Beggars Can't Be Choosers
Picked up my mail this morning—yet another denial letter, this time from that new housing facility on Stewart. There was a time when the various organizations and programs in Seattle were geared toward finding homes for the homeless, particularly the aged and disabled like myself. Nowadays, if you're elderly, you get sympathy. If you're disabled, you get pity. If you're all of the above and living on borrowed time and the minimum SSI, you get NADA. If you're comparatively healthy and 10 years younger than me and get $200 a month more than me, you get the nice one-bedroom apartment in a nice neighborhood. I, on the other hand, have to languish in a shelter with 60 drunks, psychopaths, crackheads, and baby rapers for another year or more before I can have the dubious privilege of squeezing myself into a 9-by-12-foot box in a roach-infested old hotel in a neighborhood where someone gets shot every fucking Saturday night. Yeah... I'm livin' the dream. Thank you, mister president, governor, mayor, and every other overfed fuckwad who gets to fuck with what's left of MY GODDAMN LIFE!