That Christian, Christmas spirit

I was pouring him Southern Comfort old fashions and he was asking about the homeless guy across the street on the corner of the alley. "He's there all the time," I said. "Where else would he be?" the man said and then made some weird sourpuss face and said "maybe looking for a job?" Oh shit, it's on. "Well, I don't think he can look for a job, I know that he's a bit crazy." "Well, I don't mind telling you, I'm Christian and I'm just sick of paying for people like that to stay alive." "Well, if it helps any," I said, knowing where this conversation was going, "he's mentally disabled, a Vietnam veteran, released from a hospital that Reagan shut down in the 80s." "Well that just makes it harder to hate him, being a Christian," the man said and took a sip of his old fashion. "But you can still find a way..." I said. The man took another sip..."Oh there's always a way to hate..." I could tell that the old man was getting loopy from the drink and he was a dick anyway. "It just pisses me off that he's not trying to find a job!" He said. "I think he paid his dues...it's called killing people and watching people blow up around you and running for your life in the fucking dark for years...it would drive anyone crazy...what do you do?" I asked. "I'm retired," he said, he sensed the confrontation. "From WHAT?" I asked. "I ran a golf course." You fucking dick, go back to Kansas.