Sunday, November 22, 2009

Brother, Can You Spare A , um, Like, Some Money, Dude?

I've been walking the dog some more.

Last night, just after the evening twilight, I walk the dog up to a corner, and two skateboarders scrape by.

"Excuse me, sir?" the black-haired one yelled at me from across the street.


"Can I have a dollar?"

This kid is a product of our poor public school system. Our state's kids are growing up without a clue how to properly beg. No panache. No wheedling. Not even a grovel to tug some guilt-and a couple bucks-out of me. They panhandle just like the state. Essentially: Here's a new skateboarder tax: Give me a dollar.

I'm glad there are some private schools to teach some more fortunate kids this valuable skill. Valuable especially in this economy! I mean, how many times have you been at the gas station, without your debit card, no cash, and you just need a couple bucks for gas to make it home? In fact, some kids learn to beg before they can walk! Some even learn to beg instead of walking!

So, for all you folks who've been through Florida Public Schools, and need an appreciation for the sport of scrounge, here are some lines that just may get the job done for you.


I'm from The Immaculate Perception. Around the corner. We see you drive by Sunday mornings. I'd like to explain to you why you need to give me a tenth of what's in your wallet, or burn for all eternity.

I'm collecting donations to buy supplies for my charity car wash to raise money for uniforms for my school's band to wear while they sell cookie dough to fund their trip to Washington, D.C. to play a benefit concert to help starving kids in South America sell popcorn to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina.

My dog needs an operation I can't afford, and it's her birthday today. Could you spare a couple bucks so I could get her something special for her last meal?

Give me a dollar, or I'll have a wardrobe malfunction.

I ran into Samuel L. Jackson, and he said you're not as cheap as everyone says you are.

I know this guy in this apartment building that can turn your ten dollars into fifty. He's really shy, so give me your ten, and I'll be right back.

Mommy! Mommy! --What? You're not my real mommy? Y'know, this deep, personal pain you've caused me could be smoothed over with just a few bucks.

I'm passing the hat here! C'mon, don't cheap out! I had to pawn my ventriloquist's dummy just to buy the hat!

Help! Help! My two-year-old baby wandered out of the house last night, and made it clear across town! I need to send her cab fare.

My job moved to India. Can you spare some dough so I can go chase after it?

Say, stop feeding Africa! I'm hungry and standing right in front of you.

I just gave my last fiver to a hungry skateboarder. Could you spare some change so I can make it home?


There's plenty more, you can bet. I'll be looking for you and your hook. I don't have any cash to give you, you understand. I'm a little light in the wallet this payday. Business has still not stimulated in my neck of the woods, and blogging about idiots don't pay squat, so, um, if you could shoot me a little something-something, you'd make my day. I take Paypal.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Not the first time around the block

What have I been doing instead of blogging? Walking my dog.

A musty dawn broke on our second time around the block. We stopped a full suburban yard away from a white German shepherd nosing the grass. The owner of the grass pulled his extra-wide Buick out of his garage, missed the dog, and pulled into a different driveway in the cul-de-sac. He must have expected the German shepherd to close the garage door.

Chloe tugged me around the block some more, and the neighbor in the Buick pulled up. "Have you seen a white German shepherd?"

"Yes. He was standing in your yard."

"Really? I think he was headed this way. He's my neighbor's dog, and when he gets out, he just takes off. He just doesn't listen. Just a dumb dog."

The Buick pulled up to the German shepherd at the next corner. The driver didn't get out of the car. The dog sat and watched the car back up a little, turn a little, move forward, turn a little, back up a little, etc. until the Buick had made a U-turn. The dog walked away toward another smell.

"See," the driver said, "the dog is stupid."

What was he telling the dog? Get in the car, and drive? Anyone who watches the Dog Whisperer knows German shepherds can't drive. It is the Welsh Cabbies which are bred for their superior chauffeuring traits. Although, they're hard to train to use their turn signals.