misAdventures of Workmonkey 3.0

The drunk-guy-in-our-apartment situation has reached an impasse, as the ambulance picks him up about every third day. He's taken to passing out on the stairs, meaning we step over him on the way to and from work. The landlord/building owner, Gary, ranted to me the other night about his total lack of options. Social services, adult protection services, hospitals .. nobody gives a shit. There is no place for man like Steven in the system. An alcoholic 60-year-old is unwanted in all circles, as such a person is unredeemable. Social services only accepts people they can help. You can't help Steven. Only death can help him at this point. The job of hospitals is to take someone out of mortal danger. Once they've accomplished that goal, then their hands are clean and the patient is discharged. Essentially, the question becomes, what do you do with a worthless human being? This is why people end up homeless. No real help is available on any level, because help does nothing, except cost money. And helpless people ultimately end up on your corner, because that's the only place they can go where nobody has responsibility for them and they stop costing society money. With other seemingly unredeemable people, lifelong criminals, as example, you throw them into jail to keep them away from society. We need the same thing for people like Steven. There needs to be an island or something where we send people like this. Seriously. Take an island somewhere, airdrop beer and vodka and homeless drunks every week, and be done with it. That's the life they want for themselves, so give it to them. Steven doesn't want a job, or friends, or health. He wants a 23-ounce can of Foster's. So, give that can to him, but just not anywhere around normal people. The one thing Steven has taught me is that when someone doesn't remotely care about themselves, then it is fairly useless for you to care about them. All I want now is for Steven to be gone. Out of our apartment. He didn't make the team. Cut him. In reality, he hasn't really made the society's team either. Every fucking time the ambulance comes to pick him up, it is costing New York thousands of dollars ... and this is happening two to three times a week. I can't help but think if the ambulance is tied up with his fucking worthless drunk ass, what if someone is actually out there, legitimately hurt by something not brought on by themselves? I used to be more liberal about the topic of homeless and alcoholics until meeting Steven. You realize how selfish it is for him to do what he does. He isn't just fucking up his life, but ours. And if you tried to help him, he'd fuck up your life, too. His smell, his blood on the wall, his puke on the doorknobs .. That's selfish shit, and I'm done with it. Get him out of the world, let him lay in his own filth and drink Foster's all day .. But somewhere not of the normal world .. I heard there are thousands of islands off the coast of Maine .. Let's take the money we spend on people like this in a week, buy the island, stock it with a lifetime supply of Foster's, and put these guys on the island. Bot us and them, and the people who make Foster's, would be better off.