Anyway, the hobos were then taken to some big tent in the middle of the park where little angels sent from heaven tried to book them in shelters and tell them about county benefits. They also passed out bagels and blueberries. Oh, and orange wedges. Why do they always give hobos orange wedges? Anyone? To me and my fellow latch-key children, this kinda sounds like after school day care. Not a whole orange. A messy, un-peeled wedge. Because they're not filthy enough.Oh, and the article features this trio of hobos. Hobos? Those are not hobos Those are just some edgy hipsters. Maybe the main one, who calls himself "Repo Violence" might be a little hobo-y. But the other two probably have a band called something ironic and generation specific, like 'Easy Bake Oven.'
I guess the city just needs to do a better job putting an actual face to the "hobo" because these three look like they probably have most of their teeth and a stylist.
So now they're talking about closing the park between midnight and 6am. Fine with me. The only time I'm in the park, sans vehicle, is to hit the Japanese Tea Garden and crash the occasional DeYoung gala. Like the hobos are going to check their Rolexs and suddenly say to one another, "Hey, Patches. It's 11:55. Should we call a cab?"
God bless that Heather Knight for getting the best quote from Gavin I've ever heard. "My mother told me that nothing good happens after midnight..."
Oh Gavin. Oh sweet, innocent Gavin. I have so much to teach you...