The Ranks of Beggars, Hobos, and Bums

Sure I'll admit it to ya, I'm a Beggar.

But not a Hobo or a Bum. For ya see, even among us so-called 'homeless folks', there are levels of rank and stature.

Take me for example. I'm a Beggar. One the upper-middle-classmen of the lowest-class.

Now, before you try to figure all this out with your pretty little head, gimme your ears so I can tell ya how it goes.

First off, it don't depend on where ya came from in the beginning. Not one red cent. Could be the son of Bill Gates' himself, and it still wouldn't matter, ya could still be a bum on these streets of mine.

What rank I give ya, well, it all depends on how that cash ends up in your pocket at the end of the night.

At the top o' the chain, there be the buskers. Them be the real aristocrats of us all, seein' as how they've got all the talent. Them be the fiddlers, the fire-eaters, and all them folks who put on a show to get your money. And you can tell they got it good because they have their props - only folks with money can afford to fix that broken string or buy more kerosene to keep them torches lit. Their clothes tend to look nicer too, if ya bother to look at 'em. That's how ya can tell they're our royalty - they got the skill to make it big in this world.

Below the buskers be the Hobos. These guys don't got the cash to sit still and look pretty, so they end up wandering around to get it. Not sure exactly how they do it, as I've never been one of 'em myself, but I do know that you can see em all over the city in the space of a single day. Somehow they get the money to do all that traveling, but I'd be danged if I could figure it out. Tis a nice life they live too - always traveling in a warm bus or hitchhiking in a fast car. They be the cavalier ones, they be - our knights riding through the land in search of grand adventure. Reckon they find it too.

Next comes me class - the Beggars. I'll admit it, we're the lazy ones of the bunch. The various nobles and the like of the aristocracy, all look and no bite. And you can't conest that, can ya kid? We don't hurt noone, basically because it would take too much effort, and we like our lives all simple-like. So we pick a fine spot, usually next to some store we know is full of people comin' and goin', sit down, and politely as ya if you've got any change. 'Tis quite a pleasant way to pass a life til the black man comes, lemme tell ya that. Only time me' life gets rough is in the winter - then sometimes it gets a bit cold on the feet or ass. Sitting on cold concrete aint good for ya, you know. But then you can usually get a fair bit o' change outta people by sitting in one corner of the busshack and asking em for change. 'Course, gotta watch out for the cops when ya do that - if you ask the women too much they come after you and shut ya up for a week. Always watch out for the cops, they'll take away all ofyour fun.

Now let's see, below me are the panhandlers, those be the lazy buggers. Never liked em myself. Don't even bother to ask the rich folks for cash, just sit there, freezing there asses off and doing nothign for nobody. Sure, they get money, but I make twice as much as 'em in a day. Never say thank you either, so rarely do they get a dime from the same man twice. Me, i use my please and thank-you's, and it pays off. So mind what your mamma said, and use those words if you ever see fit to join me at my work - you'll be glad you did. Can't really relate the panhandlers to the aristocracy, unless yuou count em as buzzards that flock around the dying battlefields.

Ah, that remidns me of the scavengers. Those are the guys that confuse me. Almost like undercover speies they are, as you'll never notice them unless you look closely. Fairly wealthy I'd say, judging by the suits and stuff they wear. But don't be fooled, they be part of us 'homeless' jsut the same. See that man over there, with the fancy briefcase? jsut watch now....there he goes. See that? Took the sandwhich right out of the garbage can andn put it in that fancy briefcase of his, see that? They ain't no better than the rest of us, theyre just abit sneakier about how they go about their means. Sneaky little bastards, don't like em a bit. Give the rest of us a bad name.

Alright, now across the street you can see the mothers of our ilk. The concubines and mistresses of the kingdom, the whores. often think they can raise their status in the world if they just make a little more money than the rest of us. Trouble is, they can't. Sure, if she makes a couple bucks she might rise to some rank, but all too often they lack the brains to stop it there. Keep sellin' themselves on the street, and before long everyone knows of their deeds. And noone wants a used toy. So they end up back at the bottom again, often carrying a child or two while there at it. Bit sad, but its there choice, not mine.

If them kids actually survive a couple a years on the streets, well then, mroe often than not, they end up as those squeegee kids you see working in the streets. Can't blame em for trying, but their efforts seema bit wasted to me. Doing work first, then demanding pay? Not likely gonna happen, but sometimes they luck out.

And lastly, there be the bums. Not quite one of us, but on the fringe. Usuaully have money, but are just too cheap to spend it. See em in school yards all the time, asking the others for smokes or cash or whatnot. They could get there own, but there usually too lazy to do it. Most of 'em will end up in ehre if they dont change their ways, but a few of em escape back to 'proper society'. You can usually tell which just by looking at em. The ones with the glassy eyes are they ones that'll join me in a few weeks or months.

So there ya have it son, the aristocracy of the homeless, in all of its ranks and glory. Quite a story, no? Glad to here ya enjoyed it! Now, got any change for a poor homeless man?