I knew a guy once, long time ago now. Nice guy - people remember he could sing the Lord's Prayer so sweetly. Went off to World War II as a 19-year-old kid. Had the back luck to be wet and freezing in a foxhole during the Nazi Ardenne offensive. Saw his buddies blown apart; his best friend died in his arms. Came back and was never the same. One of those guys who jumped whenever a car backfired; woke up in the night screaming. Started drinking to numb the memories. Over the years things went from bad to worse. He bought a six-pack every night after his janitor job and drank himself to sleep in front of the TV; his cigarettes fell from his hands, leaving burning trails in the floor. He lost his family and ended up on the street, still fighting the Battle of the Bulge during feverish dreams under cardboard on the mean streets... And every day as I pass by, I thank God I am not like that that sinner.
And for people who don't catch your reference:
My thoughts on panhandlers:
They'll probably just buy alcohol.
Jesus' thoughts on panhandlers:
Give to everyone who asks.
My thoughts on Jesus' thoughts on panhandlers:
Yes, sir! How high, sir!
(Let’s try this again...) Right on guys! I’m no liberal commie b%#^%^#t who needs to feel any responsibility towards those who have fallen on hard times.
I knew a guy once, long time ago now. Nice guy - people remember he could sing the Lord’s Prayer so sweetly. Went off to World War II as a 19-year-old kid. Had the back luck to be wet and freezing in a foxhole during the Nazi Ardenne offensive. Saw his buddies blown apart; his best friend died in his arms. Came back and was never the same. One of those guys who jumped whenever a car backfired; woke up in the night screaming. Started drinking to numb the memories. Over the years things went from bad to worse. He bought a six-pack every night after his janitor job and drank himself to sleep in front of the TV; his cigarettes fell from his hands, leaving burning trails in the floor. He lost his family and ended up on the street, still fighting the Battle of the Bulge during feverish dreams under cardboard on the mean streets. And every day as I pass by, I thank God I am not like that that sinner...