Monday, June 9, 2008

Poor Man's Supper

Every day that I drive to work I pass by our neighborhood bar, and they got this large sign out front advertising a poor man's supper. This enrages me. At first I found it amusing, but due to rising gas prices, rising health care prices, hell, rising milk and egg prices, I find myself in that lump category of 'poor men'.

So, being the poor slob that I am, all I can afford are my thoughts. And so on the hour long trek to work I tend to flex my brain muscle (that's what working class call 'thinking') about a number of things, but mostly concerning how god damn poor I am. Gas finally reached $4 a gallon in Podunk, NC and the sad thing is that in a month's time I'll look back on this and think what a deal it was. Even the price of bananas has gone up 15 cents! That may not upset you, but I love my B-A, B-A, nana, nana, nanas. Hey, Gwen Stefani, drop me a line and we can buy stock in Chiquita.

So as I wasted $10.45 on my way to work the other day, I popped in a cd that I hadn't listened to in while. It's a live concert by Utah Phillips. All the songs are by or relating to the Wobblies or Industrial Workers something something. It's good stuff, though. All about joining a Union and being poor and hating your boss. One song in particular, 'Hallelujah, I'm a Bum', really gets the blood pumping to my testies. The last line goes, 'Why don't you save all the money you earn. If I didn't eat I'd have money to burn!'. I suppose you'd have to hear it to comprehend the magik. But the point it makes is that the enemy is not the working class here in America or in Iraq or Iran or whatever country we're gonna 'free' next, but the Big Business Tycoons who make ten fold off of our sweat. It sounds simple, but it really puts a different spin on the whole class issue. The album gets bawdy at times, but he does read a poem, i know, i know:

The Two Bums

The bum on the rod is hunted down
As the enemy of mankind;
The other is driven around to his club
And feted, wined and dined.

And they who curse the bum on the rods
As the essence of all that is bad
Will greet the other with a winning smile
And extend him the hand so glad.

The bum on the rods is a social flea
Who gets an occasional bite;
The bum on the plush is a social leech,
Blood-sucking day and night.

The bum on the rods is a load so light
That his weight we scarcely feel,
But it takes the labor of dozens of men
To furnish the other a meal.

As long as you sanction the bum on the plush,
The other will always be there,
But rid yourself of the bum on the plush
And the other will disappear.

Then make an intelligent, organized kick,
Get rid of the weights that crush;
Don't worry about the bum on the rods,
Get rid of the bum on the plush!

And then that gets me thinking (excuse me, flexing my brain muscle) about the whole election coming up. I realize that I have a biased view on who should win the presidency, but to me it's clear who stands by the working man and who stands to make a profit. John McCain is going to do what every Republican does, claim that he holds the monopoly on morality that Americans fiend for. This does not make him a representative of the working man. He is still for big business, he doesn't hide that fact. Just because he says he is against abortion and pro war doesn't mean anything is going to change. W was prez for 8 years and Roe v. Wade didn't get overturned. Morality in politics is an oxymoron, anyways. Just because he is pro war doesn't mean we're going. . . oh wait. . . hello Iran! But the fact is that food, healthcare and gas prices are all I care about right now because I can't afford any of them. McCain intends to do nothing about any of these issues. Maybe Obama won't be successful, but at least he claims he wants to try. Oh and a little sidenote for all the Clinton supporters who are going to jump ship and vote Republican, shut the fuck up you racist hillbillies. If you wouldn't vote for Obama, who holds all of Clinton's beliefs, just because he's black, then you belong in a party that cares more about facades than facts, anyways.

Underneath that damn sign at the bar, it says: '$6.95 Trout with Baked Potato. . .' I tell you what, Honky, that ain't no god damn poor man's supper. I wish I had seven bucks to throw down for some trout. Tonight I'll be having sardines and saltine crackers with a side of discontentment. That's a poor man's supper.

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