Them Crooked Vultures: Scumbag Blues

I've been buying the Boston Globe at the subway stop from this guy for a few years now. He always tells me these long stories about his seizures and his colostomy and being evicted, and then I miss my subway 3 mornings out of 5. It's a guaranteed way to lose any sort momentum your morning might even have, but I felt bad enough for the guy to buy him a prepaid phone card so he could try and find a job, only he couldn't figure out how to use it and he asked me a new question about how the phobe worked every week, so I'd miss more trains trying to figure out how to get the alarm volume to work on this cheap phone. Also, I'm the only person who buys his goddamn newspaper. Then the guy wasn't there for like a week because he got pushed into public housing. Then I saw him for the first time in a week this on Wednesday, but he was all sorts of fucked up, just standing there with his eyes closed, mumbling to himself. I got one look at that scene and walked away, and he hasn't been there since. And that right there is your scumbag moment of the week.