Fuck the Homeless

Nice weather came back to tease us in DC this weekend. I was psyched. I mean, I'm not too thrilled about the sunburn I got, yesterday. What can you do, though? Use sunscreen, I suppose.

Today on my travels out into the District, I was reminded of the thing I hate most about summers in our nation's capital. Surprisingly, it's not tourists. I would have thought that was it.

It's these fucking "homeless" people. I don't even believe most of them are homeless. If you don't smell like urine and are dressed better than me, I don't believe that you're fucking homeless. And, even if you are, I don't care. Stop asking me for change.

Don't sit outside of a McDonalds that is hiring asking me for money. Walk your ass inside and fill out an application. I didn't work eight hours a day for five days out of the past seven so I can give you money for sitting outside a fast food joint and guilting me out of it.

Also, once I've ignored you or told you no, don't say "God bless you!" Fuck you! I know what you're doing. I'm sure it typically works. I don't owe you, though, and I'm not giving you shit. Get a real fucking job and leave me the fuck alone! I may not be able to stop the government from taking my money and giving it to undeserving people, but I can certainly stop you. You lazy, piece of shit, asshole.