Saturday, April 26, 2014

Volume 338

©DCA'14

5 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. And also my good buddy's rich-b*tch prom date junior year. Seriously, her family, deep in the Beverly Hills of Orange County, had three black servants who wore those old school black and white slave, er, servant duds. You really can't make this sh*t up.

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    2. It's really funny recalling this, sister, because it makes me remember that I went from welfare and food stamps with my young single mama to upper middle class and weirdo evangelical high school in the OC in a dozen years, hitting every sort of economic micro-class in between. Dear god. Lower case intended. Namaste. ;-)

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    3. While my family when I was growing up was never on welfare, D, there were times when we had our gas or electricity cut off because of non- payment, and, as the oldest kid, I often had to answer the phone when debt-collectors called and play dumb about where my parents were.
      They were extremely hard-working people, but they did not have any kind of decent salaries, and they were trying to raise five kids.
      As a result of which, I had such a horror of incurring any kind of debt, we did not even buy a house (because of the specter of a mortgage) until many years after we could well afford it.
      And to this day, I will not take out a car loan. I will only buy a car that we can pay cash (or check) for. We never carry over any debt on our credit cards. I keep track of them, just as I would any check we write, and we pay off in full every month.
      And, oh, BTW, we paid off our mortgage early, after fifteen years.
      And I can still get three meals, for two people, out of one chicken. ;-)
      PS There are still a couple of houses where we live in very conservative Western Maryland that have those black "lawn jockeys" out in their front yards. And you will recall the whole Paula Dean imbroglio.
      Anyone who says that racism is dead in this country, and that affirmative action is no longer needed, is a fucking idiot, and has their head so far up their ass, it cannot be removed without major surgery. {{Sigh}}

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    4. I knew we had a lot in common, my dear. Always nice to feel connected for me, that lost little boy still alive in those odd ways. And my dad lives in Georgia. You can drive across the little bridge on Broad Street, over a tiny stretch of river, and you get across and look around and think, "Oh, I get it, this is Soweto." Sigh...

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