Barely 1/2 Working – And 1/2 Below Poverty…

While I usually find the Kansas City Star a paper worthy of nothing more than lining the bottom of my catbox, occasionally they come out with something that justifies my spending a couple of bucks on the Sunday edition. On December 12, 2011 they did just that – in an article entitled, “63 Percent Worked in 2010” by Diane Stafford. After reading the article I couldn’t help feeling that – for some perverse reason – Ms. Stafford was proud of that figure… or at least wasn’t embarrassed by it. Personally, Mommie Dammit finds it appalling and I can’t imagine how the Corporatocracy sleeps at night.

I fully understand how the vast majority of those bilious assholes on Capitol Hill can sleep – they’re far too busy buying $400 hammers, $2,000 ink pens that can write in a vacuum or underwater, and paying $100-million for a robot plane made out of recycled milk jugs so the C.I.A. can drop bombs on civilians in Pakistan. With all of that filling up their 103 work days how can they possibly find time to understand the truth that the reason the tax base has evaporated is because they sold our jobs to China? No, it’s far more productive for them to waste what damned few days they actually do the job we hired them for playing hide-the-sausage with a junior staffer and contemplating their belly-button lint while the Kockinyourass Koch brothers line their pockets and fill their ears with bullshit.

The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, in their annual report, “Work Experience of the Population,” said the number of workers unemployed during 2010 was 25.2 million.

The percentage of working Americans — a mere 63.7 percent of the 16-and-over population — fell from 64.9 percent in 2009.

The proportion of workers who were unemployed and looked for work at some point during the year was 15.9 percent, down from 16.4 percent the previous year. Meanwhile, the number of people who looked for work but could not find a job in 2010 rose by 715,000 to 6.6 million.

So what does that mean, exactly, O’ My Children? Tell us Mommie Dammit, what does it mean?… It means that those monthly “unemployment” figures are bullshit. We don’t have a 9% unemployment problem – we have a 36.3% unemployment nightmare. To make matters worse, when all of our boys and girls are home from the @#%AEDTFG#@#% wars in Iraq and Afghanistan you can hoist that figure another 1-to-1.5 percent. At present returning veterans face a 13 to 15% unemployment rate, so add those numbers into our civilian ones and you get nearly 40% of Americans over the age of 16 unable to find work.

Is it any surprise that the Census Bureau reported that over 76 million families lived at or below poverty levels as of the end of the 2010 census? Or that the National Center on Family Homelessness reports a 38% increase in homeless children since 2007 – just to make that clear for you, O’ My Children, that means 1.6 million or 1 in every 45 kids in this country is homeless. The center also reports that less than half of the States have anything resembling adequate programs for their homeless population.

Mommie Dammit just recently came off of a 10 month stretch of unemployment; a time in which I came to know intimately the damage that does to a person’s self esteem and self image. It isn’t the first time I’ve faced that nightmare, either. The older I get the harder a toll it takes on me. I grew up in a household that still held close the Social Contract – you grow up, go to school, get a job, and work your butt off to feed your family and provide them with a good home. Then you get old and you retire on a pension and Social Security. Except that I already knew, growing up in my grandparents house, that the Social Contract was gone. My grandparents had broken their asses – working all of their lives, surviving the Great Depression, raising two sons, a nephew and a grandson, not to mention their undying love and constant generosity to untold others. My grandparents were farmers, and they went to their graves at 74 and 83 still working for a living – and still in debt.

I’ve faced homelessness before as well, if only for 9 days, and I know the terror of it too well from that brief experience. I’ve come close to it a few more times when, between losing my job or getting too sick to work, I only managed to keep a roof over my head through the generosity of local charities. Sappy bleeding heart that I am, it wasn’t for me that I cried – it was because I didn’t have money to buy food for my cats. I was only days away from losing my home, I had very little food in the house, and was too weak from the latest bout with Pneumocystis to find work. But I wasn’t worried about feeding myself… I was heartbroken and humiliated that I wouldn’t be able to feed Tiggami and Cinmoui. That was only two years ago, and to this day I bless the anonymous donor who heard that a man with AIDS couldn’t feed his cats – and then donated two 20 pound bags of cat munchies. When Maria – my beleaguered and beloved Ryan White counselor – brought me the cat food I fell to my knees in grateful sobs that my babies wouldn’t go hungry.

That’s my Cin – ignoring me as usual. Tiggy thinks it’s more fun to punch my camera than have it take her picture, and when I do take one she somehow manages to make sure it’s of her ass.

But now, with Corporate America’s enthusiastic and profit-driven approval, more and more of my two-legged children are homeless and hungry. Their parents – those fortunate enough to have them – can’t find work, and neither our so-called “representatives” in Congress nor their Corporate puppetmasters give a damn. They prefer to hold these children hostage so they can build a pipeline from Canada to import worthless oil that will cost more to extract and refine than the pathetic amount of energy it produces will ever be worth – to say nothing of the environmental havoc their “pipe” dream will cause. Over 76 million families living in squalor, hungry, homeless and losing hope so that Congress can gut the working class and hand billion$ to the uber-filthy-rich .01%.

In those moments when Mommie Dammit’s vodka-fume fueled delusions of grandeur reach a peak, I imagine that the day will come when all of America’s drag queens and homeless mothers unite in armed rebellion, overthrowing the government and electing me Empress of the United States of Mommie Dammit. I will be Absolut (no, that’s not it…) Stolichnaya (dammit!, foiled again) absolute (that’s it!) monarch of a nation with its top three priorities being the end of the Corporatocracy, the end of homelessness, and the restoration of the nation’s workforce. The Pentagon can go hang, we have more damned tanks and guns than any other five nations combined… say it with me, O’ My Children: “pe-nile-com-pen-sa-tion-syn-drome”… Very good! Cookies for everybody! Banks will be broken up and returned to the regulation of the Glass Steagall Act. Corporations will NOT be allowed First Amendment rights, and will be forbidden to contribute to any political campaign in any amount, and individuals will be limited to $5,000 in total donations. Congressional term limits will be set at 2 terms for Senators, and 3 terms for the House of Representatives. Filibuster will be banned, and the rules of simple majority will be returned and enforced in both houses. Healthcare and education, including 4 year college degree programs, will be universal and free – with an immediate 50% cut in all student loan debt, and a 5 year hold on all payments with no interest accrued. Interest rates on all credit, existing and future – mortgages, auto loans, business loans, credit cards, school loans, you name it – issued to private individuals will be mandated at 3.8% annually or less. Credit extended by the government to financial institutions or large corporations will be mandated at 35% annually or more, depending on how stupid or corrupt the corporation was before they came to me asking for a bail-out. They would also have only 10 years to repay the loan, in full, including interest. This is just a start… the rest could fill dozens of posts. But I have visions of a new and expanded role for the E.P.A., the restoration of civil liberties and the abolition of the Homeland Fear and Paranoia Security Agency, with their powers returned to the F.B.I., the C.I.A., the Department of Justice, the Department of Transportation, and the B.A.T.F. where they belong.

But first and foremost are my children, the greatest and most precious treasure of our nation. I never want to see this again…

I’ve seen it too many times. I’ve seen these children sleeping in alleyways, eating out of dumpsters, and selling their precious bodies for an hour out of the cold. The Corporatocracy doesn’t care. Our elected “representatives” have shown they don’t give a damn. To them it doesn’t exist, as long as their million dollar bonuses and book deals keep flowing.

A note of apology… I’m busy, dammit!

Apologies for the dirth of posts over the past two weeks. Mommie Dammit has just started a new daytime job at an exciting start-up company… read that as “there’s a butt-load of stuff I need to learn, and we’re just getting out of the gate… damn I’m tired!” I’ve been coming home exhausted from the neck up, and there’s just not enough Stoli left in Mommie Dammit’s 4 remaining brain cells to come here and blow a fuse bestow my wisdom upon you. Frankly, after a full day at the office, about all I can manage is to feed the cats, bring in the dog so she’ll quit harassing the neighborhood, and collapse onto the nearest horizontal surface.

But things are improving! I am, all at once, excited, overwhelmed, amazed, supremely gratified, frustrated, and exceedingly grateful to be back to work after 10 long months of unemployment. To find myself in a position that matches my edumacation and skills is incredible, and with a brand-spankin’-new company that breeds excitement and challenge is more than I could ask for. So along with my newly hatched company, Mommie Dammit is now a newly-hatched (or is it “booby-hatched”) Systems Administrator for an Internet/VOIP/IPfax provider.

OY VEY!

Each day is a new adventure in figuring out what got broke, arguing with the boss, figuring out what the new client’s want, arguing with the boss, juggling and sharing tasks with my coworkers, arguing with the boss (cuz he LIKES it!)  and trying very hard not to be too much of a drama queen. After all, I’ve only been there for three weeks. Don’t wanna scare the hell out of ’em right off the bat, ya know. Gotta let ’em get all comfy with me first. heh-heh-heh…

So, now that I have a 3-day weekend for the Holidays, I’m attempting to make up for lost time. This post is in the middle of a shitstorm string of vitriolic rants discussions concerning all the stoopid shit crossing my path lately, and one or two happy thoughts just so you don’t get to thinking that Mommie Dammit is a Scrooge er sumpthin’.

A much belated congratulations… and sympathies.

A recent posting on YouTube gave us a delightful sample of the upcoming shitstorm rash of grandparent-ism amongst the LGBT community. These darling gentlemen are far from the first, and will certainly NOT be the last Gay couple to find out that they are about to become… wait for it… GRANDPA’S!!!

While Mommie Dammit has been busily re-raising other people’s children for decades, and have occasionally been blessed with a handful of “drag-grandchildren” there’s something to be cherished in the reactions of these men. One overcome with joy and excitement, the other standing back and quietly absorbing the bombshell news before embracing his children. My own reaction the first time was a mixture of both and several others… yeah, OK. So I’m a drama queen. But one doesn’t take the news of impending grandparenthood at the age of 38 y.o. very lightly.

Lots of love for you, Gentlemen. Enjoy your Grandpa job. Just remember – all the “some assembly required” noisy-assed toys you can afford, loads of pizza and sugar, and at least 3 Disney movies before you return the heathens to their rightful owners.

The Girls are BACK!..

My muck much beloved and greatly pissed missed ABFAB is returning to assault the boobtube… at least, in Great Britain they are. No word yet on when the girls will be back in the United States of MommieDammit America – pity, dahling… we could use Patsy and Edina’s wit and wisdom… or is it just Stoli… to clear all the bullshit and detritus from the Rethuglican debates/circlejerks/fraudfests/… oh, hell. You get the point. Below is a clip in which Pats and Eddi thoroughly explain the existence of another blight on American soil…

(tap, tap, tap…) Is this thing on?

Just in case any of you managed to get through the previous two posts with your retinas intact, there’s something else I want you to go read…

You ought to know by now that Mommie Dammit loves my kids in uniform. I don’t care if they’re grunts, jar-heads, squids or fly-boys – they’re all my special children. After all, it takes a certain level of courage and a high level of insanity to wander around the hinterland with other people shooting at you. I live and pray for the day when I no longer see this on my morning news…

With the majority of our troops in Afghanistan coming home soon – but not by Christmas, as we were promised – I sincerely hope that my prayers will be answered… at least for a long while. Adding to my joy that this !#$%^s6632@#$fuckingbullshit war will soon be over, was the demise of DADT back in September. But now the real work begins…

With REAL unemployment (the kind minus the temporary jobs created for the holidays, and including the people who’ve been out for so long the government can’t be bothered with counting them) still well over 9% amongst the civilian population, we have the added problem that unemployment among returning Afghan and Iraqi war veterans is well over 13 (some figures say 15)%. I’d talked about that in an earlier post, and it doesn’t get any less appalling with time.

There is also the fact that, now that DADT is dead, every Christo-fascist and Reich-wing teatard with access to the Internet or a microphone is going to be waiting with baited breath for any inkling that one of our LGBT soldiers tied his boots the wrong way, or farted while standing post, or scratched his butt getting out of his bunk after too-damned-little-sleep after too-damned-much of the kind of shit that makes for pictures like the one above. These wastes of human DNA with feet and big, yammering mouths are rabid for the instant that they can take any excuse, blow it completely out of context, probably lie their asses off  about it (as they’ve been doing all along) and scream “WE TOLD YOU SO!!!” Let’s face it, they’re practically gushing pre-cum with the thought of it.

Let’s also face facts that, in spite of extraordinary discipline and all the honorable intentions in the world, our LGBT soldiers are still only human. Somebody, somewhere, eventually will “screw the pooch” or FUBAR something within eye-shot of a camera lens and the lower-on-the-food-chain elements will be all over it like stink on shit.  And while Mommie Dammit will undoubtedly have to put on my cast-iron panties and bitch-slappin’ pumps and go abuse one of my brain-damaged children, let us not forget that all that screaming and bullshit will be coming from the mouths of the same people who brought you the Tailhook scandal. Say it with me, O’ My Children – “het-er-o-sex-uals”. Very good. Gold stars for everybody.

Now. After all that senile twaddle rabbit-trailing, there’s something special I want you to go read. It comes from another blog here on Word Press that I tripped over discovered via the “Freshly Pressed” page. WORK IN PROGRESS is the blog of Matthew Phelps, a U.S. Marine who was recently able to come out and serve openly and proudly. Matthew’s writing is honest, intelligent, and – at times – heartrendingly candid. In a recent 4-part post, “On Marines, equality, and my date to the Marine Corps Birthday Ball” Matthew gives us a frank look at what’s been going through his head during the months leading up to DADT repeal, and his anxieties and hopes for taking his date, Brandon, to the 236th birthday celebration for the Marine Corps.  It is an incredible piece of work, and I urge you – with all dispatch – to haul your tuckass over there and read it. You will be well rewarded.

It’s not just a rich, well written read but there’s pictures all over the place of this yummylicious handsome young man for you to ogle… I have. Now, if only he was 20 years older and still single… hmmm. Brandon, you’re a lucky man.