Biting the Hand That Feeds You
It’s a truism that fat dogs seldom bite. And of course how
does one bite a United States Senator in the ass, except in the voting booth.
So the Senate, in its boundless and
unquestioned wisdom, has thrown a steak dinner to all the dogs that vote. Those
who vote are likely to have a bank account where an automatic deposit
might be welcomed. If not, they surely have a mailing address, else one
cannot be a registered voter.
Ergo, without an account or an
address, you are fucked and simply expected to die under a bridge or, less
tastefully, in a cardboard carton on someone’s doorway.
Perfectly done, Mr. McConnell.
One does not elevate to the position of Majority Leader in the Senate without a
keen sense of who is invited to dine and who dies in poverty.
In the vastness of its largesse, McConnell is ready to aim a
single $1500 arrow in the direction all who earn less than $75,000 and—let’s
not forget—have a bank account or address. Anything less would be half-vast.
Fifteen hundred under those
circumstances is pocket-change, perhaps enough to buy a large-screen TV or some
other useless bauble.
Fifteen hundred every two weeks
until the jobs markets settle would be a life-saver for
·
waitresses, zero-hours workers,
·
those who sleep under a bridge or in a doorway,
·
teachers, beauticians, janitors and cleaners,
·
short-order cooks and the people who watch your
kids in day-care centers—and on and on, but you get my drift.
Those are the people for whom
survival is at risk.
It blows my mind that every time we have a financial
disaster—and the coronavirus pandemic is financial as well as medical—we throw trillions
at banks and airlines, while throwing our poor under the bus.
These circumstances arise with
great regularity, because our financial system is set up to pillage, get
bailed out, pillage again and repeat.
Eventually, it seems the total
commitment of our United States Congress is either to run out of poor or
buses.
And, thus far, they’re doing a
pretty damned good job of it.