Moochers. That's what we were getting at the jazz club tonight. Anytime we host an event, they show up. Tonight we were celebrating the band leader's birthday, so the club owner and birthday boy invited everyone they knew. They had generously decided to donate the night's cover charges to a charity that benefits animals. They modestly drew a parallel to the band leader and St. Francis of Assisi. I expected to see him with a halo of colorful songbirds, frisky squirrels scurrying about, and a doe-eyed doe or two staring up at him. Instead we had the detritus of society who expected free admittance by using passwords of their own device. Granted, I am just The Doorman and this is just a jazz club, but I felt like I was on a mission to help the least of the generalized "us" in the world. In my mind's eye I saw a cute, but pathetic-looking chipmunk face looking at me with its yearning beady eyes which say "help me, help me!" Fortified by the chipmunk image, I resolved to collect the five buck covers from everyone who walked in. That's why it grew irritating to hear the give-me-a-fee-pass excuses that included I've-known-the-band-leader-for-years, we-used-to-be-neighbors, I work with him, and the worst of the lot was a group of several well-dressed men who had worked with the previous governor and are now political lobbyists--professional moochers! When I reminded them all that the cover charges are going to charity and point to signs and the flier that explains it, they would give me a look like... "Come on... Is that the best scam you can come up with?"