. Have a look at those two links if you need a refresher or another reason to dislike me. I honestly feel bad for people who’ve lost their way and have ended up living rough due to mental illness or addiction. But the line has to be drawn somewhere. Boston has, what seems to me, a disproportionate number of vagrants, drunks and hobos. And to make it worse, a good number of them are super-aggressive, foul-mouthed and even violent.
I traverse the majority of downtown twice every single day on my way to and from work. So before you bite my head off for being cold-hearted, ask yourself if you’ve got a good working knowledge of our local rabble. And imagine what tourists, senior citizens, children, etc. are exposed to when they come to visit this great historic city. Walking through the Common in another couple of weeks will make Calcutta look like Boca Raton.
I have to say I agree with dave… I gave a banana the other day, at fresh pond, to a homeless guy with “the sign”. You know –homeless, sober, and needs a job. I sat there at the light for five minutes and not once did he try to eat the banana. If I was starving I would have ate that piece of fruit immediately. My guess is he couldn’t stomach food because he needed booze or he planned on making a trade for booze, drugs, or sex.
Actually, Dave, I have to apologize. The sidewalk effluvia was mine. I just can’t handle a world in which you are a fan of Queens of the Stone Age.
Dave, lets not confuse a reference with a great american past time and homeless dudes. Don’t get soft on us Dave, call it like it is: “The Degenerates of Summer”
Once upon a time I did give a shit about these guys. That was before I started finding one of the little a-holes on my front stoop every morning. Or was it the 974th time I was harassed when I went to buy a coffee at the D&D around the corner from my apartment. No, now I remember, it was the time the guy in front of Store 24 told me to F-off and called me cheap for giving him 50 cents.
Tell ya Dave, I feel your pain brotha!
Brian