An Indecent Proposal (Part 2)

Having recently given $5.00 to a homeless man near my office, I was shocked to see him today sitting in the same spot. How much money does a homeless person need? He’s homeless.

As I got closer I realized this was a different man. He just wore the same filthy clothes as the other guy. No one was around so I ignored him.

I got my iced coffee and headed back to the office. The homeless man was still there, but this time an attractive woman was walking towards me. I was prepared. I stopped in front of the homeless man and held out $2.00 (I had change this time). When he looked up, I saw a nasty gash on the bridge of his nose. It was still bleeding. Why was he getting into fights? He looked frail as a sparrow. He shouldn’t be starting fights.

He blinked in surprise but said, “thank you, brother.” I laughed because I don’t have a brother. “I’m Michael,” he rasped. “What’s your name?” I told him, “Joe.”

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe he had a name. I was so distracted the young woman walked by before I could waylay her and let her know how much I enjoy helping the wretched. The whole thing was a disaster.

Knowgood Carp, Owner of All the Hotels on Block Island and Some in Connecticut.

An Indecent Proposal

Every afternoon I get my iced coffee from Little Green Hive in Roanoke They have the best iced coffee in town. Usually I pass the same homeless man on my route, and sometimes he asks for money. He implies he may be hungry. I always say no, so he’ll learn to be self-sufficient.

Today, however, something was gnawing at my brain. An indecent proposal. What if I did give him money? What would happen? I had no idea.

On my way back, I passed him again. This time I handed him a $5.00 bill, because I didn’t have anything smaller. He looked up at me and said “Hey, bud, thanks a lot.” His voice was raspy as if the winter had been rough on him, but he sounded sincere. He also seemed to smile. I couldn’t see his mouth under his unkempt beard, but that powderpuff of gray hair did seem to shift upwards. His wrinkled blue eyes were twinkling as he took the money from my hand. His fingers were surprisingly warm.

I got back to my office, and I couldn’t get his smiling eyes out of my head. Still can’t. They were almost human. Of course, I washed my hands thoroughly.

Knowgood Carp, Owner of all the hotels on Block Island (and some in Connecticut).

Hands Off the Mustache

I love mustaches. I come from a long line of mustachioed men. It’s my heritage, but it is also a way of life. I only socialize with people who have mustaches. Everyone at my country club wears a mustache – even the women.

There was a time when the mustache was honored. It represented dignity, fashion, and good grooming. People who could not grow a mustache were deemed second class. Poor groomers.

In the 1980s my friends and I paid for an erection. It was of a statue dedicated to Saddam Hussein, because that dude could rock a mustache. Now, yes, we were aware that Saddam was a despot who throughout his life oppressed people without mustaches. He killed and raped many of them. But that’s not why we embraced the statue’s erection. Like us, he was a fellow lover of mustaches. His belief that mustachioed people are superior to non-mustachioed people (a belief we may or may not agree with) is irrelevant.

The Saddam statue has stood in front of the courthouse for nearly 40 years, but now some people (who don’t have mustaches – I might add) have decided to take offense. Focusing solely on all the horrific things he did and stood for, they contend the statue glorifies mustache supremacy – a philosophy that many people now find abhorrent.

But that’s a lost cause. The statue honors the mustache and all the good things it has represented and continues to represent. It is our heritage and we (meaning me and my friends) should be allowed to flaunt it.

Even if society has evolved, you can’t re-write history. Perhaps most people do find mustache supremacy repugnant now. It doesn’t matter. Those people should still be forced to everyday look upon something they consider vile – if only because it makes me feel better. That’s what statues are for.

Knowgood Carp, Owner of All the Hotels on Block Island (and Some in Connecticut)