Spokesman for the smelly garbage can wharfs, Bruce Tanna, told reporters in a heated and slurry tone, “Us bums have had enough! Our employees spent night after night in front of the Blockbuster on the corner of West 75th and Highland and they got nothing to show for it!”

“We’ve even had to send some specialist bums out there to garner your money,” griped Dino Wawa, another bum who slept through most of the press conference.

Wawa explained during one of his cognizant moments that these specialist bums receive unusually high amounts of charity by claiming that the money will be used to feed themselves and their unidentified daughters. Others tote behind them a little dog to gain sympathy, while others mess up their face with dirt and rocks to make them seem incredibly retarded.

“These new bums smell like sewage, look like they’ve been rolling around in slaughtered animal carcasses, and speak like a drunken ten-year-old. And you people still won’t hand out a little change,” Tanna continued. “What do we have to do for money, man?”

A spokesperson for the bums announced that they would all be on strike indefinitely until they received more change on the street.

“I ain’t workin’ no more,” one bum shouted, then coughed up blood, and scratched his crotch. “Of course, with no work, I reckon I’ll get hungry soon enough, so could you all spare a little change?”

Most of the reporters at this point spat on the bum and left the room. No one gave him any change.