Penny for the Guy

It’s probably always been this way, but from my perspective, it’s getting worse.

If you’ve read my previous posts, you’ll know that I have mixed feelings about firemen, so, it’s comical when one of the breed is on the phone asking, with buckets of enthusiasm, if I want to be charitable and help to send a busload of homeless children to the circus.

And if not a busload, would I consider a car full or perhaps just a couple of the little waifs, or maybe just little Johnny who is especially worthy of my charity as he has had legs off and cannot get around at all any more, especially with the asthma and the incontinence.

The local police are at it too, so the apparent choice for me is to risk allowing the house burning down as the brigade hang back and access the database to decide if I’m an uncharitable bastard, or the rozzers fit me up for a grow lab just to avenge the hurt and pain I’ve caused at the orphanage.

Crank up the Guilt Meter.

To defend my position here, which I shouldn’t really have to, I do give to charities, the one’s I choose, at a time of my choosing.

At the liquor store on Saturday we popped in for a bottle of wine as it’s nice to enjoy a glass of Cabernet at the end of a working week isn’t it.?…but to get to the front door we had to pass a new millenium match lady who had set up a chocolate factory there. As we walked in she didn’t say “would you like to buy a bar of chocolate?” she actually said “would you like to save victims of abuse and make their lives better?”

So, you say no, feel like a heartless bastard, rack up some points on the meter and move on.

She was there when we came out as well, watched us as we walked away clutching our bottle of happiness, selfish bloody swines...

I can’t answer the phone, open my own front door, go to work, liquor store or now even the supermarket without being on the receiving end of some efficient technique attempting to extract my cash using guilt.

I’m up to here with it, and there’s only one way I can reset the guilt meter.

pass the corkscrew........