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They've also denied hungry soup-kitchen goers a meal unless they say grace and have a long history of working against gay /persons/issues. Every time I have to pass one of those bell fingers I get angry.
Short of punching me in the face or kicking my dog, there is scarcely anything you could do that would make me less inclined to be charitable than mindlessly clanging a bell back and forth ad nauseum like some kind of Chinese tintinnabulation torture. One day, when you read the tragic story in the papers about the guy who snapped and went on a five-state rampage taking bells and putting them where they shouldn't ought to go in a person, you'll tut sadly to yourself and say "I saw it coming".
I can't find the exact quote now. But I believe Hunter S. Thompson wrote something about his colleague Ralph Steadman having an Englishman's longing for a London Christmas with "a diseased beggar ringing a bell on every corner".
I think of this every time I walk past the S.A. goon camped outside my supermarket.
On an even more visceral level, the organization's NAME turns me off... Salvation + Army = Christian + Soldiers = extremely oxymoronic. Although, the whole of Cristianity reversed course in its efforts to return to the true teachings of its founder a couple decades ago and is now playing catch-up in a race to the bottom with Islam. At my financial low-point a few years ago, a Lutheran church in the San Fernando Valley did provide me some material and practical help without more than a hint of proselytizing, but its contributions were dwarfed within months by the Big Bad Government (City and Federal, both led at the time by persons I absolutely did not support... now that's non-judgmental aid). For a secular charitable alternative, may I recommend Goodwill... unless somebody here has an inside story of secret agendas and deception, they have always looked good to me.
One day, when you read the tragic story in the papers about the guy who snapped and went on a five-state rampage taking bells and putting them where they shouldn't ought to go in a person, you'll tut sadly to yourself and say "I saw it coming".
This actually happened in San Antonio in the early 90s, only instead of the bell ringer, it was the ice cream truck driver. And instead of sticking bells in odd places, the assailant assaulted the driver with an ice cream cone and a pickle jar. The quote from the ice cream truck driver's daughter in the newspaper was something like "How can you beat up the ice cream man? That's like punching the Easter Bunny."
Applied for a counseling job at a Salvation Army youth place once. Grounds were overgrown with weeds, windows were rotting away for wont of paint and caulk, and there were about a dozen rusting lawnmowers in back.
Person recoiled in horror at my suggestion that the kids could learn some new skills and spruce the place up at the same time.
My happy days of throwing change in a kettle died that day.
Booth Memorial hospital, Wichita KS. Now a rotting, empty, overgrown hulk.
The irritation factor of ice cream trucks vary based on the music blaring from their loudspeakers... extra shrill, extra loud with audible tape hiss? Not buying a Rocket Bar from you... Ah, for the days of the classic "Good Humor" song. Why do so many trucks these days play "Turkey in the Straw"? Turkey Ice Cream?
And most of the SA centers I've seen in California are proud contributors to Urban Blight. I've long suspected it's their way of telling the more affluent community, "See? We really need the money..."
What we need is someone to photoshop a dollar bill with the story and then let people download and print them and fold them up and put those in the damned kettles.
Then the meme spreads and we shame them into doing the right thing.