No, Seriously?

So a guy who's homeless decides he doesn't want to be homeless anymore. He figures he'll earn the money to pay rent someplace, and he'll do it by shining shoes. Not panhandling, not bullying people into giving him money for wiping his sleeve on their windshield, not shamming with a "Will work for food" sign. Just going to work and getting paid for it.

People who travel and work in the area where he shines shoes -- in the coat and tie he puts on every day to look professional -- support him and try to help him out. A newspaper reporter hears about it and writes a story highlighting this man who is trying to pick himself up. He's earned $573 of the $600 he's going to need for the rent. He's just $27 short of reaching his first goal on his journey out of the situation he's in.

Then some soulless automaton who uses up taxpayer money and perfectly good oxygen for a living reads the story and gets in touch with the guy -- he needs a "sidewalk vendor permit," which will cost him $491. Read the story, especially if you suffer from low blood pressure. The bureau-droid who put the arm on him for the license fee couldn't even tell him where he would have to line up to buy the permit.

When the Big One hits and California falls into the sea, I can suggest one head that would pretty obviously serve as a flotation device.