---
Name: various
Age: various
Occupation: various
Last Seen: various
Bee-otched For: not knowing where their heart is
Age: various
Occupation: various
Last Seen: various
Bee-otched For: not knowing where their heart is
---
Saturday morning, I woke up past 5 a.m. to see lights flickering outside my window.
There was a firetruck, complete with a few vehicles in front and behind it. I was thinking that maybe there was an accident or somebody had to be taken to the hospital. So, I took a piss and hopped back into bed.
Several hours later, I woke up, opened my shades and turned on my phone. One of the first messages that I received was from one of my news apps saying that there was a massive fire at an apartment complex next to mine.
I went online and the station had a news story about the fire, which caused the roof to collapse. Luckily, no one was hurt, but the third floor to that building was gone. I went out later that day to see the damage. You could see through the windows and there was nothing left. The walls had collapsed, revealing the foundation. I shook my head, knowing that this were people's homes.
Later on that evening, I was doing laundry and I had an idea. Why not donate some of my old clothes to the apartment to give to the victims? So on Monday, when they reopened for business, they told me to come in with what I had and I did. I had an armload of old shirts, jeans and towels that I no longer used, plus an old wifi router and a dish rack that I no longer used. One of the ladies in the office told me that I was the FIRST PERSON to donate items to the victims of the fire. I was happy, but at the same time, angry that not more people wanted to help out.
In the years that I've lived here, it doesn't really shock me all that much. As a matter of fact, the only person that tried to friend me here was a drunk Vietnamese guy who would make me go to the liquor store to get beer and cigarettes for him and he was living in squalor. To everybody else here, I'm a stranger. But since it seems that nobody else wanted to help these poor people - many of whom didn't have renters insurance - get back on their feet.
I know, renters insurance only costs around $10 per month for many, but to some, it's just another unneeded bill. That is, until their home catches fire and they no longer have a bed to sleep on or a TV to watch. When I was a little boy, my parents made me donate old toys and clothes to those whose homes burned down. I fondly remember going to a family friend's house that had just burned down with my parents and they showed me some of the toys in the garage that were charred. They wanted me to think of others when they lost their possessions.
It's sad that when these 40 or so people lost their things, I bolted to action. True, the Red Cross helped, but still, I felt that more could be done.
Sometimes, I get angry when people give to the wrong people. We have idiots like Joel Osteen making tax-free millions from brainwashed dolts who think that they only way to God is through giving giant wads of cash to him. Or the morons who helped Kenneth "God doesn't talk to people in coach" Copeland get himself a $36 million jet plane. Sometimes, I mentally scream in agony knowing that good people like my aunt are dying from cancer while grifters like Pat Robertson - who recently had a stroke - are still with us.
My mom told me that she gets angry thinking about good people dying while assholes get to live. She told me that it could all be God's plan and we have to deal with it. Maybe God needs my aunt more than he needs Pat Robertson. Who knows?
The thing is, people need to worry about the elephants instead of the peanuts. When they see people struggle, I think God wants us to help them. They don't need to go through a charity, they can simply know somebody who needs help and help them.
There's probably a few thousand who live in my apartment community. Yet, I'm the good guy.
---
Saturday morning, I woke up past 5 a.m. to see lights flickering outside my window.
There was a firetruck, complete with a few vehicles in front and behind it. I was thinking that maybe there was an accident or somebody had to be taken to the hospital. So, I took a piss and hopped back into bed.
Several hours later, I woke up, opened my shades and turned on my phone. One of the first messages that I received was from one of my news apps saying that there was a massive fire at an apartment complex next to mine.
I went online and the station had a news story about the fire, which caused the roof to collapse. Luckily, no one was hurt, but the third floor to that building was gone. I went out later that day to see the damage. You could see through the windows and there was nothing left. The walls had collapsed, revealing the foundation. I shook my head, knowing that this were people's homes.
Later on that evening, I was doing laundry and I had an idea. Why not donate some of my old clothes to the apartment to give to the victims? So on Monday, when they reopened for business, they told me to come in with what I had and I did. I had an armload of old shirts, jeans and towels that I no longer used, plus an old wifi router and a dish rack that I no longer used. One of the ladies in the office told me that I was the FIRST PERSON to donate items to the victims of the fire. I was happy, but at the same time, angry that not more people wanted to help out.
In the years that I've lived here, it doesn't really shock me all that much. As a matter of fact, the only person that tried to friend me here was a drunk Vietnamese guy who would make me go to the liquor store to get beer and cigarettes for him and he was living in squalor. To everybody else here, I'm a stranger. But since it seems that nobody else wanted to help these poor people - many of whom didn't have renters insurance - get back on their feet.
I know, renters insurance only costs around $10 per month for many, but to some, it's just another unneeded bill. That is, until their home catches fire and they no longer have a bed to sleep on or a TV to watch. When I was a little boy, my parents made me donate old toys and clothes to those whose homes burned down. I fondly remember going to a family friend's house that had just burned down with my parents and they showed me some of the toys in the garage that were charred. They wanted me to think of others when they lost their possessions.
It's sad that when these 40 or so people lost their things, I bolted to action. True, the Red Cross helped, but still, I felt that more could be done.
Sometimes, I get angry when people give to the wrong people. We have idiots like Joel Osteen making tax-free millions from brainwashed dolts who think that they only way to God is through giving giant wads of cash to him. Or the morons who helped Kenneth "God doesn't talk to people in coach" Copeland get himself a $36 million jet plane. Sometimes, I mentally scream in agony knowing that good people like my aunt are dying from cancer while grifters like Pat Robertson - who recently had a stroke - are still with us.
My mom told me that she gets angry thinking about good people dying while assholes get to live. She told me that it could all be God's plan and we have to deal with it. Maybe God needs my aunt more than he needs Pat Robertson. Who knows?
The thing is, people need to worry about the elephants instead of the peanuts. When they see people struggle, I think God wants us to help them. They don't need to go through a charity, they can simply know somebody who needs help and help them.
There's probably a few thousand who live in my apartment community. Yet, I'm the good guy.
---
--
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Bee-otch of the Day is a production of Chuck69.com, Grand Rapids' site for Stern, politics and more!
Bee-otch of the Day Archives can be seen on http://beeotchoftheday.blogspot.com
Bee-otch of the Day is a production of Chuck69.com, Grand Rapids' site for Stern, politics and more!
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