The Revised more "PC" Cpl. Clifford White Retaliation on The "Homeless Individual" Rufus King

I eat at a delightful local family diner for breakfast regularly, two eggs sunny side up, side of hash browns, and a black coffee. Not many things can ruin such a meal. This Wednesday though, The Beacon Free Press made me lose my appetite. Trust me Editor, I am not one with a weak stomach. I licked the rations from my cold knife in Korea. I ate a bologna sandwich, watching my wife give birth to our first born in the bed of our ’67 pick up truck. This is about Blue Collar, and Blue Collar ethics. Something I thought this paper stood for until you outraged me beyond repair. I stormed out of this delightful local family diner without paying and had to return later that afternoon once my bearings returned to me. I don’t understand where this paper finds the gall to run a letter penned by a bum, or a person without a home or whatever is politically correct these days. How does this dispossessed individual even get access to a computer? Should I be concerned that our children are using the same public library that this dispossessed individual is somehow finagling his way into? I haven’t been this livid since Carter came into office. Now this bum demands an apology from me? In my own town?! A town that I pay taxes in. Each callous on my hands is a callous I got from pouring sweat and blood into my paycheck. I deserved these calluses. Not like this individual who gets his blisters scraping the waste from the bottom of my garbage can.
These people are a serious problem. In a time when Beacon is undergoing a major revamping, it is hard to restore an attractive image, when our streets are spilling with frightful vagabonds, skulking, begging for change so they can stick a needle in their arm and fall into a coma in the woods behind my house. I’ve had enough. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore.
They hover outside all of our shops waiting to pick from the crumbs that fall from our laps as we wipe them off after a meal on Main Street. They flock around me like pigeons as I walk down Main. I say we rent some vans and fill them with all the dispossessed individuals that are littered across the streets of this town and leave them somewhere far from our children, our homes, and our cars. I’m sure we can at least dump them near that art gallery that’s down there by the river. I can’t distinguish the people who flock there from the homeless of our city. The installments therein of mangled car parts and broken glass promote what I believe to be death obsessed images that promote sloth and promiscuity, which is what I believe may be at the heart of a lot of the homeless peoples problems. But that’s just me, one simple man’s opinion. I didn’t get to go to school, since I enlisted for the war, so maybe I missed the meaning of these images in the classrooms I never sat in as I spent that time kneeling in the thick bloodied mud and dirt overseas.
Now let me speak on this person Rufus; my friend at the local family diner calls him by a derogatory name that rhymes with Rufus, he can’t be serious. You don’t plant an apple seed and expect to eat from it in the next season. Something like that takes years to happen. He wouldn’t know that because he is too busy being a dispossessed individual.
I’m not taking any more guff from these people. We as a people need to rally together and deliver these people of the street back to the womb that rejected them. My wife tells me that these people came on hard times and that in the Bible the prophets were also dispossessed individuals on the streets of Jerusalem, but that biblical jargon doesn’t hold up in the 21st century. I saw that stuff die, under the path of the Sherman’s that we used to intimidate the Koreans with. It is time to clean up these streets and wipe away these beggars. I will not stand for this behavior. And if the Beacon Free Press decides to run another story by a dispossessed individual I will see to it that this paper will lose my audience and that of many of my likeminded friends who share a common love for an America without a homeless person Epidemic. We are not Russia and I fought to keep it that way. I understand everyone has a right to be heard, but that right goes out the window the second these people decide to lay down, on America’s watch, and use our streets as a hammock as we all work extraordinarily hard to put food on the table. The Beacon Free Press owes it’s tax paying, god fearing citizens a sincere and public apology.
Cpl. Clifford A. White

(I decided to use my middle initial to pay tribute to my grandfather Alabaster White, who was a great man of duty, honor, and country. Now that this article might see print in your paper, I'd like him to have this tribute. He is the reason I am Cpl. Clifford White, and not Mr. Clifford White.)