Poor People Suck, Part II...

The Scene: Your Intrepid Lunatic is in the local supermarket, doing his weekly grocery shopping. This mundane and ordinary activity (which he actually enjoys) is interrupted by the arrival of the Scourge of America: the single welfare mother with a brace of obnoxious children, armed with an EBT card. What follows is both disturbing and frightening. It is a microcosm of the future which would make one sick, if one could muster up enough concern to actually give a shit.

There is no hope for some segments of American Society.

I have come to this painful conclusion only after many years of experience and the expenditure of billions of braincells. I see the signs of inevitable decline and human de-volution everywhere. Some say it's just me being a curmudgeon, others accuse me of the basest racism whenever I voice this opinion, but it is an inescapable fact of American Life that the greater mass of what we call, euphemistically, The Underprivileged, are really little more than uncaged animals left to wander the landscape aimlessly, stripping the fruit from the trees and the crops from the fields like some endless plague of locusts.

Western Civilization has faced no greater threat: No Viking Raider, no Hun, no Vandal, no Mongol or Saracen was ever as great danger as the homegrown disaster that is the Welfare State Beneficiary, for in the process of providing such with every conceivable material comfort, extending every right and courtesy, by making every conscious effort to ignore the destructive behavior and tendencies this creature displays, we have encouraged and protected a tentacled cancer that will slowly sap the strength, the energy and the will of the cultural host.

The best place to see this rampaging bestiary up close and personal is in the supermarket. Consider it the urban equivalent of going on safari.

So, there I am, picking up the weekly groceries. I'm minding my own business, and so are the hundreds of other patrons wandering the isles trying to decide between Devil Dogs and Ring Dings, when in walks the biggest trainwreck of a woman I have ever seen, perhaps, in my entire life.

She stood, sans her 5" block-wedge shoes of a sort that reminds one of the clog worn by Victorian industrial workers, about 5' 6", and a conservative estimate of her weight would be about 270 pounds. She wore knock-off designer wear; a too-tight, too-short top that did nothing to hide the hideous, stretch-marked muffin top. The denim of her jeans was obviously strained to it's limits in attempting to hold back the avalanche of raw, puffy corpulence trapped within. Outrageously-large hoop earrings that are reminiscent of the ring that one attempts to pull as you pass by it on a carousel. Her fingers covered in gold and silver and diamonds (or perhaps these, too, were knockoffs). The hair was, for lack of a better term, bulletproof, buried under a thick layer of what I suppose was hair spray, applied in such a fashion that it resembled shellac on an antique table, I got the general impression that if I had wanted to, I could very well see my own reflection in that layer of hair spray. An oversized handbag, emblazoned in the logo of Louis Vuitton, the Bluetooth headset, the yawning gap between her golden front teeth (big enough to floss with a towrope, I reckon), the make-up applied with a trowel so that her face resembled something out of a National Geographic special.

This bloated mass of humanity enters the store with a large brood of children, roughly aged 4 to 16 or 17. I cannot give you an exact number of these. Suffice to say, there was a minimum of six,perhaps as many as eight. I am intimately familiar with their names, because for the next hour -- even from several isles away -- I could hear her screaming them. They were the sort of names that a certain subsection of the American populace gives to their children in the belief that in doing so they are bestowing a badge of uniqueness upon them, neglecting to understand that in so doing they are hanging a moniker upon their child that will make them a source of ridicule for other subsections of America who at least have the good taste to snicker in secret about it.

Let's put it this way: when you name your children Kia, Lexus, Mercedes, LeBaron, Murano, Jetta, Quattro and Malibu, or the like, you are doing them no favors.

The children are all of a singular type: they are sullen. They seem poorly cared for, to judge from the obvious presence of scratches, cuts, bruises, and the glaringly poor dental work I rather doubt that they all have the same father, and that if their paternity has been adequately established, that any of them has more than a desultory relationship with the man. They are dirty, not just in their appearance, but in their manners. Nose picking is common; sneezing without covering one's mouth appears to be an Olympic sport in this family. They are loud, obnoxious, rambunctious. The little ones cry constantly, the older ones use the F-word as a noun, verb, adjective, pronoun and probably as punctuation, too.

This does not shock me all that much. I have perhaps the foulest mouth of anyone I know, but one does not expect children of 7 or 8 years to use such language freely and easily.

The majority of the racket they produce stems from three main sources:

1. The children want something from the shelves, and Mother will not buy it. This is normal behavior for children, I'll admit, but the arguments very quickly get rather heated, and end with mother smacking or threatening bodily harm to at least one child.

2. The older children relentlessly pick on the younger ones. It's straight out of Lord of the Flies. When the younger ones, naturally, cry or kick up a fuss at being so rudely handled by their seniors, Mother's response is to tell them to "shut the fuck up, I'm on the motherfuckin' phone", or to repeat, again, through clenched teeth "I'm gonna slap your motherfukin' ass, you little bitch", which provokes defiance from the older children and another flurry of "motherfuckah".

3. Mother, despite the fact that she has brought a battalion of children into the supermarket with her, is keen to pay them no mind. Unless they do something to "embarrass" her. When this happens -- a child pulls down a display, one is rebuked by a store employee after breaking open a box of crackers and helping herself, or one of the little ones (who one would think would be potty trained by that age) wets himself -- she suddenly interrupts her phone conversation (which is impossible to listen to, assuming you wanted to, because of all the references to "that Bitch" and "that Niggah") to bring down some real Wrath of God stuff upon her litter.

The Brood Mare eventually collects two full carts of groceries. The carts are piled high with prepared foods, microwavable crap, frozen food, and very little in the way of fresh fruits and vegetables. I guess I shouldn't be as shocked by this as I am by the unbelievable idea that the children seem to get fed at all. We arrive at separate-but-adjacent checkout isles together. The cost of all this merchandise is tabulated, and then arrives that decisive moment, that split-second when you realize that the World Is Doomed and that civilization will be but a distant, fading memory, like it was in Road Warrior or something. It is now when you see the distinction between the dying breed of Old America and it Values, and the emergence from the ashes of the New America That Simply Doesn't Give a Flying Fuck.

It comes time to pay for the groceries.

I pull out a wad of cash, that I have earned, and pay the cashier with it.

The Breeder swipes an EBT card. The electronic display on that isle is visible to me. The Welfare Queen just "bought" $473.00 of groceries -- with other people's money. Now comes the most disgusting part.

At the bottom of the display is a line which reads: Remaining Monthly Benefit. There is a number next to it. That number is approximately $3,250.00. In other words, that woman, that hulking mass of fat that spawned seven children who behave like a pack of wolf cubs, and in which she shows little to no interest beyond their use as convenient anger-management tool, is being given some $3,700 per month to buy food by the taxpayer.

I would go as far as to say that, perhaps, the only reason she has that many children is to simply get more money on the EBT card every month.

And there it was, all of it on display for any who have eyes and ears: a Welfare Recipient who is given to buy Spaghetti-O's, microwave pizza and Ramen Noodles what some people who pay taxes would kill to take home in a month. And she has all the accouterments of what one would consider a Middle Class lifestyle: designer clothes (or a close approximation), money for an expensive  hairweave and manicures (did I mention the four-inch, rhinestone-studded acrylic nails?), the cellphone complete with Bluetooth, enough costume bling to choke a rhino.

We have created two societies in America: one of which works to support the other, only the priorities are all upside down and inside out, for the ones being supported are profligate with other people's money, their sexual favors (apparently), behave like wildebeests in full rut in public, and spit upon every notion of civilized behavior.

If you wish to know how it was that a complete idiot like Barack Obama was elected, twice, to the Presidency of the United States, and how he manages to avoid being tarred and feathered in the public square on a daily basis, then herein lay your answer. For there are millions of other "disadvantaged" freeloaders like this family scattered all over America, steadily sucking the lifeblood from the rest of us, and rewarded with ever-more free goodies in the hopes that they one day won't do what they do best (besides breed and steal) and pitch bloody riots all across the country.

Some people who read this will be offended because it appears as if I have singled out a woman of a particular race (although I did not mention what race that was, it will not matter, for they will recognize of whom I speak immediately), but what I'm really interested in here is Culture. This woman represents a sub-Culture, separate and distant from the Common American Culture which used to be prevalent, and which is now being swallowed whole by the Welfare State, unchecked immigration, and the steady erosion of our institutions.

If you are offended, then ask me if I actually care? The truth is often painful and offensive. If it bothers you that much then do something to correct it in your own community. I gather you won't, because most of the people who complain the loudest about "racism" are even lazier than the people who are the beneficiaries of it. For all intents and purposes, that woman with seven drolling idiots and an EBT card is the beneficiary of racism, what George W. Bush once called "the soft bigotry of low expectations".

She's not expected to work, or take care of her own needs, or those of her children, and so it was decided by society in general that we had to do something about it. However, in the process of 'doing something" we seem to have inadvertently created a mass of people who literally would die in days if left to their own devices, and because of it, demand ever more of our dwindling resources to be kept alive in a state of degrading stupidity.

Bread and Circuses, indeed...