The Path to Low Food Security

[NanceGreggs]

The Path to Low Food Security
(or: My Story in Bush-speak)
By Nancy Greggs

I don’t know exactly when it started, but it was around the time of the taxation burden readjustment (tax cuts to the wealthy). By the time we liberated (invaded) Iraq, in order to democratize (seize the oil of) that nation, I was already seeing the signs of personal economic downturn (going broke).

And it seemed to be spreading across the nation. With all of the money being spent in Iraq via no-bid contracts (subtle theft of tax dollars), and the resulting accounting discrepancies (out-and-out theft), I wondered why my kids were attending a population-oriented educational facility (overcrowded school), learning their lessons from retrospective overview learning materials (out-of-date textbooks).

It seemed like neighborhoods across the country were experiencing the same pockets of soft marketability (going downhill); the streets were full of excessive-speed prohibitors (potholes), the local parks became models of pro-natural enhancement (not maintained), and due to re-evaluated energy expectations (a failing infrastructure), electrical power was subject to periods of mandatory conservation (blackouts).

Even before my employer downsized personnel (started firing everyone), life wasn’t all that easy. When my company switched to an employee-motivated payment structure (I had to pick up the tab for my own health insurance), along with a standardized hourly wage adjustment (no overtime pay), things started getting really tight. To this day, I’m pretty sure all of this came about when they adopted a tier-based asset redistribution system (the CEO got a 4,000% raise).

Eventually, my job was globally reallocated (outsourced) to a corporate growth-enriching environment (cheap labor market), and I found myself living in a negatively-enhanced financial atmosphere (below the poverty level), which caused severe elation deprivation syndrome (depression).

Money was so scarce, I even took a job as a telemarketing pre-service provider (making annoying phone calls). But it wasn’t enough to make ends meet, and we started being plagued by deficit spending enforcement professionals (bill collectors).

Finally, my unemployment benefits ran out, at which point I became non-unemployed (no longer counted as being jobless), and my wife and I entered into a spousal relocation arrangement (she packed up and left me).

But I didn’t realize how bad things could be until I found myself extremely low in food security (hungry), and had no choice but to depend on victual exchange consortiums (food banks), or even the local broth-de-jour buffet (soup kitchen).

I started to meet people who were even worse off than me. Many were between officially-recognized residential addresses (homeless). Some survived by traveling around as unauthorized transit personnel (riding public buses to keep warm and dry), while others found more permanent shelter in bio-degradable housing units (cardboard boxes), or climate-controlled bedding alternatives (sleeping bags on subway grates).

As bad as it was having to line-up for supper, it seemed preferable to the alternative: dining al fresco on pre-proportioned meals (eating scraps out of garbage cans).

Once I became part of the non-traditional lifestyle population (hopelessly poor), I quickly learned the ropes, like how to dress in previously-acquired attire (Salvation Army giveaways) and avail myself of non-registered social programs (dumpster-diving) in order to get by.

But it all worked out for me somehow. Now, I’m happy to say, I have joined the ranks of the self-employed. After visiting an interest-free, payment-deferred loan facility (junkyard), I acquired the necessary trade equipment (tin cup), with attendant marketing materials (a piece of paper and a crayon), seized on the country’s fastest-growing entrepreneurial opportunity (begging), and relocated to an industry growth-friendly area (a busy intersection).

So if you see me on the corner, with my “Please Help a Guy Who’s Low on Food Security” sign, donate what you can spare. It will make you feel like a responsible citizen (somewhat ease your guilty conscience on the way to the country club).

And if I look a bit teary-eyed, just remember I’m not crying about my situation. I’m just wiping the Clear Skies Initiative residue (smog) from my eyes.

[JeffR]

1. A classic

Ranking right up there with your Life in Bushistan

[Mythsaje]

2. An all too familiar tale...

K&R

Of course...

[Kali]

3. I'll add a k & r

Funny but not.

[dubykc]

4. Very nicely done.

[puebloknot]

5. Brilliant. Sad. True. nt