Glimpse Into Welfare
The poor are entertaining to listen to. Yes, I'm poor too, but that's hardly the point. I was on the bus the other day (the beginning of every good story), and I was privileged to listen to some mindless babble from fellow passengers during a brief moment my ears weren't plugged in to an iPod. A group of women in their late-40''s, early-50's were talking about how their grandchildren bring them happiness, and their affection "sure beats gettin' a diamond fer a gift." Um, pardonnez-moi, but I highly doubt that these fine ladies have never been on the receiving end of such gifts. The children who bore these grandchildren likely came out of wedlock, and never materialized in a marriage (with the prerequisite diamond engagement ring). They went on to say such vacuous things as money cannot buy them that kind of happiness. Inside, I was rolling around spasmodically laughing. I found their low material requirements charming. Then it occurred to me that these were women who weren't even my mother's age, and that they were too young to be having grandchildren anyway. Right about the same time, it occurred to me that my tax dollars might be helping these people in their maliciously fertile ways. After all, state taxes do go into welfare programs, on which such people are often dependent on. I don't necessarily mind tax dollars helping the needy, but it should also include birth control methods so these people aren't reproducing, placing further strains on the welfare system. Are my conclusions flawed? Perhaps.
This must make me sound as though I have an emotional depth of a kiddie pool. No, maybe not even that of a puddle on a sunny day. But mind you, I don't need grandchildren to appreciate the smaller things in life.
This must make me sound as though I have an emotional depth of a kiddie pool. No, maybe not even that of a puddle on a sunny day. But mind you, I don't need grandchildren to appreciate the smaller things in life.