You are a middleclass republican. You probably think you're in a higher class and talk like you're in a higher class, but deep down you know the three jobs you and your wife work, the maxed-out credit cards, the twice re-financed house one of your parents left you really only make you look like you are in a higher class.
And that's all that matters. How ya look. As long as your friends believe the perception you've worked so hard at creating. This is America, and you ARE what your neighbor thinks you are.
So you get the new BBQ ready for the summer, (The $700 Weber you put on your third Visa, minimum payments only!) and you and your friends talk politics. Tea Party politics. That's your team. Aren't all the successful (looking) people republicans? So the round table b*tch-a-thon about spending begins. You never lived on your own, and never more than a few miles from mommy and daddy, but your world view, in your mind, knows that every penny you are taxed goes to feed some lazy minority. Michelle Bachman told you so. Right there on Fox News and that's TV so it has to be true. And boy oh boy they cut some stuff!!
They cut taxes for the rich (not you)"again, and vital programs for the disadvantaged,(also not you). And with that smug self-righteous smirk, as you flip that 7lb. Steak (Costco card, also minimum payments only!) you soak up your latest victories. . . But. . .
Can it really feel that good? Can the satisfaction be so extreme? Is it like a drug?
The smooth rush of euphoria permeates every nerve, every cell basks in the warm glow of the knowledge. The knowing. The being" you. Right now. Is it like winning a football game on the last play? Are there the highest of fives and fist pumps for everyone? I wanna know. I gotta know! Can you see new colors never known before this moment? Can you share this feeling? I need to know! I have to know! Where do I go for a cup of the pride you're drinking down tonight? The poor got poorer and you swoon. The rich got richer and you could faint. You are neither, but your team won. And won big! T-E-A-M Yaayyy TEAM!
Home heating oil assistance has been de-funded and somehow you know your life just got better. Oil. Funny little word oil. It touches EVERYTHING you touch.
Home, ah home, it's where we hang our hats and things. Well, some of our less fortunate won't be hanging their hats this winter at home, they'll be wearing them.
W.I.C.- Women Infants Children. . .To safeguard the health of low-income women, infants, and children up to age 5 who are at nutrition risk by providing nutritious foods to supplement diets, information on healthy eating, and referrals to health care. This is what WIC does.
Actually, this is their mission statement. It is administered by t he U.S. dept. of Agriculture. Makes me think of farmers. Makes me think of farm subsidies.
Now, kids 5 and under, that are at nutritional risk, may not be worth subsidizing anymore, but it makes you feel soooo good to know these factory farms are. Not that you're a farmer, but that's your team. And these kids? You don't actually know any anyway, right?
The EPA? When on earth would you ever need the EPA? No one's dumping toxic waste on your finely manicured lawn (will the landscaper take a post dated check for Friday?). All you know is that the EPA affects profits, not yours, but your teams. So nobody is gonna get in the way of the fracking now.
Yea team!! Besides they don't frack in the "burbs, do they?
And you use real hospitals with a real HMO (don't get sick!), not community health centers. "That money needs to go to people that hire, at least that's what Hannity told you. All you know is that things the Tea party deems irrelevant and wasteful were dumped by our leaders and you have never felt so good about people feeling so bad.
You and your people slapped around some of our most vulnerable, and like most bullies it was easy finding these soft targets. Even though you are a layoff away from losing everything, and the bill collectors are getting louder and louder, you know you'll be rich rich rich someday soon! It's the politics of winning. It's the politics of the delusional.
Welcome, my friends, to the politics of hurt.
1
