The Sad Continuum
2004-10-26

I usually don't give to panhandlers, or buy batteries or candy or tchotchkes. Most of the time, people just look away. The few times I've seen wallets open up en masse it's either for a musical act or for someone who is terribly, terribly wretched. It's a pretty high (low?) bar, too. You'd have to have at least one limb convincingly missing to really score the goods.

Since most people are not part of a four-man drum band or masters of breakdancing in a moving vehicle, they get the blank face and no money. The absolute worst experience I've ever had was when a probably retarded man got into the car and proceeded to start his spiel. Now this guy was out of it enough so that somebody would have given him something, had he not decided that he needed to sing.

Now usually riders, if they don't want to deal with a panhandler, put on a "Hm-hm, no human being asking for money in this car! Don't look at me, mister/miss!" stoneface. But now they were looking actively annoyed. It was terrible because as a society we've been conditioned to laugh at poor performers from the safety of our couches. But you can't laugh at an obviously mentally ill person who genuinely thinks that he's going to make a buck off of you by growling at you. (Begin preachy "ending-of-Full-House" style music here.) Not in real life, my friends. In real life, it's just sad.

Maybe I'm just trying to establish a continuum of Sad Things in Life. That experience would be at the Sadder end. This scam would be a step down on the scale, especially the part where the retarded guy pays $500 to meet a talent agent and writes her letters in crayon for years afterwards pleading for a part. Now that's really sad.