Most of you probably don’t even know this, but a big peave of mine is the Palestinian refugee crisis, how they could have been helped a long time ago, but have not been. But recently, I have seen this same theme surfacing in the form of stories about the poor souls from New Orleans. It is sickening really, how much ink and airtime is spent in the exploitation of fat black women who are having trouble getting to telephones because of vague disabilities. It is sick to watch this american fascination with inability to change circumstances. Speaking as someone who has been flat broke, who has felt wealthy, and who has flirted with debt, though not to a great scale in any of these, I simultaeneously resent the constant pitying stories about evacuees hotel funds drying up, and feel for them. I can say this, because I have recently been specding some time with this sort of people and culture, in stark contrast to white Moscow.
Mostly I just hate the people who will tell me about it in a controlled, level voice, and insinuate that more could be done to help these people, if the Feds would just let loose some of their googobs of money. But really, these people are being kept in hotels all across the south, a constant ethosical club ready to hand whenever someone wants to rejoice in how well off they are, or point a finger of guilt away from their foolery. They are being pimped by wealthy beaurecrats who need the boost in their self esteem, and a nation eager for stories that ease their guilty freewheeling consciences. National saving is in the negative for the love of all that is holy, but at least we are not one of those poor lost souls who are stuck in hotel rooms, unable to get across the freeway to call for more foodstamps. Unfortuantely, this will release the feelings, and leave me free to pass those in need by again, I really am not any better off than anyone, but it still makes my gag reflex.