I consolidated the stories about Fred.


...long live, Hill Blocks View. I miss writing. But the thought of one more round of "welcome backs", or obsessing over stats, or thinking of the clever response to a comment, or the obligation to read everyone else's blog... not so much. So I'll try and write. No pressure. If you feel the need to respond, you can email me. I like email. flipaul@yahoo.com

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Form Non-Profit Organizations, For Fun And Profit.

My cousin is volunteering at a local drug prevention non-profit organization. We got to talking the other day about his desire to possibly form his own nonprofit group. His idea is to educate people that live a certain destructive lifestyle that they are being manipulated. It could help them get out of dead end lives, and also look really good on his resume. He wants to illustrate to them that their self destructiveness is keeping them in their current socio-economic strata, and gently, in a nonjudgmental way, let them know they are being tricked and that the gold grill and the ICP neck tattoos they have, are a contrived image concocted by multi-millionaires that assures that they will never rise above night manager at the local gas station.
   While I think his plan is well intended, I am not sure how well his message will be received by his target audience. I'm pretty sure they will just tell him to have intercourse with himself in the nicest way possible, and relieve him of his wallet.  But it did get me thinking about nonprofits, and what I can do for the poor and disenfranchised.

Nothing says future CEO like "Stay Gold" tattooed across your forehead.

Spa Treatments for Underprivileged People IDistress. Instead of just pandering to the poor, with medical care and housing and food and whatnot, it's time that somebody took the time and gave them what they really need. A pedicure. Or a hot rock massage. Sure, they'll still probably starve to death or overdose on heroin, but they'll feel fabulous as they do, with a fresh exfoliating chemical peel.

Briefcases for the Suffering. I have a hard time giving money to the local panhandlers in my area. They just seem so disreputable, I'm sure they are going to use the money for something nefarious, like drugs, booze, or fast food. But if those same transients were carrying that international symbol of respectability, the briefcase, I believe they would be much more likely to receive generous gifts. Without briefcase, "Ooh, look at that disgusting bum. Don't make eye contact! Drive away as fast as possible." With briefcase, "Oh that poor man, somebody must've mugged him, forced him to drink grain alcohol, put him in those pee stained clothes and gave his hair a good mussing up; we must help him. Here good fellow, take my BMW and my Rolex."

School for Clowns And Mimes. Instead of trying to send hardened gangsters and thugs to laser tattoo removal, which is time consuming, painful, and expensive, and then to job retraining, in order to reintegrate them into society, simply direct them into a career where face paint is part of the uniform. This nonprofit gets these clowns where they need to be, away from you. First they attend clown/mime school, an exhaustive four hour online course, a quick pancake white face, and off to the job market they go. Roaming the intercontinental freeway system with others of their ilk, carnies, freak show performers, and the diabolically evil geniuses that came up with bacon wrapped deep fried butter. As a bonus,  thugs with face tattoo's are already used to the fear and disdain associated with clowns and mimes.

Pitbulls Used for Service/Security. How often do you hear of a home where dozens of rabid pitbulls are removed and then euthanized, and later in the same news broadcast hear about the lack of service animals in the local handicapped community? Or even worse, that somebody has broken into the home of some disabled person and stolen their belongings? With this revolutionary program, the unwanted pitbulls are given an extensive eight hour training course and turned over to their new owners, to love, serve and protect. The dogs instantly take to their new owners, and never maul them to death. Rarely. Occasionally.
He'll help you cross the street, protect your house, give you unconditional love, and probably won't eat your face.

Vets Livelihood Assimilating Disorders. The problem that many vets have coming back home, is that they have a hard time acclimating back into the monotony of daily life. Their lives have been in constant danger for months, even years, and now they don't know how to react. Instead of trying to reprogram the vets to be calm, like most programs do, we find super stressful jobs for them. They're wound up tight, they might as well use that to their advantage. Air traffic controller is one of our most popular jobs, along with graffiti removal in gang controlled inner cities, explosives courier, and Ex-Disney Star morality coach. Our success rate is 100%. Oops, read that wrong. Our mortality rate is 100%.

Second Language, Universal Tongue. Why do all these short sighted idiots teach the poor and illiterate people that find their way across our borders, how to speak English? It's so boring; everybody speaks English. Instead, give them a truly useful tool that will help them navigate the complexities of modern America. Fourteenth Century Romantic Poetry French. What says, I would like to have a landscaping job to support my family back in Guatemala, more than the epic poem "Mon amour est un poisson" by Guillaume de Machaut. And they'll really set themselves apart from the huddled masses, when they show up for their first day of dishwashing at Denny's, quoting that most popular of all French Renaissance sonnets, "Vos nichons me font plus heureux que le bacon enveloppé beurre cuit à la friteuse."