You see, I was addicted to heroin, and basically homeless, for three years living in Vegas after my mom passed and I divorced.
My beautiful co-junkie girlfriend ODed and died, literally in my arms, in a room at the MGM Grand the first time she ever shot up. I thought she was doing meth like she always did. She was such an amazing soul and I still cry when I think of her and that horrible night.
I allowed a bunch of homeless "friends" to stay with me as I was blowing through my money. I fed them all the time; gave them money for dope sometimes.
Several of them ended up robbing me for money, clothes, computers etc etc. I ended up in the Tunnels for about 6 months before I could finally get out of town.
I finally kicked cold-turkey on the floor of a county jail medical cell back here in Florida as I had missed court dates and had warrants. This was 5 years ago and I have worked hard to pull my life back together.
Before this, my 5yo daughter was physically grabbed by a homeless person in the streets of downtown Chicago, off Michigan Ave., and to this day she still talks of the fear she felt that day.
Who knows what could have happened if I wasn't 6'3" and prison-hardened from the 22 months I did for selling MDMA in 2001?
So I feel I see all sides of this situation from real experience. It's hard writing this because I try not to remember all that garbage and pain.
I think this guy has the right to express himself and his fears without being knee-jerk dogpiled by the offense mobs, but that's just me.
[edits]