Commentary by Jim Knee for The Daily News

You see them everywhere — on every street corner. They used to be on every third freeway exit ramp or so, but now you can’t stop at a light without them giving you that wannabe pathetic stare trying to make you feel guilty. The homeless problem is getting out of hand around here and across the country, and no one wants to address it. Why? If you put it out there that you’re not sympathetic to their plight, you’re instantly a totally heartless jerk.

Well, call me a jerk, but I have absolutely no sympathy for those people. I don’t mind saying that I grew up destitute. Countless nights in my childhood were spent awake with hunger pains. There wasn’t a month that went by that my family didn’t rely on at least one charitable organization to get food. The Salvation Army, FISH and various others all provided seemingly more food than my mother did. We were so poor that once, for a week straight, all there was to eat were boiled hot dogs. No ketchup, no mustard, no buns. Another time it was rice for two weeks — plain white rice with no soy sauce or anything. (To this day, I will not allow a hot dog to be boiled in my house.)

Did I just continue on with that lifestyle? Hell no. I went out as soon as I knew what work was and started earning money. At eight years old I went to the Minute Mart, got the smallest paper bags, filled them with walnuts or filberts at friends’ houses, and sold them door to door. At nine I went to a bank in my neighborhood and got a job from the manager cleaning up the parking lot, for which he paid me out of his own wallet. After that it was raking leaves, lawn mowing, or whatever work I could get, just so I wouldn’t go hungry.

Growing up I had three older siblings. Did they get themselves out and work? No way — they didn’t lift a finger to help the situation. They would rather sit on their dead butts, smoking cigarettes than to have food to eat or electricity to heat the house. If they had helped out we could have had a much better life. (Or if my mom hadn’t had kids she couldn’t feed.) Even $50 a week each would have been a tremendous help. That $600 under the table every month would have more than doubled the welfare check we got.

The point is I got out and worked hard because it had to be done. That tells me those bums put themselves there and stay there because they’re just plain lazy. They may not like their situation, but they’re unwilling to do what it takes to change it; they would rather pretend they’re disabled and wait for some sucker with a guilty conscience to hand them money. I’m here to tell you that if an eight year old who stank like cigarettes (thanks to his family) could go out and find work, then they can too. Next time you see some dirt bag on the corner with a sign, don’t feel a bit guilty for what you’ve got. You worked hard and deserve every bit of it.

Jim Knee of Kelso is currently studying electronics at ITT Tech in Portland.