I finally broke down and decided to actually cook a real dinner last night. Pork chops, sauerkraut and homemade macaroni and cheese. None of these things I had so I was off to the store.
Going in and out of the store, I had the thrill of shooing away a panhandler making his pitch for something for some kid or kids somewhere. Not sure what it really was because he was still rattling of his programmed dialog with an exceptionally mush-mouthed dialect as I walked away. I loaded the car and dropped of the cart.
Then came the second panhandler.
It was a woman who, thankfully, kept her pitch short: single mom, unemployed, can I wash the windows on your car?
"No, thank you." "So there's nothing you can spare?"
I understand that part. I don't need my windows cleaned but perhaps there is still hope for some charity.
"No. I'm sorry." I walk on.
"God bless you, anyway."
Anyway?
What fucking gall. Perhaps, lady, your suffering is God's wondrous plan and his hand moved to stay mine from offering charity. That can only lead me to conclude that he wants you to suffer and, if he's feeling charitable himself, die in misery. Who am I to stop that?
I do give to charities but not to any that help humans. Humans can help and better themselves. They just have to want to do something about it. I guess it's easier to wait for a handout than actually make something of your predicament. Sheep, set for life.
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