Aggressively anti-panhandling
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| James Hilston, Post-Gazette Click illustration for larger version. |

Thanks to the Internet, scam artists don't have to leave home anymore. Ditto for wired beggars. Here are some Web sites from the directory e-panhandling.org:
Ed Needs A Hummer -- Send him a buck so he can drive off into the sunset.
Internet Squeegee Guy -- He'll clean the inside of your monitor screen for spare change.
Make Me Richer Than Bill Gates -- Send money so I can travel and play the stock market. Credit cards accepted.
Rent My Chest -- Pay this guy $20, and he'll write your message on his chest and publish it online.
Send Me $30,000 -- Let's be efficient with these begging sites!

Nathan Bierma writing on Christianitytoday.com: "I still feel funny every time I walk by a panhandler (or, as 'Politically Correct Bedtime Stories' author James Finn Garner put it, an 'individual supporting himself outside the reigning capitalist paradigm'). Give panhandlers money, and you might be subsidizing a destructive habit. Give them gift certificates or groceries, and you're subsidizing alternatives to church-affiliated social services. Give them a business card for a social service agency, and it can seem impersonal and indirect. Give them a warm greeting and nothing else, and you give them false hope. Ignore them, and you share in an inhuman oblivion to their existence. I just can't imagine Jesus doing what a friend calls 'the thousand-yard stare' and striding on by. But I often do."

A while back, a Chicago Tribune columnist solicited feedback on whether to give. Some responses:
I decided not to give. I believe them all and know that I'm fooled often. Where do you draw a line?
My faith calls me to "give to the one who asks you."
I am more likely to give to someone doing something that may be considered 'earning' it, such as street musicians.
Beggars are not worthy of my money because they don't want to learn how to fish. So I won't give them a fish every day.
Every time I give, I get a blessing in return. As the old saying goes, everyone is just one check away from being homeless.
I do not always have money to give, but I always acknowledge them.

Does this compute: a panhandler who doesn't ask for money but just wants to say thanks? A letter writer to The New York Times last winter described a person in the subway who said, "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen!" He revealed that the donations he solicited had enabled him to treat a sight problem and thus get a job. "So I want to thank all of you!"
Nathan Bierma: "That's the thing about panhandling; it can surprise you and defy assumptions and personal policies."

There's a village of panhandlers in Mordovia, a Russian republic. It's called Naiman and for centuries has been sending swindlers across the country, begging for money, claiming they lost everything in a fire. Naiman panhandlers can make up to $2,500 a month. Entrepreneurship took a back seat to communism in the mid-'80s, as residents were told to get busy on the local collective farm. After the breakup of the Soviet Union the collective farm went belly up. So it was back to something with security -- scamming. Fun for all. "We have an 80-year-old lady here, who continues traveling all over Russia, making a very good extra profit to her pension," an anonymous resident told Pravda.

Margita Bangov, a Czech immigrant, was a fixture on Toronto streets, panhandling with a sign that read, "Please help I am very sick I will pray for you thank you." With her shabby clothing and apparently uncontrollable trembling, she became known as the "Shaky Lady." But suspicions were raised when Bangov would be observed suddenly cured of her shaking at quitting time. In March 2002, the Toronto Sun homed in on her with stories saying Bangov employed two bodyguards and without a hint of trembling, she swiftly walked to a waiting car and was driven to her apartment, stocked with leather furniture, a big-screen television and a computer. The Sun estimated Bangov pulled in about $2,000 a week. Her cover blown, Bangov had to take her act out of town. (Source: en.wikipedia.org)

Keith Jensen of Sacramento noticed the trend and started his own panhandling Web site, WhyLieINeedADrink.blogspot.com. "I'm the only guy I've found who is panhandling online and off. I forced myself to do some time as a regular cardboard sign guy for market research." The results:
Banana Costume. "Hey, I'm a Banana Give Me Money. God Bless" $11.50 an hour.
Uncle Sam Costume. Uncle Sam poster altered to read, "I want you to give me a dollar. God Bless." $14.50 an hour.
Just funny signs: "Last cardboard sign guy for 2 miles. God Bless." "Exact Change Only. God Bless" and "The End is Here -- (Arrow points to edge of sign) God Bless!" $6.50 an hour.
No costume, no funny sign. "Please Help. God Bless." $8.50 an hour. Two bus passes, one chocolate-covered granola bar.
The upshot: Jensen made more than the minimum wage using a sign; the costumed days brought in more than he made at his day job. His advice: "ALWAYS have a 'God Bless' on your sign, but never specify which god. God Bless."
