27 December 2005

My Dog Rolls in the Shit of the Homeless

When I took the Hammer for her walk this morning we took a closer look at the campsite where somebody lived for months until recently the other side of the tracks just a few hundred yards from my place. It does not really look like the occupants moved out voluntarily judging by the way everything strewn about was broken. Hammer had a good sniff through everything and I was happy as England was back in '66 when she did not pull any body parts out of the wreckage.

There never used to be people camped in every half hidden undeveloped corner of this or any city around here. The camping craze began when a coven of drunk poor haters got voted in a few years back. Oh sure, there was the odd unofficial campsite by creeks here and there. And Dope City has had people camped in the fresh air in all kinds of weather for thousands of years. But now, with it being harder than ever for people to get welfare the government thinks should be able to work (or fucking starve like concentration campers), the Hammer and I have seen people living under tarps by the tracks with regularity.

The townsfolk do not talk about it much, though a story or two have been published in the newspapers claiming hundreds of people live outdoors all year round in my small city alone. I would not think of tipping over such a home. It sucks that my dog likes to eat and roll in their shit when we are out and about. But if she did not find their shit to roll in she would find something else just as stinky and gooey to perfume herself with. And I know that as a working person I am only a few unexpected circumstances away from living in a tent myself.

Maybe that is why the cities around here have banded together to ship our garbage hundreds of miles away to a remote desert location: the tent people hating motherfuckers do not want them setting up camps around the dump like they do around the rest of the world.

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