Everyday when you commute to San Francisco, California from San Jose, California, you will undoubtedly run into a few homeless people. The amount of people in poverty that you see along the way will no doubt depend upon your mode of transportation. I estimate that, during my four hour commutes to the city, I likely saw about six homeless people a day on average during the entire trip to and back from San Francisco. That's certainly a lot, and I don't want to take away from the seriousness of the homeless situation in the city one bit. San Francisco has definitely failed so far in its fight to end poverty, and there is just no denying that. However, I am not going to spend a lot of time bad mouthing San Francisco because the media does quite enough of that on its own. The reason that San Francisco is frequently maligned in the media is because it is an easy target. For all it has to offer, San Francisco is a surprisingly tiny part of California. Even its famed baseball stadium is smaller than many newer venues of the same age. What is much more shocking than San Francisco's poverty issue is that of Los Angeles. Los Angeles is one of the largest cities in the world, and it boasts some of the highest poverty numbers in the America today. Thus, behind all of Hollywood's high fashion and constant partying, there exist a populace that is slowly starving to death. There are so many people living out of their cars in Los Angeles that entire parking lots are devoted to providing the homeless with cars a place to park. One homeless lot I saw housed no less than twenty five mobile tenants, complete with a makeshift coffee area, and car seat bedrooms. Perhaps visions of needle ridden sociopaths pop to mind when I describe such a scene, one that was written and produced by celebrities who have likely never known a homeless person. But this was not the scene I witnessed in that parking lot at all. What I saw was quite different. All of these homeless people had jobs. One man in particular had been a computer engineer before he fell ill; he collected unemployment for the six months he qualified, and was subsequently terminated. He tried to meet the demands of his jobs, but he just could not make a full recovery. So, he ended up sleeping in his car. It happened that quickly. Imagine, all you have ever worked for, wiped away in six months. Is this the grace Christian nations love to preach about? Then there was the woman who was dumped by her husband; her lover grew tired of her and told her to leave. She got a job cleaning houses to support herself, but she couldn't manage to get enough hours to afford the always increasing cost of rent. So, out on the street she went. There were so many stories like this: a missed payment here, an illness, a bout of depression, whatever it may be...Everyday in this nation people are cast out on the street like dogs for making mistakes. This is America, and all of it happens in the home of Hollywood, the place where dreams come true. It is a cruel irony to have the wealthiest and the poorest live so close to each other. It almost seems intentional, as if the wealthy believe that the smell of their filthy wads of cash will motivate sick people to be instantly cured or disenchanted husbands to magically return. Hollywood is the king of feel good movies; it is unfortunate that automobiles do not come fitted with flat screen TVs and a netflix app. It might comfort a freezing LA citizen on a winter night to know that miracles can really happen, that there are angels in Hollywood's outfield. But cars aren't like that at all. I remember sleeping in one in 2008, right before I lost my mind. Right before I fell into a seizure and woke up with several bruises, I remember thinking to myself, "how could I have gotten here? What did I do to deserve this? No one deserves this." Thankfully, I woke up in a warm house. The reality is that most people in that situation may not ever wake up again. Pic: Engin Akyurt