The Seven High Hobo Holidays

Let's begin with some clarification: Hoboism is not a religion, it's a vocation. Anyone dumb enough to think otherwise is okay by me personally (since dumbness IS a religion, I am required by current U.S. laws to both respect and like the dumb--and do like them, sincerely). But the dumb persons are not okay with facts, personally, because everybody knows that religion is inborn, and so is poverty. Therefore poverty is a religion, as is sickle-cell anemia. But everyone also knows that poverty is a choice, because some asshole named Horatio Alger told us so. We hobos stink to high heaven, and it's a genetic thing; however, we are to blame, because we chose our own genes. This is Science, people, so don't laugh. Okay, do laugh--but do it quickly, and into your handkerchief. All three of you who are reading this (zip up your pants and sit down, Cletus!) are here today because I got really drunk and wanted to tell you about the High Hobo Holy Days. Some judge commanded me not to tell you, but judges are rich, and therefore they are actual human beings--meaning that they don't know how to read, and aren't following this blog. Shut up, Cletus! if you can't follow what I'm saying, then you must be some kind of human being...and therefore you can't possibly be poor. Because poor people are not really people. The point is that there are seven High Hobo Holidays and I will tell you about them now, because I've written a sufficiently incoherent and/or satirical introductory paragraph, of sorts.

NOTA BENE: You'll notice that all of these holidays occur weekly, as opposed to the usual annual model of holiday scheduling. This is because hobos only live for a week before they freeze to death, starve to death, or are anally raped and murdered by a Republican.

1. Garbage Day. AKA Grocery Day. Once a week, the Rich People discard perfectly useful stuff like empty pork-n'-bean cans and banana peels, because of some ancient, forgotten Rich-Person birthright. Forget what's behind it--you're a hobo. Once you're a hobo, you stay a hobo. You're far more likely to encounter a unicorn than you are ever again to eat food fit for humans, so get your dirty head out of the pretty, Rich-only clouds. Dammit, Cletus, I'm warning you! Anyway, Garbage Day is the Hobo's Sabbath. Respect it and keep it holy by getting wet coffee grounds all over your sleeves while digging through Hefty bags for the rancid, moldy pinto beans you need in order to stay "alive."
   
2. Salvation Army Drop-Off Day. The Salvation Army collects random Rich-People trash and then sells it to the lower echelons of the Rich-People hierarchy, ostensibly to raise money with which to help hobos. But since no hobo has ever seen where any of that sweet Rich-People money goes, I might as well be talking about Electropootronomicals, or some other made-up horseshit. Sneak around behind the Salvation Army in the wee hours and steal the clothes the Rich People have left. This is the only way you'll ever have a shirt, ever again. Also, it's dark and secluded back there on the loading dock, so this is the most private dookie-spot you'll have for the next week. Thus, this is a holy day.
3. Get-Drunk-and-Blabber-About-How-You-Used-to-Be-a-Human-Being Day. You've hoarded twenty bottles which originally held random types of boozes, but which now only contain the spitty oral backwash of prostitutes and syphilitic meth-heads. Having amassed such an enviable liquor cabinet, it's time to cut loose. Do so. Propose a toast to your own health while trying to avoid swallowing any cockroaches who might have drowned in any of your bottles. It's a fun game which you will always lose! Stand on a corner of your choosing and tell your life-story to your imaginary friend, whose name is Cletus. You'll laugh, you'll cry, and you'll feel like a person again. The effect lasts only for a few hours, or for as long as the "booze" holds out. That's why this holy day is only a day. You'll feel like something lower than a bird-turd again when you wake up the next morning and remember that Rich People would rather buy a Jessica Simpson "song" from Apple than buy some Ramen noodles for a suffering, starving bastard like you.
   
4. Vote-For-a-Democrat Day. This holiday is purely symbolic, which is why you can observe it weekly as opposed to only on Rich People's equally symbolic "election" days. It's symbolic because Democrats will do exactly nothing for/to you. Hey, nothingness is better than the anal rape and murder you'll get from the Republicans (unless of course you take a wide stance in a bathroom at the Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport, in which case homophobic-yet-paradoxically-homosexual Republican Senators will pay you some actual U.S. moneydollars in exchange for penile access to your male mouth).
5. Nothingness Day. Sit on a sheet of cardboard in an alley and stare at a wall all day, without thinking a single thing. This holy rite is a symbolic, hyperliteralist actualization of that which occurs within a rich person's "soul."
   
6. Crying Day. After seeing what a rich person's soul looks like, you'll need a good cry. Let it out. If you're lucky, some guilty Catholic Rich Person will walk by, take pity on you, and throw you a saltine. But you aren't lucky, because you're a hobo. OK, I admit it: I only said that stuff about the saltine so you'd cry some more. Dammit, Cletus, where's your holiday spirit?!
   
7. Humbleness Day. Today, you'll go around trying to get help from the Human Race. You will fail, because the Human Race doesn't give a rat's flea-bitten ass about you. This is also the day in which a new class of humans graduates into the hobohood, and are thus humbled. Each week, in the current economy, more and more ex-humans become hobos. Do not hold a grudge against these formerly soulless assmunchers. They're like you now, and before they've stolen their first shirt from the Salvation Army, you'll have died from exposure, starvation, or Republican anal rape. So love them while you can, even though you can no more help them than you can help yourself. Also, be sure and steal their shoes while they sleep, or at least pee on their hair or something. It's a hobo hazing kind of thing. It happened to you too, but you were too distraught and/or drunk at the time to remember it now. Just trust me.
   

I hope this list made a few (currently) Rich People laugh. I'll see you at the garbage-can buffet on Friday, unless I'm dead before then. Happy Holidays!