Hey guys,

I understand that you all think I’m a jerk when you ask me for change that I obviously have, and yet obviously am not going to give you. It’s clever how you position yerselves outside the Dunkin Donuts and watch me receive the change you hope has your name on it.

Ah, but do you see me not tip the server? That’s not a coincidence.

I don’t work nearly hard enough to be dispensing quarters like a sympathetic slot machine. Yet I’m not entirely cold: I am spearheading a project to eradicate homeless smoking by the end of the decade.

I’m bankrolling this goodwill despite the latest conclusion to which I’ve arrived: That there are hardly any places to sit in New York City.

Certainly there are benches in parks, and stone railings outside corporate office buildings, and more curbs than are in all of North Dakota (I’d imagine).

But there’s a reason why there are no sources of respite for the weary pedestrian, no benches on the random streets. And for lack of a better one, I place the blame squarely on you, Homeless People of New York, thou who wouldst claim every non-park-bench in thy name.

I can do this because 1) it’s probably true and 2) if you’re homeless you probably wouldn’t be spending your money on Internet access to read howlingman.com, regardless of the word on the street.

Onward and upward,

(signed)
A Man Who’s Sitting Down While Typing This