My previous article was just a bit of philosophical wandering. The real issues for homeless people are in articles like these:
http://www.cbc.ca/canada/edmonton/story/2007/09/27/fortmc-favours.html
This is why Andrew was grateful that Edmonton had abandoned buildings. Comparing his problems to mushroom circles doesn't do him any justice. Sorry, Andrew.
Showing posts with label homeless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homeless. Show all posts
19.4.07
Why yes, we do have a children's menu.
Over the noon hour today, the discussion at work skewed to "the greatest restaurant ever". The way I see it, you can only go so far serving lobster stuffed with tacos or gold-plated caviar. The real future, my friends, is in Interactive Dining.
Here's the idea: The restaurant is in a very long room. At one end are the main entrance and the tables. At the other end is the buffet table. In the center are various obstacles, barriers, and corridors that must be traversed, and along either wall are people armed with paintball guns. Just pay a fee at the front, and it's all you can eat. The only catch is that you have to go get it, and if you're hit, you forfeit your plate.
It's health-conscious: You get some exercise, you're less likely to go back for seconds, and the route to the salad bar is a Neutral Zone.
It's team-building: A well co-ordinated group will be able to assault the buffet table much more effectively than someone on their own. Great for business lunches!
It's socially pro-active: The paintball guns are all manned by homeless people. If they shoot you down, they get the food you were carrying!
And if that weren't wonderful enough, my co-worker MJ even found the perfect name for our paintball buffet: Apocalypse Chow. I swooned when I heard that. Swooned, I tell you.
Alas, such a thing might never come to pass. That's why I love writing, though: The fictional Agent Casey just discovered his favourite fictional restaurant. But don't worry -- even non-fictional people can capture a small bit of the experience. After all, what is a theme restaurant without its signature dessert? Ladies and Gentlemen, I proudly present:
I have seen the future, and it's as delicious as it is dystopian. Enjoy!
(In case you're wondering, I got those eyes from a box of Smarties. That's probably the first time since I was seven that I ate the red ones last.)
Here's the idea: The restaurant is in a very long room. At one end are the main entrance and the tables. At the other end is the buffet table. In the center are various obstacles, barriers, and corridors that must be traversed, and along either wall are people armed with paintball guns. Just pay a fee at the front, and it's all you can eat. The only catch is that you have to go get it, and if you're hit, you forfeit your plate.
And if that weren't wonderful enough, my co-worker MJ even found the perfect name for our paintball buffet: Apocalypse Chow. I swooned when I heard that. Swooned, I tell you.
Alas, such a thing might never come to pass. That's why I love writing, though: The fictional Agent Casey just discovered his favourite fictional restaurant. But don't worry -- even non-fictional people can capture a small bit of the experience. After all, what is a theme restaurant without its signature dessert? Ladies and Gentlemen, I proudly present:
T2: Fudge-Mint Dae.
I have seen the future, and it's as delicious as it is dystopian. Enjoy!
(In case you're wondering, I got those eyes from a box of Smarties. That's probably the first time since I was seven that I ate the red ones last.)
24.12.06
There's a reason why I love this town.
I arrived in Edmonton just in time for some holiday shopping, which took me to my favourite bookstore ever: Audrey's Books. Why are they my favourite? Because the clerks will start talking about how great "Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH" is, yet they will openly berate anyone who phones asking about the "Left Behind" series. They've got taste, and they're not afraid to use it.
After discussing the correlation between Australian literary awards and the Australian used book trade, I concluded my transactions and left the store. I turned the corner, and saw a five-dollar bill lying in the middle of the sidewalk. See? I told you it's a great store. I looked around to see if anyone was fumbling with their wallet, and picked it up for myself.
Not ten seconds later, one of Edmonton's homeless (or, as I call them, les indigent) came up to me. In a barely discernable voice, he politely muttered a request for five cents, as he hadn't eaten in two days.
Now, I've never been in graduate studies, but I know a psychology experiment when I smell one. I mean, it's not that hard to disguise a grad student as a derelict, is it? Now, the question became the same as when a fill out a survey: Not "what do I believe", but "what do I want these researchers to believe about other people". And, even if it's not the case, I'd rather that they write a paper about the inherent generousity of people, so I gave him the five dollars.
In a way, I was reminded of a passage I once read in a philosophy book, where a professor challenged his students to find a single practical benefit to an act of kindness (i.e. giving a near-worthless item - a match - to a stranger whom you'd never see again). The students failed, but I think I found the answer yesterday.
The benefit, you see, is perception. That person who received the match will have an increased (if artificial) appraisal of humanity. In some small way, that will influence his interactions with other people. And, in some small way, you'll know that you've done your part to stack the deck.
That's the funny thing about morality. If enough people believe in something that's false, it becomes true. And if that's the case, that actually does give the individual an opportunity to make the world a better place.
Okay, that's as close as I'm getting to holiday schmaltz. Happy Festivus, everyone.
After discussing the correlation between Australian literary awards and the Australian used book trade, I concluded my transactions and left the store. I turned the corner, and saw a five-dollar bill lying in the middle of the sidewalk. See? I told you it's a great store. I looked around to see if anyone was fumbling with their wallet, and picked it up for myself.
Not ten seconds later, one of Edmonton's homeless (or, as I call them, les indigent) came up to me. In a barely discernable voice, he politely muttered a request for five cents, as he hadn't eaten in two days.
Now, I've never been in graduate studies, but I know a psychology experiment when I smell one. I mean, it's not that hard to disguise a grad student as a derelict, is it? Now, the question became the same as when a fill out a survey: Not "what do I believe", but "what do I want these researchers to believe about other people". And, even if it's not the case, I'd rather that they write a paper about the inherent generousity of people, so I gave him the five dollars.
In a way, I was reminded of a passage I once read in a philosophy book, where a professor challenged his students to find a single practical benefit to an act of kindness (i.e. giving a near-worthless item - a match - to a stranger whom you'd never see again). The students failed, but I think I found the answer yesterday.
The benefit, you see, is perception. That person who received the match will have an increased (if artificial) appraisal of humanity. In some small way, that will influence his interactions with other people. And, in some small way, you'll know that you've done your part to stack the deck.
That's the funny thing about morality. If enough people believe in something that's false, it becomes true. And if that's the case, that actually does give the individual an opportunity to make the world a better place.
Okay, that's as close as I'm getting to holiday schmaltz. Happy Festivus, everyone.
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