Tag Archives: homelessness

Survivor-Man Me?

8 Feb

February 8, 2018

Let me tell you what I was wearing. Not because I think you’ll get a thrill out of it, but because it is relevant to the story.

Blue sweat pants. Brown slip-on Skechers that I say are trendy and Saarah says are not. No socks. An old, thin green worn out t-shirt that is only good for wearing around the house. A winter coat.

That’s quite an ensemble and no, I was not on my to the Queen’s Ball. I was outside throwing out the trash. It was midnight and about 25 degrees outside. (That’s degrees Fahrenheit, not that Celsius nonsense. Celsius is just a scam perpetuated by the big mercury conglomerates to make us buy new thermometers.)

Does the dude in this stock photo look cold? He just looks creepy to me.

I walked around the side of my building to where the garbage cans are and put my trash in one of the already full cans so that my bag was precariously balanced atop a mountain of who knows what. I’m pretty sure that my building’s super empties these cans once in a while, but then again, what do I know? They never seem to get any emptier. (Yet they never get any fuller either. Maybe he empties just enough to keep the status quo.)

So, mission accomplished, I was walking back around the building when there was a gust of wind and I realized just how poorly I was dressed for the weather. Good thing I was only going to be outside for a minute or two and had a warm home to go back to.

But what if I didn’t? What if I were homeless?

Dressed as I was, was I prepared to survive a night of sudden homelessness?

I was already feeling a chill in my toes and since I wasn’t wearing socks my feet weren’t particularly comfortable to begin with.  So if I was forced to spend a night outdoors, braving the elements, how would I handle it?

My first worry was about frostbite. My hands I could jam in my jacket pockets, but with no socks my toes were an obvious frostbite target. I could probably tear up my shirt and wrap my feet in the cloth, then jam them into my shoes. But then I’d be shirtless (calm down ladies). Well, I was wearing a winter coat so I could zip it all the way up. My head was bare and my jacket didn’t have a hood. Maybe I could save some of the ripped t-shirt to wrap around my head like a bandanna to protect my ears from frostbite. Nothing I could do about my legs. The wind blew right through the sweatpants.

I had to face the fact that I was barely dressed to survive the minute and a half I’d be out in the winter, there was no way I’d survive overnight.

It was one thing to toss out the trash dressed that way, but I’d have to prepare better if I were to live outside.

If I were ever really homeless, I’d somehow make my way down to Florida. It’s much easier to be homeless in the winter laying on Miami Beach than it is here on Coney Island Beach.

That’s the life!

Being homeless on the beach does have some perks.




My Next TV Pitch

7 Aug

August 7, 2013

Last year I pitched my sure-fire, can’t-miss movie to Hollywood. Hamsterus, the touching story of a boy and his giant mutated hamster, was passed on by every studio in California, plus two in Argentina. Well, I don’t give up easily, so here is my next big Hollywood idea, a TV series that I am sure is going to be a hit. Here is the first part of my brief treatment of the first act of your new favorite show. Enjoy!


Act 1
Scene 1

Washington DC at night. Streets are deserted. A police car slowly drives through a rundown area, its spotlight picking out dark spots and bleak shadows. Suddenly the police car stops and the spotlight stays fixed on a group of garbage cans.

VOICE OF OFFICER ONE ON POLICE RADIO (crackle of static): We found him. I repeat, The President has been found.

Slow close up on garbage cans. Camera moves around cans to reveal a bum sleeping behind the cans, his clothes little more than rags, his face unshaven for weeks.

Two police officers get out of the car and walk toward the President.

OFFICER ONE: I am so tired of this. How does he keep getting away?

OFFICER TWO: I don’t care but this time they better give him a shower. I’m sick and tired of going home smelling like Presidential stank.

The officers pick him up and not-so-carefully drop him in the back of their squad car.


Act 1
Scene 2

The White House, the Oval Office.
REX MARGIN and LOLA SAMPLE are pacing the office, BRENDA SITSWELL sits behind the president’s desk with a can of wax.

BRENDA: I wish he’d stop carving his initials in the desk.

REX: I just wish he’s spell them right.

Two Secret Service agents enter the office, propping up PRESIDENT HOBO between them.

AGENT ONE: Look who’s back.

They drop him on the couch.

AGENT TWO: Timber!

REX MARGIN: Thanks fellas, take the rest of the night off. And don’t forget- this never happened.


REX: What?

AGENT ONE: This never happened again. Just like it never happened last week or three times last month.

LOLA SAMPLE: That’s enough officer, you’re dismissed.

The agents leave. LOLA, REX, and BRENDA gather around the couch, where PRESIDENT HOBO lays snoring and clutching an empty whiskey bottle.

REX: You guys know I didn’t vote for him, right?

president hobo

What do you think? It’s going to be huge, right? I can’t wait for this to go into production. Networks work political dramas, and this one is topical and has a dash of comedy. I know that after this, Hollywood execs will be lined up at my door. I can’t wait!

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