I will tell you a Fartinmowler true story. At the age of 21 I was living in my parent’s basement and had a great life with much money and time to spend with my band mate friends, it was wonderful. One night I drank way too much and crashed my beloved 70's Toyota Corolla, this thing was mint with a racing stripe, I even got head in it
So I had no car and no future so I headed east and apprenticed as a Graphic artist. The first room I rented was really gross but the people, mostly black would share their food and I spent many hours in conversation with them. The room in the house was unbearably hot because it was right in the peak of the roof and the rent was more than I could afford. I was at work one day and there was an ad for a room for 200 hundred a month for musicians and with a burger in my hand on my bike I rode down the through from the Danforth and finally found a place that I would find my future wife and friends that I still have to this day. I wrote this because sometimes you have to look at certain situations and decide if the person is worthy of deserving some help to find his way in a civil society or he will become blight.
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