Crackhead Fever

If you don't know me, and god-willing you don't, but would like to know more about me, it is important to know that I have a certain fondness for the crack-bums that live in Milwaukee, especially on or around the Marquette University campus. Almost daily these beacons of hope for the homeless community take time out of their day to ask me for money. How blessed can one man be? Often, though, they are so cracked out or withdrawn from being cracked out that they make very little sense when trying to verbalize their desires for a "sandwich." Needless to say, these encounters often give me the opportunity to poke fun at the less fortunate and ridicule them for sucking the glass dick. The fact remains, though, that I really do love these guys (and occasionally women, though they often resemble men) and if they are honest about what they intend to do with the money they ask from me (i.e. buy crack, a hooker, booze, a colo-rectal screening) I will usually give them something. Even if I can only give a quarter I will do so because I feel a certain connection with the crackhead community. Except that I don't smoke crack. Or suck dicks for crack. Or kill other crackheads for crack. Or live on the street. Or ask strange people for money. Other than that, though, I am just like these noble, modern urban nomads. Such a proud and industrious people.