The Hippie

The cards...

Characters: The hippie with really long hair And the homeless person with a compelling sign.

Setting: A clearing in the forest.

Problem: Caught red handed.

Resolution: They snuck out and went home.

The story...

The hippie with really long hair went by the name of Herb. Born Wilfred Marcus Farnsworth III to an upper, upper east coast family he had been trying to escape the life course laid out for him ever since.

Starting with minor rebellions as a child he had finally gone off the deep end in college. It had taken a lot of effort since he was a fifth generation Harvard man and his family had anonymously (but very obviously) donated millions to the school.

An unfortunate (or fortunate for Herb) incident involving growing and selling marijuana out of the basement of the deans house while having relations with his under age daughter had finally done the trick.

Kicked out of school and disowned by his family Wilfred had set out to find the life he had always wanted.

As he hitch hiked across the country to California Wilfred began his transformation. With each passing day he slowly morphed into his new persona.

By the time he made it to the West Coast all he needed was a name.

A name carefully chosen to reflect just who he felt he was. An all natural guy. A guy in touch with himself. A guy in touch with his environment. A guy who preferred the organic approach to life. Especially with his drugs.

It suddenly came to him in a flash of inspiration as he was smoking his homegrown one night while lazing around his campfire.

Herb.

And that is when Wilfred had finally been left behind.

For the next several years Herb floated around the fringes of society feeling things out and finally settling in a commune outside of Paradise, California. The commune taught him how to live off the land and be at one with his environment. Herb became a vegetarian to do his part in protecting innocent life from slaughter. He wore only natural fiber clothing. He gave up washing and grooming so he could revert to the natural human state. (Hence the really long hair, beard, body odor, etc.) He recycled everything he could, including his own waste. He raised public awareness on environmental issues. He helped with voter drives to spread the word about important issues. He had done everything he felt he possibly could in order to not be what he felt was your typical irresponsible, wasteful, capitalistic, planet destroying, consumer American.

In fact, he felt he was one of the few truly independent and productive members of society. He was more than happy to tell people what to do and how they should do it to be better citizens.

The irony that he generated nothing of value. That the commune he lived in and the college education he was getting was subsidized by public funds collected from taxes he didn’t pay. That he drove a gross polluting worn out bus that was converted to run on bio-diesel for free as part of a college program he was involved in. That the same program also provided him with free fuel for the bus paid for by donations. And many others were completely lost on Herb.

Herb was doing his part and if everyone else could just see it and join the cause the world would be a better place. And he knew it.

One blissful afternoon Herb was taking a hike through his beloved forest. Enjoying being one with nature. Thinking about how important he was to be actively working to make the World a better place.

He stopped in a clearing and sat on a log to rest and have a drink of water. Relaxing in the warmth of the sun and enjoying the music of the forest around him he dozed off for a bit.

"Hey."

"Hey, Bro."

Herb heard the voice and felt a nudge on his shoulder.

"Hmmph... What?" Herb muttered as he was waking up.

"Hey Bro, can you help another brother out, man?" Said the voice.

Herb turned to look and saw a guy even more bedraggled than he was.

"What?" "How?" "Why?" Stammered Herb in response.

"I need help, Man, can’t you see?" Said the guy as he gestured to the cardboard sign he had hanging around his neck on a string.

"I’m homeless and it’s all your fault!" Read Herb.

"That’s a pretty compelling sign you have there," Herb responded. "What’s the deal?"

"Well, you see, it all started..." began the man. And he proceeded to tell Herb his tale of woe.

Herb learned that the homeless guy’s name was Fred. That he had lost his job as a pizza delivery driver when he got fired for not being able to do his deliveries because the price of gas had risen so high he couldn’t afford to fill his Hummer up any more. Then it had taken Fred almost eight weeks before he was able to collect unemployment and he had had to live off of his credit cards in the mean time. When his unemployment checks did start showing up it wasn’t enough for Fred to make ends meet. When Fred had qualified for food stamps it had managed to get better for a while until his mortgage payment had more than tripled overnight.

His mortgage payment had skyrocketed because Fred was living the American Dream and had bought himself a McMansion. Having a poor job and no assets he had bought it with zero down and variable rate terms. At first when he was paying just the discounted interest each month everything was OK. But when the terms changed and the interest rate jumped eight percent and he had to pay the back dated principle as well… That’s when it hit the fan.

Now Fred’s dream house had been foreclosed on, his beloved Hummer had been repossessed, and everything else he had owned had gone to his lawyer, the bankruptcy court and finally what was left trickled out to his creditors.

Fred’s life was ruined. He had no money, no place to live, no food, no transportation and couldn’t finance a cheeseburger if his life depended on it.

He also had a hacking cough due to the fact that the stress of the situation had caused him to start chain smoking and now he had emphysema. Which he couldn’t afford to treat since he didn’t have health insurance. And couldn’t get free transportation to a public hospital. Nor could he take care of the bad liver he had acquired from his escape into bourbon for the same reasons.

"That’s a rough story man," Herb said in the silence that followed after Fred’s story had wound down. "We need to do something!"

Herb spent the next few hours in the clearing with Fred making plans. By nightfall they had worked out the basics of what they would do and Herb promised to come back the next day.

After a few more days of planning Herb was finally able to cajole a reporter from the college newspaper into coming out to the clearing in the forest to meet Fred and hear his story.

The reporter left in tears of compassion after listening to Fred’s tale of woe and with some minor influence by Herb regarding buzzwords and tag lines went to write the story.

It was no surprise that the reporter used the story as a heartfelt example of what was wrong in America and how our government was letting it’s citizens down. How Fred was robbed of the American Dream by Big Business, Big Oil, Big Tobacco, Big Alcohol, Evil Creditors and so on.

After only a few days every major paper on both coasts had picked up the story. The morning talk shows began discussing it in depth. The media’s demand for more became insatiable.

Herb made it a point to visit the clearing where Fred was continuing his decline to update him with the news on a regular basis. It had never occurred to him to offer to let Fred join the commune where he lived so Fred could have a roof over his head, food to eat, access to transportation and other tools to rebuild his life.

The college reporter started a rapid rise to the top of the media food chain because she was the media connection to the story. And Herb went along for the ride as well since he was the one that had brought the issue to public attention in the first place.

Fred’s cause was important. And Herb was his spokesperson. It was important to get the word out to as many people as possible. Herb was always available to the media for an interview, statement or sound bite. Herb was going to make Fred’s life better. All Fred had to do was hang in there a little bit longer and everything would be all right.

It was two weeks into a blitzkrieg media tour that Herb found out that Fred had died of starvation and exposure in the clearing. Taking the news to heart he and the reporter brought the tragedy to the country’s attention. Even though poor Fred had died, Herb would see his cause through. It was a promise he made to himself. Fred’s death would not be a waste.

With the new public outcry brought on by Fred’s unfortunate end, Herb was able to find backers to fund a non-profit coalition for homeless rights. "I’m homeless and it’s all your fault!" Became the Coalitions slogan. Herb used contributions and donated funds to buy a building down town. He hired people to man phone banks and spread the word. He hired people to interview homeless people. He hired a printer to make signs and t-shirts with the slogan then hired more people to give them out to the homeless.

As time went on Herb hired advertising personnel to create a campaign for the homeless. He hired people to sell the merchandise the campaign created to raise funds for the homeless. He bought a house in town so he could be closer to the Coalition headquarters. He bought a warehouse building nearby and converted it to apartments for the staff to live in. He bought cars and buses so he and his staff could get around to important meetings and fundraisers.

A year after Fred’s death Herb’s homeless Coalition was worth millions. Herb was a well-known public figure that raked in thousands of dollars in speaking fees regarding the homeless. The Coalition had caused hundreds of cities to pass pro-homeless legislation, in fact it now had it’s own national Political Action Committee with representatives in Washington.

With thousands of employees, hundreds of company vehicles, dozens of offices, a few corporate jets and its own ad agency, not to mention the vast amounts spent on radio and television time, catering on events, the odd reciprocal political contribution, everybody seemed to be getting some benefit from the Coalition.

About the only people that didn’t seem to actually get any money at all from the Coalition were the homeless themselves.

It was difficult to wade through all the paperwork, funds, PAC’s, etc., but if you did you would find that the Coalition had never directly spent a single penny on the homeless.

All the Coalition’s shelters were sponsored (and paid for) by private individuals and shell corporations that received massive tax breaks as a result thanks to Coalition sponsored legislation or by local governments. All the Coalition’s Homeless Health Centers were paid for directly by tax dollars, including all the administration costs. In fact, due to the favorable legislation that the Coalition had managed to get passed, about eighty six percent of the dollars actually spent on the homeless in the name of the Coalition came directly out of taxpayer pockets. The remaining fourteen- percent came from wealthy benefactors acting as sponsors.

But wade through it all is what Earl had done. And he had found that every penny collected by donation, fundraising, merchandising; etc. by the Coalition went directly into the pot to feed its growth.

And that Herb was growing right along with it. Living on a multi acre estate with high walls surrounding it to keep the riffraff out so he could concentrate on saving the homeless. With a helicopter available at all times so he didn’t have to deal with the media that hung out around the gate when he tried to use a car.

The estate had an onsite spa for Herb and his staff to retreat to after a hard day’s work raising funds and public awareness of the cause. A catering staff to make sure food was available at all times. It also had a private movie theater, several pools, lavish gardens and various other things to ease the mind of a man working hard for a cause.

It did not employ any homeless persons. They weren’t trustworthy. And besides the Coalition took care of the homeless. And since Herb was the Coalition ergo Herb took care of the homeless.

The hypocrisy of the situation was not lost on Earl. Earl had been an accountant for the Coalition making a large salary and living lavishly in a house he was purchasing through one of their employee benefit programs.

Then Earl had been laid off because the Coalition was downsizing their accounting department since funds had been diminishing during the recent economic downturn and expenses were still increasing. That in it self wasn’t so bad, except that when Earl was no longer employed by the Coalition he no longer qualified for their benefit programs and the note on his home had been called.

Since Earl no longer had a job at the time he could not qualify for a new loan and therefore lost his house to foreclosure by the Coalitions mortgage branch. To add insult to injury the Coalition had sued him for slander over his public outcry at the absurdity of it all. He had lost the case of course thanks to a partisan judge and the general publics belief that the Coalition provided people with houses not took them away.

That led to his dissatisfied wife’s immediate departure due to his inability to provide her with the lifestyle she required. The judge had unsurprisingly awarded her a massive alimony settlement because, after all, he was a high paid corporate accountant. Even if he didn’t have a job right now he surely had stockpiles of money lying around that he was greedily hiding from everybody. Didn’t he? The judge would make sure he paid his fair share.

With plenty of free time, no money and no home to go to Earl had found a new cause. The exposure of the Coalition for the fraud that it was.

Combining his accounting skills with countless days of research using the public libraries free Internet access Earl began building his case. Slowly, with the help of other homeless people the Coalition had failed the report grew.

After several months and hundreds of pages, Earl and his newfound team felt they were ready for the report to go public.

With careful orchestration they staged a protest rally at one of the Coalitions major homeless centers. Within hours representatives of all the major media groups were on the scene reporting live. Cameras rolled. Pictures were taken. Interviews were given.

In order to maximize the impact of the protest, Earl was standing in front of his own compelling sign stating "I’m homeless and it’s all the Coalitions fault!" The group had made it out of scraps of clothing and other fabric they had gathered and sewn together. They were also wearing t-shirts with the slogan scrawled on them in permanent marker as they handed out copies of the report to anyone that would take it.

To add further irony to the mix the group had also added "Remember Fred" to the bottom of their banner and on their shirts. When people asked "Who’s Fred?" the group was more than happy to tell them "Read the report, it’s all in there."

Within days the story was at full swing and was the topic of choice in the media and the public eye. The Coalition went into full damage control mode and was attacking Earl’s group with every bit of malicious publicity they could come up with.

Gossip, dirt, disgruntled acquaintances, past transgressions, every bit of negative information the Coalition could dig up and use to try to discredit and crush Earl’s group was eagerly sought after and used in retaliation.

Hundreds of thousands of dollars were spent by the Coalition on negative ad campaigns against their opponents. Not once did the Coalition actually dispute any of the claims, address any of the issues nor did they even acknowledge there were any issues to begin with.

Their entire response was based on convincing the public that Earl and his group did not represent the homeless at all. In fact that they were just a bunch of evil, malicious crackpots that were trying to get their fifteen minutes of fame. Why else would they so viciously attack one of the greatest public benefactors in the world? Couldn’t they see what good the Coalition did for people? Where would the country be without the Coalition to take care of everyone?

The ever hungry media had kept the story in the public spotlight long enough for the real story to start getting out. In time the talking heads figured out that there might be some basis to Earl’s claims and that they might be fueling the fire by keeping it in the public eye. By then the genie was out of the bottle and there was no way to put it back.

Experts on both sides of the cause publicly debated the facts of the case and lines were drawn in the proverbial sand. Homeless people throughout the country enlightened by the attention began to sue the Coalition on any grounds they could get a judge to hear. Ads began to appear on TV with info regarding a class action suit worth millions in the name of the homeless.

It finally became bad enough that the whole mess was brought before Congress. Who better than our brilliant and caring elected officials to sort out a bureaucratic mess of such proportion? Days of tedious testimony followed with hundreds of witnesses called to the stand. Frequent interjections of political rhetoric and rambling diatribes by the partisans on both sides only slowed things down more.

In spite of the inefficiency it slowly became apparent to those who cared to watch that Earl’s group was actually right. The Coalition had not directly helped a single homeless person. Herb and his group were getting rich beyond means on tax free dollars from other peoples pockets. The proceeds collected in the name of the homeless were fueling the exponential growth of the Coalition and its various support agencies.

A disgruntled former employee had effectively caught the Coalition red handed. The evidence was becoming so overwhelming that the politicians were having trouble explaining it away. Herb was even starting to feel a little guilty. It had never occurred to him that his cause wasn’t helping. Herb knew it had taken a lot of money at the beginning to get things started, but he had just assumed that with all the agencies involved now that the homeless were currently reaping countless benefits thanks to him and his Coalition.

After several weeks even the politicians had to admit that something might be wrong and that actions might be needed. To keep the situation from getting worse Congress stopped taking testimony and stated that they were going into closed session to discuss the issue and reach a conclusion. The hope was that the issue would die down and everybody could go back to business as usual.

Outraged citizens, homeless and legal representatives made sure it didn’t. People lobbied every way they could to demand that the process was followed through and justice was served. The Congressional switchboard and e-mail server both shut down due to the overload.

It was with great relief that our elected officials noticed that the end of their session was up. Using it to their advantage the congressional session was gaveled closed at the earliest opportunity. For practical purposes our esteemed representatives snuck out the back door and went home before either the media or the public could notice.

The general consensus amongst the bulk of them was that by the time Congress met again most people would have forgotten about the Homeless situation. For those who hadn’t there would certainly be something else that needed congressional attention by then as well. More than likely the whole mess would just fade into the background and other than the occasional awkward moment would eventually go away entirely.

They were probably right.