Misery in the Mission

When I see my neighbors who live on the street, I feel moved to repurpose these words of the great moral orator, Frederick Douglass: 

… At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing argument, is needed. O! had I the ability, and could I reach the nation’s ear, I would, today, pour out a fiery stream of biting ridicule, blasting reproach, withering sarcasm, and stern rebuke. For it is not light that is needed, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake. The feeling of the nation must be quickened; the conscience of the nation must be roused; the propriety of the nation must be startled; the hypocrisy of the nation must be exposed; and its crimes against God and man must be proclaimed and denounced. 

Nobody should be "living" like this.

These folks are gathered to score from the dealer, I assume. If you don't yet know, the bent-over posture is common among fentanyl users.

Hell of a place to sleep, but still breathing ... all these folks survive (mostly) within a half-block radius of our home.

As the city tries (and largely fails) to "clean up" other neighborhoods, people migrate. I'm not saying it's easy to intervene when we've allowed the creation of a whole class of under- or un-housed outcasts, but a decent society and polity would find a way.