I have Humor-ectile Dysfunction.

I just can’t get my funny up.

Usually when I come back from a Las Vegas trip I have stories just waiting to be told.

This time?  Not so much.

But let me tell you about the reason for my missing humor.

Iris the Itcher, aka Doris Dancing Queen , aka Carol Crack.

Dressed in pajama pants rolled all the way up to her ….well…..all the way up there and pulled down low on her hips. A rolled up T-shirt that left little to any imagination, she twirled and danced on the sidewalk while scratching every part of her body and yelling at the hordes of pedestrians passing by.  At one point she threw a chicken wing at a woman taking her photo.

She was shake your head and try not to look kind of  funny but she also made me sad because she didn’t intend to be funny.  She was obviously crack addicted and probably a little mentally ill.

She is representative of what has become a very large problem along the Las Vegas strip. There is a growing homeless population that spends a good portion of every day panhandling along the strip.   I don’t know where they go to sleep.

Some sit quietly on the sidewalk with their hand-lettered cardboard signs telling their story.  Some, like the dancing queen are more animated and will actually almost accost the tourists passing by.

Five years ago, there might have been one or two panhandlers every 50 yards,it was easy to give them a dollar or simply pass by and look away.     Now there are five or six every 10 yards all that way down the strip.

It is a problem I don’t know the answer to.   It saddens and scares me.  I’m afraid there may be no answer.

While there is probably a pill for my sadness and fear ( and maybe even my humor-ectile dysfunction) , there is no pill for the homeless problem and it is impossible to look away any longer.

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