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From the Mammon Issue (May 2000):
Homeless Time! Our Reporter Ranks Her Favorite "Men of the Streets" Amy Phillips Face it, Mammon kicked God's ass. Looking around at our society today, it is clear that the love of money is much more of a motivation than the love of God. I wonder what the banks-to-churches ratio is nowadays. However, there are a chosen few who, for one reason or other, follow the righteous path away from Mammon. Living their lives free from the shackles of the material world, these martyrs roam throughout the land preaching the gospel of charity and love for their fellow man (when they're not too busy peeing on the sidewalk). Found primarily in urban areas, these people attempt to redeem from sin these concentrated pockets of evil. They offer their services without demand, and expect very little (just some spare change) in return. I'm talking about homeless people. Having lived in both Philadelphia and good ol' NYC, I've encountered my fair share of the, uh, shelterally challenged. Here's my list of All-Time Top Five Favorite Homeless People, in no particular order. 1. The "I Believe I Can Fly" guy - Riding uptown one night, this man entered the subway car I was riding in and proceeded to burst into song. Once he had blessed our ears with a traditional rendition of the R. Kelly classic, he said with a smile, "Now here's my version!" What followed was an upbeat, fast-paced scat which is sure to show up on a remix album sometime soon. Note: This guy is so good the Village Voice wrote a blurb about him in their "Best Of New York" issue. 2. The "Doo-Wop Time" guys - Two jovial dudes slipped inconspicuously into a crowded 1/9 car, and one of them asked of a clueless passenger, "Excuse me, what time is it?" After receiving a reply, the guys shouted in unison, "No! It's Doo-Wop time!" and launched into an energetic song and dance. Encouraging the straphangers to join in, the performers clapped and stomped their way down the aisle, shaking their money cup in time with the music. I've seen these guys do their schtick on numerous occasions, and it works every time. 3. The heavy metal sage- My first weekend on campus, two of my friends and I decided to pay an inaugural visit to Times Square. After being kicked out of the Roxy Deli for accidentally ordering at the Take Out counter, we plopped down on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant in protest. A few minutes later, an outgoing stranger joined us and made himself a part of our little group. He mistook us for Megadeth fans just out of the concert at Roseland (what was I wearing??). When a couple of honest to goodness Megadeth fans walked by, he seemed to be on intimate terms with them, and even knew their names. Somehow, he gathered that we were from out of town, and proceeded to educate us on the ins and outs of city life, including how to avoid getting ripped off by hot dog vendors. As we parted ways after a good half an hour of conversation, we all bought copies of the newspaper he was selling. 4. The squatters - Back in the day, in my hometown of Philadelphia, South Street used to be littered with young punks for begging change. I was friends with a few of them, and knew that they were all runaways from upper and middle-class families. Even though they'd hit up passersby for money, and claimed to be starving, most of them were laden down by pounds of spiked jewelry and leather clothing. Somehow they could afford to dye their hair with Manic Panic and attend the shows I saw them at, despite the fact that they slept in graveyards. Then the police cracked down, and many of them ran back to their houses in the suburbs. 5. The flatterers - Walking back from a club one night, my friend and I were complaining about how ugly and fat we thought we looked. No guy would ever want to get with us, we decided, as we wallowed in self-pity. Just then, we walked by a smelly, toothless guy sitting on a corner. He whistled and cat-called as we passed, commenting upon the things he would like to do with our feminine bodies. We ignored him, resulting in a response of, "Hey! Where ya goin'? What are y'all, lesbians?" Once we were a safe distance away, we found ourselves in a much better mood than we had been before. Even if we can't get dates, at least the bums will still love us.
Honorable mention: My uncle. Although he is far from destitute, my mother's brother is, technically, homeless. After losing two consecutive houses in custody battles with two ex-wives, he is currently residing at my grandparents' home. However, family tensions may cause him to exit any day now, and my mom might have to take him in at our house. So, if anybody out there wants to take pity on a nice middle-aged Jewish guy, don't worry, he won't soil the furniture.
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