I’m sorry my lived experience conflicts with your preconceved notions of reality. Both of those stories are 100% true. I could go on, but it’s clear you aren’t interested.
Sure, so the first homeless guy I talked to was when I was in college at the University of Oregon. This would have been, oh, 1990? 1991? Something like that.
He stopped me because he had a DEEP Southern accent and I gave him some change, but I wanted to know…
“Clearly, you’re not from around here… What’s your deal?”
Most honest response I’ve had…
“I’m addicted to heroin, my sister’s a lawyer and got sick of dealing with me and told me she’d buy me a bus ticket to anywhere provided it was one way.”
“And you picked…” (gestures) “Here? I mean, I’m biased, I love Eugene, I grew up here, but I can’t wait to leave.”
He just kind of shrugged. Eugene is kind of special in that the clock stopped there somewhere around 1972. If you’re scrounging for drugs, Oregon is a general destination, but Eugene SPECIFICALLY. At least, back in the day. It’s Portland now.
Down the street from this guy was the U of O’s resident “Homeless” guy, Frog. Frog was a character and wasn’t TECHNICALLY homeless. He made a “living”, if you could call it that, selling home made joke books to the student population. Wow, he’s still alive…
The polar opposite of Frog was this guy everyone called “Zeus”. I don’t think anyone knew his real name. There was lots of urban legends about Zeus… scary looking dude who walked around in a pink house coat with a string of Barbie doll heads tied around his waist.
You did not talk to Zeus. Had all the earmarks of a paranoid schizophrenic. I never heard of him actually hurting anyone, but he sure looked the part.
Looks like he died in 1998, tuberculosis, he was 39.
If you think wage slavery is the solution to homelessness, I strongly urge you to look into sociopathy and maybe go get screened.
Hey, if they don’t want to actually work, then admit that.
I talked to a homeless dude with a “Will work for food” sign.
“Hey, I know a guy who needs a hand, what do you need?”
“I can’t work inside.”
“Your lucky day, it’s pushing a wheelbarrow outside.”
“Just give me money, man.”
Interact with enough homeless people and you see the same grift over and over. They aren’t interested in actually working.
My father used to make the same claim as well. My father was a liar though. He never once offered a job to a homeless person.
I don’t think you have either, but regardless of that, offering to rent day labor at below market wages does nothing to solve homelessness.
I have, multiple times. The one time it wasn’t some bullshit story was a dude on a train offering to rap for food money.
Dude was probably 22 or 23 but methed out of hus fucking mind and looked 40 and like he was about to keel over.
“Naw, man, you don’t need to rap, I’m getting dinner at the next stop, I’ll buy you dinner.”
He was in TEARS.
We walked into the restaurant and the workers FREAKED OUT, pretty sure they had seen this guy before so told them “No, it’s cool, he’s with me.”
Told him he could order whatever he wanted, and he cried through the whole meal. Sat down and talked to him for a bit and we went our separate ways.
This was, oh, 24-25 years ago now.
That’s all very interesting. None of it happened, but very interesting.
I’m sorry my lived experience conflicts with your preconceved notions of reality. Both of those stories are 100% true. I could go on, but it’s clear you aren’t interested.
No, I’m not interested in what you have to say.
Sure, so the first homeless guy I talked to was when I was in college at the University of Oregon. This would have been, oh, 1990? 1991? Something like that.
He stopped me because he had a DEEP Southern accent and I gave him some change, but I wanted to know…
“Clearly, you’re not from around here… What’s your deal?”
Most honest response I’ve had…
“I’m addicted to heroin, my sister’s a lawyer and got sick of dealing with me and told me she’d buy me a bus ticket to anywhere provided it was one way.”
“And you picked…” (gestures) “Here? I mean, I’m biased, I love Eugene, I grew up here, but I can’t wait to leave.”
He just kind of shrugged. Eugene is kind of special in that the clock stopped there somewhere around 1972. If you’re scrounging for drugs, Oregon is a general destination, but Eugene SPECIFICALLY. At least, back in the day. It’s Portland now.
Down the street from this guy was the U of O’s resident “Homeless” guy, Frog. Frog was a character and wasn’t TECHNICALLY homeless. He made a “living”, if you could call it that, selling home made joke books to the student population. Wow, he’s still alive…
https://www.hereisoregon.com/people/2022/10/street-vendor-frog-and-his-joke-books-have-become-a-university-of-oregon-institution.html
The polar opposite of Frog was this guy everyone called “Zeus”. I don’t think anyone knew his real name. There was lots of urban legends about Zeus… scary looking dude who walked around in a pink house coat with a string of Barbie doll heads tied around his waist.
You did not talk to Zeus. Had all the earmarks of a paranoid schizophrenic. I never heard of him actually hurting anyone, but he sure looked the part.
Looks like he died in 1998, tuberculosis, he was 39.
https://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1310&dat=19981125&id=5E9WAAAAIBAJ&sjid=s-sDAAAAIBAJ&pg=1736,6680996&hl=en
If only you had offered Frog your friend’s wheelbarrow. Maybe things could have been different.
Sounds legit. I fully believe this story.