Showing posts with label eat the rich. Show all posts
Showing posts with label eat the rich. Show all posts

Sunday, December 20, 2009

In which I reach the end of my fucking working class tether

Something I've been wondering about/seething over for quite some time now: when politicians and the media talk about the "middle class," who exactly do they mean?

Because, frankly, I don't give a fuck about the middle class as I understand the term: households with a steady income that enables them to keep their heads above water, have at least one functioning car in the driveway, are able to shop for groceries with coupons and an eye on the sale flyer but without having to calculate a running total down to the pennies in their head, who can spend $30 or $40 or $80 on lunch or shoes or xmas decorations and not break a sweat, who pay someone $20 a week to mow their environmentally disastrous lawn.

Awww, no Steeler tickets this year -- so sad!

Basically, people who might have to give some thought to a major outlay of cash, but whose income still keeps up with their {cough cough} lifestyle. The definition of economic hardship for them, as I understand it based on the media and my experience of coworkers, supervisors, and neighbors, is visiting Olive Garden without a coupon.

Fuck them. They can afford to sweat a little. A lot. To death, really.

And fuck the politicians who keep invoking them as some kind of paragon of American values, and fuck the media for doing the same.

Can we please shift this national conversation to the working class? To the folks who may have health insurance but have to borrow the $10 copay for a doctor visit from a friend, and probably won't be able to pay it back. To the people who walk a mile in the mornings and evenings to keep their bus ride inside the zone and save .50 each way. To the women and men heralded in Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel and Dimed?

Perhaps in decades past the line was drawn between "middle class" and "upper class." And then it was recalibrated to divide "midle class" from "upper middle class." I think there was a brief period when the term "lower middle class" was in vogue, but the members of that imagined group still had a second car and often a boat in the driveway, and shopped at Macy's rather than KMart for bath towels and toasters.

I don't begrudge those folks who are fortunate enough to have snagged a bigger paycheck any of their little luxuries or indulgences. Hey, if it reinforces your illusions of security or meaningfulness, go for it.

But is anyone other than Michael Moore and Ms. Ehrenreich talking about people who actually have to juggle the math to get all their utility bills paid? Who is addressing the needs of the family whose daycare expenses mean they can't insulate the attic, who have the family cat or dog put to sleep because they can't afford treatment for a treatable condition?

How can a news anchor or congressional representative making six figures possibly understand what $100 actually means to a household that's already buying generic dog food, not replacing a burnt out light bulb in the hallway, having to suddenly shell out cash for a broken tail light or a plumber?

The entire national debate could be shifted with the simple substitution of this one word.

It won't happen. We haven't yet been able to shift the lie of "pro-life" to the truthful "anti-choice."

When you hear these terms, middle-class, working-class, think about what they mean, about what the media wants you to think they mean. Think about who you know. And please, start demanding that your representatives and your local media accurately represent the people they are reporting about.

P.S. Has anyone noticed that the person in the group dining out who makes the least money is likely to be the biggest contributor to the tip? Think about it, please.


Sunday, November 22, 2009

In which I see dumb people

Some idiot's idea of clothing

There are approximately fifty-three things wrong with this article, from concept to execution, including the one dude's apparently having learned his approach to modeling from the 1974 J.C. Penney catalog. I couldn't do a better job of pointing most of them out than Virginia Montanez in her brilliant take on it.

It is purely spit-worthily hilarious, in the first place, that this was even in the Post-Gazette at all. We yinzers may be only slightly more fashion-forward than Cincinnati or Indianapolis, but please. Please. Really, please.

Why am I so certain that Ayn Rand would've loved this outfit?

I do love laughing at the rich. And the rich had better be grateful when they hear us laughing at them. Because when we stop laughing at them, it will only be because our mouths are full of them.