Well, that’s simply incorrect. For example, I’m poor, a full-fledged member of the hoi polloi — which means the masses, not the hoity-toity — but I’m not stoopid. Nor am I a criminal, an opportunist, feckless, promiscuous, weak-willed, a bum, or a victim.
Those are a few things I’m not, but which I’m painted as because of my income. Yet, by some standards, I’m less of a failure than the President, who’s declared bankruptcy 6 times and shirked every prevailing moral and ethical responsibility — from taxes to military service to honesty.
Don’t get me wrong, money is nice. I’m sure it’s an enormous comfort and I wish I had a pile on hand. If I had more I’d happily spend more. However, I wouldn’t be any smarter or prettier or better. I’d be exactly the same, albeit with a nicer cushion.
The mistake politicians make is assuming wealth signifies worth. Which it might to them, but not everyone subscribes to their theory. Thing is, low-income people aren’t an asset to politicians; we aren’t campaign contributors or power brokers or influence peddlers. We don’t have lobbyists currying favor on our behalf. What we are, in this day and age, is a scourge.
Poor people are the cause of every social ailment plaguing mankind. Everything from budget deficits to the decaying infrastructure — our fault. So time to end affordable healthcare, affordable housing, roll back clean air and water regulations, build a big wall, and give the super rich another well-deserved tax cut.
Just who are the one percent? They’re smug, arrogant poseurs with a pleonexic sense of entitlement. Sorry, I’ve been in the dictionary again. Pleonexia is a heightened, abnormal, and unhealthy covetousness. But the most insulting term I can apply is predictable. Good God, they’re tiresome.
So, given my druthers, I’ll stick with a small, low-maintenance life of poverty, thanks. I may not have much, but I’ve got a rich imagination and a moral compass and books, lots of books. A personality, too. If that’s poor, it’s not a bad life.