Alternative Lifestyles
Survived working a booth at Folsom Street Fair, pictures to follow. After work I met with an acquaintance who remarked Folsom always seems to be scheduled for the hottest day of the year. Next year, I'm taking an afternoon shift, and doing the goggly-eyed "vanilla tourist" thing in the cool morning.
I've been sitting on thoughts about several "rich people don't understand they're rich" posts that have recently crossed my radar. The rant about upper-class (mis)-perception of poverty (surely this "friend" must be a straw (wo)man, to be so out of touch) can be deleted, since other people already hit the highlights. (Speaking as someone living in a Point Five situation: dude. Get roommates.) Economist Brad De Long responded to a similar recent kerfluffle (lawyer married to M.D. complains he can't get by on $280,000 should Obama let Bush's tax cuts lapse), saying, in part:
[Mr. Xxxxxxxxx] doesn't look down at the 99% of American households who have less income than he does. [He] looks up. And when he looks up today he sees as wide a gap yawning above him as the gap between Dives and Lazarus. Mr. Xxxxxxxxx doesn't look down.
Instead, Mr. Xxxx Xxxxxxxxx looks up. Of the 100 people richer than he is, fully ten have more than four times his income. And he knows of one person with 20 times his income. He knows who the really rich are, and they have ten times his income: They have not $450,000 a year. They have $4.5 million a year. And, to him, they are in a different world.
While context like this explains some actions, it doesn't excuse that mind-boggling lack of perspective. My own context for poverty is college: I often felt I was in the grip of a liquid cash-flow problem, but adhered to conventional middle-class opinion that I was setting aside earning potential now for more money later. One of the only times I remember feeling poor was the day my debit card was rejected at the grocery store. Even then, I firmly believed that was a limited-time deal. Real poverty, in my mind, is when public transit is a significant line item in your budget, for a period of months or years. It's moments like these that I feel a rally to restore sanity cannot come soon enough.
The Colbert/Stewart "March to Keep Fear Alive" / "Rally to Restore Sanity" October 30th event is the first time I've regretted moving. Is this homesickness? I spent some time on kayak.com constructing a pretty Thursday-to-Sunday fantasy of relocation contrition, but decided transcontinental travel is too expensive (and irritating) for this one. Perhaps I will organize a sister rally in Golden Gate Park. And by "rally" I mean "picnic, brown-bag, with booze". And maybe a group sing-along for "This Land is Your Land".
I've been sitting on thoughts about several "rich people don't understand they're rich" posts that have recently crossed my radar. The rant about upper-class (mis)-perception of poverty (surely this "friend" must be a straw (wo)man, to be so out of touch) can be deleted, since other people already hit the highlights. (Speaking as someone living in a Point Five situation: dude. Get roommates.) Economist Brad De Long responded to a similar recent kerfluffle (lawyer married to M.D. complains he can't get by on $280,000 should Obama let Bush's tax cuts lapse), saying, in part:
[Mr. Xxxxxxxxx] doesn't look down at the 99% of American households who have less income than he does. [He] looks up. And when he looks up today he sees as wide a gap yawning above him as the gap between Dives and Lazarus. Mr. Xxxxxxxxx doesn't look down.
Instead, Mr. Xxxx Xxxxxxxxx looks up. Of the 100 people richer than he is, fully ten have more than four times his income. And he knows of one person with 20 times his income. He knows who the really rich are, and they have ten times his income: They have not $450,000 a year. They have $4.5 million a year. And, to him, they are in a different world.
While context like this explains some actions, it doesn't excuse that mind-boggling lack of perspective. My own context for poverty is college: I often felt I was in the grip of a liquid cash-flow problem, but adhered to conventional middle-class opinion that I was setting aside earning potential now for more money later. One of the only times I remember feeling poor was the day my debit card was rejected at the grocery store. Even then, I firmly believed that was a limited-time deal. Real poverty, in my mind, is when public transit is a significant line item in your budget, for a period of months or years. It's moments like these that I feel a rally to restore sanity cannot come soon enough.
The Colbert/Stewart "March to Keep Fear Alive" / "Rally to Restore Sanity" October 30th event is the first time I've regretted moving. Is this homesickness? I spent some time on kayak.com constructing a pretty Thursday-to-Sunday fantasy of relocation contrition, but decided transcontinental travel is too expensive (and irritating) for this one. Perhaps I will organize a sister rally in Golden Gate Park. And by "rally" I mean "picnic, brown-bag, with booze". And maybe a group sing-along for "This Land is Your Land".