I'm sorry that I've been a little lackluster when it comes to the frequency of my posting in the last few weeks. I know how all you wonderful followers love for me to blast money-shots of intellect into your noggins, but we're going to blame the lack of recent posting on my art department intern whom I will refer to as "Eileen". We're going to call her that, not in the respect of anonymity, but because that's her name and I want everyone to be mean to her. Oh well, on more important notes, I have returned and that's all that really matters. Before I start I want to give a shoutout to a follower who I just became aware of in the last week, proving that not everyone in this world is a supreme doucher and that SBB has a extensive reach . BW, this one's for you, and don't for a minute think that I have forgotten that your girlfriend once named your penis Princess Sophia
I'm sure you have become aware of it by now, but the whole 2010 Census has really begun to chap my ass raw. "Have you filled out your Census form yet?", "10 questions takes just 10 minutes"; no I haven't filled out your census form, and the guilt trip isn't going to have me hurrying to finish it either. They might be wondering why I, like many others choose to ignore this simple civic duty and go about the rest of my day, and I can give you a number of reasons but I'll just stick to two. 1.) I'm an adult and I've got shit to do, and 2.) The needs and wants of others usually are not a concern of mine. So no, I will not be filling out the census.
What annoys me the most is the sheer relentlessness that the census bureau displays. I get a new reminder in the mail every single day, and having been through 4 years of college I already knew exactly what to do when someone gives you a random piece of paper, and that is to either instinctively do the Heisman on that dork handing out the flyers or accepting it and immediately throwing it in the first garbage can you can spot. Also, the constant barrage of television commercials with that fat, sweaty, just out of bed yet extremely active ubercitizen is starting to weird me out too. This guy is gallivanting around his neighborhood playing with kids and helping roll a woman in labor on a gurney and guiding her through her contractions; shouldn't there be a doctor or midwife there to step in and say "Excuse Mr. Man Tits but before you try and touch the baby can you please go take a fucking shower?". I know I'm supposed to fill out the census because its part of my duty as a citizen, and so government funds get appropriately distributed. After all we wouldn't want to leave anyone out, but that gets me thinking that there must be one group of people that do not get represented at all. That's right, I'm talking about the homeless...
Now don't get your panties in a bunch thinking I've gone all liberal on you, I assure you I have not. I'm just trying to make an astute observation about the homeless, and after 4 years at Marquette I'm pretty sure that along with my Bachelor's in Finance I should have received an honorary Doctorate in messing with the hobos.
The homeless community, or as "Malt Liquor Aficionados" as I like to refer to them, are a strange group, something I have realized in the last few years when I lived across the street from the Milwaukee Rescue Mission. For those of you who aren't familiar with the Rescue Mansion, it is essentially the hobo Mecca, where they all congregate while enjoying Flamin' Hot Cheetos and Newports, truly the finer things in life. If you have the impression in your head that all homeless people are like the dirty faced bums from the 1930's who lived in boxcars and carried all their possessions in a handkerchief tied to a stick you wouldn't exactly be correct, but you certainly be wrong either. These days there happens to be quite a vast dichotomy of hobos, and they are quite an interesting species. There's the Nam vet who keeps to himself and just sits on the sidewalk, the wannabe Nam vet who unleashes incessant jibber-jabber about the cruelty of the government yet somehow forget that most of their problems started when they dropped out of high school, and the "just don't give a shit" hobo (my personal favorite) who has accepted the fact that he's homeless and fully understands the humor I find in his overall state of being. These particular hobos are the ones that are more likely to do tricks for you or have a funny sign in order to get a few handfuls of change. True American entrepreneurial spirit if I do say so myself.
Now if Milwaukee is the previously mentioned Mecca of hobo activity then my neighborhood has an active hobo splinter cell. Until I moved to Lakeview I never imagined that amongst the famous architecture, historical baseball stadium, and scenic lakeshore there would be a bum population, but there's one particular neighborhood corner that is a hotbed of vagrant scalawag shenanigans, and it just happens to be around the corner from my apartment. To illustrate what I'm talking about, here's a picture I took last Friday. Let me assure you that people have serious concerns when they see a kid tiptoeing up to a passed out bum poised to snap some photos of him, because its exploitative and ultimately only funny to people like me, but fuck those guys because I've got a blog to write. (Notice that even in his midday slumber this particular bum refuses to let the tallboy of Old English out of his homeless clutch.)
What I found to be one of the most interesting aspects of the bum population is the strange amount of brotherly camaraderie they have; hobos seem to all be best friends, and I guess it makes sense because they need each other to pool their money together and buy menthols or a 5th of red raspberry Mad Dogg 20/20; life as they know it hinges on the collective. During the summertime in my neighborhood these rascals sit outside along Lake Michigan drinking together while watching the joggers run by, all while speaking their indiscernible homeless banter only understood by them. Like I said before, their camaraderie and need for each other is rather strange. Its almost like watching an extremely destitute fraternity the way they hang out, arms across each others shoulders while pissing their pants and singing the beautiful songs of their youth. However, this camaraderie that seemingly ties together all the bums in town can only last as long as a pack of Black and Mild's or a bottle of Wild Irish Rose. The homeless are a fickle bunch, and I am not the first person to realize that watching bums argue in their mush-mouth language over the last cigarette until it escalates into a all-out fist fight is one of the funniest things a human can bear witness to (bumfights anyone?). The fact that stinky bearded men can be best friends one minute and mortal enemies is something I personally find intriguing, and getting to watch the transformation in their soggy minds firsthand is truly something special. Call me crude and down right low, but watching homeless men do silly things like punch each other is funny and there's no way around it. To see grown men attempt to wail on each other, only to fall down in a drunken stupor like a baby taking its first steps will always get a chuckle out of me. Its not funny because of the fact they don't have a place to sleep at night, or because they have a mental illness and no family to take care of them, its funny because they're yelling nonsense in the middle of the daytime and they smell like poo. So next time a bum asks you for some money for food (booze) give the poor chap a dollar, and remember that no matter what brought that goofball to where he is today, know that however he chooses to spend his vagrant days, its only a matter of time until hilarity ensues.
One final shoutout for this post, but this video was sent to SBB by longtime follower, first time contributor Matt Harmon, so enjoy, bitches...
Snappin' necks since 2009,
SBB
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