" Though Worked-for, And Well-deserved...."

      ‘ Though Worked-for, And Well-deserved, Why Do S.S.I., And S.S.D.I. Entitlements Confer A Life Of Grinding Poverty For Those Who Need It Most ? ‘

04/15/12

To my very, very dearest friends, and ever loyal readers,

Sometime—around noon, I guess, for those  whom such exactness is required—the month of April will be half-over; that roughly means that there are still two weeks, m.o.l., until May, and until the rusted doors of the Government coffers screech open. And like an endless swarm of bats scarce seen at twilight, out will fly the little checks we are granted, that—once again—will ensure some little, hoped-for comfort on which to live.

I full-believe that these sums are reckoned at by governmental dweebs and feebs (quite possibly horned, and very feral), kept safe by bullet-headed, armed guards, as they scratch their brow ridges, by the divination of sheep entrails beneath a full, and lambent moon, somewhere quite possibly in Virginia, let’s say Arlington, as so much other mischief goes on there.

For on or about the third of every month, I—and so many others—get a check that is plainly insufficient for our needs.  Although there is about eighteen days until ‘pay’, I find that I am already almost broke, and still with bills to pay.

After my second application for disability (requiring an attorney’s intervention at $5.700.00) when I was finally awarded first S.S.I., then S.S.D.I, in being ever cautious, I was able to survive the month, bills paid; groceries obtained, with—perhaps—a smidgen left over to call my own.  That, my dearest friends, was in 2005.  But as the months and years passed, with no cost of living raise…except the one that booted me out of Medicaid covering my hospital and surgical stays, and doctor’s visits, the cost of everything—it seemed—went up once, twice, almost three times, while my entitlement gamely tried to keep up, and—exhausted—soon fell on its face, a lay there dead.

The Entitlement Program, which many call a ‘supplement’, no longer is nearly enough; and for those of us who cannot work ( damn us, anyway!), it is our ONLY source of income; there’s nothing else.  And while there was one, small 3.8% raise this past January, Medicare quickly sucked up the increase, leaving us, the elderly, the ill, the disabled, and dispossessed to twist in the breeze.

I am currently fifty-eight years old, and fully two years away from any helping or assisting County Programs (imagine…a double-sided page, font eight, of available programs that are denied me, until my sixtieth birthday, or, until I croak, instead).

The ONLY two programs I am currently eligible for are, since I have Medicare, I can pay the County Public Transportation two dollars each way to my doctor’s appointments, only, not even to stop to have prescriptions filled, and the Volunteer Way, a most laudable public program, whereby they deliver to me one box of canned goods and the like, a month.  That’s IT.  Oh...and Medicaid (bless its pointed, little head), has—in its wisdom—declared me eligible for (wait for this….), $16.00 a month in Food Stamps.  $16.00?????

Ah, b-b-b-but wait a second, here.  I worked for over thirty-four years; I filed taxes; I paid my share of S.S., and FICA.  None of this shit makes any sense.  Whenever the Government goes broke, they simply raise the debt ceiling; why then can’t I raise mine?  Or just print more currency?  Or, attach my needs by hiding it within the language of an insignificant bill to be voted upon by those few legislators who even bother to show up to vote?

I live alone, and basically have the same bills to pay as does everyone else: utilities; cable (for telephone, and internet, NOT 900 channels of TeeVee and movies).  I have to pay a private duty C.N.A. to assist me with showers; clean the house; and do the laundry.

And whenever the lawn wants mowing, or the hedges trimmed, oh God, or any groceries purchased ( and that includes prescriptions ), the too-often neglected care of my dear dog, the occasional doctor’s visit co-pay, and trying, hopelessly, to pay down a maxed-out credit card.  ALL of this comes out of MY pocket, and they are shallow ones, indeed.  And, let us not forget taxes I must pay.

What this now means is that I can hardly withstand the month.  In past, I’ve had to borrow money from friends, which I regret, and relatives, which I detest.  I thank God the house is paid for; I have no car, nor car insurance.

Every month—about this time—I start to panic and to become even more depressed. I did not ask to become ill and disabled; I cannot think of anyone who—in their right mind—would.

All this constant worry adversely affects my health; it cannot help but do so.  In consequence, my pain levels go up and stay there; I have searing migraines; my glucose, and blood pressure is shot to hell and back; and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

Funny, but in becoming ill, I did not suddenly fall off the earth; I have to ‘buy’ things; I make, and sustain jobs; I pay taxes, and help support the common weal.  I am now no less a citizen of these ‘United States’ than ever I was.  I salute the flag; I vote; I most firmly believe in our Rights and Freedoms.

Among them—though—I do not think includes the Right To Starve; or the Freedom To Die Unattended.  Yet…too many of our citizens do both, which should be considered an egregious stain upon our Constitution, and Bill Of Rights.  And when it involves our children, it is both vile, and inexcusable. As Americans, we think ourselves to be a World Power, but act with fifth-world nation mentalities.

Annually, billions, and trillions of dollars, are misspent, misappropriated, lost, hidden, or simply given away, as if the ‘cookie jar’ has no bottom; how much DOES an aircraft carrier cost?  How much to bailout Goldman Sachs—who in their blatant disregard refer to the public as ‘Muppets’?

In all of this, we—too—must take on a portion of the blame; for it would seem that every four years…at Election time, the Populi shits it collective pants; we hang—breathless—to every promise that we know will not be kept.  How can they, when carnal greed is met with the lure of boundless cash?  The Grand Industrial/Corporate/Military Complex would eat our babies, were it not for errant twitter boasts, or You Tube video morsels that slip--unnoticed—from the mouths of our self-considered ‘New Age Romans’, who enjoy a life of Barbarous Splendor, living outside, and above the Law.

Never mind that nighty Rome fell not so much from outside attack, but from excesses that rotted it away from the inside.

We sadly witnessed the undoing of the Peaceful March on Wall street, when one banker—from the safety of an upstairs window—jeeringly offered a single person a job at $50,000.00 a year….which was taken.  I find I cannot be angry too much at the person who broke through lines to accept the job.  Pure need is pure need.

But part of me—especially when I have no money, now, well-before month’s end—would rather see that jeering offer met, instead, by a fired shot.  It doesn’t matter if it misses.

 

What these so-called movers and shakers need to feel is fear…of their money, security, their lives.  Until they are forced behind a barricade of desks, surrounded by an uncertain cadre of guards, will we—as a People, as Americans, will ever know both Rightness, and Justice.  We’ve witnessed a succession of petty tyrants overthrown around the globe. Too many of our own elected—who are as culpable of crimes as they, and even worse, were truth be known.

The sad and sadder Truth already lies before us; it is our neglectful shame, full reflected in any mirror. When evil is allowed, it propagates and flourishes, while we—the governed, or enslaved—are too easily distracted by sparkly toys to notice our enslavement?  Before it too late, if not too late already, who shall we, as one, name as our true Champion?

My dear, dear friends, and constant, loyal readers, I thank you for your demonstrated kindness, your inherent goodness, your patience…and, your love and regard.  I thank you for befriending me, and for making me feel not so alone.

I wish so much for you quiet, joyous days  (where did they go?); days of wonder, and delight; pantries full, with security and funds to spare so that you may have fuller lives, free from the worries I know we share; I wish you be surrounded by love and greater care, and days of much-lessened, or of ‘no pain’; true friends to sustain you; balmy afternoons of quiet fun  (when was the last time you had that !?); a gladly-assumed duty to report abuse; and evenings and nights of naturally, blissful sleep;  with flights of angels to comfort and protect you and yours’, until, a happy, and well-refreshed morning.

And please, please know, I love you dearly,

‘Zahc’/Charles