Excessively bitter tirade (EBT), and the new American dream

So, I've confessed many times that I'm a craigslist junkie—no need to revisit that point. I'll try to keep the rest of this post short, so as not to rant for too long.

I always look at the freebies on craigslist. It's how we landed our awesome couch, and a handful of other goodies. People are wealthy, or comfortable, or in a sticky situation that requires immediately unloading items that still hold value... For whatever reason, folks sometimes choose to simply give away perfectly good stuff. Craigslist is a treasure trove for cheapskates like me.

A few days ago, I saw that someone was giving away cooking magazines on craigslist, exceptional publications that mirror and complement a fascinating, high-level cooking show on PBS. I can't watch the show, as we don't have cable and we live at the bottom of a hill. I also can't justify ordering the publication because, frankly, I never follow the recipe anyway... Plus I have lucked into free, cast-off copies of this very magazine from friends who did subscribe... But then, they changed their subscription to an on-line version. Sad for me.

Alas, though, this someone on craigslist was unloading a bunch of the very same magazines! More recent printings, to boot. And the map showed that the giver was located very close to my favorite grocery store. Huzzah! I wrote a note, the giver responded, and the next morning on the way to shop, I swung by to pick up the magazines. There they were, on the spacious front entry of a stately brick home in a nicer section of our neighboring hamlet. I snagged the mags and went about my errands.

Later, as I unloaded my trunk of the car, I first put away frozen items and then quickly sorted the magazines by year. There were a bunch of them, not just my desired publication but also many other foodie mags, the pricey, glossy-covered seasonal editions that catch your eye at the checkout; most of them looked as if they'd never been opened. As I separated the items, I was shocked to find a couple of pieces of mail stuck between covers. One looked as if it might be a check, the other appeared to be an electronically generated pay stub for automatic deposit, and a piece of junk mail, too. I will drop this mail off at the correct house in the next few days, when I find myself in that area again. I will leave a note explaining where the pieces came from. Hopefully, the person will learn a valuable lesson about craigslist anonymity and how it's wise to remove personal items from anything you give away to strangers. (Duuuhhhhh.)

But then, as I emptied one bag of mags completely, I found a receipt. From Giant Eagle, one of southwestern Pennsylvania's prominent grocery chains. The receipt contained a few items: lunch meat, name brand kid drinks, that sort of thing. And I couldn't help noticing that the items had been paid for with an EBT card. I also couldn't help noticing that the card had already been used to purchase an alarmingly expensive amount of food, because (who knew?!) the receipt prints the card total used thus far in addition to the total for the current purchase. I'm guessing it's a per-month stipend, but I am not certain.

Okay, I know what you'll say. Perhaps this receipt, stuck in the bottom of a used plastic grocery bag, perhaps it got there by accident. But how? If those bags are reused, it's by the person who originally had them, yes? And if you do recycle plastic grocery bags, you take them to a recycle container at the Giant Eagle and shove them in there to be sent away to a plant and made like new. So how did that receipt get in there? I must conclude (perhaps wrongly I know, but let's be serious here) that the person who gave me the items was the same person for whom that receipt was generated. There is a very good chance that is the case. My assumption isn't ironclad, but it is likely.

In which case, I am left wondering how that can be. That nice big home, in a good neighborhood, and all those expensive magazines, ordered and purchased... then given away. It doesn't add up.

I have long been a supporter of separate purchasing facilities for recipients of government assistance. Maybe that sounds mean, but the fact that all stigma has been removed from the hand-out culture contributes, I feel, to the abuse of that culture. Requiring assistance here and there is human, but an able-bodied person requiring it as a lifestyle is ridiculous. If this person needs help with food costs, why don't they begin by shopping where I shop? I go there because it is cheaper. And maybe cutting out the name brand items would keep costs down, too. Name brands are not required for health and physical prosperity.

Then I argue with myself. Maybe that particular Giant Eagle store is the closest grocery to that person. But if the card-carrier is the person in that home, then my theory is not true. We live in Suburbia, for cryin' out loud—there are grocery stores handily located in every direction. And the grocery store that I frequent doesn't even HAVE those shiny magazines by the checkout.

Maybe I'm wrong, maybe that EBT receipt ended up there by some fluke. But if it belonged to the giver of all those magazines, purchased by someone hanging out in the fancy-shmancy Giant Eagle, buying name-brand items and spending over two times as much on food per month as we average here in our eat-in household? Then my suspicion that all these helpful systems are being abused is confirmed tenfold. I know abuse occurs, even without this proof. I have personally seen people qualify for WIC, over-buy, then give away the excess milk and other items so their allotment won't be reduced because of under-consumption. It is sickening. Needless to say, I have not yet accepted the handouts, from either abusers or the government.

I read an article about the death of America: the day that Oblamma was re-elected. I didn't want to believe that this great country was over, even though the statistics prove me wrong, as the contributors are now out-numbered by the receivers. Each day, however, I am being forced to accept the truth of this situation.

My only hope now? That my little family can achieve the new American Dream: finding a secluded, undesirable plot of land somewhere far from a city, and hiding out to live our quiet, low-cost life. We'll try to find a little community of faith wherever we end up, will stay in touch with family, will try to make friends with like-minded people, and we'll support those people in need and pray that they return the favor when the time comes... because that's the superior help system that preceded Big Daddy Government. That's who we would go to now, if need be; if I am forced to ask for help, I'd much rather seek it from people whom I know and respect.

We've enabled and trained up a majority population of lazy, helpless luxury-lovers. God help us.

A lot of unknowns, a lot of questions—and too many freebies

I endeavor to keep this blog friendly and mostly unoffensive. I really don't want it to turn into a place where I share vitriol for political parties, or air my fears about society's deterioration, or spread my own hostile opinions. But I'm a realist, as you likely know by now, and sometimes I just can't get something out of my mind until I get it off my chest.

I went to ALDI yesterday. I really appreciate ALDI's sensibility and pragmatism in a world of advertised lies and innuendo. They're just plain cheaper than everyone else, yet the quality of their grocery items is very high. I've been a proponent for years now. And I'm not alone. Often, the store is packed. Especially prior to an impending winter storm (ANOTHER one). This last visit to ALDI was no exception: there we all were, buying bread and milk and toilet paper per the usual Pittsburgh-area snowpocalyse-driven purchase requirements.

I got in line with my cart and my bags, along with several other people. I was behind a couple that I'd seen in the store as I shopped: two dark-haired young people who were well-groomed and appropriately dressed in attractive, modern styles. They weren't glamorous or out of the ordinary, but they also appeared to be far from destitute. Their cart was piled high, and they were swiftly transferring the items to the belt for processing.

I became aware that neither of them was speaking English. I couldn't identify for certain what language they were using; I have some guesses, but since I'm not positive, I'll keep those guesses to myself. What I couldn't help noticing was that the order came to over $100 (not hard to do when food shopping, I know)—and that all but $7 of the order was paid with an ACCESS card.

I covertly studied the two of them. Fashionable. Young. As far as I could see, perfectly able-bodied. Speaking a foreign language. And paying for the bulk of their order with someone else's money. And I bristled at the situation. I'm sorry if you think that makes me unfair, or that I am unsympathetic, or that I don't want to help people who are trying to help themselves. No, wait—I'm not sorry. I do feel that way. I'm allowed.

Granted, this twosome had filled their shopping cart with mostly genuine, simple, un-fancy food, like potatoes and milk and items that could actually be turned into meals with some homemade efforts. (Sadly, their cart looked unlike the typical ACCESS users I end up following, who buy expensive meat and name-brand junk food. But I digress.) And to be honest, I do not know the couple, nor their situation. Perhaps they had good jobs and one or both was recently laid off. Perhaps they are students somewhere, studying for advanced training that is best found in America... in which case, why would they have that card? I studied here, and I didn't have that card—I had, instead, an overabundance of ramen noodles. That is all.

It was the middle of the day, on a weekday. If they needed jobs, why wasn't at least one of them seeking work? If they shared a vehicle, why not use the extensive public transportation system? They knew how the free food card worked, and how to pay the difference in cost with a debit. They knew to bring their own bags to ALDI. These were not confused, fumbling foreigners.

I thought to myself that I would like to follow them out to the parking lot. Perhaps with more time, I could identify their language. And mostly? I wanted to see the car they were driving. If I had to guess, based on their outfits, I'd probably assume that the vehicle was a fairly recent model. Maybe I'd be dead wrong. I'll never know, because my turn in line came, and the intriguing shoppers bagged their items lightning-quick and got out of there. But I kept thinking about them.

I don't really mind buying second-hand; I find satisfaction in a good bargain. And truly, I don't mind driving old cars; we own them, and they'll never be re-possessed in hard times. I like to cook, and we have some dietary concerns to factor in, so making our meals at home is fine with me.

What I do mind? A lot? Knowing that healthy young people who don't speak our native language are shopping for food here for free. I object. Strenuously. If I went to a foreign country, would I ever have that option? No. If I venture out of this overly generous country, I must be prepared to pay my own way. In every way. That's the deal. There's a good chance, I suppose, that the couple I observed were U.S. citizens, and had every right to be here, and have just experienced recent hard times like so many others. I truly hope so. I pray that there weren't 3 or 4 free cell phones in her capacious handbag.

I know there is fraud. I know there is abuse of a well-intentioned, sick system that is meant to help Americans in need. I don't know if those two were guilty of any wrongdoing. But even if they weren't, the whole scene felt wrong to me. Very wrong. Are Americans paying attention? Do they realize where tax money is going? There's no way we plebeians can track it all, and no way we can be certain that the people who are accepting assistance truly need it. That concerns me greatly. If you've ever worked and paid taxes in the U.S., you should be concerned, too. Even if I misinterpreted what I saw at ALDI, I know that the system is broken and getting more decrepit every day. All over the country, a similar scene is repeating itself. Sometimes, the able-bodied offenders are Americans who may (or may not) need a healthy dose of pride and a revised list of wants vs. needs.

In short? That whole incident at ALDI reminded me that I'm weary of the whining and scrabbling of entitled receivers. If you cannot afford your lifestyle, then change your lifestyle. It is not up to the government to help you maintain the old standard. And if you come here from a faraway place? I sincerely hope you've come with an expectation to contribute—not to further bleed the working class.

“Let us never forget this fundamental truth: The State has no source of money other than the money people themselves earn.” ~ Margaret Thatcher