You know how you routinely step over homeless people or bludgeon them to death to briefly fill the void in your life? Turns out that might be something of an error…check out this guy who, despite being homeless, left behind a $4 million estate.

Every day ]]>

You know how you routinely step over homeless people or bludgeon them to death to briefly fill the void in your life? Turns out that might be something of an error…check out this guy who, despite being homeless, left behind a $4 million estate.

Every day on NPR, listeners hear funding credits or, in other words, very short, simple commercials.

A few weeks ago, a new one made it to air: “Support for NPR comes from the estate of Richard Leroy Walters, whose life was enriched by NPR, and whose bequest seeks to encourage others to discover public radio.”

An article in the online newsletter of a Catholic mission in Phoenix revealed that Walters died two years ago at the age of 76. He left an estate worth about $4 million. Along with the money he left for NPR, Walters also left money for the mission.

But something distinguished Walters from any number of solvent, well-to-do Americans with seven-figure estates: He was homeless.

Walters was a retired engineer from AlliedSignal Corp.; an honors graduate of Purdue with a master’s degree; and a Marine. Walters never married, didn’t have children and was estranged from his brother. But he wasn’t friendless.

Rita Belle, a registered nurse, met Walters at a senior center 13 years ago.

“He always came in with a little backpack on and a cap on,” Belle tells Siegel. “And always kind of looked at me, but [was] very reserved. And I’m very outgoing and outspoken. So I said to him, ‘Hey, you got a minute can we sit down to visit?’ And we’d have coffee there at the senior center.”

Belle and Walters became friends. Belle stayed with Walters when he was ill. She became his nurse and ultimately the executor of his estate.

Definitely an interesting little tale, and one that really teaches us all an important lesson about being nice to others in spite of their perceived lack of ways to make your life better. But at the same time, I can’t help but wonder…after hanging out with this old, lonely homeless dude for 13 years, was Rita Belle jerking off his wrinkly, smelly cock? She had to be, right? I mean I’m sure she was a great friend and whatever, but I fundamentally believe no man really cares about the companionship of a woman, particularly if he’s wholly unsatisfied, so she must have given him a little rub and tug at least once right? It’s called being a good Samaritan.

Best part of NPR’s story though is this:

Evidently, among his few possessions was a radio. Hence those announcements listeners hear now and again on NPR stations.

Yes, that was the last line of the story. So this story of charity and a man living without possessions was basically turned into a plug to donate to NPR. Specifically, for the homeless to donate to NPR. Which makes sense because you’re barely getting by on Earth, how could you possibly live without someone drolly reading a New York Times piece on President Obama’s healthcare policy? It’s an inspiration.

[via]

Via Channelate comes this comic about what might make for a viable secret ingredient in your next cookout.

Now let’s take all of the objections to someone being murdered out of the equation…you’d eat human meat right? Like you’d have to sample it, ]]>

Via Channelate comes this comic about what might make for a viable secret ingredient in your next cookout.

Now let’s take all of the objections to someone being murdered out of the equation…you’d eat human meat right? Like you’d have to sample it, if it were prepared for you in a delicious fashion wouldn’t you? I can’t be alone in this. I mean don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’d want to make it myself or go and buy some Human at the store, but if they gave it to me at a restaurant with a nice garnish, I’d sample it. The only thing that kind of sucks is that it’d probably be some homeless person, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I mean, yeah, they have no intrinsic value to society, but I have to imagine they’d be much gamier and perhaps a bit too free range.

Orlando is apparently not a big fan of homeless people eating. Take for example the story of Eric Montañez, an “activist” who tried to feed a bunch of homeless people in a park and found himself going to jail.

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So here’s the thing…I hate homeless people. And it’s ]]>

Orlando is apparently not a big fan of homeless people eating. Take for example the story of Eric Montañez, an “activist” who tried to feed a bunch of homeless people in a park and found himself going to jail.

So here’s the thing…I hate homeless people. And it’s not my usual illogical hatred for everyone different from me. I used to give money to every single homeless person I saw, change, a couple bucks, whatever. One day in college, I saw this homeless guy outside of my local grocery store. I actually talked to him, bonded with him. He told me about how he lost his job at a nearby gas station and his family left him. I was touched. He was charismatic and warm-hearted…smelly, but not obnoxiously so. He said he hadn’t eaten a real meal in days and, finally finding my homeless kindred spirit, I knew it must be true. So I gave him $5, feeling way generous. I went inside to get my groceries and capped off the shopping by going to the store’s separated liquor store area. While going to buy my wine coole…I mean, manly hard liquors, I saw this f’ing homeless guy there buying a handle of whiskey. I said, “You said you wanted food…” like a child who saw Santa Claus jerking off into his oatmeal instead of leaving presents. That homeless prick just waved me off and said, “Meh.” And from that day, I decided that I will never trust another homeless person again.

Unless like strip clubs go out of business and put busty young women out of a home. Then, f it, tell me all the sad stories you want Hot Tits McSoupkitchenface.

I’m not really a big fetish guy. Really, the closest to a fetish I get is demanding to put a tentacle puppet on my genitals when I have sex with a Japanese girl. So you could see how horrified I am by this “trend” (maybe?) called “Seductive Farting” aka hot ]]>

I’m not really a big fetish guy. Really, the closest to a fetish I get is demanding to put a tentacle puppet on my genitals when I have sex with a Japanese girl. So you could see how horrified I am by this “trend” (maybe?) called “Seductive Farting” aka hot chicks farting fetish.

I’m all for people doing whatever works for them so long as it doesn’t endanger the lives of others. Unless they’re homeless people. I’ve been pretty ardent in my “pro-murdering-homeless-to-get-off” stance. So long as you give them a cheeseburger and a handle of vodka beforehand, your conscience should be clean. I mean seriously, it’s not like he was going to win the Nobel Prize. Unless they’re awarding a new Nobel Prize for crapting your pants and yelling that the spacemen are invading your brain. In which case, man, has the Nobel board really lowered their standards in award giving.

I’m all for homeless creativity, but this gentleman’s ad seeking financial support in exchange for doing nothing just seems silly.

I think that homeless people need to think outside the box to get money to fuel their various endeavors including but not limited to eating, crapting ]]>

I’m all for homeless creativity, but this gentleman’s ad seeking financial support in exchange for doing nothing just seems silly.

I think that homeless people need to think outside the box to get money to fuel their various endeavors including but not limited to eating, crapting on themselves what they just ate, and yelling obscenities at women with large breasts (in fact, we could all probably use a research grant in this field), but I also believe in truth in advertising. What this guy is in fact doing is a flagrant violation of services. You don’t have to pay him to avoid an ass kicking…due to his crippledness, you could probably spit on him or leave any sort of bodily waste and he’d just sit there and go “DAMN YOU SUCKA” (homeless people say “sucka”. It’s a fact. Don’t question it) while you tap danced your way away from him.

So there we go, it’s the first week of 2009 and I just completed my first resolution: Take no guff from the homeless. They’ve coasted their way to success far too often!

[Editor's note: Yes, we're back on a regular posting schedule and, yes, this is what I opted to make my first post of the year. It was also my resolution to continue half-assing things as much as possible.]

I tend to not like the homeless. They smell, get in the way, and don’t offer me money for being awesome like other people do (in fact, they have the audacity to ask me for money! The audacity!). But even I have to admit that homeless man Michael Malloy is ]]>

I tend to not like the homeless. They smell, get in the way, and don’t offer me money for being awesome like other people do (in fact, they have the audacity to ask me for money! The audacity!). But even I have to admit that homeless man Michael Malloy is pretty great.

From his (completely sourced and actually credible) Wiki:

The events that led to Malloy’s death began in January 1933. He was, at the time, alcoholic and homeless. Five men who were acquainted with him, Tony Marino, Joseph Murphy, Francis Pasqua, Hershey Green, and Daniel Kriesberg (later dubbed “the Murder Trust” by the headlines), plotted to take out three life insurance policies on Malloy, and then get him to drink himself to death. The first part of the plot was successful (probably achieved with the aid of a corrupt insurance agent), and they stood to gain over $3,500 (almost $57,000 by 2008′s standards by the CPI) if Malloy died an accidental death.

Marino owned a speakeasy, and gave Malloy unlimited credit, thinking it would soon put an end to him. Although Malloy drank for a majority of his waking day, which would kill an average man, it did not. To remedy this, Antifreeze, a deadly poison, was substituted for liquor, but still Malloy would drink until he passed out, wake up, and come back for more. Antifreeze was substituted with turpentine, followed by horse liniment, and finally mixed in rat poison. Still, Malloy lived. The gang began to get creative, thinking raw oysters soaked in wood alcohol would do the trick (this idea apparently came from Pasqua, who saw a man die after eating oysters with whiskey, which was probably an anomaly). Then came a sandwich of spoiled sardines, carpet tacks, and metal shavings.

Realizing it was unlikely that anything Malloy ingested was going to kill him, the Murder Trust decided to freeze him to death. On a night when temperatures reached -14 degrees Fahrenheit (-26 °C), Malloy drank until he passed out, was carried to a park, dumped in the snow, and had five gallons (19 L) of water poured on his bare chest. (The gang had successfully used a similar method on their first victim the previous year.) Nevertheless, Malloy reappeared the following day for his drink. The next attempt on his life came when they hit him with Green’s taxi, moving at 45 miles per hour (72 km/h). This put Malloy in the hospital for three weeks. The gang presumed he was dead, but were unable to collect the policy on him. When he again appeared at the bar, they finally decided to take an even more direct approach. On February 22, after he passed out for the night, they took him to Murphy’s room, put a hose in his mouth that was connected to the gas jet, and turned it on. This finally killed Michael Malloy.

He was pronounced dead of pneumonia, and quickly buried. However, the members of the Murder Trust proved to be their own worst enemies — they talked too much and squabbled among themselves. Eventually police heard the rumors of what they did, and upon learning that a Michael Malloy had died that night, they had the body exhumed. When they discovered the actual cause of death, the five men were put on trial for murder. Green went to prison and the other four members were executed in the electric chair at Sing Sing.

I admire this homeless guy for apparently having a stomach with the steeliness of a safe at Fort Knox but I have to confess that I’m a bit confused by the guys who killing him all getting death sentences. I mean, it’s a homeless guy. I always assumed that killing the homeless was at most a misdemeanor. Who would even notice? Their bindle? Bindles can’t talk, man.

Everyone has a weakness for adorable kitties. Especially ones with big anime character-looking eyes. But what if they’re sneaking up on you to, probably, murder you and eat your sweet innards?

Just watch the whole thing. The cat sneaks up on its owner without shifting its position or moving ]]>

Everyone has a weakness for adorable kitties. Especially ones with big anime character-looking eyes. But what if they’re sneaking up on you to, probably, murder you and eat your sweet innards?

Just watch the whole thing. The cat sneaks up on its owner without shifting its position or moving while within the line of sight for a second. It’s pretty impressive.

As longtime readers may know, I own a cat (the official BOH kitty Nilla) and, while I never like making endorsements of products, I have to say that there is one product I especially enjoy getting her. That product? Dead Homeless People. Nothing will give your kitten the energy they need while satisfying your own personal bloodlust faster than Dead Homeless People.

“Got any change?”

“Sure…why don’t you come back to my place and we’ll get you all cleaned up. *winks at camera”

Dead Homeless People: The taste kitties will flip over.